#i went through all five stages of grief in the six hours it took me to start tmagp again

[ceaselessims]

it should be known that i violently sobbed for 2 straight hours after i finished MAG 200 almost to the point of getting sick

but once i calmed down i started protocol and when that mf alex's voice started playing on the computer i screamed and threw my phone across the room and cried a little bit more

[spvencersreid]

(Fem!reader x Spencer Reid)

~Cause all of the small things that you do, are what remind me why I fell for you.~

You never truly knew what hit you when you fell hard for a fellow agent named Spencer Reid. Maybe it was the way that he would always brighten a room whenever he walked into it or how he treated you better than any other man every had but you know one thing; you were pretty sure you were absolutely in love with him.

And that's exactly why you couldn't ever tell him so. You were terrified of rejection. You didn't exactly have the best history when it came to dating, not that it was particularly long to begin with. But you couldn't get him out of your mind so you just decided that dating any other guy wasn't your thing because you had your eyes only set on him.

Whether or not he felt the same was the most psychologically draining thing you'd ever put your self through. The constant what ifs were honestly almost too much to handle. You had worked with him for just under six months now and he was the only distraction that kept effecting your work habits and your coworkers were definitely starting to notice. Although they actually picked up on your stomach twisting crush on him well before you knew and the initial denial hit. But unlike you, Spencer was clueless and went on his days as per usual. Which if you were being completely honest was slowly killing you inside.

So you decided you could do one of two things; you could either slowly distance yourself in hopes that your feelings would magically go away, or you could somehow muster up the courage to confess to him and face the inevitable rejection that was to shortly come afterwards. But one of these two outcomes had to happen because he was like a bacteria infection taking over your brain. Whenever you would want to go to sleep you would only be able to fall asleep to yourself making up scenerios about you and him together, which in your mind would never happen because he couldn't possibly feel the same way about you.

~And when we're apart, and I'm missing you, I close my eyes and all I see is you.~

The main issue in regarding to talking to him was that you had quite literally rarely ever talked to him outside of necessarily talking to him when it came to case styles or sitting around the round table and discussing the current case. But whenever he did speak to you you could only describe it as pure ecstasy anytime he would ever speak to you or in your general direction and you would have to physically resist all urges from turning as red as a tomato. But you had to force yourself to talk to him because mentally you couldn't handle it anymore. At this point where you were he was taking over every part,every hour, every minute, every second of your day. And although you didn't mind it hurt you inside knowing that he possibly couldn't think about you the same way as you were.

As you were getting off of the bau's private jet you decided that it was now or never. It was time to tell him because after you got home you had all of the weekend to go through the five stages of grief. That would give you the time to handle the rejection he's so inevitably would give you because you could never believe that you ever going to be loved or love someone else the way that you loved him. So you grabbed your things and put them on your desk and just as you looked up he was starting to leave the office and so it took everything in you to finally say:

"Hey Dr.Reid?"

He quickly turned around surprised that you were calling after him

"[Y/N] I will kindly remind you once again that just like the rest of the team you are welcome to call me by my first name."

You slightly chuckled at his response. Savouring the final moments of sweet bliss.

"Okay.. Spencer. Can I quickly talk with you about something? I promise it won't take long."

A slight flash of worry flashed on his face which quickly faded.

"Yeah for sure, what would you like to talk about?"

"He is so nice, this is going to hurt" You thought to yourself. Then you just flat out said it.

"I need to talk to you about... us."

A look of confusion appeared on his face as his took a couple of steps towards you.

"Umm..what about us would you like to talk about? Did I do something?"

Well there was definitely no option to change the subject now so with a deep breath you took the risk.

"No, you did nothing wrong! I just wanted to let you know that I.. I have very strong feelings for you and I needed to tell you because I couldn't go on any longer without you knowing. I think about you 24/7 which is exhausting not knowing if you feel the same way. Which you probably don't, so we can just pretend that this never happened. You have a good weekend."

After saying those words aloud you sped walked past Spencer and the door as fast as your feet could take you without it looking as if you were running from him. You didn't even wait to see the expression on his face before you started walking away. You just couldn't handle the negative reaction you were honestly expecting. You were just about to push the button on the elevator when you felt a hand on your wrist lightly tug you from behind. You slowly turned around and was faced with those brown eyes you could get lost in. He was looking at you in a way you've never seen before.

"Did you mean all of that?"

"I mean yeah, why would I lie about something like that.."

"Why'd you walk away?"

"I wanted to have time to grief when you inevitably reject me, guess I just wanted a head start."

"I'm confused.."

"Why?"

"I..I never knew you felt that way about..me."

"Really? The team said that I was being pretty obvious."

"Well I am not one for picking up on romantic social cues."

You let out a light laugh. You thought to yourself why he was dragging out rejecting you.

"Well now you know, and I'm think I'm ready now."

"Ready for what?"

"You rejecting me and admitting that you in fact do not feel the same way..."

"[Y/N] I care deeply for you. And if I knew that you liked me I would of told you that I had felt the same way sooner. Although I didn't picture it like this."

What?

No way.

God I hope he's not lying.

"Wait what? You liked me? How could you ever like me?"

"I mean [Y/N] how could I not? I mean your the most interesting person on the planet. I never stop thinking about you. You always look amazing, your outfits are.. admittedly kinda distracting at times, and your smile always makes my day."

He is lightly blushing and rubbing the back of his neck. You are standing there mouth agape trying to process not getting rejected like you had so carefully planned.

"What would ever possibly make you think that I ever would reject you?"

"Well I dunno guys don't really ever like me like that, I'm sorta the funny side character kinda person. I'm just not appealing romantically."

Spencer lightly gasps at the last sentence.

"I've been head over heals for you since you first walked through these doors

[Y/N], I thought if anything I was being obvious about how I felt."

You just stand there stunned, the man you've loved for six months feel the same way. And you were not prepared for it.

"So..you feel the same way?"

"Of course I do."

"So...where exactly do we go from here?"

"Well I would love to take you out on a date, if that's okay with you."

You nodded in response.

"Nice I just have two more questions and then I should really get going, my bed is calling me."

"Okay what are your questions Spencer?"

"Will you be my girlfriend?"

You didn't even hesitate.

"Yes, I would love nothing more! And your other question?"

He's looking down at the floor, then back up at your lips, then back up into your eyes.

"Can I.. Can I kiss you?"

Without saying anything you went up to him and gently places your lips on his, feeling sweet relief. He froze slightly at first but quickly softly kisses you back.

This was it, the start of your new relationship with hopefully the love of your life. And you couldn't wait to see where it would take you.

~I fell in love with those eyes.~

______________________________________

Word count: 1,550

Ahh my first one shot in this book!

I really hope you guys like it!

Please vote and leave a comment!

And I might take requests so leave some down if you would like!

Take care,

- M

[well-its-not-human-anymore]

Hey, what would turtles be like with their crush under anesthesia after going to the dentist? 👀 like tell them how beautiful they are, that she is president of Mars, that her nose fell silent, that she does not know how to swim in space or things like that JSJAJSJA

When I tell you this had me cackling in my math class... 🤣🤣🤣

TMNT Headcanons

The boys on anesthesia around their crush

Donatello

You'd been recording the second Donnie had gotten home

This was either gonna turn out as blackmail or something that you would keep to yourself and watch when you needed a laugh

It seemed that even in a drugged state the turtle was able to spout off facts like a buff encyclopedia

Even if the facts didn't match up with each other

Like, you're aware that you aren't the smartest person to ever exist

But you're also pretty sure that the required caloric intake for saltwater crocodiles isn't the atomic mass of nitrous oxide

Or that you weren't "the queen of france but that's okay sweetheart because you're pretty and it's not your fault that Venus is in gatorade"

You were also not aware that Donnie found you pretty

But judging on the looks of his brothers faces it wasn't a secret to them

The same couldn't be said for when he looked you dead in the face and whispered "the birds are coming. I ate all the dill pickles and they're going to commit domestic arson. Y/n we've gotta do something"

You assured him that there were no birds and he seemed happy with that answer because a minute after he'd fallen asleep on top of you

Raphael

There were two things you knew for sure

One, your favorite color was definitely yellow

And two, you should under no circumstances wear a v-neck shirt while Raph had anesthesia in his system

Because according to him-

"y/n honey you stole the moon, why is it in your shirt? You're gonna make the sun explode, give the moon back"

You found this hilarious for several reasons

The obvious of course

And the panicked expression on the terrapin's face when the balls of bloody gauze fell from his mouth and onto his lap

You had to rush to inform him that you hadn't stolen the moon, the sun wasn't going to explode, and the blood coming out of his mouth was completely fine and normal for the procedure he'd just had

Let's just say that he trusted you much more than he trusted Donnie when his brother came in with fresh gauze for his mouth

You'd both simultaneously said "Now don't eat this" and no sooner than those words left your mouth he was furiously attempting to chew

Upon the realization that he did, in fact, not have a middle finger he gave a single triumphant "fuck you" before choking

Michaelangelo

Hot damn if Mikey wasn't obvious about his feelings before this he sure was making his point clear now

"Babes- shitttt nice ankles girl!"

He had also never made it easy for you to read before, so again, you didn't know why you thought that would change

So you sat on the couch next to the very out of it terrapin and flicked through channels

Nothing good was on that night

But no worries, Mikey was happy to provide entertainment

"Mikey please don't eat that- or that. Honey that's a rock and if you put it in your mouth I will beat you with my shoe."

He gave you some odd grumbling noises and flopped down on the floor in defeat

"Am I in hell?"

You had to stop yourself from laughing

"No Mikey. You're in recovery. If you're gonna be on the floor then stay there."

Something incoherenteft his mouth and you didn't bother to ask him what he said

But hell if Leo didn't pick the right time to come into the room

"You may not realize this y/n, but I'm a ninja and we heal three times faster than normal people."

His older brother waved you off with a sigh.

"Stay on the floor Mikey."

Leonardo

Leo liked to think that he was calm and collected, even when he was around you

Adding drugs to the equation kicked those thoughts off a twelve story building

He'd only been home for an hour and he was already making you want to pull your hair out

Donnie said he would've been tired and easy to manage after the surgery

Not well... whatever this was

"I can't tell if this is a moral debate or if you're just bashing me for liking mango popsicles."

"Yes."

"Leo that's not how that works."

He did, in fact, think that was how it worked

You were able to shut Donnie down before he could go off on a tangent about argument setup

"Nonononono Leo please for the love of God put the katana down."

"Hmph, m'fine-"

"It wasn't a suggestion lizard brain. Put the stabby down before I stick you with a butter knife."

He tossed his katana onto the kitchen table and stumbled across the room to flop onto his bed and grumble

"You're cute when you're bossy"

Your face went through all five stages of grief in under six seconds and it took all your willpower not to choke on the water in your mouth

"Say that again?"

"Pretty..." Was the only thing he said before he started snoring

I had a lot of fun writing these and I hope I was able to capture what you had in mind! 🧡✌️

-Mars 🌠

[iamjungkooked]

Mr. Min

↳Pairing: Min Yoongi x female reader

↳Genre: Romance (all fluff)

↳Word count: 4.7K

↳Rating: G

↳Warnings: None

↳Summary:

Min Yoongi is the asshole boss who keeps you late at work every night. But then you find out why and it gives you the upper hand.

A/N: I hope you guys like it!! Finally wrote something less than 5k. It has been a while for sure. Cross posting this from my other blog @iamtaekooked​. You guys have been following me on here even though i am like never on here its crazy. I LOVE YOU ALL. THANK YOU SO MUCH. I AM GOING TO TRY POSTING MORE IF MY LIFE LETS ME.

Your hand begins cramping as you finish writing the report for asshole number one Min Yoongi. Writing a report is easy, but having to write it by hand is what makes you want to strangle him. The tiny blue desk clock strikes 11 pm and once again you lose out on the opportunity to live your life. At this point, you have lost track of how many times you have stayed late at the office while your friends enjoy their weekends with dinners, movies and activities. Sometimes it’s so bad that you video call them just as you’re about to drift off to sleep.

You don’t even bother to hope to go home early anymore. Min Yoongi always finds ways to make you stay late with him. You went through the five stages of grief at first because you felt your life was being taken away from you. You even thought of threatening him with a lawsuit because he couldn’t make you work over 40 hours a week. When you did he was quick to turn the tables by offering you overtime pay-- and not a measly sum. It was money you couldn’t turn away. So, once again you let yourself fall prey to his actions.

Slowly but surely you began getting used to this so-called “routine”. Gradually, hours started fading into one another until one day you became so habituated with staying late (and to the mind-boggling pay) that Yoongi didn’t even have to come to your cubicle to hand you anything. You already asked him in the morning for your evening assignment. One would think this would be a hint for him-- but no. The man was as clueless as one could be.

Like any other night, you had an assignment, one which Yoongi labelled as important. But then again everything was important. Any task he assigned (or rather you asked for) he classified as important. You wondered if he understood what the word means because if everything is important then technically nothing is. Rather than ask him about it, which wasn’t necessary anyway you did what you were handsomely paid to do.

A sigh passed your dry lips. Once again you grabbed the pen and began writing-- this time going as fast as your wrist would allow. The ink flowed from the pen to the paper in black scribbles, hardly understandable. But you could not bring yourself to care. He would have to deal with it, and that was that.

Having written the last sentence, you capped the pen and pushed back the chair so you could go to his office. Your heels hurt from wearing six-inch pumps all day. No less would do because turns out asshole Min Yoongi had made that provision because apparently, it looked “more professional”. While walking to his office you just imagined torturing him in your mind by making him wear these fucking heels. It was slightly comical imagery but also satisfying, so much so that you could not help yourself from smiling.

You knocked on the opaque glass door as you reached his office. It was customary for you to knock once and for him to not answer. Normally you would slide the documents or whatever is needed under the door because Yoongi had specifically requested he not be disturbed. But something prompted you to stick your head against the glass door and peer inside through the clear margins. You couldn’t see anything so despite Yoongi’s “request” you turned the knob, opened the door slightly and peeked your head inside. The scene in front of you however was not quite something you were expecting.

Min Yoongi was laying back against his very comfortable looking plush leather rotating chair, with his headphones on, legs resting on top of the table and his eyes fixed with a concentration on his laptop. There were empty boxes of takeout at his desk and the whole image conveyed to you that he hadn’t actually done any work. It was an inkling, which means you could be wrong. But you would be damned if you didn’t make your presence known.

You walked inside, standing halfway between him and the door and cleared your throat as loud as you could. There was no response as expected. You walked a few steps and stopped just short of his desk, yet he still did not notice you. You looked at the report in your hand and threw it on his desk, which landed with a thud. He jumped, and finally looked at you. It took a second but the realization dawned on him. His eyes bulged like he had been caught red-handed and you noticed his adam’s apple bob as he gulped hard.

He hastily took off his earphones and straightened in his chair. “I thought I told you not to disturb me”

“I am sorry, did I ruin the fun?” your brows knit together.

“Do you have the report?” he asked instead.

You look at the papers on his desk and then back at him to make him aware of it sitting in front of his eyes.  

He fumbles with the papers and picks them up. While he’s busy scanning the papers you take in the state of his desk. One side is completely neat with all the binders and files organized, and the other is just filled with trash. As you’re busy studying the contents of his desk, you notice the name of your client’s company on one of the papers. Curiously you reach towards the file, Yoongi still busy reading your report. You scan the pages and realize without even having to read halfway through it that Yoongi had already finished the report and it was marked with yesterday’s date, which means he already sent it to the client.

“Do you care to explain this Mr. Min?” your fingers curl into a fist around the papers.

His eyes widen once more. “Oh shit” he mumbles-- a deer caught in the headlights expression on his face.

He sighs, dropping your report on the table. “Oh fuck” he rubs his forehead. “It’s nothing,” he says with a straight face just a moment after looking like he’d been caught.

“It looks like you already completed the report. Why did I have to do it if you already did it?”

“I wanted you to” he’s quick to reply.

“I am sorry Mr. Min but that is not a good enough explanation. I stayed here even though I did not have to. I find it unfair that I have to do work that has already been done-- and that too by you. I doubt you don’t trust yourself with work”

“That’s enough with the questions” he replied curtly.

“Wait a minute” you look back at the pile of papers on his desk and find a presentation he had asked you to make for him a week ago. However,  the date this presentation was printed was a week before that which means that once again he made you do something that had already been done. Sensing a pattern you decided to confront him right then and there.

“Pardon my french, but why the hell have I been doing work that had already been done?”

Yoongi sighed once more, but this time he sounded more defeated than the first. “Look, I can’t give you an explanation you will like. There isn’t one. But I’ll tell you the truth”

“Good” you fold your arms across your chest.

“You won’t like this either but I asked you to stay late because I wanted you to be here with me. I never got used to working late at night. Something about being alone always irked me, so I started keeping people around. It’s not right, I know” he’s quick to justify just as he noticed you opening your mouth to speak. “Trust me, I know. But then when Brian left and you joined, I knew that I needed you around. So I started asking you to stay late. Turns out, I liked your company more than I have liked anyone else’s so I even started paying you to stay late, which I have never done either” he finishes, The only problem is he doesn’t sound sincere enough. It’s like he’s telling you for the sake of telling you.

“I am sorry Mr. Min but you are not a child. I can’t be putting my life on hold just so you don’t have to be alone at night. Do you have any idea how many occasions and opportunities I have missed in my life because of this? I couldn’t attend my best friend’s graduation, I couldn’t be there for the birth of my nephew because I was here slaving away. To think it was for nothing is terrible. You should really say sorry” you glare at the man, demanding an apology you know you deserve because it doesn’t matter how much money you got paid. It won’t compensate for the memories you could have made.

He purses his lips. “I won’t” he shakes his head. “I know it’s wrong but I don’t say sorry”

You scoff. “You’re an asshole”

He shrugs as if your remark doesn’t bother him in the slightest. “Be that as it may. I did what I did because I like having you around. In fact, I did it because I like you and I am not ashamed of it”

Under normal circumstances, you probably would have been flattered and even blushed at having been confessed to. But these weren’t normal circumstances and on top of that, it was Min Yoongi.

“How about this-- you can go home early for all of next week” he offers.

It actually makes your blood boil because he thinks he’s being generous. But even if you gave him a wide berth, this wasn’t even cutting it close “All of next month actually” you counter, determined in your own way to make him apologize for his actions.

He considers it. A few beats of silence pass as both of you continue to stare at each other. “Fine” he agrees.

“Good.” you say shortly, before turning on your heels and heading towards the door.

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Yoongi ends up keeping his word for the whole of next month. If it were up to you, you would have asked him that you will never stay late. But after your anger had died down in a week or so, the rational part of your mind convinced you that the money was too good. And it was. So you didn’t try to extend it.

In that one month, however, Yoongi was being awfully generous towards you. You figured it was his way of making up for his actions.

After a week of your heated conversation with him, you found a bouquet of flowers at home addressed to your best friend. There was no name on it. It turned out you did not need a name, because one you knew whose handwriting it was and secondly, the apology was enough for you to know who they were from.

I am sorry y/n missed your graduation. I realize she should have been there with you and it is my fault she was not. I can’t turn back time but I hope these flowers and this small gift make up for it. Congratulations on your achievement.

Accompanying the flowers was a generous gift, one which could have only been given by Yoongi. A full spa weekend with your best friend. It was an all-inclusive offer.

It felt like he was bribing you to forgive him. But even if that were the case, you felt you deserved this and you would be damned if you let it go to waste. If this is how he wanted to apologize, then so be it. In a way, he was giving you the opportunity to spend quality time with Hana.

Hana was ecstatic. “Isn’t it sweet?” she said dreamily.

You couldn’t help but scoff. “It’s not sweet. It’s what he should be doing. Not this exact thing per se. But he needs to be making up for what he did and he is” you reminded her.

“Fine” Hana was quick to give up because even she knew not to argue.

To apologize, at the end of the month Yoongi also ends up giving you the biggest client. This one you feel conflicted about because you can’t discern his intention. So you do the only thing you can. You went charging to his office to demand an explanation.

Maybe he heard you coming but before you could even open your mouth after entering the room he was already speaking.

“I know,” he says as he gave you one glance before focusing on his laptop as he typed away. “I gave you a client because you deserve it. Trying to make up for troubling you is also part of it, but it’s mostly because you deserve it” he explains without sparing you another glance this time. “It just so happens Karla likes you and I think you can understand each other well as women. Not to mention you have great marketing skills that Karla’s company could use” he finishes speaking and the sound of keys clacking stops as well. He gives you his undivided attention. “So” he joins his fingers in a steeple, elbows resting on the desk. “What do you think?”

You don’t even give it a second of thought. “You made a good decision Mr. Min” corners of your lips curve in a smile.

“Of course I did” he reciprocates your smile. “I never make bad decisions” his smile grows into a knowing grin.

You catch the sarcastic play on words. “I wouldn’t be too sure of that”. Your gaze lingers on his a second longer before you nod and turn away to leave.

Just as you reach for the door, he speaks.

“Do your best”

You turn around and give him a curtsey nod. “You bet I will”

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You’re back to working late nights, but this time with Yoongi in his office on actual things that matter.

You and Yoongi have been working on a pitch for Karla’s company to convince them to change their branding. You work late hours into the night as usual. You flirt here and there, but nothing major happens as you both keep it professional(ish). There are a few laughs exchanged, a couple of longing gazes, moments so thick with tension you could practically taste it on your tongue.

You lean over to look at Yoongi’s list of ideas, but unknowingly invade his personal bubble-- that intimate zone only reserved for significant others/spouses. You get caught up in the moment as you look at him, and he looks at you. For a moment you think he’ll kiss you. But instead, he clears his throat. “I’ll be back” his voice is a whisper.

He gets up hurriedly and leaves, clearing his throat all the way to the door.

You watch his figure disappear behind the opaque glass door.

“Keep it professional” you chide yourself with a shake of the head.

You focus back on your notes, flipping through the pages trying to put a concept map together.

A draft of air hits you and you look in the direction to find Yoongi opening the door. He walks in a few feet, one hand hidden behind his back.

