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star-ocean-peahen · 1 year ago

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After watching Cinderella (the original animated movie, which was my favorite as a child), it strikes me how it solves many common problems people have with this fairy tale. Like:

Why did they try to identify the mystery girl using her shoe size? Because the bullheaded king's only clue to her identity was the shoe the Grand Duke picked up off the steps.

Why didn't the prince recognize her by her face? Because his father wouldn't involve him in the process at all, and wasn't the one going around trying to find her.

Why did the prince want to marry a lady he only met that night? Because his father was going to force him to marry someone, and he genuinely liked this woman.

Why did Cinderella want to marry a man she only met that night? Because marriage was her best and most secure way to freedom. Fucked up, but you can't say it's unrealistic for the setting of a fairy tale. She also genuinely liked him.

If they're using the slipper to find her, wouldn't it be more sensible to search for the person with the other slipper? Yes. The King is purposefully nonsensical and the Duke is purposefully terrified enough of him to carry out his orders to the letter. Furthermore, they end up doing that in the end anyway, because the Duke's glass slipper is shattered, and Cinderella brings out the one she has to prove her identity.

Why didn't the stepmother and stepsisters recognize Cinderella at the ball? Because they were dancing too far away, and then left the party to dance in private, which was possible because the King wanted very badly for his son to hit it off with someone and tried to arrange the best conditions for that to happen.

Why didn't Cinderella save herself? Because in real life, abuse victims should not have to shoulder that responsibility, and usually can't. In real life, you need and deserve an external support system. Asking for help, in this kind of situation, is very important. She is saved by others because she is loved. Because she is not alone. Because she has friends who love her, and want her to be happy and safe and free. Because in real life, people who want to help someone who is suffering are like the mice. We can't pull out miracle solutions, but we can provide companionship and if we're in the right place at the right time, we can help the person find a better life.

Why didn't the fairy godmother save Cinderella from her abusive household, or try to help her sooner? Because she's magic, and magic can't solve your problems. Quote: "Like all dreams, well, I'm afraid it can't last forever." This (and Cinderella's dream of going to the ball) is a metaphor for pleasurable things in bad circumstances. An ice cream won't get rid of your depression, but it will provide you with momentary happiness to bolster you, as well as the reminder that happiness in general is still possible for you. Cinderella doesn't want to go to the ball so she can get away from her stepmother and stepsisters, or so she can meet someone to marry and leave with. She wants to go to the ball to remind herself that she can still have things she wants. That her desires matter. This is important because the movie does a very good job of illustrating Lady Tremaine's subtle abuse tactics, all of which invisibly press the message that Cinderella doesn't matter. While going to the ball and fulfilling her dreams may not be a victory in the material sense, it is still a victory against Lady Tremaine's efforts.

Why is Cinderella's choice to be kind and obedient framed as a good thing, when you are not obligated to be kind to your abuser? This one walks a very fine line, but I think the movie still makes it make sense. Lady Tremaine never acknowledges her cruelty. She always frames her punishments of Cinderella as Cinderella's fault. Cinderella is interrupting, Cinderella is shirking her duties, Cinderella is playing vicious practical jokes. Cinderella is still a member of the family, of course she can go to the ball, provided she meet these impossible conditions. Lady Tremaine's tactics are designed to make Cinderella feel like she must always be in the wrong and her stepmother must always be in the right. If Cinderella calls her stepmother out on her cruelty, or attempts to fight back, Lady Tremaine can frame that as Cinderella being ungrateful, cruel, broken, evil, etc. If Cinderella responds to her stepmother's cruelty defiantly (in the way she's justified to), she's not taking control out of Lady Tremaine's hands. Disobedience can be spun back into her stepmother's control. She wants Cinderella to be angry and sad and show how much she's hurting. So since Cinderella is adapting to her situation, she chooses to be kind. Not only because she naturally wants to be and it's part of her personality, but because it is a form of defiance in its own way, and it allows her to keep a reminder of her agency and value. Her choice to be kind is her chance to keep her own narrative alive: she is not obeying because her stepmother wants her to and she has to do what her stepmother does, but because she wants to. It's a small distinction, but one that makes all the difference in terms of keeping her hope and identity. (Fuck, I wrote a whole paragraph about how this doesn't mean you can't be angry at people who hurt you or that you need to be kind to deserve help, and then deleted it by accident. Uh. Try again.) Expressing anger and pain is an important part of regaining autonomy and healing. Although it is commendable to be kind while you are suffering, it is NOT required for you to get help or be worthy of help. If Cinderella's recovery was explored beyond "happily ever after" she would need to let herself be angry and sad to heal. Cinderella is not only kind because it comes naturally to her, but because it's her defense against the abuse she's suffering. Everyone's story and experiences are different, and one does not invalidate the other.

