Obsession (a Donald Trump x Justin Bieber One-shot Fanfic)

Obsession

Trump's Point of View:

I stare out the window of the helicopter at the vast blur of land that is America. The day has finally come where the people  have elected me, Donald J. Trump, as president of the United States. I tweet out "Good Job Americans, America will finally become great again!" to all of my loyal Twitter followers, as the White House slowly comes into view.

"We have arrived sir," announced the irritating pilot a few minutes later over the hum of the engine, when the White House was a few hundred feet below the helicopter. As if I don't know that we have reached the White House. Does he not know I have eyes? "Thanks Jenny," I grumble to him as I make my way to the door, with my Trump parachute securely strapped to my back. "My name isn't Jenny, it's Kevin," he yells at me, as I gallantly leap out the hatch, free falling through the chilly autumn air. I don't care what his name is, for he is just a lowly ant who is not worthy of my attention. I activate the parachute as the ground comes into focus. The parachute unfurls and displays my beautiful face across the smooth surface as I descend slowly towards the Earth. I survey the surrounding area, bellowing from the top of my lungs, "Worship your new god!"

Justin's Point of View:

A new president? I don't really care. After all, Obama was the only one who really mattered to me. Once he was gone, I felt hollow, empty. It felt like my soul was being torn from me when he left. I don't know if I can even live any longer now that he's gone. I still wander around Washington every day, staring longingly at the White House, thinking about him. Wishing he was still there. He had something special about him that I just couldn't forget, maybe it was the way he smiled, the warm look in his brown eyes, or maybe even his flawless balding head.

I take my usual walk around the White House, longingly gazing at the window of Obama's former bedroom. I can still imagine him in there, trying on his stylish suits and ties. I see a man floating down towards the white domed roof. I automatically assume he is the new president, the man who had replaced Barack Obama. I seethe with rage at the sight of him, and run away with tears in my eyes, not wanting to lay eyes on the monster who had replaced Barack Obama. The monster who had taken everything away from me.

Trump's Point of View:

Was I hallucinating? I probably was when I saw him. The most beautiful and perfect being I have ever laid eyes on, too beautiful to be real. I caught a glimpse of his handsome face as he  turned around, and recognized him immediately, it was Justin Bieber. I knew the moment I saw his face that I needed him, and I became obsessed with him. The following week passed with me buying $3348 worth of his posters to cover every inch of my bedroom walls, and a large collection of Justin Bieber figurines that I proudly displayed in my crystal display case with gold trim. Thinking of him distracted me from work. I was going insane. I couldn't even work on the plans for the vodka fueled rocket that I had promised America during my campaign. That night I tried to clear my head by taking a large sip of immigrant blood from my crystal wine glass at supper, but I just couldn't get him out of my mind. I threw the glass the the floor, and it shattered into thousands of pieces. That night, I watched both of his movies like I usually did before going to bed. I dreamed of his face that night. Unable to sleep, I fantasized about him, and read hundreds of Justin Bieber fanfictions, until I finally decided that I had to have him, no matter what the cost.

Bieber's Point of View:

Weeks had passed since Obama left. Everyone has moved on, accepted the new guy, forgotten about Obama. I still haven't. I still will never forgive Donald What's-His-Face for what he did. I still cry at night sometimes, thinking about the great times I had with Obama. The time we played golf on the Obama Lawn, our picnic celebrating the release of ObamaCare, the time I wrote a new album for him. Countless memories swirl of him around my mind.

I stare at my reflection in the polished glass mirror. Normally, I love to stare at my beautiful face for hours, but today, the reflection mocks me. How could I still live knowing that the monster who had gotten rid of him still existed happily where Obama once lived? I knew I had to do something. I had to avenge Obama. That evening, I dressed in my black jumper that I had prepared for this occasion. I revved up the engine of the Batmobile that I had borrowed from Batman, and drove stealthily through the silent streets of Washington. The yellowish glow from the streetlights made the city seem so much more sinister, especially when I knew how daunting the mission will be.

Trump's Point of View:

The plan was in in place. I hired Batman to lend the Batmobile to Justin, for I knew he would eventually show up to the White House to avenge his beloved Obama. The FBI was stationed everywhere, so he had no chance of escape. I sighed at the thought of him being here with me. I couldn't wait. The plan certainly could not fail. I watched as he foolishly drove past the gates of the White House, thinking that he was getting away with it. I saw his sexy body leap out of the driver's seat, and dash across the pristine lawn, towards the main building. I watch my agents pursue him through the darkness of the night and corner him in a matter of seconds. They tie his arms behind his back, and slowly make their way towards my office.

Justin's Point of View:

What went wrong? The plan was flawless. How did it possibly fail? This is what I thought as the men in suits dragged me through the halls of the White House. They stopped at a door, which open to reveal a tall man standing in a blue suit in the middle of the room. I immediately realized that this was the Oval Office, where the president worked. The man standing before me was the president, the one who had replaced Obama.

"You monster," I snarl at him, "How dare you replace Obama? Did you even know how much he meant to me?" The president's calm expression faltered for a minute, before he told the men who had dragged me to here to step out of the room. The men obeyed without question, leaving the two of us alone. He smiled ominously at me, and in a calm collected voice he said to me, "Justin. Pleasure to meet you. I'm Donald Trump. Would you like a glass of immigrant blood?"

Epilogue:

A month later, Justin and Donald were golfing together at the new Trump Golf Course, drinking down glasses of immigrant blood. "Sweet Reagan, that's like a fine wine. It's so invigorating," gasped Justin as he drained another glass of the crimson liquid. "It's made from the blood of illegal immigrants trying to pass into this country. This bottle is made from 13 year old Jimmy from Swaziland," informed Donald, as he downed a glass of blood. The men laughed, and walked casually into the armoured vehicle that would be taking them to the half-finished wall that was being built between Mexico and the United States of America. " I can't wait to meet with the main engineer, Bob the Builder," Donald laughs, "I heard that he has plans to line the wall with electric barbed wire to keep out the filthy criminals!" As Donald uncorked a fresh bottle of immigrant blood, the car drove off into the sunset, surrounded by immigrants working in the blazing sun.

the end

Authors note: help me.

Thank you to the @Weeaboo for the great idea about immigrant blood wine. I love your building our love story and I'm desperately waiting for an update. Please comment and vote. I feel like trump, asking for votes, but that's part of the story.

Word Count: 1393