Curiosity piqued and you offer him an inquisitive look. “What are you hiding Mr. Min?”

Wordlessly, he brings his arm forward. In his hand is a bouquet of baby’s breath flowers.

“How did you-” you start.

“I know” he erases the distance between you as he stops just shy of invading your intimate space and holds out the flowers.

You reach for them. “Thank you. But how do you know I like these?”

“You said it” he mentions.

“I did?” you look at him puzzled.

“Two nights ago. We were talking about using florals to brighten up the aesthetic for Karla’s company and you mentioned baby’s breath is your favourite flower”

“ I don’t even remember saying that” you shake your head, almost in disbelief that he remembered. “You actually remembered?”

He nods. “I remember everything you say” he replies“ no matter how sharply you put it” he adds with a chuckle.

At a loss for words, all you can do is stare at the man filled with a foreign feeling.

“Thank you” you finally manage to say.

“You’re very welcome” his lips curve into a smile.

He returns to his seat while you place the flowers on his desk as gently as you can. Once he’s seated you take the opportunity to ask. “Mr. Min” you address him.

“Yeah” he looks at you in a way that makes your heart race faster.

“Why did you give me these?” it feels like the incessant urgent know has been satisfied and you feel relieved.

He shrugs. “I don’t know. I guess I wanted to” he looks down at the papers in front of him. A few moments of silence pass as you continue studying him while he keeps his gaze downcast. “An-anyway let's get back to it” he quickly changes the subject.

You nod. Under the dim lighting of his office, for the very first time you notice how handsome he looks. His skin looks like porcelain, his eyes glimmer with a hint of golden flecks around the irises. His lips look buttery soft. You bite back on your lip as you realize how much quicker you’re breathing.

“Is something wrong?” Yoongi questions as he looks up at you.

You vigourously shake your head. “I just— I am sorry”

“I caught you staring didn’t I?” he responds but it’s not really meant to be a question. “I don’t mind. I like the attention” he winks.

Your eyes widen. “I— I wasn’t” your attempt at denying it is futile and even you know it. But you have to at least attempt to save face.

“If it helps, I actually think it’s cute” his lips upturn in a playful smile.

You keep mum, considering there is nothing to say. Even though you don’t speak, the smile on your lips says everything Yoongi needs to know.

You hear him softly laughing and you can sense him just shaking his head. Then you hear something and you aren’t sure if you hear it right but it sounds an awful lot like “you’re cute miss y/n”

You end up spending another hour brainstorming ideas. After that last exchange between you, you thought you couldn’t concentrate. But you did. And once more you flirted a little, exchanged gazes, and avoid as hard as you can to pay no mind to the vibe between you.

“I think we should call it a night” Yoongi stretches his arms over his head with a groan. “You’re tired too”

“Okay” you start gathering all the papers into a pile.

“Don’t worry about this” he waves his hand in a dismissive manner. “I’ll do it. Start getting your stuff together. I’ll drop you off”

“You don’t have to” you reply, the burdensome feeling coming on. “I can go home”

“Did I give you a choice?” he narrows his eyes at you. “Just because I got you these flowers, and that spa day and gave you Karla doesn’t mean you get to tell what I have or don’t have to do. Got it” he sounds a little stern, but in a way where he’s being thoughtful more than trying to be a jerk.

“Yes, Mr. Min” the meekness in your voice surprises you. As you stand in front of him you cannot understand what brings on this sudden submissive attitude. But you have already agreed and something tells you Mr. Min won’t take no for an answer.

“I’ll be right there” he motions to the door with his head, indicating that you should pack up.

“Okay” you pick up the bouquet and quietly walk out of his office.

The walk back to your desk is filled with mixed emotions. A fluttery feeling floats in your stomach, giving you the perception that your head is spinning. You almost stumble as you reach your desk. You realize you’re breathless as you grip onto the edges of the desk to steady yourself. “Shit. So much for keeping it professional” you mutter while you grab your bag. You sling it over your shoulder. You gather the flowers in your hand as you wait for Yoongi.

Moments later he’s coming out. “Ready?” he asks.

With a dry mouth and dizzying intoxication brought upon his presence all you do is nod.

“After you.” he says.

Maybe he isn’t an asshole after all.

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The sounds of crickets chirping in the silence of the night help shroud some of your thoughts. But not enough apparently because merely Yoongi’s presence is enough to send you in a tizzy. It’s maybe only been about five seconds since Yoongi stopped in front of your house but it sure feels like hours.

“Umm” you’re the first to break the silence. “Well, thank you for the ride an-and for these flowers”

“You’re welcome” comes his quiet voice.

You unlock the door, one foot already out of the door.

“Wait” his hand on your forearm stops you.

You turn to look at him. “Yeah?”

“I actually brought you these flowers because I was going to ask you on a date” he confesses.

“Oh” is all you can manage. You don’t know what else to say.

“So, will you…?” he sounds unsure as he says these words, almost like he himself doesn’t know.

He sounds sincere enough. But as it stands you have two choices: give in easily at which point you may as well give up any hope in future of asking him for anything. Or you could just play hard to get so he knows it won’t be easy.

“I’ll think about” confidence flows through your voice, and along with a coy smirk on your lips.

Yoongi’s previously solemn expression is replaced by a crooked smile. He studies you quietly, making you wonder what he’s thinking. “I’ll give you five minutes”

“No. If that’s how long you think it takes to figure out whether I want to give you a chance, then my answer is no”.

“Fine. How long do you want?”

“It’s not about long I want Mr. Min. It’s about how long you are willing to wait” and without hearing his response you exit the car.

All Yoongi can do is stare at you open-mouthed-- stunned and in utter disbelief.

You didn’t know Yoongi would wait for two whole months. You didn’t expect him to keep it professional between you either

You also didn’t expect Min Yoongi to come to your desk at 2 pm and ask you to look over the designs for one of your clients.

“You look lovely today y/n” he stops next to your desk, holding out a file for you.

“I always look lovely” you take the file from him, dismissing his compliment because you’re sure he’s just buttering you up into doing something for him. Not that you wouldn’t if he hadn’t said anything.

“I mean it” his voice softens as he recognizes your disbelief. “Blue looks good on you’” he motions to your blue blouse, and looks you straight in the eyes. He doesn’t even flinch-- which means he actually probably means it.

You certainly don’t regret picking it out anymore. “Thank you”

“You’re very welcome.” he adds with a smile that stretches into a grin. “Oh and can you look this over. Please and thank you”

“I will” you nod. “Question for you”

“Anything” he half sits on your desk as he awaits your ask.

“Did you come here to give me the file or to tell me I look good?”

“I came here to tell you, you look beautiful if what you’re after is my motive” the corners of his mouth turn up in a soft flirty smile.

“I am. But I’ll also look at this” you gesture to the file in your hand.

He acknowledges your response with a nod as he turns around and starts towards his office.

“Mr. Min” you call out and he turns around. “That suit looks great on you”

It takes him a second to comprehend your words, but as soon as he does, he’s back to smiling. “Thank you y/n”

Just as easily he struts away, just as easily everyone around you is stunned into silence. It looks like a comic scene as everyone looks at Yoongi’s retreating figure with mouth’s agape.

“Did he flirt with you?” one of your coworker’s peers over the divide between your cubicles.

You look up at him. “Yes he did”

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At 4 pm, you walk back to his office with your notes on the changes that should be made. You knock on the door once. He doesn’t answer so you take it as your cue to enter.

“Here are the notes” you hold out the file as you stop just in front of his desk.

“It’s already done?” Yoongi is forced to look up his work.

“Yes and yes”

“Okay. You can leave it on the desk” he goes back to his work.

You wait for him to catch on. But he doesn’t. So you start towards the door.

“Wait” he calls out. “Yes and Yes?”

You turn around, feeling giddy with anticipation.

“What’s the second yes for?” he looks at you puzzled.

“I guess you don’t want to go on that date anymore” you quirk a brow.

He closes his laptop and leans back in his chair. “Took you long enough”

“You reap what you sow Mr. Min”

“Is that right?” it’s rhetorical of course but you nod anyway.

He chuckles. “Let’s go “ he grabs his coat from the back of the chair and swings it around and on his shoulders.

You look at him puzzled. “Right now? What about work?”

“First, I am the boss so I make the rules and I say we go. Second, I made the mistake of offering you five minutes of time to make your decision. You really think I am going to give you a day or two for this date”

You can’t help but laugh. “In that case Mr. Min, let’s go”

He heads to the door first as you follow “After you” he opens it and you’re almost out of the door when he shuts the door. “Wait. I have to do something” he pulls you to himself, supporting you by the waist as he presses his lips to yours.

Maybe time stops when his lips meet yours. But the flutter in your stomach only intensifies. You feel weak in the knees. You hold onto the nape of Yoongi’s neck as your legs begin to tingle. Yoongi’s hands rest on your sides, and gently make their way up to cup your cheeks. You moan into his mouth, as his tongue dances against your lips.

Yoongi keeps his eyes slightly open as he pulls back for air. He wasn’t sure if he was dreaming so he held onto you tighter, causing you to become aware of the contour of his body flush against yours. “I am sorry if I took you by surprise” he’s slightly breathless and flushed. “I wasn’t sure how the date would go and if I would get the chance to do this. If you don’t want to go anymore” he stops to lick his lips. “I would understand” he finishes.

“So you’re not an asshole after all” you look at him through the curtain of your eyelashes.

He raises a brow at you silently telling you to consider your wording as if you're treading on thin ice. “I am still your boss”

You shrug. “You lost the upper hand when you asked me out”

“I knew I liked you for a reason” he says while he takes a tiny step back to give you space and time to collect yourself.

“I think I might fall” your breathless voice takes you by surprise.

“You already have” he curls his fingers around yours.

Hand in hand you walk out of his office, causing ruckus in your wake as your coworkers gawk in disbelief at your departing figures. Because how could Mr.Min be acting like this? More importantly, how could Mr. Min be smiling like an absolute idiot.

I hope you enjoyed it :) Don’t forget to like and reblog! Thank you for reading.

[bewitching-elizabeth-olsen]

Press: “It’s a New Day”: THR Drama Actress Roundtable

THE HOLLYWOOD REPORTER: Gillian Anderson had been dreading this. A tripod had arrived at her home in the U.K., along with a mess of lights and, really, just the thought of having to sit through an hour-plus on Zoom had her practically reeling. But then the woman who stuns as Margaret Thatcher in the most recent season of Netflix’s The Crown got talking — about pigeonholing and pay equity, about grieving and giving oneself over — and soon she didn’t want to stop talking. And neither did anyone else — The Queen’s Gambit‘s Anya Taylor-Joy, Pose‘s Mj Rodriguez, Genius: Aretha‘s Cynthia Erivo, WandaVision’s Elizabeth Olsen and Ratched‘s Sarah Paulson — at THR’s annual (virtual) Drama Actress Roundtable.

Let’s start easy. Complete this sentence: On set, I’m the one who is most likely to be …

GILLIAN ANDERSON Hiding in a corner. (Laughter.)

ANYA TAYLOR-JOY Pacing whilst moving my hands like this (waving above) trying to figure out what it is that I’m doing.

SARAH PAULSON Bossing everyone around.

ELIZABETH OLSEN Probably trying to make the crew laugh.

At the same time, you’re also inhabiting characters for long stretches and often they require you to go to dark or heavy places. What happens when a director yells, “Cut”? Do they come home with you?

MJ RODRIGUEZ I try to separate myself from Blanca as much as possible, especially [because we’re] dealing with immense trauma. So, when I go home, it’s Michaela Jaé going home, and I bring Blanca to the set. It’s easier that way because it can weigh on you otherwise and wash off on your family.

TAYLOR-JOY I wish I had as much control over it. For me, there are some characters that you can very easily snap in and out of and then there are other ones like Beth in The Queen’s Gambit. I’d worked back-to-back on two projects with one day off in between, so by the time I got to filming the show, I was exhausted and there was no energy to create a barrier. And that was potentially the toughest thing about the show, because it was a wonderful experience as an actor to be able to not have to reach for any emotion, but then you also have to go through the psychological warfare of figuring out, “Why do I feel so awful in the morning?” Like, “What is happening?” And then you go, “Oh, it’s not my feelings,” but I have to sit in them all day and I have to be aware enough to go, “You are not depressed, the character is depressed, and at some point that will leave you.” But I do think a bath every single night — being able to have the visual representation of washing yourself clean of something — helps.

OLSEN Regardless of what exactly the day requires of you, emotionally, you’re just tired. And so you try to be patient and professional and kind, and then when you go home, that’s when your fuse is just … smaller. (Laughter.)

TAYLOR-JOY You should date us, we’re fabulous.

CYNTHIA ERIVO I did, it was a real ugly cry. After playing [Harriet Tubman in the 2019 film], I went straight to see my mother in London and I don’t know what happened, but I just broke. You know the visual representation of shattering glass? That was what was happening to me. All the stuff I had to dig through to play her, all that heartbreaking stuff didn’t leave me when I finished, and it took time to just dissipate. And it was the same with Aretha — unfortunately, the pandemic hit when we were in the middle of shooting, so I couldn’t completely get rid of her during the six-month hiatus, and then I had to go right back into playing her. And it’s little things, like mannerisms, that stick with you. The lilt in her voice when she’s speaking to people. Like, that’s not me but I was stuck with that for a bit. And I was recording an album at the same time, so there was no space between one and the other. It took me a while before I could listen to an Aretha song again.

ANDERSON I certainly had that experience doing X-Files for nine seasons. I had a good couple of mini breakdowns during that, and at the end, could not talk about it, could not see it, could not see pictures, could not. I needed to immerse immediately in theater in another country. And then after a while, I was able to embrace it again, but when I started to embrace it, it was almost like I separated myself so much that I was looking at the image as if it was another person. When you immerse yourself so entirely as we can and we do for such long periods of time, there’s not going to be no consequence to that. Of course, there’s going to be consequence to that.

TAYLOR-JOY May I pose a question to the group?

Please do.

TAYLOR-JOY It’s so wonderful hearing you two talk about this, because I’ve always felt really crazy for the depressions that you go into after you leave a character and not being able to necessarily connect with yourself. And I’m really curious to hear what your relationship is with something being seen. Because when I first started working, I convinced myself that filmmaking was a very private practice with a private group of people and that no one was ever going to see it. And I thought I’d grow out of that, and I haven’t. Every project I have to sit myself down about two months after it’s finished and go, “People are going to see this and have access to it whenever they want.” How do you guys work [handle that]? Because for Queen’s Gambit, I had to go through a grieving period. It was grief, genuinely, to think, “Oh goodness, this thing that I loved so much is not mine anymore.”

ANDERSON I had that experience after doing Blanche in Streetcar [Named Desire] here in the U.K. and then in New York.

OLSEN I saw your last performance in New York. You were fabulous.

PAULSON Fucking phenomenal.

ANDERSON I felt like I’d lost my best friend. I was grieving. Some friends of mine in New York had a brunch for me the weekend after [I finished my run], and I arrived like a complete wreck. It was so profound. I also knew it was unlikely I was going to do it again because I knew that I’d probably lose my mind. I got really close. Like, I’d survived by the skin of my teeth and if I did it again out of ego or attachment or not wanting to let her go, there would be consequences. So I knew it was the end, and it was so sad.

ERIVO Do you know what’s so crazy? I listen to you and I’m like, “Oh my God, that’s what was happening to me during The Color Purple.” It was the last show and I started grieving in the show, knowing that it was coming to an end. There’s one last song and I couldn’t get through it. And then the show ends and I buckled under the sadness of it. But there was no way I could have continued playing Celie on that stage. It [had been] 14 months and I had to let her go. The line between me and her had disappeared. But to answer your question, Anya, I’ve never had an issue with people seeing things. I usually have an issue seeing it after it’s done.

PAULSON This happened when I did Marcia Clark [for The People v. O.J. Simpson: American Crime Story]. I felt a profound connection to her and I felt protective of her, and the experience had been so tectonic plate-shifting for me, both as a performer and as a human, and I thought, “If I watch it, I’m going to pick apart everything.” She was left-handed, so every time I use my right hand, I’m going to think, “God damn it, why did they use that?” So, the only way to protect myself from that is to detach from what the world will experience with it. And I’ve maintained that for a long time now — I really don’t watch [things I’m in] because I don’t have the strength, first of all, to bear the sight of my face and, also, I find it really confronting. The preciousness of the thing you were creating with these other people is what I want to be the indelible thing for me and not how it was edited.

TAYLOR-JOY Mm-hmm.

PAULSON All that does is make me furious because I don’t have the power to go in and go, “Hi, um, could you choose take six? It’s infinitely better.” (Laughter.) And when you don’t have that ability and you’re at the mercy of someone else’s opinion of what is the finest work that you’ve done, which doesn’t always line up with what you feel, it’s really jarring and you feel so powerless to do anything about it. So, I have to just sage it all out and let my experience be the only thing that governs the way I feel about it.

RODRIGUEZ When the first two seasons of Pose came out, I didn’t watch them at first because I was just so nervous about how the world would receive it. It was a story that a lot of people haven’t gotten to see, and it was a whole bunch of trans women of color finally getting their shot. It’s a lot of responsibility. And on top of that, it’s a story that’s filled with trauma and things that a lot of us trans women have gone through, so it was hard for me to watch all of those things back.

Gillian, in your career you’ve also been a champion for pay equity. But even as you were promoting a book you co-authored on female empowerment a few years ago, you acknowledged that you were nervous speaking up about being paid less than your male co-star. What do you think you were scared of, and how have the conversations for you changed since?

ANDERSON I just need to point out that I first fought for pay equity way back when it was audacious by anybody’s standards, because I was a nobody when we started to do that series. But when I really spoke up about it was when it happened again, four or five years ago, after the career I’d already had post-X-Files. We were going back to do another season and Fox came to me to offer, I don’t know, a 10th of what my co-star [David Duchovny] was being offered. That was the point where I was like, “Fuck this. I’m actually going to talk about this [publicly].” And since then, it hasn’t really come up. I mean, I haven’t worked with a lot of men, so that hasn’t been an issue. (Laughs.) I’m certainly tuned to it, and were it something now, I’d address it. But I have so much admiration for anyone who stands up for their right either to be paid or to be hired, period. And look, they weren’t going to fire me on The X-Files. The stakes weren’t that high. I put my foot down, not because the stakes weren’t high, but if they were going to fire me, some people were going to have some things to say about that. It’s very different for a young woman going into a job situation with a boss who’s overbearing and asking for a pay raise.

Sure, you had leverage.

ANDERSON Yeah.

For the rest of you, when have you spoken up in your careers?

ERIVO I mean, the obvious is I’m a Black woman, and that has a lot to do with how you’re paid, how you’re hired, if you’re hired, the way you’re hired — it affects everything. I’m lucky enough to have a team behind me that is brave enough to ask the questions I’d like asked: What I’m being paid compared to the leading man in the show, or if I’m being paid a lot less, whether or not they are willing to come up so it becomes equal. And about little things in my contract that just make it easier to exist on a set. For me, it’s about having the guts to stick with it and to keep asking and keep fighting. And there are definitely times where you’re like, “I am so exhausted from asking the same thing.” Like, if we could please have this makeup artist with me because usually there are no Black makeup artists on a set and you’re the only one who needs one, and I’ve had to have that fight every single time I’ve gone onto a set: “I need to hire these two people because they are the only people that understand how to do my face or my hair.” It isn’t about vanity, it’s about making sure that whoever I’m playing is represented in the right way because they understand how to work with my skin tone and my hair. But you keep sticking with it because it’s not just me having my way, it’s me being able to employ two other people. And then maybe I’m asking, “Can we have a DP who understands lighting that works on my skin tone?” So it’s constantly being OK with asking the questions. And there is a bit of fear, like, “Am I going to be seen as difficult?” And yes, there are times where I’ve had someone say they’ve heard I was difficult, but usually, it’s because I’ve asked a question that will make for a better surrounding or a better show. And if I keep asking the questions and if other ladies like myself keep asking the questions, and we keep trying to better our spaces, it just becomes the norm — because at some point it has to just become the norm.

Elizabeth, I believe you had a saying in your house growing up, “No is a full sentence.” When do you find you use it?

OLSEN I use it a lot. (Laughs.) I use it when I’m on set. I mean, I want to be a part of every department when I’m on set. I want to understand the schedule. I want to understand everything. I produced a TV show [Sorry for Your Loss] that didn’t get too much light of day because it was on Facebook, which, whatever … but as a producer on it, it was really important for me to be a voice of everything you’re saying, Cynthia, and have heads of departments feel like and look like the freakin’ world. And just from having a taste of that for two seasons, I can’t [go back]. So when I go to do Dr. Strange 2 in England, I guess I use it when I just can’t shake it even though [the production is] so much bigger than me. I don’t know, my opinions are vast and everyone hears them, from the first AD to the EP. I think I’m like a representative of anyone having a hard time on set. … (Laughs.)

PAULSON You’re the Equity rep, I love it.

OLSEN Oh my God. (Laughter.)

When you think about your careers, is there someone else’s that you look at and go, “Ooh, yeah, I’d love that”?

OLSEN Gillian’s, Sarah’s …

ERIVO Yeah, Sarah, you’re that for me. You’re fucking incredible.

PAULSON You saying that to me makes me want to cry because sometimes you feel like you’re doing this in a bubble and you don’t even know if anything you’re doing ever has any meaning or impact to anyone.

ERIVO It does. From my heart, it does. And I hope I get to work with you one day.

PAULSON I’d give my eyeteeth. (Laughs.) For me, it’s Gillian — somebody being on a TV program for a long time that’s wildly successful and then retreats to another country to be onstage, to reconnect yourself to the very things that inspired you and made you want to be a part of this. It all gets very confusing in terms of how to navigate [this business]because you do want to make a living, but you also want to follow your heart. And there does come a time where you can become quite depleted from the constant output without any input. And if you’re a woman of a certain age, which I certainly am, I feel like I’ve got one foot on one window frame and I’ve got the other one over here and I’m just trying to insist that they stay open for as long as possible. And some of that is beyond my control, but when I look at Gillian’s career I just go, “Well, I want that.”