Bonus round for answers that aren't part of the movie:

Why didn't Cinderella run away? Where would she go? Genuinely, in hundreds-of-years-ago France, where would she go if she snuck out of the window with a change of clothes? With her step-family, she's miserable and abused, but she's fed, clothed, and in no danger of dying or being taken advantage of by anyone other than her stepmother and stepsisters. Even if she escapes and manages to find financial security, her stepmother might be able to find her and get her back.

Why didn't Cinderella burn the house down with them inside it/slit their throats in the night/poison their food/etc.? Because that's a revenge fantasy, and this story is a fantasy about being saved. There's nothing wrong with making Cinderella into a revenge fantasy. That's perfectly fine, as long as you acknowledge that the other type of fantasy is also a valid interpretation. (I mean, the original fairy tale features the stepsisters getting their feet mutilated and all three of them getting their eyes pecked out, so go for it.)

Why isn't Cinderella more proactive in general? Because she's a child who has been abused for the back half of her life, who has had to be focused on survival because. you know. she's an abused kid.

How did she dance in glass slippers? Gotta agree with you there man, that's weird.

#cinderella #cinderella (1950)#fairy tales

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kameyyy · 10 days ago

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#recs

this didn’t fit anymore lmao😭

try again

part 0.11. HERE TO STAY

“on the other side of the wall, she’s listening to her client with a smile on her face. she’s a professional; she’s been trained to multitask and take notes while still listening and providing feedback to her clients. right now, she’s clicking off a tab back to the one filled with bullet points on things her client has said. she always knows when he arrives. she hears the left door open, which she knows because it squeaks more than the one on the right. he always uses the left door (she thinks it has something to do with the fact that more people touch the handle of the right door on their way in) and his paces are always steady down the creaky hallway. her last sign that he's here is the chair he sits in every time, the one right next to the door into her rooms. the legs are the slightest bit uneven and the back of the chair will lightly tap against the wall as its way of letting her know of her welcome guest. she already has her queue of songs up. she’s always hated her thin walls until he started coming in. a lot has changed in her life since he's come back, hasn't it?"

content warnings: the big finale which isn't that dramatic! i'm sorry for my bad writing! y/n dad reveal! breaking news: her dad is an asshole! tad bit of violence, one mention of blood and also just cursing and abusive fathers </3

he insists on paying and she doesn’t argue with him about it for long; she’ll have countless more opportunities to steal the check from him, she hopes.

she feels better when she's finally eaten after a day of nervous nausea and time spent anxiously bouncing her knee. on top of that, she’d been with him for the majority of the day, distracting her from what had happened in the morning. he even listened to her issues, and she’s finally starting to believe the promise that he’s here to stay.

they’ve just stepped off the train, and her apartment building is only a few minutes away. he walks alongside her the entire time, their arms brushing each other ever so often. whether it’s on purpose or not, neither of them will fess up.

he’s only distracted from his time spent mindlessly reaching his arm out just the slightest bit more to hit hers ever so often when he feels a buzz in his pocket. he slips out his phone quickly to check its screen:

akaashi’s a moment too late, because they’ve just made it up the stairs to her floor.

she’s already seen him, and he’s already seen her.

she wants to puke.

he’s there, arguing with iwaizumi outside their door. his sunken eyes and gaunt face make her stomach twist with guilt, but a brush from omi’s knuckles reminds her where she is again. it’s not her job to take care of him. it never was, and it never will be.

"you," the man is pointing a finger towards her, stumbling forward and she immediately shrinks back like a shriveling flower, losing her confidence. omi's already standing in front of her without even thinking about it, putting a barrier between the two.

the old man keeps talking as if he can see right through him, though “you’re a disrespectful worthless piece of shit, you know that? can’t ever in your life put even a single person about yourself. here you are living with a bunch of boys. what are you, a whore? do you suck them off so they’ll keep the bad guys away? they’re doing a shit job at it. i’m standing here after, all, aren’t i?”

“it’s not like that,” her voice is quiet and weak, and she’s not even sure it makes it to the man’s ears.

“you can’t think about anyone else. you're too selfish. you won’t even answer your own father’s calls much less say anything to him at all–”

“i told you to back off!” her voice comes out loud this time, louder than she means for it to, “i’ve told you to back off so many times but you just don’t listen,” she steps out from behind omi, standing next to him instead while the man in front of them stops at the sound of her voice, “these are my roommates and my closest friends. i'm living with them because they genuinely care about me and aren't using me for any purpose, something you can't even dream about. the only reason you’re still standing here is that they have enough self-control and respect for me that they won't beat up the man i regrettably call my father.”

omi’s gaze slides over to hers, trying to see if she’ll meet his eyes. he’s simultaneously trying to communicate how proud of her he is and let her know that he'll support her no matter what happens.

“take that back,” her father spits, starting to curl his fingers into a fist. she stays silent, and his face begins to flush an angry red. “you’re only proving my point. you’re just an ungreatful little girl who thinks she no longer has to care about anyone else because she's older. i took care of you your whole life and i will not have you ignoring me for the rest of my fucking life!” the smell of beer invades her senses as he steps closer.

“you did jackshit in my life! you never helped me with anything I asked you to. never bought me anything i needed, you've never cared about me. i’ve grown up and moved out. i can do whatever i damn please and i told you to leave me alone. maybe if you respected me i wouldn't ignore you, but that's impossible for you,” she retorts, standing her ground.

“don’t you fucking talk to me like that–” he nears her, only a few steps between them and she starts to feel the panic in her chest, “your stubbornness is the reason your mother left–”

“my stubbornness?” she can’t help but fight back. that’s what separates her from her past self. her younger self ran away, left home as soon as she could to live on her own, but now she’s grown into who she is today, and she won’t let him ruin that. “you treated your wife like shit and refused to change no matter how many times she screamed and argued with you right in front of me about how horrible you were. you've never fixed anything because you’re so stuck up and think you’re so high and mighty that she decided to pack up her bags and leave–”

“then why did she leave you behind too?”

it’s like her heart stops beating for a second. her blood runs cold before her vision is a blur and the face of the man is crushed right in front of her, sending him to the ground groaning. his hand is covering his nose, preventing her from seeing how badly damaged it is, but she can’t find it in her to care.

“don’t blame her for your faults. grow up and take responsibility for your shit. she deserved better than either of you,” omi is talking down on the man now, and she looks up from her father’s body to the fist of the boy beside her, bruised and a little red.

he’s been by her side since day one, and maybe he disappeared for a section of it, but now he’s back. they're back together, and she stands proudly beside him, “she left me too, but i can’t be mad at her for being sick of you. or us. whatever it is, you’re both selfish and her absence nor yours is something i’m mourning over. i’m happy to have left you too and for the last time, i never want to see you again”

iwaizumi has joined them, standing above the man, no trace of sympathy in his eyes despite the blood that's streaking down her father's face. he tries to get up, only for iwaizumi to keep him down on the ground with a foot on his shoulder, “you heard her. don’t ever show your fucking face around here again. i’ll kill you the moment i lay eyes on you.” iwaizumi’s olive eyes move from the ground to meet hers, slightly softening when he sees her, “are you done with him? i’ll make sure he gets out of here and stays away for good.”

omi’s words from the diner rush back to her head, and she doesn’t feel so bad for relying on her friend. she believes he's willing to help her, and she won’t let her father’s words get to her head. she’s cared for others, unlike him, and developed relationships that she’s earned by giving out her own love. “yeah, i’m done,” her voice is quiet again as she keeps looking at her friend, searching his eyes for any sort of annoyance. but she can’t find any, and she smiles, walking towards him, wrapping her arms around him. “thank you, iwaizumi.”

he has an arm around her shoulders, his foot still resting on her father. “always,” he replies simply before she leaves him embrace, gesturing for omi to follow her. “i’m going to take care of his fist, now.”

iwaizumi only nods, turning his attention back to the man on the ground omi following his gaze as he passes by. iwaizumi will do more than a good enough job at keeping his word, he knows that, but he feels like he should have some part in taking care of the man whose plagued the girl in front of him for her entire life.