ANDERSON Thank you for saying that. On the one hand, I feel like there is some degree of design, but I’ve also never really gone after things. And when I finished with X-Files, I didn’t know if I wanted to be on a set again ever. So aside from having grown up in the U.K. and wanting to go back, I knew it would take time before I could, if I was going to. And in London, you could move between theater and TV, and that was always my dream. But every actor has the thing that they’d want more than the thing that they have, and I’m a cinephile, and so I [wonder], “Why do I keep doing TV? All I want to do is do film.” And I’m still doing TV. (Laughs.) But I’ve had such amazing opportunities that, coming from Scully, I even questioned people, like, “Why are you offering this to me? What makes you think that I can do this?” I’ll also say that as soon as you have kids, kids are the priority. So, I say to people, “I’m gonna be such a pain in the ass for you to hire. But if you think I’m this person, I’m gonna need to work during this period of time and then have time with my kids. And it���s going to be expensive for you. If you are willing to do that, then I’m your girl, and if you’re not, you need to find somebody else.”

Anya, Queen’s Gambit became a global juggernaut. How have your opportunities and choices changed? Is there pressure to strike while the iron is hot?

TAYLOR-JOY I think I’ve always followed character and only recently did I start following directors as well, but it’s always been about, “Do I feel like I’m the right person to tell this story? Do I think I can tell this story correctly?” And if you look at something like Queen’s Gambit, it was not supposed to be the white-hot show; it’s a show about a girl that plays chess for seven hours, but I felt so compelled to tell that story. So, it sounds cheesy, but I really just keep following my heart. OK, wait, I take that back. Something I’m also learning is that you give yourself to this person for three to six months, and I never used to think about this before, but now I start thinking, “Am I ready to give up my life for this person? Do I need to tell this story so badly that I’m going to do that?” I try not to think about what other people will think, because it’s your life at the end of the day. And as we all know, you’re that [character] every hour of the day, and when you go home it’s difficult to let go of them, so you have to really love them.

Mj, you’ve talked about how significant this show was for you and for the visibility of the trans community. How have the opportunities being presented to you post-Pose changed?

RODRIGUEZ In the middle of the third season, I started figuring out my worth, and it’s scary. I was nervous. I didn’t expect to actually book my next job after Pose.

ERIVO I did.

PAULSON We all did.

RODRIGUEZ And see, that’s my insecurity and that’s something I have to fix. I didn’t think it was possible. To get an opportunity like Pose and have myself centered in the story and to end it with hope, and then to get another opportunity with an iconic actress [an Apple TV+ comedy co-starring Maya Rudolph] was surreal. But if I’m still feeling the need for protection as far as my Blackness, my Latina-ness and my trans-ness go, that means there is more work to be done.

Are there doors still not open to the rest of you? Parts you’d love to play if only Hollywood would see you that way?

PAULSON No one has asked me to do a comedy, and I’m a little frustrated about that.

ERIVO And you’re funny as fuck.

PAULSON I spend a lot of time in these worlds where I’m either running or crying or screaming or playing a real person and trying to get their physicality, and I’d really like to do a nice road picture with me and a couple of chicks.

ANDERSON Ooh, I’ll go with you!

PAULSON How about all of us just in a road movie — like, get a Winnebago and let’s go?

ERIVO I’m down.

RODRIGUEZ Yeah, count me in.

ANDERSON I’m 53, Sarah, and I’ve really only been offered comedy in the last three years of my life, and I don’t think that’s because I’m any funnier than I used to be. I think a lot of it is that people just couldn’t fathom it, whether it was that Scully was still in their minds or it was someone else, because I’ve played a lot of dark characters, too. And so they just weren’t coming. And then came [Netflix comedy] Sex Education — and I passed when it first came to me because I didn’t think it was right. It was my partner who proverbially dug it out of the trash.

ERIVO I’ve yet to see a Call Me by Your Name for a Black woman, I have yet to see a piece that allows a woman of color to be sensual and soft and loving and be loved. I’ve just not seen it, and I desperately want to experience that, just because I want to be able to be in that space of vulnerability and lilt. I really want to do that. And that hasn’t come my way. A comedy hasn’t come my way either.

RODRIGUEZ Same. It’s been so hard when it comes to trans women being loved in a sensual way, and I’d love to do something like that.

Elizabeth and Anya, to Sarah’s point, Hollywood likes to keep actors in a lane. How have you avoided that kind of pigeonholing in your careers to date?

TAYLOR-JOY I’ve been saved from a lot of things in my life from pure innocence and naivete, genuinely. My first movie was called The Witch, I got a script immediately afterward that was about, you guessed it, a witch, and I figured, “Wow, why do they want to see me do this again?” So, I was immediately like, “Can I not do anymore witch movies, please?” And my agent was like, “OK. Sure, whatever you say.” I wonder how many people agree with me here because I certainly want to please, but in order to please, I don’t have to give up myself, and actually it’s more important to please myself than it is to please anybody else. I’m giving my heart, my body, my soul, everything to this character, I’m not going to do something because somebody wants me to do it. That doesn’t make any sense and, also, it makes me miserable and then I can’t do my best work. And so if I feel the opportunities that are being given to me aren’t the right ones, then I have to stick my neck out and go, “Hey, I think I could maybe do this, if you’ll give me the opportunity to try.”

How about you, Elizabeth?

OLSEN [In the beginning,] I was just trying so hard to not be put in a box that that’s what was guiding my choices. I knew that I didn’t want to be an actor who was thought of as “youthful and beautiful” and whatever that attachment people like to put onto young women, and so I did everything in my power not [to be seen as] that. But I didn’t have my own pillars of why I wanted to do things beyond just the character. That started to solidify only in the last five years. So I made a lot of odd decisions [after theater school at NYU] because I didn’t know enough about film and the machine of it. Right, Sarah? You were there for that time. We were in Martha Marcy May Marlene, and I remember someone asked me, “You had Sarah Paulson with you, didn’t you know it could be a film people saw?” And I was like …

PAULSON You were like, “Who the fuck is Sarah Paulson?” (Laughter.)

OLSEN No, but independent cinema to me was just, like, going to Quad Cinema in New York and seeing a movie. The theater world is all I understood. So I feel like a moron for going back to theater only once in 10 years. And this conversation with Gillian right now is inspiring.

In light of Elizabeth’s concern about the trap of being perceived as “youthful and beautiful,” how would you all complete this sentence: I wish our male counterparts also had to …

OLSEN Deal with lighting and hair and makeup before doing press. I don’t know what I’m doing.

ERIVO Deal with people believing that you’ve lost your sexuality after the age of 30.

TAYLOR-JOY Had an understanding of what it was like to walk into a room and sometimes have to enforce yourself for people to take you seriously. That ability to just walk into a room and go, “I am valid, I own my space and everybody respects me” — it would be good if they knew what it was like to not have that.

ERIVO And on the flip side, to not have to deal with walking into the room and trying to make sure people aren’t scared of you when you get there.

What do you all know now that you wish you could have told yourself at the beginning of your career?

PAULSON I would like to have told myself that I didn’t need to excise myself from the experience. I was very focused on looking at other actors who had careers that I admired when I was first starting out and wondering what it was about them that made it possible for them to be chosen or employed and I’d often try, in an audition or a social setting, to mimic what I imagined was the desired effect, taking me out of the scenario. And there’s this beautiful Martha Graham-to-Agnes de Mille letter that I used to keep in a dressing room any time I was doing a play, about how there is only one you in all of time and space and that what you see and how you experience things is unique to you. And if you block it, the world will not have it. And as a young person, I thought, “Mute me, mute my opinions, my thoughts, my assessments and try to fill it with other things,” and now I think it’s the exact opposite, so I wish I had known that earlier. But I’ll take knowing it now [over] never knowing it at all.

RODRIGUEZ I would have told my younger self that my existence is worth it. When I was younger, I tried to fit into this mold of what a woman should do — you know, keep your legs crossed, always bow down to a man. But we don’t have to live in that world anymore. It’s a new day.

It is, and that’s a good place to end. Thank you all for sharing your time and your stories.

ERIVO I know we’re supposed to finish, but do you know what’s occurred to me as I’ve listened to every one of you? I remember where I was when I watched every single one of you — and I remember what I was dealing with or going through. I was watching you, Sarah, when I was shooting Aretha. I was watching you, Elizabeth, when I was in London on my own, and you, Anya, when I was in Atlanta. Mj, I remember watching a season of Pose while I was shooting The Outsider. And Gillian, I watched you when I was in a hotel with my partner outside of London. And I remember what happened. And so your performances aren’t just brilliant, your performances get to be Post-its in all of our lives, and so I thank you for that.

PAULSON That’s a very beautiful way to put it …

ANDERSON It also brings us back full circle to what Anya said at the beginning, which is, “Oh my God, I have to keep reminding myself that people are going to watch this.” But actually, thank God that people are watching it, because we’ve touched each other’s lives and numerous other people’s lives just by focusing on the thing that we love most.

TAYLOR-JOY And the importance of these conversations is the honesty, because it’s very easy for us to get locked into our own heads of this as an individual experience — “There’s something wrong with me,” or “Everybody else is doing really great and nobody else grieves their characters,” or whatever your version of that is in whatever industry you’re in. But having honest conversations with people who are willing to be vulnerable just makes me feel so much less alone.

PAULSON The next time you feel that way, text me. I’ll remind you. I’d also like to say that there’s this [perception] of women being pitted against one another and not being there for one another, and this conversation is diametrically opposed, in that what we are actually saying is that each of us has been buoyed by and inspired by the work of everyone here. So, I may not watch anything I do, but I sure as hell am watching all of you.

Press: “It’s a New Day”: THR Drama Actress Roundtable was originally published on Elizabeth Olsen Source • Your source for everything Elizabeth Olsen

[wrienne]

My Cheating, Amnesic Fiancé

Chapter 10: His Ring

Namjoon and Seokjin’s eyes widened, though you got no reaction from Yoongi. He was like an ominous presence, sitting at an angle you could only watch him through your peripheral view as you stared down at your hands.

“How?” asked Namjoon. “And how do you know that?”

“Yes, isn’t amnesia both incurable and irreversible?” wondered Hoseok. "That's what the doctor told us."

“Starting with that...”

While explaining what you and Kim Sejin had spoken about that morning and the battle plan you had organized all day during school, all six of them were quiet. You finished with, “...I figured I could grab some of his clothes as well as hear your ideas about my plan.”

“It sounds like some kind of movie plot,” said Seokjin dubiously.

“Exactly what I told your manager,” you said and smiled half-heartedly. “But this is the only option we have. I, for one, refuse to let Jungkook lose all that he’s fought for. What all of you have fought for.”

“Even if it’s a slight chance, there’s still a possibility,” said Namjoon in agreement.

“What would you have us do, then?” asked Jimin.

“If you could write down a list, just as I have,” you said as you showed them your scribbles, “I’d have something more recent to go on from. I have never been very close to him, especially since his debut, so your input would help tremendously.”

“Why help him then?” Taehyung regarded you warily. His hard expression had gradually morphed into one of focus and attentiveness, but now you saw it teetering. Would he flare up again? “What do you have to gain?”

“Would you stop it?” Hoseok gave Taehyung a harsh glare, which made Namjoon and Seokjin look curiously at him. Hoseok pointed at Taehyung. “This one almost lost it downstairs, blaming Jungkook’s accident on (Y/N). Taehyung, you coming at her doesn’t exactly help the situation.”

“Hyung,” said Taehyung coolly. “Everyone with half a brain understands that she and Jungkook parted on unfriendly terms. Have you ever heard him curse like that - especially to a girl who is supposed to be a ‘family friend’? And he wouldn’t speak to anyone at all until Sejin-manager had taken us to the bar. She made him drink and run out on the street.”

“He’s halfway right,” said Seokjin as he scrutinized you. “I’ve never seen our Jungkook that mad.”

“Exactly,” said Taehyung triumphantly. “So you better tell us the truth: what do you have to gain from Jungkook?”

“Nothing,” you said earnestly, then fumbled as you tried to structure the rest of your reply. Technically, you had absolutely nothing to gain from Jeon Jungkook’s potential recovery and reascent to the music industry’s top. Meanwhile, it would take you more than three months of hard work and utter, genuine dedication to even have a shot at getting him to Japan. It could all just prove to be a waste of time. Minutes, hours, days, weeks better spent on you and yourself. Not to mention, that bastard had been unfaithful to you for who knows how long, in addition to having treated you sometimes like air, sometimes like dirt and sometimes like you were his worst enemy in the world.

But still. Still. You couldn’t abandon Jeon Jungkook in his time of need.

“It doesn’t make sense,” said Taehyung and crossed his arms over his chest. “Jungkook told me you disliked each other, and that you couldn’t stand him. So why?”

“I just…”

You grasped after the right words. Your mind was muddled, however, so you had no choice but to simply follow the second voice-in-command: your heart.

“If you were me,” you began carefully, “would you have allowed the son of your parents’ best friend to forget his childhood dream? I’ve known Jungkook all of my life - we’ve grown up together, spent every holiday with one another and celebrated everything from birth, life and death side by side. He was horrible most of the time, I’ll say that, but he was there for me when others weren’t. You might believe my family fortunes and good name generated friends wherever I went, but no. It didn’t. I’ve been on my own pretty much all my life.”

You hadn’t meant for the conversation to suddenly turn so personal, but there you sat, pouring your heart out to six strangers. Perhaps that’s what made therapy so popular. People listening to other people’s problems.

You took a deep breath. “When my grandparents died, Jungkook was the first one to each of their funerals. When I was about ten or so and fell down a cliff during a hike with our parents and broke my collarbone, Jungkook was the one who found me and dragged me back to camp. He practically saved my life. Now, I don’t know about you, but I wouldn’t have been able to look myself in the mirror if I just left him the way he is now, especially when I have a chance to help.”

No matter his betrayal.

“I have no clue what Jungkook told you about me, but I would never premeditate hurting or upsetting or exploiting him in any way.” You cleared your throat, grimacing as your windpipe had tightened with every word you said. “Now yesterday was the first time I saw you guys on stage. And though I possess no particular experience in show business or even an ounce of musical talent, I saw--no, felt that he belonged up there. Still - and I haven't told you all - would you have left him if you were me? Abandoned him for old grudges?”

You hadn’t noticed how hard you were clutching your hands together. Not until you felt the odd, ticklish sensation signifying a lack of blood and circulation did you realize that your knuckles and fingers had whitened. You loosened up and caught Taehyung’s eyes.

“No,” he said, immediately casting down his focus. “I guess not.”

“What we spoke of is private,” you said quietly, feeling your chest constrict in pain at the memory. “It is something I can never disclose. But the conversation wasn’t of a threatening or hostile nature, and if I knew he would run out drunkenly on a street because of my decision, I would have never made it. I would never, ever wish Jungkook harmed.”

No one spoke. Taehyung didn’t raise his gaze.

You sniffled. Hoseok quickly came back from the hallway with some tissues and handed you them. You wiped your eyes and were relieved to find the tissue only slightly damp. You weren’t bawling, at least, though the mere presence of tears made you frown - you didn’t exactly have something to cry for. You weren’t somber or filled with grief at the memory of your grandparents' funerals. However, you were extremely tired and weary after last night’s escapade to the hospital. And your conversation with your parents hadn’t exactly done much to brighten up your mood.

You almost chuckled. You were used to calling Jungkook stupid, but who was the bigger fool, really?

Considering how the next three months would progress, it was ironic, it truly was.

“What should we do?” asked Hoseok finally, breaking the silence.

“Let’s split up into groups,” said Namjoon after said someone’s stomach grumbled. “Jin-hyung and I will get to cooking since it’s our turn anyway. The rest of you can start with a list each.”

“What are we even supposed to write?” Jimin scratched the back of his head.

“It might be a bit personal,” you told him, “but it probably has to be in order for it to be memorable. Just write down anything you might have done with Jungkook that you feel affected your relationship in any major way.”

“Write down anything that you imagine Jungkook might have remembered up until the accident,” added Namjoon and slowly stood. “Like the time we went bungee jumping or traveled to Northern Europe.”

“Yeah, that’s a good idea,” you said.

“And you’re going to do what with this information?” wondered Seokjin, standing also. “Isn’t it better if we just meet up with him and tell him all of this? Try to remind him while face-to-face?”

You shook your head. “I wouldn’t say he’s scared of you. But he doesn’t trust anyone and might straight-up refuse to listen to any of you. And even if some of you manage to convince him to hear you out, what if it turns out he doesn’t remember? That might make you frustrated at him or just left feeling needlessly hurt. Furthermore, I don’t want to stress him out any more than he already is. Imagine, it must be like waking up from a five or so year long dreamless sleep for him and suddenly he’s overwhelmed with the eager input from six or so people telling him he knows them the way he did.”

“Okay,” said Jimin with a nod. “Who has some pen and paper?”

“I do,” said Hoseok, then disappeared into one of the rooms. He came out with a notebook and tore out a page for everyone except you, Seokjin and Namjoon, then returned with an equal number of pens.

Namjoon and Seokjin headed into the kitchen while Taehyung, Jimin and Hoseok eventually started discussing what would count as a “memorable memory”. Yoongi quietly pondered his sheet of paper, his dark gaze fixed upon the clean slate while he tapped his pen against the table surface.

He briefly found your eyes but said nothing.

Swallowing hard, you carefully unzipped your jacket and hung it over your chair as well as placed your duffel bag underneath your chair. Feeling uncomfortable just sitting there, you rose while putting up your hair with a hair tie and poked your head into the kitchen.

“Is there something I can do to help?” you asked.

Seokjin was instructing Namjoon when he stopped and looked at you over the latter’s shoulder. “No, we’ll be alright. You can just sit with the others.”

You wouldn’t have minded just sitting and watching them if not for Yoongi’s watchful eyes. But since you couldn’t exactly say that, you smiled sheepishly. “I’m sort of not used being around so many guys.”

“No male cousins or siblings?”

“None.” Your smile fell a bit. “It’s a small family.”

“How long are you staying?” asked Namjoon. He had begun washing vegetables in the sink.

“Oh, not very long,” you said quickly. “I wouldn’t want to intrude for any longer than dinner. And I told Jungkook I’d be back at six.”

Seokjin and Namjoon looked at each other hesitantly. The latter shrugged, and Seokjin found your gaze again.

“Would you mind setting the table, then?” he asked.

About half an hour later, all seven of you were busy eating homemade tteokbokki and bought gimbap. They asked you about you and Jungkook, how long you had known each other, what school you went to, and so on. The lists had been compiled into one master list, courtesy of Namjoon, who had wanted to organize all of their ideas into relevant categories, like years, members and places. You hadn’t even been aware of how hungry you had been until then and ate quicker than everyone else. Or well, almost.

“It’s almost six o’clock,” said Min Yoongi as he stood. “Come, (Y/N). Someone’s got to show her to Jungkook’s things and Namjoon is still eating,” he explained at everyone’s confused frown.

“Oh, I had almost forgotten.”

You rose and began carrying your dishes to the kitchen when Jimin stopped you. “Let it be,” he said. “I’ll take care of it. You better get back to Jungkook.”

“Thank you,” you said, then looked at everyone seated at the table. For once, Taehyung didn’t look at you with poorly disguised fury. “Thank you for the food, and for your help. I really appreciate it, and I know Jungkook would as well.”

“We’ll finish the last of the master list meanwhile,” said Hoseok as you bent to pick up your duffel bag. “Try to steal some of Namjoon’s stuff. He has way too many clothes that fall underneath the ‘hobo’ category.”

“It’s ‘boho’ I tell you,” mumbled Namjoon as he covered his mouth with his hand. “It’s a popular fashion style overseas.”

“That might be, but you make it ‘hobo’.”

Namjoon sighed as the others laughed.

You smiled at Hoseok, who returned the gesture, then turned anxiously toward Yoongi. He gestured for you to come and you followed him into the same room Namjoon and Seokjin had exited from. The bedroom was small, with only barely enough space for two single beds, a wardrobe, a tall mirror and a desk with a lamp, but surprisingly clean compared to the rest of the apartment.

Yoongi closed the door shut after you, then led you to the swelling wardrobe, which almost reached from the floor to the ceiling. He opened the wardrobe doors and pointed in a general area of blacks, jeans and whites. There was a surplus of beanies, mouth masks and brand underwear as well.

“That half is Jungkook’s,” said Yoongi as he opened the wardrobe doors and pointed in a general area. “Though some of his clothes might be in the washing machine or drying.”

“I think he can manage with this,” you said as you began placing one item after another into your duffel bag.

You didn’t know exactly how much you needed to grab, but when you considered the bleak possibility that Jungkook might not ever return to the apartment again, you decided to take everything of his at least in the wardrobe. While initially conscientious - you knew how prim Jungkook could be with his things - you took it slow, placing clothes like Tetris. Then, realizing it would take hours, you just shoveled as much as you could into the bag.

You tried to ignore the pair of slim dark eyes silently watching your every move.

“Is there anything else of his in here?” you asked Yoongi when you were finished. The duffel bag actually looked like a body bag now, but would still have some room left over for a phone charger or a headset or so.

“He has a laptop and some gadgets he carries in a small bag.”

It didn’t take you long to find the computer and you carefully placed it inside a computer bag marked “JK”. You found chargers, a mouse and a headset inside the bag first, though, which you poured into the duffel bag instead. When you were finished, however, and started toward the door, Yoongi stopped you.

You frowned and tried not to sound frightened, but felt your heartbeats surge into a gallop. “Hey, what--”

And you stopped so abruptly you almost choked on your words. You had wondered where Jungkook’s engagement band was, ever since you saw its obviously vacant place on his finger the evening before. But now you knew.

Held between his index finger and thumb, Min Yoongi raised the promise ring your parents had given Jungkook, its circular, golden shape familiar to you. His expression didn't change, nor did his voice.

“At which point of the dinner were you going to tell us about your and Jungkook’s engagement?”