but she hasn’t asked him to take care of the man in front of her, and he knows its not his place. she knows she does not resent the man to the point that she wishes harm upon him, she simply wishes that he would leave her alone. and iwaizumi will make sure that wish is honored, and omi should be satisfied with the hit he landed on the man’s nose.

before her hand can even reach the knob of the door, it swings open and she’s pulled inside by the arms of a black-haired man who he recognizes to be akaashi. kita is standing beside him, a hand on [y/n]’s shoulder as they both check on her for any injuries or harm.

he hasn’t seen kita since his days in high school when he was the captain of inarizaki; atsumu told him he had moved out to the countryside but he must have come back after some time. he feels like a weight is lifted off his chest at the sight of her in the arms of his roomates, and he knows that she is cared for. that she has found her people, just like he told her earlier that night, and he hopes that she’s starting to accept his words as the truth.

he’s happy just watching her from afar, but she breaks apart from akaashi’s hug to gesture him in, and kita shuts the door behind him. “omi, this way,” she says with a smile on her face, beckoning him with a hand.

it’s the first time she’s called him by that old name since high school, and he thinks he’s falling even harder for her if that’s possible. she makes him sit on a stool in the kitchen while she searches her cabinets and a nearby closet for medical supplies. she’s begun to apply an ointment to his hand when he opens his mouth, “i can’t believe you think your roomates would ever leave you. look at how they all came to make sure you were okay. mine are one fight away from starting to vote people to kick out of the apartment nearly every week.”

she laughs at his comment, unwrapping a roll of bandages, “i’m sure no one would ever vote for you if that happened, but i guess you’re right, they’re pretty good, aren’t they?”

he nods, watching her face while she’s focused on his hand, “are you doing okay?”

she hums back in response, “yeah. the thing about my mom leaving me behind too kind of stung, but i don’t think life would’ve been any better with her, so it shouldn’t really hurt that bad. i’ll be okay. what you said at the diner really helped, you know. i feel like I can trust myself to say what i'm thinking rather than being scared i'm wrong or selfish. i can trust that it's not egotistical to believe my roomates don’t actually hate me. and that you don’t hate me. so i feel like i’ve finally escaped the weight of my dad’s words always crushing me and playing down anything i do.”

he reaches a hand up with his uninjured hand to wipe away tears from her face she didn't even realize were falling. and then he keeps his hand there, caressing the side of her face. “i don’t hate you, i never have. this entire time…how i feel about you is quite the opposite,” the words are slightly too intimate for him and as soon as they escape his mouth, it becomes hard to swallow and his face feels a little hot, but he doesn’t remove the hand from her cheek. he opts to say something more neutral next, “you did well, talking back down to him. i think you could’ve taken him down yourself.”

she chuckles at that, tying a knot to finish his bandage, “that’s what you think, but i’m sure i’d break my thumb or something. and if i have a hot man to defend me? i’m not lifting a finger.”

“you think i’m hot?” he says with a smile.

her cheeks grow warm under his hand, but she can’t look or move away from him, “i’m pretty sure thousands of people think so. it’s like a fact; newspapers can make money off of just having your face on the front page even if they barely mention you or don’t focus on sports at all.”

“well none of that matters,” he’s smiling softly now, and she’s still looking into his dark-colored eyes, hands holding his wrapped hand, “it just matters what you think.”

“what i think?” she repeats. and maybe it’s the adrenaline from the encounter they just had, or his boldness rubbing off on her in this current moment, but her next words come out clear and confident, “i think i love you, and i have for years. even when you left, i never stopped loving you.”

“i’m gonna make up for those years, you know,” he whispers back, pulling her by the sides to stand between his legs, bringing her closer. “i know i love you. i’d be a fool not to. and i loved you back then in high school too, even if i didn’t know it. i swear, losing you made me realize how much i took you for granted and everything became clear. letting you disappear was the worst mistake i ever made. i’ll make up for that lost time. make it up to you to the the point that you’re sick of me and you forget we were ever even separated for a time in our lives.”

“oh? and how are you gonna do that?” there’s a breathless feeling growing inside of her chest, where her heart beating fast with his confession and the way she's allowing him to pull her face close to this.

“starting with this,” his breath is hot against her lips before he closes the gap between them, and she’s kissing him back. she doesn't mourn or wish for the past, or for anything to change. he's come back and that's all that matters. she's happy with the word again. she likes it better than a phrase like "we fell in love at first sight." instead, she can say, "we met again. we fell in love again.

"we tried again."

it sounds like a story that reminds people endings aren't set in stone. she likes it.

“by the way, have you been playing songs for me in your lounge room when i’m waiting for you?”

“oh, you noticed?”

"the more you love your friends the more their features start to blur until all you remember is a pair of warm, welcoming eyes and laughter that feels like home."

prev. | m.list

extras <3

this is the end! thank you for reading try again <3

that last little quote is something i should've included like two chapters ago but it got lost in my gallery so here it is now <3

y/n's a good therapist i swear!!! she takes like one second to hit a play on a spotify playlist she's not playing games on her computer for entire sessions 😭

this is all i have tbh! i hope you enjoyed a little bit of this story <3 thank you so so much for being along on this ride w me!!

taglist: @eggyrocks @wyrcan @guitarstringed-scars @strawberryuri @violetesensou @kakeru-eem @glmge @heytheredemonsss @mollyrolls @bemebiu @daszy @snail-squasher @0moonii @thiisisntlovely @todorokiskitten @rory-cakes @iiwaijime @iatethemochi @yuminako @savemebrazilhinata @kismyscars @bokutoko @nobodybutnnoorr @wolffmaiden @daisy-room @softpia @lees-chaotic-brain @v3nusplanetofluv @crispchocolates @phoenix-eclipses @hhoneyhan @encrypta @rockleeisbaeeee @cr4yolaas @zombriesworld @localgaytrainwreck @moucheslove @hibernatinghamster @notverymarley @certaindreampost @akaakeis @ciderscape @lucien-luna @strawbrinkofdeath @wave2mia @samuel1004 @01trickster10 @dazqa @cosmiicdust @chemiru

#i hope 30 tags will be enough for this ness because !!! oh my god !!! this chapter !!! this ending !!! is so incredibly beautiful I love it!#like wdym this is MID ????? NO !!!! I felt so many emotions when I read this you wouldn’t even know #starting off strong with #“what are you a whore? do you suck them off [...]?” UHM NESS ??? MY JAW DROPPED ???? LIKE IT D R O P P E D #and then yn's part with “[...] but you just dont listen” I could practically feel and hear her pain #like I think I heard her voice??#“[...] I regrettably call my father” UHM HELLO ??? OMG ??? NESS ??? THAT HIT ME SO HARD I FELT LIKE YN'S DAD WHEN OMI PUNCHED HIM ???????#“your stubborness is the reason your mother left” WHEN I TELL YOU I GASPED !!!!!!! NESS OH MY GOD !!!#I think I never hated a fictional person this much in my entire life holy shit THE AUDACITY ????#omi should've went for a second punch !!!! that man deserves it so bad omg.. and also omi was lowkey hot so like tehee #“I feel like I can trust myself to say what I'm thinking rather than being scared I'm wrong or selfish.” ness dear I think you're #a little to personal now.. like you're hitting a little too close to home and it's crazy how you did this for the second time already #“I can trust that it's not egoistical to believe my roomates don’t actually hate me.” ness honey do you by chance read my diary or sum ???#OH ALSO OMG “you think I'm hot?” OMI YES YES YES JUST THIS QUESTION MADE YOU 1000 TIMES HOTTER !!!!!!!!#“I'm gonna make up for those years you know” ness I wrote those quotes down on a goodnotes page and I literally drew butterflies next to #this quote okay like I'm not joking this gave me lowkey butterflies and made me physically draw them on my ipad #“I *know* I love you” omi can I like kiss you rn and make you my wife ?? and you too ness ?? please ??#“we tried again” NESS I'M SOBBING !!!! CRYING TEARS AND MY HEART IS HEALING BUT ALSO ACHING AT THE SAME TIME !!!#“endings aren't set in stone” BUT THIS ONE IS 😔#jk what I actually wanted to say is that you're lowkey all philosophical rn and it's so gorgeous and touching #like I disassociated (/pos) for a few minutes when I read this because it's just so true and this fic just hit so close to home #it's a little scary tbh #I count “try again” definetly as one of my favorite fics out there simply because it's just so gorgeous and the psychological/philosophical #narrative is just so different from other fics and also so beautiful and kt made me reflect/think about the things in my life more than #before I discovered this fic here in particular. the last few chapters just hit especially so close to home no matter if omi's side or yn's #i just felt a little more seen and heard and a little lighter that there are other people who struggle with the same things as I do and that #i'm not all alone which is something I thought before. I really hold this fic close to my heart and I especially love the ending you chose #and I don’t think its mid or nothing special.. it is very special and incredibly good to me. i'm excited to read more of your works ness #even if it's not as “deep”/“heavy” likr this one since try again has this narrative especially because yn is a therapist. i really really #love this fic <3 i love try again with my whole heart and I'm so glad that I have discovered it alongside you <3

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2hightocare · 3 months ago

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COFFEE!