[iamtaekooked]

Mr. Min

↳Pairing: Min Yoongi x female reader 

↳Genre: Romance (all fluff)

↳Word count: 4.7K 

↳Rating: G 

↳Warnings: None

↳Summary: 

 Min Yoongi is the asshole boss who keeps you late at work every night. But then you find out why and it gives you the upper hand.

A/N: I hope you guys like it!! Finally wrote something less than 5k. It has been a while for sure. 

Your hand begins cramping as you finish writing the report for asshole number one Min Yoongi. Writing a report is easy, but having to write it by hand is what makes you want to strangle him. The tiny blue desk clock strikes 11 pm and once again you lose out on the opportunity to live your life. At this point, you have lost track of how many times you have stayed late at the office while your friends enjoy their weekends with dinners, movies and activities. Sometimes it’s so bad that you video call them just as you’re about to drift off to sleep.

You don’t even bother to hope to go home early anymore. Min Yoongi always finds ways to make you stay late with him. You went through the five stages of grief at first because you felt your life was being taken away from you. You even thought of threatening him with a lawsuit because he couldn’t make you work over 40 hours a week. When you did he was quick to turn the tables by offering you overtime pay-- and not a measly sum. It was money you couldn’t turn away. So, once again you let yourself fall prey to his actions.

Slowly but surely you began getting used to this so-called “routine”. Gradually, hours started fading into one another until one day you became so habituated with staying late (and to the mind-boggling pay) that Yoongi didn’t even have to come to your cubicle to hand you anything. You already asked him in the morning for your evening assignment. One would think this would be a hint for him-- but no. The man was as clueless as one could be.

Like any other night, you had an assignment, one which Yoongi labelled as important. But then again everything was important. Any task he assigned (or rather you asked for) he classified as important. You wondered if he understood what the word means because if everything is important then technically nothing is. Rather than ask him about it, which wasn’t necessary anyway you did what you were handsomely paid to do.

A sigh passed your dry lips. Once again you grabbed the pen and began writing-- this time going as fast as your wrist would allow. The ink flowed from the pen to the paper in black scribbles, hardly understandable. But you could not bring yourself to care. He would have to deal with it, and that was that.

Having written the last sentence, you capped the pen and pushed back the chair so you could go to his office. Your heels hurt from wearing six-inch pumps all day. No less would do because turns out asshole Min Yoongi had made that provision because apparently, it looked “more professional”. While walking to his office you just imagined torturing him in your mind by making him wear these fucking heels. It was slightly comical imagery but also satisfying, so much so that you could not help yourself from smiling.

You knocked on the opaque glass door as you reached his office. It was customary for you to knock once and for him to not answer. Normally you would slide the documents or whatever is needed under the door because Yoongi had specifically requested he not be disturbed. But something prompted you to stick your head against the glass door and peer inside through the clear margins. You couldn’t see anything so despite Yoongi’s “request” you turned the knob, opened the door slightly and peeked your head inside. The scene in front of you however was not quite something you were expecting.

Min Yoongi was laying back against his very comfortable looking plush leather rotating chair, with his headphones on, legs resting on top of the table and his eyes fixed with a concentration on his laptop. There were empty boxes of takeout at his desk and the whole image conveyed to you that he hadn’t actually done any work. It was an inkling, which means you could be wrong. But you would be damned if you didn’t make your presence known.

You walked inside, standing halfway between him and the door and cleared your throat as loud as you could. There was no response as expected. You walked a few steps and stopped just short of his desk, yet he still did not notice you. You looked at the report in your hand and threw it on his desk, which landed with a thud. He jumped, and finally looked at you. It took a second but the realization dawned on him. His eyes bulged like he had been caught red-handed and you noticed his adam’s apple bob as he gulped hard.

He hastily took off his earphones and straightened in his chair. “I thought I told you not to disturb me”

“I am sorry, did I ruin the fun?” your brows knit together.

“Do you have the report?” he asked instead.

You look at the papers on his desk and then back at him to make him aware of it sitting in front of his eyes.  

He fumbles with the papers and picks them up. While he’s busy scanning the papers you take in the state of his desk. One side is completely neat with all the binders and files organized, and the other is just filled with trash. As you’re busy studying the contents of his desk, you notice the name of your client’s company on one of the papers. Curiously you reach towards the file, Yoongi still busy reading your report. You scan the pages and realize without even having to read halfway through it that Yoongi had already finished the report and it was marked with yesterday’s date, which means he already sent it to the client.

“Do you care to explain this Mr. Min?” your fingers curl into a fist around the papers.

His eyes widen once more. “Oh shit” he mumbles-- a deer caught in the headlights expression on his face.

He sighs, dropping your report on the table. “Oh fuck” he rubs his forehead. “It’s nothing,” he says with a straight face just a moment after looking like he’d been caught.

“It looks like you already completed the report. Why did I have to do it if you already did it?”

“I wanted you to” he’s quick to reply.

“I am sorry Mr. Min but that is not a good enough explanation. I stayed here even though I did not have to. I find it unfair that I have to do work that has already been done-- and that too by you. I doubt you don’t trust yourself with work”

“That’s enough with the questions” he replied curtly.

“Wait a minute” you look back at the pile of papers on his desk and find a presentation he had asked you to make for him a week ago. However,  the date this presentation was printed was a week before that which means that once again he made you do something that had already been done. Sensing a pattern you decided to confront him right then and there.

“Pardon my french, but why the hell have I been doing work that had already been done?”

Yoongi sighed once more, but this time he sounded more defeated than the first. “Look, I can’t give you an explanation you will like. There isn’t one. But I’ll tell you the truth”

“Good” you fold your arms across your chest.

“You won’t like this either but I asked you to stay late because I wanted you to be here with me. I never got used to working late at night. Something about being alone always irked me, so I started keeping people around. It’s not right, I know” he’s quick to justify just as he noticed you opening your mouth to speak. “Trust me, I know. But then when Brian left and you joined, I knew that I needed you around. So I started asking you to stay late. Turns out, I liked your company more than I have liked anyone else’s so I even started paying you to stay late, which I have never done either” he finishes, The only problem is he doesn’t sound sincere enough. It’s like he’s telling you for the sake of telling you.

“I am sorry Mr. Min but you are not a child. I can’t be putting my life on hold just so you don’t have to be alone at night. Do you have any idea how many occasions and opportunities I have missed in my life because of this? I couldn’t attend my best friend’s graduation, I couldn’t be there for the birth of my nephew because I was here slaving away. To think it was for nothing is terrible. You should really say sorry” you glare at the man, demanding an apology you know you deserve because it doesn’t matter how much money you got paid. It won’t compensate for the memories you could have made.

He purses his lips. “I won’t” he shakes his head. “I know it’s wrong but I don’t say sorry”

You scoff. “You’re an asshole”

He shrugs as if your remark doesn’t bother him in the slightest. “Be that as it may. I did what I did because I like having you around. In fact, I did it because I like you and I am not ashamed of it”

Under normal circumstances, you probably would have been flattered and even blushed at having been confessed to. But these weren’t normal circumstances and on top of that, it was Min Yoongi.

“How about this-- you can go home early for all of next week” he offers.

It actually makes your blood boil because he thinks he’s being generous. But even if you gave him a wide berth, this wasn’t even cutting it close “All of next month actually” you counter, determined in your own way to make him apologize for his actions.

He considers it. A few beats of silence pass as both of you continue to stare at each other. “Fine” he agrees.

“Good.” you say shortly, before turning on your heels and heading towards the door.

Yoongi ends up keeping his word for the whole of next month. If it were up to you, you would have asked him that you will never stay late. But after your anger had died down in a week or so, the rational part of your mind convinced you that the money was too good. And it was. So you didn’t try to extend it.

In that one month, however, Yoongi was being awfully generous towards you. You figured it was his way of making up for his actions.

After a week of your heated conversation with him, you found a bouquet of flowers at home addressed to your best friend. There was no name on it. It turned out you did not need a name, because one you knew whose handwriting it was and secondly, the apology was enough for you to know who they were from.

I am sorry y/n missed your graduation. I realize she should have been there with you and it is my fault she was not. I can’t turn back time but I hope these flowers and this small gift make up for it. Congratulations on your achievement.

Accompanying the flowers was a generous gift, one which could have only been given by Yoongi. A full spa weekend with your best friend. It was an all-inclusive offer.

It felt like he was bribing you to forgive him. But even if that were the case, you felt you deserved this and you would be damned if you let it go to waste. If this is how he wanted to apologize, then so be it. In a way, he was giving you the opportunity to spend quality time with Hana.

Hana was ecstatic. “Isn’t it sweet?” she said dreamily.

You couldn’t help but scoff. “It’s not sweet. It’s what he should be doing. Not this exact thing per se. But he needs to be making up for what he did and he is” you reminded her.

“Fine” Hana was quick to give up because even she knew not to argue.

To apologize, at the end of the month Yoongi also ends up giving you the biggest client. This one you feel conflicted about because you can’t discern his intention. So you do the only thing you can. You went charging to his office to demand an explanation.

Maybe he heard you coming but before you could even open your mouth after entering the room he was already speaking.

“I know,” he says as he gave you one glance before focusing on his laptop as he typed away. “I gave you a client because you deserve it. Trying to make up for troubling you is also part of it, but it’s mostly because you deserve it” he explains without sparing you another glance this time. “It just so happens Karla likes you and I think you can understand each other well as women. Not to mention you have great marketing skills that Karla’s company could use” he finishes speaking and the sound of keys clacking stops as well. He gives you his undivided attention. “So” he joins his fingers in a steeple, elbows resting on the desk. “What do you think?”

You don’t even give it a second of thought. “You made a good decision Mr. Min” corners of your lips curve in a smile.

“Of course I did” he reciprocates your smile. “I never make bad decisions” his smile grows into a knowing grin.

You catch the sarcastic play on words. “I wouldn’t be too sure of that”. Your gaze lingers on his a second longer before you nod and turn away to leave.

Just as you reach for the door, he speaks.

“Do your best”

You turn around and give him a curtsey nod. “You bet I will”

You’re back to working late nights, but this time with Yoongi in his office on actual things that matter.

You and Yoongi have been working on a pitch for Karla’s company to convince them to change their branding. You work late hours into the night as usual. You flirt here and there, but nothing major happens as you both keep it professional(ish). There are a few laughs exchanged, a couple of longing gazes, moments so thick with tension you could practically taste it on your tongue.

You lean over to look at Yoongi’s list of ideas, but unknowingly invade his personal bubble-- that intimate zone only reserved for significant others/spouses. You get caught up in the moment as you look at him, and he looks at you. For a moment you think he’ll kiss you. But instead, he clears his throat. “I’ll be back” his voice is a whisper.

He gets up hurriedly and leaves, clearing his throat all the way to the door.

You watch his figure disappear behind the opaque glass door.

“Keep it professional” you chide yourself with a shake of the head.

You focus back on your notes, flipping through the pages trying to put a concept map together.

A draft of air hits you and you look in the direction to find Yoongi opening the door. He walks in a few feet, one hand hidden behind his back.

Curiosity piqued and you offer him an inquisitive look. “What are you hiding Mr. Min?”

Wordlessly, he brings his arm forward. In his hand is a bouquet of baby’s breath flowers.

“How did you-” you start.

“I know” he erases the distance between you as he stops just shy of invading your intimate space and holds out the flowers.

You reach for them. “Thank you. But how do you know I like these?”

“You said it” he mentions.

“I did?” you look at him puzzled.

“Two nights ago. We were talking about using florals to brighten up the aesthetic for Karla’s company and you mentioned baby’s breath is your favourite flower”

“ I don’t even remember saying that” you shake your head, almost in disbelief that he remembered. “You actually remembered?”

He nods. “I remember everything you say” he replies“ no matter how sharply you put it” he adds with a chuckle.

At a loss for words, all you can do is stare at the man filled with a foreign feeling.

“Thank you” you finally manage to say.

“You’re very welcome” his lips curve into a smile.

He returns to his seat while you place the flowers on his desk as gently as you can. Once he’s seated you take the opportunity to ask. “Mr. Min” you address him.

“Yeah” he looks at you in a way that makes your heart race faster.

“Why did you give me these?” it feels like the incessant urgent know has been satisfied and you feel relieved.

He shrugs. “I don’t know. I guess I wanted to” he looks down at the papers in front of him. A few moments of silence pass as you continue studying him while he keeps his gaze downcast. “An-anyway let's get back to it” he quickly changes the subject.

You nod. Under the dim lighting of his office, for the very first time you notice how handsome he looks. His skin looks like porcelain, his eyes glimmer with a hint of golden flecks around the irises. His lips look buttery soft. You bite back on your lip as you realize how much quicker you’re breathing.

“Is something wrong?” Yoongi questions as he looks up at you.

You vigourously shake your head. “I just— I am sorry”

“I caught you staring didn’t I?” he responds but it’s not really meant to be a question. “I don’t mind. I like the attention” he winks.

Your eyes widen. “I— I wasn’t” your attempt at denying it is futile and even you know it. But you have to at least attempt to save face.

“If it helps, I actually think it’s cute” his lips upturn in a playful smile.

You keep mum, considering there is nothing to say. Even though you don’t speak, the smile on your lips says everything Yoongi needs to know.

You hear him softly laughing and you can sense him just shaking his head. Then you hear something and you aren’t sure if you hear it right but it sounds an awful lot like “you’re cute miss y/n” 

You end up spending another hour brainstorming ideas. After that last exchange between you, you thought you couldn’t concentrate. But you did. And once more you flirted a little, exchanged gazes, and avoid as hard as you can to pay no mind to the vibe between you.

“I think we should call it a night” Yoongi stretches his arms over his head with a groan. “You’re tired too”

“Okay” you start gathering all the papers into a pile.

“Don’t worry about this” he waves his hand in a dismissive manner. “I’ll do it. Start getting your stuff together. I’ll drop you off”

“You don’t have to” you reply, the burdensome feeling coming on. “I can go home”

“Did I give you a choice?” he narrows his eyes at you. “Just because I got you these flowers, and that spa day and gave you Karla doesn’t mean you get to tell what I have or don’t have to do. Got it” he sounds a little stern, but in a way where he’s being thoughtful more than trying to be a jerk.

“Yes, Mr. Min” the meekness in your voice surprises you. As you stand in front of him you cannot understand what brings on this sudden submissive attitude. But you have already agreed and something tells you Mr. Min won’t take no for an answer.

“I’ll be right there” he motions to the door with his head, indicating that you should pack up.

“Okay” you pick up the bouquet and quietly walk out of his office.

The walk back to your desk is filled with mixed emotions. A fluttery feeling floats in your stomach, giving you the perception that your head is spinning. You almost stumble as you reach your desk. You realize you’re breathless as you grip onto the edges of the desk to steady yourself. “Shit. So much for keeping it professional” you mutter while you grab your bag. You sling it over your shoulder. You gather the flowers in your hand as you wait for Yoongi.

Moments later he’s coming out. “Ready?” he asks.

With a dry mouth and dizzying intoxication brought upon his presence all you do is nod.

“After you.” he says.

Maybe he isn’t an asshole after all.

The sounds of crickets chirping in the silence of the night help shroud some of your thoughts. But not enough apparently because merely Yoongi’s presence is enough to send you in a tizzy. It’s maybe only been about five seconds since Yoongi stopped in front of your house but it sure feels like hours.

“Umm” you’re the first to break the silence. “Well, thank you for the ride an-and for these flowers”

“You’re welcome” comes his quiet voice.

You unlock the door, one foot already out of the door.

“Wait” his hand on your forearm stops you.

You turn to look at him. “Yeah?”

“I actually brought you these flowers because I was going to ask you on a date” he confesses.

“Oh” is all you can manage. You don’t know what else to say.

“So, will you…?” he sounds unsure as he says these words, almost like he himself doesn’t know.

He sounds sincere enough. But as it stands you have two choices: give in easily at which point you may as well give up any hope in future of asking him for anything. Or you could just play hard to get so he knows it won’t be easy.

“I’ll think about” confidence flows through your voice, and along with a coy smirk on your lips.

Yoongi’s previously solemn expression is replaced by a crooked smile. He studies you quietly, making you wonder what he’s thinking. “I’ll give you five minutes”

“No. If that’s how long you think it takes to figure out whether I want to give you a chance, then my answer is no”.

“Fine. How long do you want?”

“It’s not about long I want Mr. Min. It’s about how long you are willing to wait” and without hearing his response you exit the car.

All Yoongi can do is stare at you open-mouthed-- stunned and in utter disbelief.

You didn’t know Yoongi would wait for two whole months. You didn’t expect him to keep it professional between you either

You also didn’t expect Min Yoongi to come to your desk at 2 pm and ask you to look over the designs for one of your clients.

“You look lovely today y/n” he stops next to your desk, holding out a file for you.

“I always look lovely” you take the file from him, dismissing his compliment because you’re sure he’s just buttering you up into doing something for him. Not that you wouldn’t if he hadn’t said anything.

“I mean it” his voice softens as he recognizes your disbelief. “Blue looks good on you’” he motions to your blue blouse, and looks you straight in the eyes. He doesn’t even flinch-- which means he actually probably means it.

You certainly don’t regret picking it out anymore. “Thank you”

“You’re very welcome.” he adds with a smile that stretches into a grin. “Oh and can you look this over. Please and thank you”

“I will” you nod. “Question for you”

“Anything” he half sits on your desk as he awaits your ask.

“Did you come here to give me the file or to tell me I look good?”

“I came here to tell you, you look beautiful if what you’re after is my motive” the corners of his mouth turn up in a soft flirty smile.

“I am. But I’ll also look at this” you gesture to the file in your hand.

He acknowledges your response with a nod as he turns around and starts towards his office.

“Mr. Min” you call out and he turns around. “That suit looks great on you”

It takes him a second to comprehend your words, but as soon as he does, he’s back to smiling. “Thank you y/n”

Just as easily he struts away, just as easily everyone around you is stunned into silence. It looks like a comic scene as everyone looks at Yoongi’s retreating figure with mouth’s agape.

“Did he flirt with you?” one of your coworker’s peers over the divide between your cubicles.

You look up at him. “Yes he did”

At 4 pm, you walk back to his office with your notes on the changes that should be made. You knock on the door once. He doesn’t answer so you take it as your cue to enter.

“Here are the notes” you hold out the file as you stop just in front of his desk.

“It’s already done?” Yoongi is forced to look up his work.

“Yes and yes”

“Okay. You can leave it on the desk” he goes back to his work.

You wait for him to catch on. But he doesn’t. So you start towards the door.

“Wait” he calls out. “Yes and Yes?”

You turn around, feeling giddy with anticipation.

“What’s the second yes for?” he looks at you puzzled.

“I guess you don’t want to go on that date anymore” you quirk a brow.

He closes his laptop and leans back in his chair. “Took you long enough”

“You reap what you sow Mr. Min”

“Is that right?” it’s rhetorical of course but you nod anyway.

He chuckles. “Let’s go “ he grabs his coat from the back of the chair and swings it around and on his shoulders.

You look at him puzzled. “Right now? What about work?”

“First, I am the boss so I make the rules and I say we go. Second, I made the mistake of offering you five minutes of time to make your decision. You really think I am going to give you a day or two for this date”

You can’t help but laugh. “In that case Mr. Min, let’s go”

He heads to the door first as you follow “After you” he opens it and you’re almost out of the door when he shuts the door. “Wait. I have to do something” he pulls you to himself, supporting you by the waist as he presses his lips to yours.

Maybe time stops when his lips meet yours. But the flutter in your stomach only intensifies. You feel weak in the knees. You hold onto the nape of Yoongi’s neck as your legs begin to tingle. Yoongi’s hands rest on your sides, and gently make their way up to cup your cheeks. You moan into his mouth, as his tongue dances against your lips.

Yoongi keeps his eyes slightly open as he pulls back for air. He wasn’t sure if he was dreaming so he held onto you tighter, causing you to become aware of the contour of his body flush against yours. “I am sorry if I took you by surprise” he’s slightly breathless and flushed. “I wasn’t sure how the date would go and if I would get the chance to do this. If you don’t want to go anymore” he stops to lick his lips. “I would understand” he finishes.

“So you’re not an asshole after all” you look at him through the curtain of your eyelashes.

He raises a brow at you silently telling you to consider your wording as if you're treading on thin ice. “I am still your boss”

You shrug. “You lost the upper hand when you asked me out”

“I knew I liked you for a reason” he says while he takes a tiny step back to give you space and time to collect yourself.

“I think I might fall” your breathless voice takes you by surprise.

“You already have” he curls his fingers around yours.

Hand in hand you walk out of his office, causing ruckus in your wake as your coworkers gawk in disbelief at your departing figures. Because how could Mr.Min be acting like this? More importantly, how could Mr. Min be smiling like an absolute idiot.

I hope you enjoyed reading :) Don’t forget to like and reblog! Thank you for reading. 

[aliendes]

Natural Borns - Chapter Five

Banner made by @thebannershop​

​Series info/genre: Angst, fluff, future smut - NSFW due to darker themes

Pairings: ot7 x fem reader (eventual)

Warnings: mentions of sex in exchange for favors but it doesn’t actually happen, mentions of suicide, anxiety, and depression. Mentions of alcohol, tobacco, and drug use. Mentions of prescription drugs and medical stuff like blood. Insinuations of poly relationships, if this make you uncomfortable, this will be a reoccurring theme for the rest of the series. The boys love each other, that’s the point of this story. Mentions of skipping meals? If that’s a warning.  Warnings will be different for each chapter from here on out. 

Description: In the year 2613, over half of the world’s population are what scientists consider ‘designer babies’. YN is a small town girl who is a true natural born, someone born naturally without he help of a lab or gene splicing. Her DNA is greatly sought after, but what is she willing to do to protect it?

Word count: 4.2k ~ 

A/N: I’m really excited for this chapter! This is Yoongi’s backstory! Yay!! There is also some juicy info in this chapter that will be explored in the next one. Also, you guys voted for smut with romantic relationships, so please note that for the rest of the series, there will be smut, poly relationships, etc. If this makes you uncomfortable, I totally understand. If you want to be added/removed from the taglist please send me an ask! Enjoy!!

xx Des

Updated: 8/15/2020

As the day went on, and the sun started to set beyond the hills, your mind was plagued with the thoughts that this was all a horrible, horrible idea.  

After you stormed out of the warehouse, the remaining four men in Yoongi’s room continued to argue about whether or not it would be a good idea to let you help with their plan. Seokjin and Jungkook were firmly against it. They felt enchanted by your personality and something about you was captivating to them. Hoseok and Yoongi were both incredibly unsure of your place in this family, not yet trusting of you. Yoongi obviously felt an attraction to you, but he wasn’t entirely sure it was anything beyond physical at this point. Though, he knew if he let it, it would fester into something much, much stronger. Whenever you were present he could feel himself start to slip. The cold exterior he always made a show of keeping up, crumbling to ash in his hands. He can’t deny the way his heart clenched in his chest when you ran out of the room. He wanted to run after you, tell you that he wouldn’t make you do anything you weren’t comfortable with. But he held himself back. He’s had plenty of practice holding himself back and not allowing his emotions to crack his icy walls. 

Namjoon was Yoongi’s first friend in the facility. They were both ‘bought’ from their mothers when they were teenagers, and since they were similar in age, they roomed together at Big Hit. Namjoon had already been at the lab for a few months before Yoongi showed up, disheveled and scared. Unlike Namjoon, Yoongi had a very hard time coping with the fact that he now had to live in a cramped room with another boy, be poked and prodded and experimented on. 

Namjoon had lived a pretty sheltered life, and didn’t have too many friends growing up. Yoongi was the complete opposite. He was seen as the ‘bad boy’ in his high school, always getting the girls because of his unusual good looks, smoking cigarettes behind the school, and causing trouble in his classes. He liked to think he had a lot of friends, but most of them were deadbeats who only hung around him because he stole cigarettes and alcohol from his mom’s boyfriends. Regardless, he enjoyed being out of the house and living his life the way he wanted to. When he was brought to Big Hit, all of that changed. His freedoms were stripped from him, even basic human needs were stripped from him. They would often go days without eating, only being given water, told that they had to ‘fast’ in order for certain experiments to work, or for certain blood work to be done. All of the torture they endured was ‘in the name of science’. Or so they were told. 

Yoongi went through the stages of grief pretty quickly in the lab. When he first arrived, he was extremely upset, in denial that any of that was actually happening to him. He would tell Namjoon that his mom would come get him any minute now, and all of this would be some horrible joke she played on him to get him back on the straight and narrow, get him to stop skipping school and drinking. After a few days went by, he realized she wasn’t coming, and anger quickly took over him. Yoongi attempted to break down the door in his and Namjoon’s tiny room, to no avail. Eventually the guards sedated him and Namjoon had to look after him for two days while he sweated out the medication, shaking and dehydrated from lack of fluids. After that happened, he started to bargain with the guards or the doctors that would come take him into exam rooms, telling them he would do anything for them to release him, even resorting to offering favors in exchange for freedom. He never followed through with any of his offers, but he would later hate himself for stooping that low. 

After a few weeks of this, Yoongi eventually developed severe depression, even being put on suicide watch at one point. After spending so much time together in their tiny dorm, Namjoon started to really care for the older boy and was extremely distraught over his behavior. He would tell Yoongi that everything would be ok, and one day they would get out of there. Some nights it got so bad Namjoon would slip into Yoongi’s bed and hold him close while he sobbed or when he woke up from nightmares. 

Yoongi would sleep away days at a time, not eating or drinking water. Namjoon would have to force water down his throat when he was getting delirious and having horrible migraines that prevented him from moving around too much. Namjoon would lay with him while he shook from dehydration mixed with the meds they gave him. Yoongi lost his will to live, lost his will to do anything but accept what the lab was doing to him. There was nothing he could do about it, and while Namjoon had remained optimistic about their future, Yoongi accepted their fate and allowed the doctors and technicians to do whatever they wanted with him. He became a shell of his former self, not getting out of bed unless carried by Namjoon or the technicians, staring at the wall for hours on end, and only speaking when he was forced by the doctors. Namjoon cried for his friend, only wanting to help, wanting to get him out of there. 

That was why Namjoon came up with the escape plan. One night, after Yoongi had been at the facility for nearly a year, Namjoon woke him up in the early hours of the morning. Apparently, the younger had been learning the rotations of the technicians and the guards when he was being moved from room to room. He would also listen in on their conversations while he was being given meds or having his blood drawn in the exam room, which was right next to the guard room. He didn’t tell Yoongi what he was doing because he didn’t want anyone to overhear them and ruin his plan, so Yoongi was completely shocked to learn he had all of this planned out.

Namjoon said that the guards would be on break in the guard room around 3:30 AM, and at 3:40 AM the technician on duty would rotate with the morning shift, who comes in at 3:45 AM and the guards would end their break around the same time, giving them a five minute window to get out of their rooms and down a hallway that led to the elevators. They both knew that this hallway led away from the exam rooms, and therefore, away from the guards. Yoongi was even more shocked when Namjoon pulled a keycard out of his back pocket that he took off one of the guards earlier when he was being given medication. That keycard would allow them to get onto the elevator and, hopefully, escape this place. 

Given all the things that could’ve gone wrong, Namjoon and Yoongi’s escape went relatively seamlessly, and once they were out of that God forsaken place, they moved from place to place together, sleeping on the streets, abandoned houses, and homeless shelters, until they met Seokjin and Jungkook. Two men who were at one point, also housed at Big Hit, but released for different reasons. They would later meet the others and form the family they know and love today. Yoongi was thankful for the six men, living with them, and growing with them. They had a shared traumatic experience that they helped each other through, leaned on each other, and eventually developed a bond that they never expected.

Even after all these years, Yoongi still admired Namjoon and was beyond thankful for him for being there through his darkest times. Quite literally keeping him alive in the facility when he had given up trying. He owed Namjoon his life and respected him more than anyone on this planet. He never wanted to disappoint him and has been helping him find other natural borns to further his vision of equality, even if he didn’t always want to. Yoongi would much rather it just be the seven of them for the rest of their lives, but he understood why Namjoon pushed for this, why he stood up for others that couldn’t stand up for themselves. It was one of the many reasons he admired the man. 

That is exactly why Yoongi is currently standing outside the warehouse, back against the large metal door you had run out of earlier today. The sun had set over an hour ago, meaning you had been gone most of the day. The others would have panicked by now, had it not been for Hoseok alerting them of your whereabouts. They were all shocked when Hobi had come into Yoongi’s room a few hours ago, letting them all know he had been watching you from the second floor, sitting on a rock down by the quarry. Jungkook and Seokjin had both wanted to go to you, but Namjoon talked them down, telling them you needed time to process everything that had happened to you. You were dealing with a lot, even now, and you didn’t even have the full story. They knew Namjoon’s words were true, having gone through something similar themselves. Though, they couldn’t imagine how you were feeling, having to suddenly leave your family with little explanation. 

It was only after Namjoon pulled Yoongi aside in the hallway, telling him again he needed to fix this, apologize to you, even if he didn’t want to. He needed to make sure you stayed with them because if you didn’t, you’d be in more danger than you realized. Yoongi would never let Namjoon down, and so, he made his way down to the water to make good on his promise to fix this. 

You were vaguely aware that the sun had set a while ago, sat on a rock, knees pulled to your chest, and face resting upon your crossed arms. You weren’t sobbing anymore, just a few stray tears falling every now and then. You were sure your face was red and swollen with how much crying you’ve done today. 

The sound of the ripples on the water, the wind slowly blowing the trees around you, and the sound of chirping crickets was helping you relax, but with nightfall, brought cooler temperatures. Even though it was summer, it was still a bit chilly at night with how much humidity was in the air. Being right next to water wasn’t helping either. Just as a chill ran down your spine, causing you to shiver violently, you felt something warm being draped over your shoulder.

You startled, head snapping up at the new presence beside you, causing you to let out a curse as you nearly fell backwards. As you righted yourself, you were met with a pair of nearly black eyes that you least expected to see right now. “You’re shivering,” Yoongi coldly stated, face emotionless as he looked down at your pathetic state.

Way to state the obvious, you thought. But truthfully, you were thankful for the warmth of the leather jacket he had wrapped you in. You audibly gulped, looking up at him with eyes as wide as they could go, considering how puffy they were. “T- th- thanks…” you trailed off quietly, grabbing the sides of the jacket to pull it closer to you. You hadn’t realized just how cold you were. 

“You coming back up?”

You mulled over his question for a moment. You were cold. And hungry. And completely and utterly exhausted and probably dehydrated with the river of tears you’ve cried today. Yet, you didn’t feel all that welcome in their ‘home’ and you were unsure if you really wanted to go back. Yoongi seemed to notice your hesitancy, taking the opportunity to say what he had practiced all the way down here. Talking wasn’t his strong suit. “They’re really worried about you, you know,” he uttered, softer than before, but still monotone.

Is that what he came all the way down here to tell you? You furrowed your brows at him, “They can come down here if they want,” you were pretty sure your brazen attitude was stemming from your emotional state and the chilly breeze, “they didn’t have to send you.”

Yoongi pursed his lips into a thin line, biting his tongue from saying what he really wanted to say, you think I want to be here? Instead, he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply through his nose and let out a long sigh. When he opened his eyes, he saw you still staring at him, daring him to say something. He liked it, the fire in you. You seemed like a shy girl, timid even. He hoped you still had that fire after you learned what a horrible, unjust world you all live in. 

Yoongi sat down on the rock next to you, not asking first, just making room for himself. You quickly scooted over, not feeling incredibly comfortable with him yet. “I’m sorry,” he began, staring down at his lap, “I was being unfair.” It almost sounded like the words were forced, like he didn’t really mean them, or want to say them, but you still took some comfort in the fact he was at least apologizing to you. Not that you thought he owed you an apology, but it still felt nice.

“No, you aren’t being unfair,” you murmured, looking out at the now cerulean blue water, “I’m sorry. Sorry I’m here.”

You sounded so small, so defeated. You reminded Yoongi of how he felt when he was first taken from his family. Scared, alone. Something in him wanted to reach out to you, comfort you, and he almost did, stopping his hand midair before it could reach your arm. You noticed his movement out of the corner of your eye and before he could retract his hand, you flinched. Actually flinched away from him. It was slight, but it still took Yoongi by surprise, jaw hanging slack, eyes widening at your apparent fear. Of him. Yoongi doesn’t think he’s ever felt shittier in his life. Was he so cold someone was actually afraid he’d hurt them? He’s never hurt anyone in his life. Sure, he was a ‘bad boy’, broke his fair share of laws, but he has never, ever, hurt another person. 

“YN -”, he retracted his hand immediately, bringing it behind his back, wanting to hide the offending appendage, “I - wh -” he wasn’t even sure how to finish his sentence. He watched you pull your knees closer to your chest and lay your forehead on them, letting out a breath you had been holding. You didn’t look scared, you looked exasperated, and he wasn’t sure if that made him feel any better at all. 

You didn’t actually think Yoongi would hurt you, you’ve just been so used to people treating you however they want, especially in high school. Boys would push you around in the hallways, girls would pull your hair in class and steal your backpack from under the lunch table. After high school, men would pull on your skirts or dresses at the market while you tried to sell flowers with a smile plastered on your face, which inevitably caused you to throw away any clothes that weren’t pants and baggy shirts. You were relatively afraid of people, and even though you trusted the men who took you in and have been helping you, you still didn’t know Yoongi, or the type of person he was. Now you felt remorse at the look on his face when you flinched away. He looks honestly heartbroken, regret written all over his features. You shook your head back and forth, forehead rubbing against your linen covered knees. 

“I’m sorry,” you sobbed quietly, not daring to look back at the blonde next to you.

Yoongi’s heart broke further at the sound, “Can I touch you?” 

Though you were shocked at Yoongi’s sudden query, you didn’t lift your head. Slowly, you nodded up and down, hoping he could see it. Now that you were expecting the movement, you didn’t startle as Yoongi scooted closer to you on the rock and gently, softly, ran a large, warm hand up and down your spine. Yoongi inwardly noted that your bones were perhaps sticking out a little too far, that maybe you’ve skipped one too many meals lately. Or maybe, you didn’t have access to them. He wasn’t sure. He had no idea what kind of home you lived in. He had limited information, and most of it was about your father. That thought made him remember something, “Pearl?” Yoongi whispered cautiously, not sure how you would react to him having this knowledge. Hoping that you would find some sort of comfort in it, since your friends and mother called you that. 

You immediately stopped sniffling, body going stiff as a board. You sat up abruptly and looked Yoongi dead in the eyes, “What did you call me?” He could see the red rims of your swollen eyes, dried tear tracks being covered by new ones and another piece of his heart cracked off, swallowed by the ocean of his chest.

“Pearl,” he uttered again, a little more confidently, “isn’t that your nickname?”

“H-how?” You stuttered, staring into his vast ocean eyes. They held more emotion than you were accustomed to, coming from him. You gently shook your head back and forth to dislodge the tears that were gathering at the corners. 

Yoongi visibly blushed at your question, quickly avoiding your gaze and turning his head to the side and removing his hand from your back. You momentarily missed the warmth. He looked like he was gazing out at the water, but you could tell he was embarrassed. You narrowed your eyes at him. What was he hiding? “Yoongi?” You sniffled again, which caught his attention. He bit his cheek and looked at you through his lashes.

“I- I’m sorry.”

You were even more confused now. “For?”

“Everything,” he let out an exasperated sigh, “for yelling at you last night, for acting like sending you to Big Hit was a good idea, and…” he trailed off. You waited a moment, tears forgotten as you listened to the man be sincere for the first time since you met him, “for going through your phone.” His words were quiet, so quiet you almost asked him to repeat himself, but after a moment realization hit you.

“Y- you went through my phone?” Long gone was the remorse you felt for leaving your friends, the sorrow you felt at possibly losing your family. In its place, was anger. An ugly, red monster that was brewing in your chest. A part of you knew it was irrational, but the other part knew that he wouldn’t be ashamed if he didn’t feel like he did something wrong. This man, who yelled at you, made you feel small, made you think you didn’t matter… had invaded your privacy. Namjoon promised he would shut off service to your phone, making it untraceable. He promised it would be safe in their hands. You wouldn’t let your mind trace this back to Namjoon, no. He did nothing wrong. You were angry at the blonde sitting in front of you, wide-eyed with a mouth shaped like an “o”. 

He shook himself out of the momentary shock at your reaction, “Y- yes,” he dragged out before quickly adding, “and I’m so sorry YN, really I am. It was wrong of me, and I know that. I know that! I just…”

You cut him off before he could finish that thought, “If you knew it was wrong, why did you do it?”

There was a deep ‘v’ forming on your forehead. The face you wore didn’t resemble someone who was angry, more concerned. Or disappointed. Yeah, that was the right word, Yoongi thought. He felt small in this moment, like he was a child being scolded for stealing cookies. He sighed and looked down at his hands folded in his lap.

“I was scared,” was all he could come up with at the moment, feeling so incredibly guilty and having no other way to express it to you.

“Scared?” You scoffed, he hasn’t been acting very scared. In fact, it seemed more like he was putting on a tough guy persona to try and scare you. “Of what, exactly?” You were feeling brazened now, these boys were really bringing out the sides of you, weren’t they?

A beat passed before Yoongi uttered, “Of losing my soulmates.”

The anger you were feeling just moments ago, dissipated in tiny fractures until all that was left in its wake was empathy for the man sitting across from you. For the first time since you met him, you felt like you saw Yoongi’s rock solid wall, crack slightly. His expression was still blank, like usual, but there was something in his eyes that was calling out to you, for help. He was just like the others. Scared, alone, worried. He found a home in these men, his best friends, maybe even his lovers. Something you were just starting to realize you might be finding in them, too. You were all alike, in some way or another. All felt like you didn’t belong, and here, with each other, you did belong. If you could feel that, you can’t imagine what Yoongi must feel for the others, having spent so much time with them. 

You look away from Yoongi’s eyes, staring out at the water like he had been moments ago, cracking under the pressure of his intense gaze. Biting your lip to keep the dam from breaking again you whisper, “I shouldn’t be here.”

Yoongi wasn’t sure if he heard you correctly, but after a moment realized what you had meant by that. “That’s not what I meant, YN,” he sighed and ran a hand down his face, “really, it’s not.”

“No, I know, Yoongi,” you started, not turning to look at him just yet, “I’ve been thinking about it all day. I don’t want to walk in here and ruin what you guys have, get in the way of your friendships, or relationships,” you blushed at the insinuation, “I should go home. We don’t even know if my parents know anything, or if they even planned on giving me to Big Hit. I’m an adult, I can make my own decisions, they know that.”

Yoongi started to panic, not just because he knew Seokjin and Jungkook would be crushed if you chose to leave, but because he knew you didn’t know the whole truth. Should he tell you? Namjoon would kill him. He didn’t want to disappoint his best friend, his savior, his love. But, he also didn’t want to possibly endanger you by allowing you to return home. He was already starting to care deeply for you and was terrified of the possibility of you getting hurt. “YN -” he started before sucking his lips between his teeth, contemplating his next words. At his silence, you removed your gaze from the quarry and turned towards the nervous looking man. He was wringing his wrist between the fingers of his other hand, a nervous tick. 

You looked at him expectantly through long lashes, eyes still red rimmed from crying away most of the day. Yoongi still thought you looked ethereal, especially with the way the moon was reflecting in your eyes. It was like he could see the entire galaxy staring back at him, and it made him feel things he didn’t want to feel right now. Not when he was about to break your heart.

“YN I, I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to go back. I know you don’t trust me,” he rushed out, making sure you weren’t going to cut him off again, “just let me explain why I’m saying this. I haven’t made the greatest impression on you, and for that I really am sorry. Like I said, I was scared. That’s not an excuse to treat someone poorly, but I hope you can understand that I love the others more than I love myself.”

Your eyes softened at his confession. You could see the love they shared for each other, but hearing him say it really solidified your observations. “Namjoon isn’t telling you the whole truth,” he noticed your eyes go wide, at mentally slapped himself for the poor choice of words before quickly saying, “it’s not what you think! You are like us. You are different. And you are in danger. But Namjoon knew if he told you just how much danger you were in, you probably wouldn’t trust him. He’s not a bad guy, in fact, he’s the exact opposite. He’s saved my life once before and I’m positive he’d do the same for you.”

If you weren’t confused before, you sure as hell are now. They were lying to you? “YN, your parents,” he let out another sigh hating the words he was about to say, “they are the ones lying to you. Hyunwoo and your father weren’t classmates. They worked together,” he felt like a traitor, like he was letting Namjoon down, “he’s a beneficiary of Big Hit. They’re already paying for you.”

To be continued... 

taglist:  @minifruity​  @mrcleanheichou @arantxaglz​ @chim-possible​ @kooksremedy @irishhbamb​ @sugashaye​ @lovelyseomin​ 

copyright 2020 aliendes

[new-sandrafilter]

Timothée Chalamet and Eileen Atkins Interview - British Vogue May 2020

“Maybe your knuckles weren’t bleeding, but there was ice,” Timothée Chalamet tells Dame Eileen Atkins. He is recounting, with no small amount of awe, how he first came to hear of the legendary 85-year-old actor with whom he is about to appear at The Old Vic. It transpires that Oscar Isaac, Chalamet’s co-star in the upcoming blockbuster Dune, was at the receiving end of Atkins’ fist in Ridley Scott’s Robin Hood (all in the name of acting, of course). Chalamet was duly impressed.

“I gave him the worst time of his life,” says Atkins, bristling at the memory, before merrily launching into several candid, very dame-like stories from her time on set – “That was a nightmare movie. A nightmare.”

It is a Saturday afternoon in late February, and the two actors – one a titan of British theatre with an eight-decade career; the other, Hollywood’s most in-demand young leading man, with an insatiable Instagram following – have just finished being photographed together for Vogue. Chalamet, 24, in louche, low-slung denim and a white T-shirt, has folded his Bambi limbs into a chair next to Atkins, whose hawkish frame, in a navy jumper and jeans, belies her 85 years.

“Do you like being called Tim or Timothée or what?” Atkins asks in her warm but brisk RP, all trace of her Tottenham upbringing erased.

“Whatever works,” he replies in a bright American accent, that shock of chestnut hair falling into his eyes. “Anything.”

“So you won’t object to ‘darling’? I call everyone darling. I’m told I mustn’t say it these days.” He assures her he is fine with it: “It’s a rite of passage, being called darling by Dame Eileen Atkins.”

“You always, always, have to put the dame in, otherwise you can’t address me,” she jokes.

It’s good the two are getting all this sorted now. A couple of days after our interview they will begin rehearsals for a seven-week run of Amy Herzog’s play 4000 Miles, in which they star as a grandmother and grandson, each quietly dealing with their own grief. Chalamet takes on the role of Leo Joseph-Connell, a somewhat lost 21-year-old who experiences a tragedy while on a 4,000-mile-long cycle ride with his best friend. Atkins plays Vera Joseph, his widowed 91-year-old grandmother, upon whose Manhattan doorstep Leo unexpectedly arrives in the middle of the night, unsure of where else to go. What follows is a wonderful, and wonderfully witty, study in human relationships, a portrait of two generations with decades between them trying to make sense of the world.

Its stars, who’ve met twice previously, in New York last year, are still very much getting to know each other – and are confident in the appeal. “There are things like this play – hoping I don’t butcher it – where you can just sit back and go, ‘Oh, this is a delicious meal,’” says Chalamet. Atkins agrees. “I have a phrase in mind that I shouldn’t really say because it’s going to sound terrible in print.” Which is? “I find it a dear little play, a really dear little play. I think it should be very moving. But who knows? We might f**k it up.”

It’s unlikely. Atkins has been a regular on The Old Vic’s stage since the 1960s, going toe-to-toe with greats from Laurence Olivier to Alec Guinness, and fellow dames (and close friends) Maggie Smith and Judi Dench. Chalamet, meanwhile, is a relative novice, with only two professional plays under his belt. But since his turn as Elio in 2017’s Call Me by Your Name (for which he was Oscar-nominated), his celluloid rise has been meteoric. Roles in Lady Bird, Little Women, The King and Wes Anderson’s upcoming The French Dispatch have not only earned him the slightly fraught badge of “heart-throb”, but proved him to be among the most captivating actors of his generation.