“I think I'm past obsessed at this point, there has to be another word in the dictionary that tops obsessed.”

Synopsis: in which a hopeless romantic falls in love with the man of her dreams…

Pairings: boyfriend!jeongguk x fem!reader

Genre: established relationship.. non idol au

Warnings: literally the most sappy thing I could have possibly written, was listening to ‘coffee’ by miguel while writing, they’re such a gentle love, reader is a book worm, Jungkook likes drawing (doodling) plus points when his drawings are about oc, mentions of their first time having sex, usage of book quotes (read nltm, had to use the mia and sebastian line for my own sanity) <3333333

authors note: this is so simple but my book worm hopeless romantic needed this.. wrote this while high so nothing new 🤍

They say falling in love is the most beautiful feeling in the world.

You couldn’t explain the immediate sensation, the feeling that spreads throughout your chest as if you were a black-and-white picture that suddenly starts to fill with vibrant colors anytime his eyes lock with yours.

It was astonishing how the universe works—the idea that you are destined for someone ever since you are born, and that all the hardships along the way shape you into the person you need to be to meet them.

Your heartbeat thumped loudly in your ears as you watched him laugh from across the room, an oversized hoodie and baggy jeans covering his lean, muscular figure—one you’d memorized to the tiniest detail. You knew every freckle and scar. His head was thrown back, arms crossed, as he paid attention to whatever the guy in front of him was saying.

You scrunched your nose, using your index finger to push your glasses up as you studied your boyfriend from afar. You weren’t sure whether to call it pathetic or endearing, the way you noticed every little crease on his forehead and the way he toyed with his bottom lip absentmindedly. You even took note of his long eyelashes, and nearly died of jealousy every time you counted them when he slept beside you.

It was gut-wrenching to imagine anyone else feeling about him the way you did. The thought alone made you want to puke in the nearest trash can.

You were lovesick for this man, and you could already feel the heat rising to your cheeks whenever you looked at him or heard his laugh. Not only did you want to scream and freak out over every little thing he did, but he also had you daydreaming constantly. You found yourself thinking of silly song lyrics that resonated with how you felt about him. Staring at his side profile, you finally understood the meaning behind Suki Waterhouse’s lyrics: “Oh, my good looking boy,” echoed in your mind.

Before you could form another lyric or recall a favorite book quote to describe your feelings, his eyes found yours. A small smile tugged at his lips as his gaze scanned your expressions, reading you as if you were an open book. You smiled, tilting your head to the side, trying to hide the makeshift fireworks going off in your tummy.

His gaze softened, and it made your breath waver. You had never understood the meaning of “his gaze softened” in books, but now, you understood every syllable of those words after experiencing it firsthand.

You honestly couldn’t think of a single thing you didn’t love about him. You loved everything about him, even the parts he claimed were too “broken” or “damaged” to be loved.

A few seconds passed before he finally said his goodbyes and began making his way back to you. Your eyes followed every step, catching the grin he wore.

“I don’t know, I pretty much think you’re obsessed with me,” your boyfriend teased, his straight teeth on full display as he stopped in front of you, looking down at you on the couch.

“In your dreams.” You laughed, craning your neck to look up at him.

Instead of getting mad, he let out a low chuckle, leaning down with both arms on either side of the couch, caging you in.

“Every night, baby.” He whispered softly, pressing a delicate kiss to your lips before moving to your cheek, delivering another soft kiss. You sighed in contentment as his lips ghosted over your skin, the pet name making your head feel dizzy.

He placed a soft kiss on your forehead before standing up straight again, looking down at you. Your eyelids felt heavy as you looked up at him through your lashes. He was already smiling, and you didn’t even need to ask “what?”—you already knew. Anyone in their right mind could tell how obsessed you were with him, and it was no surprise to him either.