He says he couldn’t resist the opportunity to come to the capital. “There was something exciting about doing a play that feels very New York in London,” Chalamet explains of taking on the part. He’s a diehard theatre fan, too, revealing he saw the six-and-a-half-hour epic The Inheritance – twice. “There are films like The Dark Knight or Punch-Drunk Love or Parasite that can give you a special feeling. But nothing will be like seeing Death of a Salesman on Broadway with Philip Seymour Hoffman or A Raisin in the Sun with Denzel Washington.”

Herzog’s writing particularly spoke to him. “Leo’s in a stasis that was very appealing to me,” he continues. “We find our crisis in moments of stasis, but there’s an irony to it when you’re young, because the law of the land would have you think that to be young is to be having fun, to be coming into your own. But as everyone at this age who’s going through it knows, it’s often a shitshow.”

It’s safe to say that, in casting terms, director Matthew Warchus, also artistic director of The Old Vic, has hit the jackpot. He first took the play to Atkins three years ago, but it was only towards the end of 2019 that Chalamet came on board. When it was announced, in December, that Hollywood’s heir apparent to Leonardo DiCaprio would be making his London stage debut, the news was met with a level of hysteria not usually associated with the 202-year-old theatre’s crowd.

“Oh, my friends have told me who the audience is,” Atkins chimes in when I ask who they think will be coming to see the show. “It’s 40 per cent girls who want to go to bed with Timothée, it’s 40 per cent men who want to go to bed with Timothée, and it’s 20 per cent my old faithfuls.” Is Chalamet prepared for the onslaught? “I think it will be 100 per cent Eileen’s faithfuls,” he demurs.

On the surface, they can seem quite the odd couple. Chalamet, raised in Manhattan by an American dancer-turned-realtor mother and French father, an in-house editor at the United Nations, may be living a breathless, nomadic movie-star life but there’s an iron core of Gen Z earnestness there. He arrives on set with minimal fuss, even deciding to wear the clothes he came in for one shot, before knocking out some push-ups, politely ordering an omelette and generally being divinely well-mannered.

He turns on the star power for the camera, though, and I can confirm it’s as dazzling up close as it is on the red carpet, where he has, famously, casually redrawn the rules for male dressing. From that Louis Vuitton sparkly bib at the 2018 Golden Globes, to a dove-grey satin Haider Ackermann tux at Venice last year, he’s a true fashion darling. Then, of course, there’s his dating life – from Lourdes Ciccone Leon to Lily-Rose Depp – that remains an endless source of fascination to millions worldwide. (All this, it must be said, is of significantly less interest to Dame Eileen.)

Atkins started dance lessons aged three, shortly before the start of the Second World War. By 12, she was performing professionally in pantomime, not far from where she grew up in north London, the youngest daughter in a working-class family. A fast-established theatre star, wider fame didn’t find her until late in life. Despite memorable turns in Upstairs, Downstairs and Gosford Park, it was the 2000 television hits Cranford and Doc Martin, when she was in her early seventies, that finally made her a household name. Today, she lives alone in west London, since her second husband, the TV and film producer Bill Shepherd, died in 2016. She has often spoken of being happily childless, and has zero time for razzmatazz.

And yet, despite their differences, the pair appear perfectly matched. They already have their grandmother-grandson dynamic down pat. Atkins does a fine line in mischievous eyebrow-raising, and at one point recites a limerick that is, honestly, so rude it almost makes her co-star blush. Chalamet, meanwhile, is politeness personified, still trying to work out his thoughts on various subjects, less inclined to give so much of himself away. There is a physical likeness, too, in their delicate features and fine bone structure. They share a naturally melancholic look, one that melts away when they laugh.

Their upcoming play, which premiered to rapturous reviews Off-Broadway in 2011, “about a block” from Chalamet’s high school, LaGuardia, could have been written for them. “Other than not being American, I’m very like the old woman,” says Atkins of the Pulitzer-shortlisted play. “I can’t be bothered to learn the internet.” If there’s one thing she won’t tolerate in rehearsals, it’s people on their phones. That’s the only thing that will “piss me off ”, she says, brusquely.

Ah, phones. Are they really the symbol of generational disconnect? “It’s easy to point to these things,” Chalamet says, tapping his phone on the table, “as the cause or the symptom, but I think my generation is a guinea pig generation of sorts. We’re figuring out the pros and cons and limits of technology.”

Equally, Atkins is keen to distance herself from some of the criticism levelled at her age group. “There’s a saying isn’t there: if you’re not very left wing when you’re young, you’re heartless. And if you’re not very right wing when you’re old, you’re foolish. I’m not political, but I’m not with this government I can assure you – and I’m not with Brexit. I wanted to wear a sweater saying ‘I did not vote Brexit’, because it was all old people who did. Not me, not me,” she snaps. “I went on the march.”

Both are in agreement that intergenerational friendships are too rare these days. “So. Important,” Chalamet says, hitting the table between each word. “There is so much to learn from people who have walked the path of life. That’s why I’m so looking forward to these next couple of months.”

Atkins is thoughtful on the matter. “I don’t miss the fact I don’t have children, but I do envy my friends who have grandchildren,” she says. “About five or six years ago I met a couple of young people – they are just about 30 this year – and, do you know, we go out together. And people immediately say to me, ‘Are these your grandchildren?’ And I say, ‘No.’ And they say, ‘Your godchildren?’ And I say, ‘No, they’re just friends.’ Everybody thinks there is something weird about all three of us. They just don’t get it. But the boy makes me laugh more than anybody and the girl is enchanting. I have more fun with them than I do with almost anybody else.”

I remind Atkins about her description of today’s youth as being overly serious. “I do call them the New Puritans, yes,” she says, before motioning to her young co-star. “He probably drinks like a fish.”

Chalamet, currently single, is remaining tight-lipped about plans for his new London life, and how many late-night manoeuvres in Soho or Peckham it may involve. “I’ve got friends here, which is nice. But I’m here for this – to be terrified at The Old Vic.”

Before we leave, there is a final thing to clear up – Atkins’ aforementioned limerick. “Do you know about the Colin Farrell situation?” Eileen asks Timothée. No, comes his reply. “Better get it over with now because someone will tell you,” she says, proceeding to explain how, when she was “69, about to be 70” and filming Ask the Dust with a 27-year-old Farrell, “he made a pass at me. He came to my hotel room. He was enchanting. I let him chat for two hours, thoroughly enjoying it, but no not that. He was very cross I didn’t.”

But then, she explains guiltily, she later told the story during “some stupid TV show” (Loose Women), where despite her best efforts at keeping Farrell’s identity secret, the internet did its thing and news got out. An apology to Farrell was required. “So I left a limerick on Colin’s phone…” she says. She clears her throat: “There once was a **** of a dame…” she begins, in her imitable theatrical timbre, before reeling off one of the filthiest rhymes I’ve ever heard.

There is a moment of stunned laughter. “Wow, that’s sincerely amazing,” comes Chalamet’s response, as Atkins finishes the verse. He gives her a solemn oath: “I promise I won’t hit on you.”

4000 Miles is at The Old Vic, SE1, from 6 April

[ineffably-good]

Twice

Sometimes describing my feelings help so maybe it will today. Please skip ahead to the next post if you are here for GO content, as this is going to be personal and highly uncomfortable and probably something I’ll regret posting. If you’re triggered about dementia issues, this is not the post for you. 

If you’re interested, read it before I come to my senses and delete it. 

Image source: Julia Percival

Eleven years ago my mother died of Alzheimer’s. She was a complex, difficult lady and we had a complex, difficult relationship for most of our life. She coped well with the disease for the first seven years she had it, but the last years were a constant string of losses.

I went to a class once on dementia where they gave us a stack of post it notes and had us make one for each of the twelve things we cared about most in the world - family, friends, hobbies, places we like to go. Then for each stage of dementia, we had to pick three of those we were losing. It wasn’t so hard at first; there were some that were easy to give up. When you got to the severe stage and you only had two or three left, it was heartbreaking to choose what thing you would lose next -- your love for your only child? your memory of your spouse? I was only a few years past mom’s death and I cried so hard in that exercise that I had to leave the room. 

There's a word for the process of watching someone you love lose themselves to dementia. Anticipatory grief. They're gone before they're gone; you lose them while they're still living. Alzheimer’s is especially crushing because for a long time, the person is aware of what's happening and watching it from the inside. It's an awful, horrible disease. It is always fatal.  

In the end, she broke her hip, went to recover in a rehab facility, and died fairly soon thereafter. In the last six weeks of her life, she was nicer and kinder to me than she had ever been before, because she could no longer remember her grievances. When I went to visit (every day), she would recognize me and smile, even if she didn't know exactly who I was. The last thing she ever said to me was "oh it's YOU!" with a kind of childish joy I had never, ever heard from her.

I went through a really long grieving process after she was gone. It took me most of a year to get through a lot of it. I had a three year old who needed me every second, my marriage was undergoing some very serious challenges that year, and I had very little time to myself to process. On the one year anniversary of her death, I parked my car under a streetlight at night in the rain and sobbed for about two hours -- and after that I was a little better.

-- 

image source:  HANS-ULRICH OSTERWALDER

My father has always been the kinder, easier parent. Less angry, less difficult, easier to be around. We've always gotten each other's sense of humor and enjoyed each other's company. We've gotten much closer since Mom passed, because we were able to spend time together in a new way -- more relaxed, less formal. And he's been pretty healthy, until this year. He has only a couple minor health issues. He has one bad knee and has used a cane for a couple years. 

But now? Now my Dad unmistakably has dementia too. Not Alzheimer's, thank god. I think it's vascular dementia, which has its advantages, since it doesn't necessarily progress, and it's not inevitably fatal. But all of a sudden, he's wearing dirty clothes over and over. He can't remember to get his mail. He's repeating things all the time and has little memory of conversations once they are over. Staff in the senior living community where he lives have been pulling me aside here and there to express concern.

I thought it was depression from being cooped up since February; everyone is suffering from that, or just normal aging memory loss. But his doctor called me earlier this week and told me they don't think he's taking his medicines, and when I asked him about it he happily admitted he's stopped taking most of them because he forgot what they were for. No big deal. I went to straighten that out with him today and found him with fifteen different bottles of half full, half-expired pills, none of which he'd been taking, and it took two hours of work to set up the pillbox and answer the same five questions ninety times and draw him a list with pictures of what each pill is and then quiz him on what he's going to do tomorrow morning to find the pills he needs and I *still* don't think he can do it.

So now I can't deny it anymore. He has dementia. He's barely coping.  

Luckily he's moving into assisted living in about three weeks and will have his pills brought to him after that, so this is a short term emergency that I'm going to have to manage on a daily basis. I can do that.

Image source: I’m sorry. I don’t f#@&ing know. I’m very tired and it wasn’t attributed. This one is my mental state. Getting that? Hahahahaha. 

I can do that. And I will. But... but...

I am realizing that I'm having the quiet equivalent of PTSD, facing my second parent with dementia.

I've done this before and I will do it this time and I’ll get through it. I’m fucking resilient. My sister lives too far away to help with the daily stuff, although she’s concerned and grateful. My husband can’t take a shift or a visit because he can’t get into the building where my dad lives. (I get in on a loophole because I work there. Otherwise no visit until COVID ends, otherwise known as forever.) Just me. This is all on me. And I won’t even list the otherwise whopping pile of stress and responsibilities in my life. This is a focused post. *ahem* 

There is a unique trauma to starting this process for a second time. And damn is there not anything out there on the interwebs for how to survive this process a second time. 

So. That’s me. Not sure why I’m sharing this. 

Advice, hugs, or happy thoughts -- cat pictures? sick jokes? -- happily accepted. 

Or, you know, we just go on with our lives. :) As one does.

[apenapaperandadoofus]

A random little party between the RFA members. Seven fortnite dances on Caramel Dansen, Yoosung convinces Saeran to drink with him, Zen is throwing Jumin's cat outside while Jumin tries to save his furry queen, Jaehee constantly brings new bottles, V silently sips on his wine and watches in horror. Work on whoever you want. Throw in some baby seals too, since they're your favorite

Can I just say, I love the energy in the studio today pftttt

Alright let’s start working on it PFTTT

Also, thank you, for aknowledging the seals, they are indeed my favorite pft

.......

So the RFA wanted to do a little party for themselves you know? And you thought, hell why not, let’s spend some time together. Besides, it’s way easier that making the whole RFA fundraising party, and you’re sure it would be great!

Hahaha sike

So as soon as you get there, Yoosung will just start drinking like crazy. He’s just BLASTED. He’s also just been through all those seven stages of grief, he’s just angry and then sad, and then at one point he just stood in the corner wondering about his life decisions.

Seven, meanwhile, decides to get away from his super drunk friend and start causing chaos. He puts on Caramel Danse at full volume, and starts doing flips and all the fortnite dancing he knows.

And then Yoosung decided to drunkenly join him, but he fell to his face, so Saeran,being the only one responsible in the group (Jaehee was so fucking done to actually help at this point) took his aquaintance and made him sit on a chair.

Then Yoosung stood up and asked Saeran if he wanted a drink, to which he said no, but then Yoosung kept insisting and it came to the point where Saeran yeets him over the table, and probably starts having a mental breakdown because he realizes what his life has become, while his twin brother turns the volume even louder and starts dancing frantically.

On the other side of the room, Jumin came back from ordering some food for the most special person to him, his reason for living and the only one who could make him smile, the love of his life.

His cat.

But. Elizabeth wasn’t there. Jumin looks around the room and sees that Saeyoung is too busy dancing, so he couldn’t have been it. Then he keeps looking around, and he realizes that the only one who isn’t there is Zen.

He immediately leaves the room and starts running around frantically, opening every single room and running up the stairs (you were having a party in a fancy and bug add mansion that Jumin rented for all of you) out of breath, determined to get his Princess before anything happens to her.

On the other side of the room, Jaehee has had a few too many drinks to deal with all the chaos going on. When she sees that Jumin is gone, she goes up to the room and starts rapping all Agretsuko style, just roasting Jumin.

Then when she’s done, she goes back to the table and starts having a mid life crisis while V tries to comfort her. But then, while V is doing that, he heard the bell ring and he quickly got up to answer it.

“Yes hell......o?” V stared at the seals in uniforms in front of him. What the fuck.

“Hello sir we’re here to offer you a subscription for a daily dose of seratonin. You get the first three months free if you sign up now. You can also try out seven day free trial. You really look like you could use some seratonin buddy, so I actually wouldn’t refuse.” One of the seals said.

Before V could answer, Seven grabbed the mic nearest to him, and still furiously dancing, he shouted “V I ACTUALLY NEED SERATONIN I DOMT HAVE ANY. I’m depressed.” He said, as his moves went from frantically to sad. Yoosung hugged his friend and grabbed the microphone from him. “DAMMIT V LOOK WHAT YOU DID. SEVEN DOESNT HAVE ENOUGH SERATONIN BECAUSE OF YOU, BITCH, I DONT HAVE ENOUGH SERATONIN BECAUSE OF YOU, CAN SOMEONE ARREST THIS MAN?? HES GUILTY OF EVERYTHING!”

V ended up getting seratonin for everyone.

Meanwhile, in the roof of the mansion, Zen and Jumin stood facing each other, fiercely, Zen gripping Elizabeth the third tightly in his arms.

Jumin glared at his enemy. “Zen. Put her. Down. She has nothing to do with this, this is just between you, and me.”

Zen glared back, but nodded and put Elizabeth on a cage. Then, he got in a fighting stance.

“I’m ready when you are, Jumin Han.” He sniffed, as holding Elizabeth had made him super teary eyed and made his nose runny. Jumin got in a fighting stance too, and nodded.

“Let’s do this.”

Meanwhile, Saeran kept having a mental breakdown, alongside with Jaehee who was ready to throw a chair at Seven.

V could only watch in horror as his friends started either breaking down, crying, or just started dancing through the pain.

You were in a corner, questioning your life decisions and why you were friends with them again.

Then you all heard a loud crash come through the roof.

Jumin and Zen kept fighting,Jumin, using all his pent up anger inside of his father and just everything else, kept throwing lasers at Zen, who in return,used his allergies as fuel for his power.

They were both so angry that they just ascended and became super powerful beings.

“I HAVE THE HIGHGROUND JUMIN. YOU WILL NEVER DEFEAT ME NOW.”

Everything ended though, when Elizabeth the third suddenly came between them.

And then, she transformed into Rika.

Everyone in the RFA gasped at the sudden turn of events, but Rika laughed evilly and glared at everyone below her (the roof had come off and everyone in the RFA had come up to the floor below, so now they were just out in the open air.)

“Ara ara, if it isn’t my dear friends from the RFA. Did you seriously think you had defeated me?! I WILL BRING HAPPINESS UPON ALL OF YOU WETHER YOU LIKE IT OR NOT, FUFUFUFU!!!”

“Oh no we won’t!!!” You screamed, and grabbed each of the RFA memebers hands, Jumin and Zen now in your group.

You all grabbed hands while looking at Rika.

“WE HAVE FRIENDSHIP BITCH!” You yelled.

“AND A LOT OF SERATONIN!” Yoosung screamed from behind you.

“DONT MESS WITH US, RIKA, WE HAVE THE POWER OF GOD AND ANIME ON OUR SIDE!”

All of you began to shoot a rainbow colored beam at Rika, and she screamed in pain.

“DAMMIT, TEAMWORK AND FRIENDSHIP, MY TWO WEAKNESSES. Ok welp I guess I lost now.”

The RFA members gave a cheer as Rika descended and sat in a corner, gloomily sulking.

Meanwhile, each of the RFA members danced around the room, and some of them drank, singing loudly to Caramel Dansen, which was on a ten hour loop.

Zen and Jumin stood off to the side.

“Zen. I have a question for you. Back when Rika was still Elizabeth, why did you really despise her so much? I get that you have allergies -my solution for that is just don’t- but I don’t get why you wanted to go the extra mile to get rid of her.”

Zen sighed and turned around to face Jumin, and he blushed as he cupped Jumin’s face with his hands. Zen leaned close, their lips about to touch. And then he said:

“Because I hate you, you dumb fuck.”

Then you punched Zen in the face because no one talks to our baby Jumin like that.

In the end, everyone ended up crying, while still dancing of course.

The next day when you woke up, you all left as if nothing had happened.

When you came home you threw yourself on your bed,sighing.

I mean, you never thought a party with only them would be this tiring.

But let’s be honest. What else were you expecting?

I don’t know how to finish the story now, so let’s just say that maybe the seals became super rich from selling seratonin, and now they are the CEO’s of six super successful companies.

The end I guess.

I don’t know what the fuck I just wrote.

I woke up at five AM to this, and I tried going back to sleep but I couldn’t.

It’s now 7am, and I’m supposed to get up at 9.

I also have a lot of homework to do so that sucks.

I don’t know why you’re still reading this.

.....

.....

.....

Drink water goddamit.

[motherofoliver]

Lost on You (Chapter 1)

(AO3)

Summary: After over a year on a roller coaster ride, Kaneki leaves prison and attempts to make amends for his mistakes.

Word Count: 2,118

*****

“Here are your things. You may exit through that door.” The guard slid Kaneki his things through a small opening in the glass and pointed towards the metal door leading to the outside world. He put on his jacket, bloodstains still on it.

That’s gonna be a bitch to dry clean.

After checking his wallet, Kaneki pushed the metal door open and walked outside to find a vintage red Mustang with a familiar face standing besides it.

“Where’s Touka?”

“I missed you too, buddy. Please try to contain your excitement at seeing me.” Hide chuckled as he came up closer and embraced the dark-haired man. It took a while for Kaneki to hug him back. He wasn’t sure when the last time he was held by anyone was. Definitely over a month. Maybe over three months. Not since T…

“You smell like shit.” Hide wrinkled his nose and stepped back while comically waving his hand.

“Yeah, prison can do that to you.” Kaneki made his way to the front seat of the car and leaned it back.

“Did they make you shower with expired chicken stock?” Hide got into the driver’s seat and turned on the ignition. Pop music blared from the radio as he reversed the car and sped onto the main street. “My place is closer than yours, we’ll stop there so you can shower and have a change of clothes.”

“Just take me home.” Kaneki sounded exhausted. He slid down his seat and placed his arm over his eyes.

“No can do. Akira wants to see you.”

Kaneki groaned. “I just got out. I can’t attend a work meeting right now.”

“Hey man, it’s the least you could do. She busted her ass to get you out.” Hide sounded playful but Kaneki knew him well enough to know there was a tinge of reproach in his voice. Akira must have pulled a lot of strings she did not want to pull. The familiar wave of guilt washed over him and his throat tightened.

“Will Touka be there?” And would she speak to me if she was?

“I don’t know, I think she’s been busy with a new client.”  Hide was tapping his fingers against the wheel with the music but Kaneki could feel his eyes glancing at him with concern. “I thought guys got buff in jail, how did you manage to get thinner?” Hide tried to cheer up the atmosphere by teasing him but his mind was already elsewhere.

“Yeah, well, prison food tastes like shit.” Kaneki replied absentmindedly. He couldn’t actually remember what prison food tasted like or if he even ate it. He couldn’t remember much of anything besides the thoughts that kept a watchful rotation in his head like a music worm you can’t hum your way out of.

“Don’t worry about that. Tonight I’ll take you out for the best meal of your life. It’ll be a mukbang of all your favorite foods. Gotta celebrate you surviving prison.”

Kaneki didn’t react. He was already humming his tune.

***

Breaking news! Our favorite hot mess, Ken Kaneki, is out of prison after only serving one month of his prison sentence! Insider sources tell us a deal was mediated with the prosecution and the actor was released on parole this morning! We contacted his agency for a statement on the release of the famous one eyed dragon but they have yet to reach out. Do you think he got off easy? Share your thoughts with us on our social media at…

Akira closed her browser tab and took a deep sigh. She could already feel a headache forming behind her eyes and she was positive it will get worse within the next few hours. She pressed her intercom button “Hairu, could you please get me some water and Paracetamol before Kaneki gets here?”