As you both walked out of the bookstore, carrying a bag full of psychological and romance books (and, of course, the box of transparent sticky notes Jungkook got for you to annotate your books without writing on the actual pages), it was clear this was one of his favorite things to do. In his free time, when he wasn’t working or with you, he loved opening one of your books and reading your thoughts scribbled in the margins. Half of his camera roll was pictures of you, but the other half was just pictures of your annotations, scribbles, and drawings.

It was as if he was inside your mind, reading every thought, and he loved it.

He could still recall the first book he opened that sent his heart racing, like a teenage boy with a crush.

“I couldn’t see him, but his laugh was unmistakable. I could close my eyes and be in so many places with that laugh. That laugh was the cohesive thread, the little recurring melody that showed up in so many scenes of my life, like Mia and Sebastian’s theme in La La Land. Always there, playing in the background.”

Those words were highlighted in the prettiest shade of pink, with two small hearts drawn beside them. But it was your handwriting at the bottom that got him: “The feeling I’ve been trying to put into words about how I feel every time I look at him has just been done for me, oh my.” He remembered feeling his heart stop for a second. And when it started again, it was for you—his heart was for you and only you.

That wasn’t all. It had become one of your shared love languages. Jungkook started buying books he thought you’d like. He even asked your little sister what your favorite highlighters were so he could buy them for both of you.

Your heart did somersaults when you opened a book on his bedside table and saw a drawing—a pair of eyes in black ink, long lashes making them look bigger and more innocent. Your breath hitched as you noticed the small freckle just below the eyebrow, realizing it was you.

It didn’t help the overwhelming sensation of adoration when you saw his handwriting in the margins.

“You remembered?” she said softly.

“I remember every second of us.”

The text was underlined, and in small letters, he had written, “Gosh, she made me fall so hard that I’m reading sappy words and thinking ‘us’ out loud. #sendhelp,” with a frowning emoji next to the hashtag. Before you knew it, you were on page one, reading every single line and note he had left.

Also, the multiple drawings on the pages where there was extra space had your heart thumping hard in your chest. There were so many drawings— each one tied to you or him. It was impossible to describe every feeling surging through your chest, every emotion racing in your bloodstream, as your fingertips traced the drawing of you.

This time, it was an image of you on your back, lying on a bed. Only part of your side profile was visible, with your hair spilling across the bed, covering most of your back. At first, you didn't want to assume it was you he'd drawn-being self-centered wasn't your style. But it was impossible to deny it when he'd sketched every freckle, even the small half-moon tattoo on your shoulder blade, matching the real one inked on your skin.

You smiled at the memory but snapped back to the present as your boyfriend instinctively switched you to the other side of the sidewalk when you two turned toward Target. You held tight to his index finger as he squeezed between people, leading you behind him with a soft "excuse me" to anyone in the way.

Automatically, you found yourself smiling as you picked up your pace to match his longer strides. He pulled you in closer, his arm snaking around your waist, his hand resting over your belly—a little lower than usual, sending butterflies flitting wildly in your stomach. You suppressed a shiver as he gently guided you to the side, allowing an older couple to pass by.

"Us when we're eighty, baby," Jungkook leaned down and whispered into your ear, making you playfully roll your eyes at him. His smile only widened at your reaction.

"Won't be us if you keep watching Young Sheldon without me," you pouted, giving him a playful glare, which only made him smile more.

"Why are you smiling?" you asked, maybe even whining a little as you walked into the store and heard the employee greet you both.

"Because you're so beautiful, and my brain goes in circles when I stare at you," he shrugged casually, giving your waist a small squeeze before untangling his arm to grab a cart.

You tried so hard not to melt, holding onto his bicep as he leaned forward on the cart, making him closer to your height.

"Don't know it you're down, but l've been wanting to learn how to crochet," you said as you glanced around the aisles. Your boyfriend immediately started nodding excitedly.

"Baby, oh my god. I'm so down. We need to make those big-ass blankets," he rambled, looking at your face for a reaction, like a puppy with its ears perked up and tail wagging.

"I think that's knitting, baby," you corrected him, smiling as his eyebrows raised before he let out a small laugh.

"Wait, are those two not the same thing?" His dimple deepened as he bit his lower lip, stopping in front of the craft aisle.

"I actually have no clue," you admitted with a chuckle, raising an eyebrow. "But I know you can crochet a blanket because you once told me about those pattern blocks you saw on your explore page.”

Jungkook's gaze softened as he made eye contact with you, his pupils dilated with so much adoration that it made your heart swell.

"And I remember because I searched them on TikTok to see what you were talking about. I saw people connecting them into blankets. Also, I remember you pretending to sleep so you didn't have to scratch my back anymore-before my one minute was up. You swear you're slick, but I know when you're really asleep," he said with a grin, teasingly biting your cheek as you tried not to smile.

"How do you know I'm not sleeping?" you teased, and he chuckled, ghosting his lips over yours.

"Because every time you fall asleep, you make this little sound, and then slowly, you start snoring," he laughed, watching your cheeks turn a shade of red before burying his laughing face in the crook of your neck.

To be loved is to be seen.

That phrase had never felt more accurate. No one else had ever seen you the way Jungkook did. He knew you so well, down to the tiniest details that sometimes even surprised you.

Your eyes practically turned into hearts as Jungkook kissed your neck innocently before turning his attention to the yarns.

This was the kind of love you had always dreamed of

-better than the movies or books. Nothing could top the overwhelming feelings of gratitude, love, and appreciation that coursed through your body whenever you looked at him. Your brain practically played the instrumental of "Video Games" by Lana Del Rey whenever you spent time with him.

It was as if even a natural disaster couldn't faze you

-so long as you could experience it with him.

The connection between you two was beyond what you ever imagined existed in real life. It felt like something out of a fairy tale. From the moment you locked eyes with him across the room, you both knew there was no turning back.

After checking out and getting to Jungkook's car, he opened the door for you, reaching over to buckle your seatbelt before putting the bags in the back.

Once he climbed into the driver's seat, his hand instinctively found its place on your thigh after starting the car. His thumb rubbed your bare skin, sending sparks flying through your body. It was such a natural gesture for him, but the butterflies never ceased. You bit your lip, trying not to whine when his hand moved closer to your inner thigh.

As he softly sang along to "Creep" by Radiohead, it was just another thing you'd become morally obsessed with-his voice. You had always known he could sing, but everything changed the night you were first intimate.

It was as if your entire perspective on love and sex shifted. Simply calling it "sex" seemed absurd now, because it was so much more. Everything felt heightened, more intense, making your heart pound wildly in your chest.

"F-fuck, baby..." he whimpered into your ear, his hips moving slowly into yours, leaving your mouth hanging open.

His little groans and moans made you dizzy, like notes of a lullaby. The feeling of skin against skin was the most addicting sensation, made even more special by the way he always checked in on you.

"Shhh, I'm sorry. Am I being too rough, baby?" His voice was strained as his hips halted, his breath heavy as he moved your hair to kiss your neck.

He resumed slowly, making your legs shake and grip the sheets, and you couldn't help but moan, asking for more. His chuckle against your skin was the same one you’d hear when he rested his head on your stomach, expecting you to scratch his back or read to him.

"You're sweaty," you pouted at him, both of you basking in the afterglow.

"I know. Do you still want me?" He smiled, mimicking your expression before pulling the covers over both your naked bodies and pulling you in as close as possible.

"Yes, I'll forever want you," you replied, hiding your face in the crook of his neck, savoring the warmth he radiated.

As sleepiness began to overtake you, you felt his fingertips tracing letters and shapes on your hip.

Just before drifting off, he began singing again. It was like entering another universe where only you and he existed

"I want you to notice," he sang softly, "when I'm not around."

"So fucking special... I wish I was special." He pressed a kiss to your temple, the sound of his voice and your matching heartbeats lulling you both to sleep.

You snapped back to reality when the car stopped at a red light.

"Is it bad that I always hope to get red lights so I can kiss you?" he asked, flashing a grin that had you laughing.

Leaning forward, you pressed your lips to his as his eyes fluttered shut, his finger lifting your chin gently.

"Not bad, but a little weird. You want to spend so much time with me," you teased, pulling back to your seat. "Some might even think you're pretty obsessed."

"I'm past obsessed at this point. There's got to be another word that tops it," he admitted, stealing another kiss just before the light turned green.

As you gazed at him, you couldn't help but wish there was another word, stronger than "love," to describe how you felt about him.

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