“Yes, ma’am” The reply was quick and Akira immediately heard the sound of Hairu leaving her desk to the communal office area.

How will we spin this one?

Throughout the last year, working as Kaneki’s publicist meant she has had to bend over backwards and use every trick up her sleeve to maintain a modicum of a career for him. Paying exuberant amounts of money to cover up his drug use, settlements, bribes, killing stories and videos of his repeated arrests, convincing prostitutes not to post photos of him snorting cocaine off them on their Instagram, negotiating with producers and directors to keep him on their movies even though he’s consistently 6 hours late to set and doesn’t even know his lines.

It’s just a phase; he’s going through a difficult time.

Or so she kept telling herself as he punched and kicked and snorted his way through the five stages of grief. It took less than 3 months to change his reputation from the ‘wholesome child star who made it’ into a violent drug addict who couldn’t stay sober for a five minutes morning statement of apology. His childhood portraits turned into snarky memes on social media mocking his downward spiral. Tabloids competed to come up with the most outrageous story of the day about him, and they didn’t have to work too hard to find them.

Hairu knocked at the door. Akira nodded for her to enter. She placed a sheet of pills and a water bottle on her desk then moved out. Akira interrupted her at the door “Is Touka in the office today?”

“No, ma’am. She went to Italy yesterday for the photoshoot.”

Thank God. “Thank you, Hairu.” At least that will be one less outburst to deal with today. Hairu nodded and closed the door behind her.

Kaneki would definitely make a scene if Touka was around. He has managed to botch every interaction they had ever since they broke up and Touka has been through enough last few months. There was no need to add the burden of handling Kaneki just yet.

Speak of the devil.

Akira’s phone lit up with a message from Hide: “Just dropped Kaneki off. He’s all yours.”

Akira took a deep breath and reached for the pills.

***

Kaneki felt every eye in the hall on him. He had hoped his entry would be inconspicuous but looking at his reflection in the elevator, he realized he may have overdone it a bit with the black. He looked like a modern day rendition of the grim reaper if he wanted to start a goth band. Kaneki clicked the 14th floor button, Creative Celebrity Globe.

What a dumb fucking name.

Unconsciously, Kaneki started tapping his foot. He wasn’t sure what to expect with Akira but he doubted it will be anything good. But that wasn’t the thing making him nervous.

What if Touka is in her office? I should go say hi. Right? She wouldn’t mind that. It’s only being civil.

The elevator doors opened and Kaneki instinctually went to the right, room 1407. The door was locked and the lights were out. He looked inside and Touka’s bag wasn’t on the table by the window. Music wasn’t playing on her computer. His eyes searched for the bunny calendar he got her but it wasn’t on the wall next to the desk. Kaneki felt a pit in his stomach at the thought she might have thrown it away.

“Kaneki! Glad to have you back.” Akira’s voice snapped Kaneki out of his thoughts. Akira gestured towards her office with a formal smile on her face. The dark circles around her eyes had deepened since the last time she visited him in prison. She followed him as he made his way into her office and closed the door behind them.

“I’m sure you didn’t want to come here today but we need to discuss our plan from now on.” Akira said matter-of-factly as she pulled a few folders from her drawer. “There will be a shit storm next couple of weeks so it’s best if you lay low. That means no social media, no going out, no smoking, no alcohol, no drugs, no midnight visits from attentive women, alright?”

Kaneki rolled his eyes. “Why not just tie me to a chair and be done with it?”

“Will that be necessary?” Akira’s glare was hard. Kaneki wanted to glare back but he felt too ashamed to try it.

Akira continued. “After that, I have set some volunteer activities for you to join. We’ll leak photos after you prove your presence with the other volunteers. If we feel the time is right, Hairu will start posting on your social media to begin rehabilitating your image and …”

“Isn’t it best if Touka does that?” Kaneki interrupted. “She is more familiar with my personal brand.”

Akira’s look would have been almost condescending if not for the pity. “You don’t have a personal brand left, and Touka no longer works on your team.” Akira said slowly, as if she was talking to a child. “Hairu is more than competent enough for this task.”

Kaneki’s foot started tapping aggressively but he didn’t say anything.

“If all goes right, we might be able to get you a role on a Netflix show set to start production in 6 months. I’m personal friends with the director and he would be willing to hire you as a favor for me.” Akira placed her fists beneath her chin. “That is if you get your act together.”

“What if I don’t want to do that?” Kaneki asked defiantly. He had been feeling like a puppet steered by the people around him for the last month and he wasn’t looking forward to being that puppet for the next six months.

“Don’t want what? To get your act together?” Akira’s eyebrow rose. “I’m afraid that’s implied in your parole.” She leaned back in her chair with crossed hands.

“No, I mean acting. I mean this whole life. Can’t I just retire now? I’ve done my time.” Kaneki was getting antsy in his seat. The room felt as it was getting smaller. Akira’s voice was becoming distant. His foot was basically shaking now instead of tapping. He wanted to go back to Touka’s office and look for the calendar. She wouldn’t have thrown it away.

“With whose money do you plan to do that?” Akira’s question was like a jolt of electricity.

“What do you mean whose money? Mine of course!” Kaneki’s voice rose on the last word.

“Would that be the money you spent on drugs? Or travels? Or lawyers? Or settlements?” Akira dropped one of the folders in front of him. “You still have fees and settlements worth millions to pay. You can’t afford to retire unless you’re willing to go back to jail for much longer than you were sentenced.” Akira opened the folder and pointed to a signature line. “That’s why I need you to sign here. We’re selling your apartment.”

Akira’s voice grew distant again. Kaneki’s choices for the last year fell crashing on him and his breath stopped in his chest. “I can’t do that.” He managed to croak out.

He really couldn’t. That apartment was the first thing he ever bought with his money. He bought it for himself and Touka. He decorated it with Touka. That apartment was where they spent their first night together. Even after they broke up, he didn’t let any other woman in there. That place was his and Touka’s, together. Selling it would mean letting go of that final thread holding them together.

“You have to, Kaneki.” Akira’s tone was sympathetic but firm. “You could be sued if you don’t pay some of those fees and your royalties right now won’t cut it. People are still mad at you and won’t show your movies or buy them.”

“Isn’t there any work I can do right now? I’ll do anything.” Kaneki was quietly pleading. “Can’t I take money from the trust fund?”

“No, Arima was very clear in his will that you cannot access that till you’re 30. I already asked the lawyers.” Akira felt a hitch in her throat at the mention of Arima, and looking at Kaneki, she could tell he felt the same.

Kaneki’s tone became stern “I’ll have to think about this before I sign.” He stood up. “Where are my keys?” He extended his hand.

“You won’t be staying at your place. Too many photographers.” She handed him the folder. “You’ll stay at Hide’s place till you finish the Netflix production.”

Kaneki snatched the folder from Akira’s hand and walked outside. He couldn’t hide the anger in his step. He pressed the elevator’s button as if it offended him personally. He took another look at the document inside the folder before throwing the whole thing in the trash.

[marshunter06]

After The Snap

A/N: This really should be longer, so forgive me, but I had to get the idea out. Also it’s weird that this is for TD, but hey *shrugs*

It took another two years after All Stars for them to get back together. They ran into each other by chance after Duncan had served his time and Courtney graduated from school. She just got settled in a law firm and his lawyers happened to be from the same one. They recognized each other instantly, but she ignored him once more just like the last time they met. He should just let her go, he’s hurt her enough and she clearly doesn’t want anything to do with him. He never was one to follow the rules though, she barely gets two steps out of the building before he’s already running after her. She hears him coming and before she turns around she smiles. This is how they come together again. Armed with knowledge and love for each other knowing that their relationship wouldn’t be easy, but that it’s worth it. Just as the first time they fall hard and fast, full of passion and burning desire. Second chances are hard to come by, neither of them would risk what they worked so hard to rebuild, but of course nothing about them ever came easily.

“Sorry, I’m running a little late, the last case brief went a little over.”

“It’s alright Princess, I’m stuck in traffic, so we should meet up about the same time.”

“I’m about ten minutes away.”

“Me too, I’ll see you… what the…”

“Duncan? Hello?”

Strange, maybe he was going through a tunnel, Courtney didn’t pay it much mind as she walked down the empty block towards the park where they were supposed to meet. She checks her watch, it was a little after seven on a Thursday evening, the streets are usually busier, but it was a four day weekend, everyone was probably traveling to the next city. There were many cars around since most had driven home at six already, but there were a few scattered in weird positions. They would get a ticket not to mention it was incredibly inconsiderate to park in the middle of the road. Still she tries not to let that distract her, she was already late. They only had date night once a week and she was looking forward to this one. It was officially six months since he asked her out again. She got to the park, there was a heavy feeling around the air an unexplainable weight. She felt it as soon as she sat down on the bench, there were also dust particles floating about. Lost children looking for their parents and parents looking for children. Something was very wrong.

He was late. Really late. They were on the phone thirty minutes ago and he said he would be here in ten. The children started to cry and the parents’ screams were desperate. She tries to call him, but it rings until she gets his voicemail. She tries again and again, then texts him. She doesn’t get a reply. Why wouldn’t he answer at a time like this, it’s not like him. They’ve both made it a point to prioritize the other, so why wasn’t he answering? She waits around another twenty minutes before she decides to go home. She was angry, but mostly upset. Her heart was telling her something was wrong.

She makes it halfway home when her phone rings, she picks up immediately hoping it’s Duncan with an explanation, but it wasn’t. It was Cate and she was crying.

“Court…”

“Cate, what’s wrong?”

“You’re still here…”

“Of course I am, why wouldn’t I? What’s going on?”

“They’re… they’re gone…”

“What? Who are you talking about?”

“Mom and Dad… they disappeared in front of me… turned to dust…”

“That doesn’t make any sense…”

“If it didn’t happen before my eyes I wouldn’t believe it either… turn on the news Sissy.”

“I’m outside, I don’t have the… wait there’s a T.V there.”

It was all over the news, footage of people turning to dust in front of their loved one, there was no explanation. No one understood what was going on and why those were the ones to disappear. It was happening all over the world, plane crashes and car accidents from the pilots and drivers vanishing. The only thing they knew was that Earth's population was cut in half in the span of a second.

“Court?”

“... no… it can’t… Duncan!”

“Where is he?”

“I don’t know Cate, we were supposed to meet an hour ago… he hasn’t been answering me…”

“You don’t think…”

“No… no way… we just… no…”

“Check his location. You have to make sure, I’ll go with you.”

“Okay…”

Duncan was the one to suggest sharing their location, he wanted to prove to her that he had nothing to hide. That way even she would always know where he is and vice versa if they ever needed to find each other in an emergency. When they first started dating again she did check on it once or twice, but she quickly got rid of the habit. She had nothing to worry about, he reassured her countless times, she was the only one in his heart.

Cate met her at the bus station closest to where Duncan’s phone said he was. Together the both of them walk towards the intersection, they spot his car easily, but he was nowhere to be found. His phone was in the cup holder and the engine was still running, but the car was at least parked, nothing was out of place except for the pile of dust on the driver’s seat.

One Year…

A whole year passes and they still don’t know why half the universe disappeared. The only people that Courtney knew who weren’t dusted were Cate, Bridgette, Geoff, and Heather. The whole world was still trying to get used to life going back to normal, but it wasn’t easy. New positions had to be filled, but everyone was still mourning the ones they lost. Courtney was no different. Life as a lawyer has to go on, but she couldn’t focus on her cases, trying to figure out who was still alive was a huge hassle. She knew she had to be brave for Cate, the loss of their parents hit her sister especially hard. Combined with losing Duncan, it’s a miracle Courtney could still function, but she was strong. She tried her best to carry on like normal even though her whole world turned upside down. She still held onto the hope that this was temporary and he would be back soon. He was brought into her life for a reason, he shouldn’t be gone when they were finally happy again.

Two Years…

Society was starting to pick up slightly, thanks to those helping others cope through support groups. They helped people through the stages of grief and how to move on without all the answers as to why their loved ones were gone instead of them. Cate has been doing well in those gatherings, she encouraged Courtney to join in. She has yet to attend a meeting, instead she self medicated with too much alcohol with Heather. She could talk to Bridgette about this, she still had her other half and even though she was supportive, she could never understand how painful this whole ordeal is.

“Two fucking years, can you believe it Court?”

“I know, it’s hard to keep hoping with each passing day.”

“Yeah, I miss him a lot. I would never say this if we weren’t drunk already.”

“Not drunk enough if I’m willing to admit that I miss Duncan too.”

“He was going to propose to me…”

“What?”

“I knew, I found the ring at the bottom of his sock drawer, he was mid proposal when it happened, all I have left is the ring in the box. He’ll never know I would have said yes.”

“Heather…”

“What about you Court? I know you guys only recently got back together.”

“Our story isn’t anything like yours, it was date night. We were on the phone and then he stopped talking.”

“Doesn’t mean it hurts any less.”

Three Years…

The rest of the world was mostly back to normal now, yes people still mourned their loved ones, but the Earth still spins with or without them. Cate even managed to find a boyfriend through her meetings. They were able to find comfort with each other trying to navigate this new world.

“Come on Sissy, I’m worried about you.”

“I’m fine Cate, promise.”

“No you’re not, you’re still hurting like crazy, I know you haven’t moved on.”

“How can I move on…”

“I know and I’m not asking you to forget him, but you know Duncan would want you to be happy.”

“Going to these meetings won’t help.”

“Just one, please. I’m hosting the next one, just be there to support me.”

“... okay, but I’m not going to share anything. Nothing I say could bring him back anyways.”

Four Years…

She did end up going to those meetings after Cate forced her to attend the first one. It didn’t make her heart any less heavy, but at least she knew she wasn’t alone in feeling lost. Heather even joined wanting to connect with others. It seems neither of them could cope well without their soulmates. It didn’t matter how much society was thriving, it wouldn’t bring Duncan back. She did start volunteering to help others deal with how to move on, she helped them get their life together without forgetting those they lost. She hated going home alone, they didn’t have a chance to move in officially, but she kept all of his stuff. She even moved all of his things from his place to hers. She tried to keep busy, but once she was home there was nothing to distract her, she wasn’t sleeping well. Courtney’s always prided herself on her image, but she could care less about what others saw. Her heart wasn’t in it, even during their big breakup on World Tour couldn’t compare to how hurt she was now. It didn’t help that her Facebook would remind her of all the memories she had with him. Seeing him smile in those pictures knowing he would never be back was too much to bear. Still she couldn’t bring herself to get rid of the pictures, it was all she had left.

Five Years…

It took five years for them to get back together, naturally it would take another five years for her to get him back. This must have been payback for the way she treated him when they first started dating. Truth be told she didn’t believe their relationship would last, they were too different and too young, but still she found herself going back to him every time they broke up. She loves him, always has and always will. She never expected to rekindle their romance after All Stars, just as she never expected to lose him just when she was finally ready to tell him she loves him again. No one had ever broken her the way he did, but Duncan was also the only one who complimented her so well. She had decided during these five years that no one would ever compare, she still had suitors chasing after her, but she turned them all down. It wouldn’t be fair to them when her heart only belonged to one man. He made her weak, and for once she wasn’t mad, he was the reason she even knew what love was.

She was walking with Heather to a coffee shop when it happened. There was a shift in the air and they all felt it, in the blink of an eye there was a crowd of people before them. Everyone was confused, how was this possible… her phone was ringing, she must be dreaming or this was a cruel joke, Duncan was calling her.

“Princess? What’s going on?”

Tears immediately fell down her face, she couldn’t answer him. Was this real? Could he actually be back. She turned to see Heather with the same reaction, without another word they both ran out of the store headed to where they left their other half five years ago.

“Hey, don’t cry, where are you? I’m sorry I’m late.”

“Duncan, I’m headed to the park.”

“I’m already there, I don’t know what happened to my car but somehow I ended up by our bench.”

“Stay there and don’t hang up okay?”

“Yeah, of course.”

She ran as fast as she could afraid that if she didn’t get there soon then he would disappear again leaving her all alone. She didn’t stop until she saw him and when she did, she immediately collapsed into his arms. He held her tight and the sound of his heart beating calmed her. He was real and he was actually here. He looks exactly the same as the last time she saw him five years ago on his way to work.

“Hey, it’s okay Court.”

“You disappeared.”

“What are you talking about?”

He finally took a good look at her and saw that her hair was longer and she looked older. More importantly she looked exhausted, he hasn’t seen her this torn apart since their big fight back on reality T.V.

“Princess, what happened?”

“You were gone for five years, along with half the population. We don’t know what happened, but you’re back now. That’s all that matters.”

“That’s not possible, I don’t remember being gone at all.”

“It’s hard to believe, I didn’t when it first happened.”

“So you mean I really lost five years with you?”

“I must look terrible.”

“Not at all Court, you’re still as beautiful as the moment I met you. I’m just mad that I didn’t get to spend those years with you. We were supposed to be rebuilding our relationship.”

“We still can. There’s no one else for me Duncan. I love you.”

“I love you too. Always.”

They may have lost another five years together, but she didn’t move on, not this time. They’ll never know why this happened or if it’ll happen again. It’s a terrifying thought to know that she could lose him again, but isn’t that what life was like anyways? No one truly knows when death comes knocking. They were lucky to have found each other again and to stay in love. There’s too many unsolved mysteries in the world, it wasn’t their job to find the answers. All they need is each other, besides they had a lot to catch up on.

A/N: Srsly I could go more into detail and it would be way more angsty, but probs not a good idea with our own crisis going on in this world. Also I need a better title

[shipersanonymous]

Au

A West-Allen AU 💜

Worth more than gold

Iris West is a multi billionaire and heiress who’s emotionally scarring childhood has made her shut herself off to all possible emotional relationships. Her life takes an interesting turn when her adoptive grandfather passes away leaving her in charge of his fortune, including a share of S. T. A. R. Labs. While in Central City, she meets Barry Allen, an innocent and charmingly clumsy kind of guy with a high EQ who’s trying to climb his way up the science social ladder to become a recognized scientist. Can you guess his lab of choice?

Your average, every day, girl meets boy kinda story with a rags to riches twist, a dash of family drama, lots of angst and a love worth more than Au.

…………………………………………………………........

Author’s Note: 

Here we are! 

Au is finally making it’s way onto tumblr! I’m so excited! I’m gonna try to get tumblr updated by this week, so we’re all on the same schedule! Let’s do this!

XOXO

...................................................................................

WARNING : MAY CONTAIN CONTENT NOT SUITABLE FOR READERS UNDER THE AGE OF 18

*********** Cliffhanger Warning ***********

Chapter 1

Her hand rested on the cool glass of the floor to ceiling window as she overlooked the nightly view offered by her million dollar apartment. The sky was clear, not a single cloud concealed the sparkle of the stars that were dimmed only by the ever present Parisian city lights. The moon was full and white, its iridescent light bathed her naked body creating a picture out of shadows on her bare skin. Iris took a sip from her glass, the semi-sweet wine burning her tongue with a pleasant ardour before she swallowed and it heated her body from the inside out. Her latest boy toy came up from behind her, his body just as bare as hers, and wrapped his arms around her waist. He proceeded to leave a trail of kisses down her neck, savouring in the feel of her warm chocolaty skin against his lips and she simply took another sip of her drink, completely unfazed.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered on to her shoulders but she seemed unmoved by the compliment. With her stare trained on the city-scape bellow she simply said,

“It’s getting late.” Eddie knew what that meant, it was time for him to leave. It didn’t surprise him but even after months of this back and forth ritual between them it still hurt him to know that to her he was nothing more than a sex toy. He quietly moved away from her and made his way up the stairs to get dressed. As always he didn’t bother saying goodbye, he couldn’t say goodbye, not to her. She was like a drug to him, no matter how much she hurt him he’d always come running back when she called. That’s why he couldn’t say goodbye, he wasn’t done with her yet.

Iris waited until she heard the door close to let her guard down. She didn’t do that often but today she made an exception. She had too much on her mind to keep her walls up. With a partially full bottle of red in one hand and her glass in the other she made her way up to her suite. She showered, washing away the tension from her stressed muscles along with the sweat of her late night activities. Wrapped in nothing but a satin robe, she settled down in her bed and drank her way through half the bottle without so much as a minor buzz. She opened her side table drawer and from it took out a black, rectangular picture frame. Her fingers caressed the glass that held a picture of a younger less, damaged version of her, standing next to a kind faced older man. Grandpa West. The only reason why there’s still any shred of humanity left in her. She smiled, as happy memories played out in her mind and this time she didn’t stop the tears from flowing.

This was her one moment of vulnerability. The only minute of grief she would allow herself to have before she withdrew back into her safety shell and locked away her emotions from the world. This world that had chewed her up and spat her out on countless occasions and now it took away the one person that made her life livable.

Elvis West was a type of hero to her. He saved her from the crippling grasp of the foster system she was under and gave her a life fit for a princess. Now, like everything and everyone else in her life, he was gone. No wonder she didn’t open up to the possibility of new relationships. Her father didn’t want her, her mother died giving birth to her and every foster family she went to, succeeded in making her feel less than human. Grandpa West was the last person she ever showed genuine affection towards and nothing on Earth could ever make her open up again. Love wasn’t worth the pain it caused.

She fell asleep with that picture held tight against her chest, the empty bottle of wine rested on the nightstand and her pillow was bathed in her tears. The next morning she took the family jet to Central City for the memorial. The man was sentimental and his birth town held a special place in his heart. As she looked out the window at the tiny town below she remembered the countless stories he’d shared with her at bed time about how he met his one true love. Grandma Esther. Iris didn’t get to know her all that much. She had recently passed away when Grandpa West took her in so the only impression she had of the woman came from the many tales he’d tell. He spoke fondly of her and when he did she noticed that he’s eyes had a certain quality about them as he stared into oblivion completely lost in thought. As a girl she’d dreamed that she’d find someone who would look at her with those same eyes but time and knowledge wiped away that childish fantasy. True love was just a myth that man kind made up to silence their fear of being alone and make they’re animal like desires less shameful. It was an excuse used to answer the existential crisis of the more gullible who believed that a cerebral chemical reaction was good enough a reason to live. Pathetic.

She’d made her peace with it and found a new reason to live. Pleasure. Whether it lie at the bottom of a six thousand dollar bottle of champagne, at the end of the endless zero’s in her checks or a really good night of sex, she would have it and no one could convince her otherwise. No one could tell her that this wasn’t the way to live life. The only person who’s opinion she cared about was currently six feet under ground. The rest of the world was just a stage and she was the director.

The jet landed and she took a minute to touch up her make up before she cat walked her way out. As soon as she entered the airport she was showered with a billion flash lights. You’d think she was a movie star or big shot music sensation but all she was, was rich. She owned shares to five of the worlds most prominent media outlets varying from magazines to newspapers and that doesn’t count the old money she was raised in.

Linda walked up behind her and huffed under her breath.

“Mon Dieu (My goodness).” she exclaimed frustrated.

  “Que s'est-il passé? (What happened)” Iris questioned with her shaded eyes still trained straight ahead. Linda was the closest thing to a friend Iris would allow herself to have, mostly because she was a good assistant and Iris found herself enjoying her company. 

“Nous sommes entourés d'idiots. (We’re surrounded by idiots)” she explained and Iris let out an amused chuckle. Remembering that she needed to ease her tongue back into the English language she responded,

“That I already knew.” Her accent was still pronounced but she knew after an hour or two it would soon fade. She might have been raised and educated in France but she was brought up by Americans so english was more like second nature than it was a second language to her.

“What do I have to do today?” she asked, her step never faltering and her face never turning to acknowledge the curios glares. Her security detail walked a safe distance ahead, already accustomed to her need for personal space and fast walking pace.

“Uh…d'abord (firstly)-”

“En anglais Linda. In English.” she interrupted. 

“Oui, I mean yes. Sorry. Firstly you have the will reading with Monsieur Wells and then a share holders meeting at some sort of laboratory.” Linda listed out, her accent much more noticeable than that of her employer. 

“Great, just what I needed today. A sit down with a bunch of old mouth breathers who think they know about science because they invested in a laboratory.” It was all she could do not to slap her own forehead in exasperation. Not that she knew much about science herself but S. T. A. R. Labs wasn’t her baby, it was her grandfather’s and being his only heir, with his passing it automatically became hers.

The limo was waiting outside for her surrounded by reporters and a growing crowd all waiting to catch a glimpse of her. To the public and the press she was basically anonymous. They knew her face and envied her net worth but they couldn’t pin a single rumor on her. As scandalous as the life she led might have been Iris West knew how to be discreet and the mystery surrounding her life is the very reason why she wasn’t just another person apart of the wealthy minority.

She stepped inside the lavish auto mobile without so much as a wave in the on-lookers direction and as soon as the doors were closed she drove off with her security detail riding in a black Land Rover behind her. 

“Why on earth do we need a will reading exactly? I mean my grandfather had no one but me to leave his estate to and I’ve already taken care of all the charity’s he was associated with." 

She’d spoken to all the parties concerned and guaranteed that all her grandfathers monthly and yearly donations would remain on schedule despite his untimely departure. She was an anti-social socialite not an emotionless bitch.

  "I don’t understand the logic behind it either but Dr Wells insisted that you attend." 

Iris huffed out a frustrated breath and massaged her temple’s with her thumb and middle finger. 

"I’m gonna need a pain killer.”

They made a brief stop at the towering black gates and once an armed guard confirmed the identities of all the people in both vehicles they were let through. They drove through the perfectly groomed garden, that was split in the middle by a cobblestone drive way, and pulled up to a gigantic structure. It was a massive building, with just enough floor to ceiling windows to allow for the right amount of privacy. She stepped through the door and made her way up the stair case. 

“Where are you going?” Linda asked, her voice alert. 

“Les toilettes (the restroom). I need a bath.” she answered taking a short turn to the right and climbing up the remainder of the way. 

“But Monsieur Wells will be here any minute.”

“And I pay him handsomely for his time. He can wait." 

Iris shut the doors to her suite and took a moment to breathe before she walked to the bathroom and striped off her travel clothes. Her bath was already waiting for her (the servants knew the drill, they kept track of her whereabouts because as soon as she stepped through those doors she needed to have her bath). She stepped into the scalding hot water, the steam rose all around her in twirling wisps carrying with it the unmistakable smell of coconut. Coconut oil did wonders for her skin. She sank into it up to her neck and closed her eyes completely allowing her body to relax.

Her moment of bliss was short lived, however, because a few minutes later a knock came at her door. She cursed under  her breath before she told the person to enter. 

"Mademoiselle West? Monsieur Wells is here,” came Linda’s voice from the room. 

“I’ll be down in a minute,” she huffed out and waited for the sound of the door closing before she sank deeper into the tub, not worried that her hair was getting wet. She resurfaced and elevated her body from the bath tub. Without bothering to towel down she wrapped her self into a satin black robe that was decorated with yellow, orange and green flowers at the hems. The fabric stuck to her bare, moist body and her hair left droplets of water in her wake as she exited her room, making her way downstairs. 

She found Wells seated in the office with a small cup of coffee in his hands. He stood when he noticed her at the door, ever the gentleman. 

“Ms West. Always a pleasure.” he greeted and she walked into the room, slapping on her most convincing (yet neutral) smile. 

“Wells. Wish I could say the same but unfortunately the sentiment is not shared.”

She took the seat behind the desk and leaned back into it, crossing her legs and arms in the process. 

“Can we speed up the process?” she asked looking far from amused. “Unfortunately not,” he said. 

That response was not what she wanted to hear and after the night she had and the long flight Iris found herself losing her composure. 

“And why the hell not?” she demanded. 

“Because we’re waiting for someone.” Wells answered, loosening his tie as his discomfort grew. 

“Who?” Iris asked confused, as far as she  was aware she was her grandfather’s only heir. She didn’t have to wait long for an explanation because seconds after she uttered the question the door bell rang. 

“I believe that’s him right now.” Wells said standing up to greet the mystery guest. Iris followed suit, her confusion clear on her face. 

“Him? Him who?” she asked and the new comer stepped into the room. 

“Me.” he said. He was a tall, dark skinned man that looked like he was 

somewhere in his late forties. Iris gave him a once over before she folded her arms across her chest and shot him a suspicious look. 

“And you are?” She sassed out. 

“Joe West. I’m Elvis’s son.”

[eabhaalynn]

Why You Should Support Your Local Coffee Shop - Five Years of Follow Coffee Co

Ballymena is a fairly unremarkable Co. Antrim Town, better known for its dedication to the DUP than for its coffee establishments. You may know it as the town of Ian Paisley Jr. famous for his father and being the first ever MP subject to a recall petition. You may even know it as the “Drugs Capital of the North.”

Follow Coffee Co. is an independently owned café that, as far as I know, popped up on a pedestrianised shopping street in the shadow of the Tower Centre in Ballymena’s town centre at some stage in 2014. The glass shop front is framed with bright yellow paint and criss-crossed with metal panes, splitting both the sunlight in summer months and streetlights in the dark days of Christmas. To the left side of the building’s centre lies a heavy glass door, the geometric logo of the shop sitting front and centre above it, and illustrated in frosted glass to it’s side.

(Image Credit: Debbie Murray (insta @/followcoffee)

Inside, the design is fresh and modern, a stark and yet refreshing contrast to the traditional appearance of the town outside that has remained largely unchanged in my lifetime. Further contrast is shown on the very ground itself; wooden floors on one side, industrial concrete on the other. The stairs and two sides of the shop are bridged with diamond plate, further consolidating the image; and acknowledging the towns manufacturing history. The balcony of the top floor overlooks the entry way and provides the perfect spot for peoplewatching. At the far side of the café lies the counter, with pastries, buns, a giant blackboard, decorated with the ever-evolving lunch menu off to one side and a big, beautiful coffee machine there to greet you.

At some stage between Follow Coffee’s opening and today, my name has become synonymous with coffee drinking. Trust me, the word ‘coffee’ features in no less than five different people’s yearbook comments about me. It’s not that I’m blaming the place or anything, but when it opened, I didn’t even drink coffee.

SIX RECOMMENDATIONS FROM FOLLOW(one for each year hehe)

-      Raspberry Hot Chocolate

-      Hot Chocolate

-      Mocha

-      Iced Hazelnut Latte

-      Hazelnut Latte

-      The smoothie that has mango in it

My friends and I stumbled upon follow accidentally once when out of data and waiting for the 5.45pm 150 bus home. This was the epitome of life as a thirteen-year old in rural Ireland. The place had good, affordable hot chocolate and free wi-fi, and the girlsTM were bored. It was perfect. What more could we ever have asked for?

Before too long, I had convinced my dad and sister to ditch the usual chain coffee places and come to Follow with me. Luckily enough, the apple didn’t fall far from the tree and so they had the same love for the place that I do, the same love for independent coffee shops in general. Somewhat unsurprisingly, they fell in love. My GCSE years were upon me and I was spending more and more time in town. Honestly, I was spending more time awake and thus, the thriving caffeine dependency today was born. My Saturdays would usually involve a trip to Follow, I would bring schoolwork and stay for hours at a time, hiding myself in one of the upstairs booths and work away. The pressure of a public environment somehow always made me work harder and better.

The group of friends that I had found the place with soon imploded, as groups of young teenage girls so often do. But I didn’t mind, my newfound love for the place transcended those people, and after everything I still had so much respect for those girls. By that stage, I had befriended the Barista’s. After all, I had spent enough time bothering them at work with the intricate details of my life problems, and they were so kind and so like me that I just naturally made friends with them. Some of those friendships have even lasted to this day (more on that later).

When fifth year rolled around, I had become so disenfranchised with school, I started looking into sixth form options in town. When it became apparent that staying at my old school was no longer an option, I decided on St Louis Grammar. A brilliant school which offered me an escape from the people giving me grief, the opportunity to study the subjects I wanted and a town centre school environment, all just a twelve-minute walk away from Follow.

The winter of fifth year also was when I met my first ever boyfriend; and went on my first ever date. No prizes for guessing where that date was. Much alike the girlsTMmentioned earlier, that relationship crashed and burned. But Follow was always my place, is always going to be my place. Surely those experiences only helped to solidify it.

Sixth Form at St Louis was the best two years of my life. I have no hesitations in saying that. It was wonderful, beautiful, incredible, and yet stressful beyond belief. Because I have no common-sense AT ALL, I decided to start lower sixth off with four new a-levels, a new relationship, all these new friends … and … yet again, no surprises… a new job.

Being a Barista was always a bit of a dream of mine. I already had such a strong rapport with so many of Follow’s staff and regular customers (being one myself), from the outside, it seemed like the perfect contrast to the high stress lifestyle of sixth form at ‘’Northern Ireland’s top grammar.’’

Are you seeing a trend developing here? That plan went horribly wrong. I loved working at follow, but I was 16, a little baby. I was so stressed and had so much going on and so I only lasted a matter of months. But still; Follow had housed my first ever date and now my first ever job - Two of the most defining experiences of my teenage years. The place was becoming a second home to me. This was only further solidified by my new school, just twelve minutes away.

After quitting my job at follow, I started to study there from 3.30 to 5.30 a couple of times a week. It was a little treat, a friendly set of faces. The same people I’d been complaining to for years, but with even more substance this time. They knew all about my studies, after all, they were the reason I had left. My former colleagues had experienced the start of sixth form by my side. I studied there waiting on the same 150 bus I had been waiting on when I first found the place, all those years previously.

In lower sixth, I unsuccessfully ran for the UK Youth Parliament. The results for this came through when I was having my usual iced hazelnut latte and cry over a-levels in follow. The following summer, I sat the UKCAT, achieving a * slightly * better than average score, at the time I sat this, I didn’t know it would be better than average at all, the first people to hear all about it, and most other aspects of my University application were the staff of Follow. After passing my driving test in the winter of my Upper Sixth year, my first ever successful parallel park was on a street perpendicular to Follow, on a frosty February evening. Throughout that school year, I would consistently have to attend various mandatory revision classes for my three-surviving a-level subjects and the many resits I had reluctantly gotten myself into. Follow became a solace. The calm in the midst of the seemingly constant storm of a-levels. My former best work friend, simply became a best friend of mine. She got herself a house, became a real adult right in front of me. She was pursuing her passion for photography, doing incredibly well for herself. Then I got into medical school. Eventually.

In September 2019, I moved away. All I had ever wanted was right in front of me, a one-way plane ticket out of Northern Ireland and a place to study medicine.

For three months, I’ve been carving out a little life for myself in Lancaster. I have my own place, I am, slowly but surely, becoming a real adult. I am a far cry from the scared thirteen-year old that landed in that coffee shop desperately seeking wi-fi. Though somehow, almost a year after passing my driving test, I’m right back waiting for somewhat questionable bus services again. The 150 has turned into the dreaded 100. St Louis’ is but a happy-rose tinted memory. Lancaster Medical School has replaced the dreaded long days and mandatory revision classes with -perhaps- even more dreaded 6.30pm lectures and mandatory Problem Based Learning presentations.

Oddly enough, I am very single, and very unemployed, and truly very happy about it. This time in my life is as formative as those times I’ve been reflecting on. Even more so maybe.

But I’d be lying if I said everything in my new life in England is perfect. They say distance makes the heart grow fonder, and the latest development in me and Follow Coffee Co’s story is our long-distance phase. I miss it dearly, the familiarity it gave me throughout sixth form, the distinctive abrupt yet friendly nature of its Ballymena clientele. But it will always be there to welcome me home. It better be.

It took leaving for me to realise that you rarely find a place that means as much to you as Follow means to me, and that Starbucks and Costa rarely can give you the wealth of life experience of your favourite independent coffee shop. I have sat at every table in the place. Cried at most of them, over anything and everything from University rejections, to tiny irrelevant fights with strangers on the internet. I know every crevice of the tables, floors and skirting boards. I’ve even accidentally mopped the concrete floor and faceplanted it in my time.

Ballymena has many flaws, but it’s character and community is unmatched. No place illustrates that better to me than this. Go, visit your local independent coffee establishment. Maybe even get a job. You never know who you’ll meet, or what you’ll learn. This world is a beautiful place. Hell - Even Ballymena is.

[bbclesmis]

Los Angeles Times: Dominic West on the near-erotic bond between Valjean and Javert in ‘Les Miserables’

Since the original publication of Victor Hugo’s novel “Les Miserables” more than 150 years ago, the brutal conflict between the convict-turned-savior Jean Valjean and ruthless pursuer Inspector Javert has been dramatized countless times on stage, screen and even radio.

Although most of the versions have been dramatic, the most dominant and popular adaptation of the 1862 novel is musical. The Tony Award-winning “Les Miserables,” launched in Paris in 1980, has been featured on stages around the globe, and its colorful characters, luscious ballads and rousing anthems have been embraced by millions of theatergoers.

Dominic West is not among them.

The actor who came to prominence in the landmark HBO series “The Wire” and is starring in Showtime’s “The Affair,” has never seen “Les Miserables” on stage. And he didn’t make it all the way through the 2012 film version starring Hugh Jackman and Russell Crowe.

Still, he understood how immensely popular the musical is. Which is one reason he had doubts about taking on the role when he was approached about playing Jean Valjean in a new dramatic six-hour adaptation of “Les Miserables.”

“I thought, ‘What’s the point?’ ” West said as he sat in the front courtyard of a boutique hotel in Santa Monica recently. “They’ve made a very successful film, and the stage musical is so successful. Then I read the script, and I realized there was a lot more to it. In living memory there’s been no six-hour version, no long-form version of the novel. The story you’re familiar with and the characters you’re familiar with are seen in greater depth.”

The miniseries, which debuts April 14 on PBS’ “Masterpiece,” also stars David Oyelowo (“Selma”) as Javert, Lily Collins (“Rules Don’t Apply”) as the doomed seamstress Fantine and recent Oscar winner Olivia Colman (“The Favourite”) as the abusive innkeeper Lady Thenardier. Andrew Davies, who has written adaptations of everything from “Pride and Prejudice” and “Bleak House” to “House of Cards” and “Bridget Jones’s Diary,” adapted Hugo’s novel for the project, which was co-produced by “Masterpiece” with BBC Studios.

The bleakness and brutality of Hugo’s vision is vividly depicted, alerting viewers immediately that there will be no catchy songs or light moments in this “Les Miserables.” “Masterpiece” executive producer Rebecca Eaton said there are compelling differences that should appeal to fans of the musical and devotees of Hugo’s work.

“The musical is great, the songs are great, but sometimes it covers up the story,” Eaton said in a phone interview. “What we’ve done is the narrative, with all its intricacies and subtleties that you just don’t get in the musical. We’re going much deeper. I love how Andrew humanizes and animates these 19th century tomes. He really went for the highs and the lows, and is making a political statement about poverty and class.”

The depiction of the virginal Fantine’s fall into degradation and prostitution, for example, is explored in chilling and horrifying detail. One of the highlights of the musical is “Master of the House,” a comic ode to the crooked operation of the inn run by the Thenardiers; in the “Masterpiece” version, the couple is much more menacing and manipulative.

And viewers who remember West as detective Jimmy McNulty from “The Wire” or are used to seeing him in various states of undress and in steamy sex scenes in “The Affair” may be startled when he is introduced as Prisoner 24601. He is almost unrecognizable, shorn of almost all his hair (“They cut my hair off with a knife and fork”) and wearing a lengthy and unkempt beard.

But it’s his performance, along with Oyelowo’s, that is at the center of this “Les Miserables,” and Eaton maintained that viewers will be captivated by how the two actors play out the life-and-death battle between Valjean and Javert: “To watch these two is just mesmerizing, My weakness is actors, and when I’m in the presence of first actors, it’s just wonderful.”

Among the most prominent film adaptations was a 1935 Oscar-nominated film starring Frederic March, a 1998 film starring Liam Neeson and Geoffrey Rush, and a 2000 French miniseries starring Gerard Depardieu and John Malkovich.

West became a believer in this latest version after reading Davies’ adaptation, and Hugo’s novel.

“Reading the book was the most pleasurable reading experience I’ve ever had,” he said. “I think it’s the best book ever written. It’s even greater than Tolstoy. Valjean is the greatest hero in literature. His story of redemption and the battle he has against his adversaries and against himself make him such a compelling hero.”

As Valjean, West had to connect with both his brutal side and his tenderness: “He’s been imprisoned for 19 years for stealing a loaf of bread to feed his starving nieces and nephews,” he said. “He knew when he went to prison that they would all die in starvation.”

He added, “What’s central to the book is Javert’s view of the criminal, which is they are born and cannot be redeemed, and Hugo’s more enlightened view, that you’re a product of the way people treat you. If you’re brutalized for 19 years, you will be a brute. His evolution from violent brute to pillar of the community and then romantic hero is what’s so extraordinary about his character arc. Behind this beast is this great compassionate soul.”

Then there’s the core of “Les Miserables” — the clash between Valjean and Javert.

“There’s an almost erotic bond between Valjean and Javert,” West said. “Javert is nuts about him. We kind of hint at it. In these things, you always look for the strongest impulse, and that’s always sex and love.”

However, there was not much love between West and Oyelowo during the shoot.

“I kept trying to get to know David; I kept asking him out to dinner, and he was very aloof,” West said with a laugh. “I thought, ‘Boy, is he unfriendly! He’s a bit snooty.’ And then at the end, we finally went out — it was his birthday — and we had this great night. I said, ‘Wow, we should have done this months ago,’ and he said, ‘No, no, I was deliberately avoiding you.’ It was very clever. You do have a rapport with someone you hang out with on a set, and he didn’t want to have that. He was bloody right.”

He laughed again. “He has everything I lack. He has immense discipline, whereas I’m incapable of not wanting someone to be my friend. He’s perfectly able for the benefit of the work to keep his distance. I admire him hugely as a person and as an actor.”

Both he and Oyelowo are executive producers of “Les Miserables.” “I had never done it before,” West said. “David was good at it. He’d watch stuff and come out with useful notes the next day. I had a lot of opinions about the production until we got into the shoot. Then the only notes I had was, ‘Could you hold on me a little longer? I think you’re missing a bit of magic.’ ” He burst into a loud laugh. “Of course they ignored me.”

West credits his role in “The Affair” with being a crucial tool in helping him prepare for “Les Miserables.” The Showtime drama, which explores the impact of an extramarital affair from different perspectives, is in the midst of filming its fifth and final season.

“There was never a light moment on ‘The Affair,’ “ he said. “It was always emotionally expensive stuff. Lots of grief and emotion. It taught me a lot. I don’t think I could have done Valjean without being on that show.”

Even then, it took time for West to understand Valjean. “What I found so difficult to understand is why he surrenders himself to Javert. Why does he feel he’s a bad guy when all he did was steal a loaf of bread? That took me a very long time, to realize what sort of psychology Hugo was anatomizing there,” West said. “He’s been so brutalized, told that he’s an animal for 20 years. He believes he’s not worthy of love, he believes he’s not worthy of living in normal society, he believes the only thing he deserves is the brutal life of the prison.”

As happy as he is with “Les Miserables,” West is also coming to grips with wrapping up “The Affair.” which also stars Maura Tierney and, until last season’s plot twist, Ruth Wilson. ”Five years is a long time for television, and I’m ready to move on, for sure.”

Although he is looking forward to new projects, he is also constantly reminded of his past — particularly “The Wire” which has only gained in reputation since its original five-season run, which started in 2002. The multilayered series about the narcotics scene in Baltimore is regarded as one of the most significant and compelling dramas in recent TV history.

“It’s really extraordinary how it’s grown in stature, and I feel very lucky to have been involved,” West said. “People always come up to me and say they’ve just watched it. If it came out now, I think it would have been lost in the sheer volume of great projects. But in some way, it can be said it catalyzed this golden age of television and to have raised the bar. For me, it’s been the gift that keeps on giving.”