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styw · 4 years ago

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Chaeyoung & Jisoo

Marriage

Age 6 & 7 "Marry me!" A brunette shouts at you, furrowing both of your brows as strands of your hair get blown off by the wind. Same for the brunette, who happens to share the same haircut with you, but she didn't bother and glued her eyes on you. "What? What's "Marry me?" " That was the first you've blurted out to her as you air quoted her. "Let's make babies!" You furrowed your brows more, looking thoroughly at the brunette who is very weird like Spongebob you've seen from your TV at Home. "Do you even know how to make babies?" You ask, doubting that this kid might be spitting nonsense, and also, you were slightly curious as well, so how did your parents make you and Alice? Park Alice, your old sister used to tell you that a duck delivered you to your parents at the doorway. You wondered if that is possible, if so, then how did a mere duck create a human baby? Surely they're not half duck and half human right? One human and one duck if you plus them both. Weird "I don't know, but I'll marry you," The kid says in front of you. You furrowed your brows more, confused, and opened your mouth to say something when someone else says something first. "You're too straightforward, Jisoo," Ms. Bae says, offering both of her hands at you and the brunette who is currently sitting on the chair beside you, "And also, don't you think you're a little young for that? And also, Jisoo, do your colors now or else your Mama Kim is going to give you vegetables for a month." You see how the brunette furrowed both of her brows as she pouts. You thought it's a little bit cute, but laughed afterwards. "You're still not done with your colors? That must be sad. Do you want me to help you?" You said nicely and saw the brunette's eyes turning from sad to immediately energetic one. "You will?" She asks you, excitedly. You nodded your head at her, smiling as well. "I'm Jisoo!" She says, loudly, facing her body on you and then reaches out her other hand to you. "I'm Chaeyoung." You said, taking her hand on your hand for a handshake, and smiled. That was the start of your friendship with Jisoo. Age 9 & 10 "Marry me," You hear something on your left and glanced at the brunette who sat beside your left. The two of you were sitting on the couch, watching Tangled, shoulder pressed against each other, and you felt her move, facing her body towards you. You remembered, after Meeting Jisoo at school, you immediately asked your sister, "What does “Marry me?” mean?" And you could only think it's a bad thing when you see your sister gasped, eyes wide open, and immediately asked: "Why? Did someone already asked for your hand for marriage?" You thought she sounded mad, but if you lie in front of her right now. She'll get more mad, so you nod your head at her, "There is. Her name is Jisoo," You said. You saw how your sister smiled teasingly at you, "I see." She says, flashing the smile you hated when your sister Alice teases you about something. "Anyway, so "Marry me," She air quotes, "Means to tie a knot together with the person you love and grow old with them together." Your sister said and frowned at her, confused more. Tie a knot together? What does that mean? You can see your sister looked at you, again with the smile you hated, and said: "It's okay, Rosie posie, you're still young. Don't think through that much and ignore it." Your sister said, reaching out to ruffle your hair. You pouted, you did not like it when Alice ruffles your hair, because it'll get messy. So you left Alice's room that night. You wanted to ignore it, but your curiosity got the best of you. Alice was useless, so you thought you'll go to your parents and ask what marriage means. You knocked at their bedroom door, the bedroom where your parents stay, and after a couple of minutes waiting. You hear a click and see your Father who you thought just woke up and widened his eyes when he sees you. "Roseanne, baby," Your father calls you out, bending his knees, and opens his arm for you to hug him. You leaned closer and hugged him, "What's wrong? Did you have bad dreams?" Your father asked and you shake your head at your father. "No, papa. I'm a big girl now," You smiled, distancing yourself from your father's hug, "But I do have some question to ask." You said. "What is it, sweetheart?" At first, you were hesitant to ask your father the question, but when you felt your father tugging softly and caressing your hand. You thought why not give it a go? "What does marriage mean?" Your father stares at you, making you feel uneasy, but when your father starts to smile, you also start to smile. "Aren't you a little bit too young for that, baby? Hmm," "Papa please..." You pouted, "I just want to know what that means so I can sleep peacefully." You playfully tugged his arm, wanting him to give up, and answer your question that has been bugging you since meeting Jisoo. Your could hear your father's warm laugh then reach out to cup both of your cheeks in his palm, "Marriage is where you grow old together with the person you love, Rosie. You grow old with the person you love, stay by their side no matter how tough, support them, and take care for each other." "Just like you and mama?" Your saw your father flashes a dreamy smile, "Just like Mama and Papa," After talking with your father, you asked yourself whether you wanted to grow old with Jisoo. Do you love Jisoo? You thought she's cute, she's nice, and a little bit loud which is making your ears deaf. You sigh, feeling a sudden mild headache from all the thinking. You decided to shrug it off, thinking she won't bring it to you again. Back to the present, where you are nine years old and Jisoo is ten years old. You were positive that she won't bring it back again, but then, Jisoo proved you wrong. Jisoo was still looking at your eyes, twinkling like Eugene's eyes, from the character of tangled, when he looked at Rapunzel. You shake your head in response with a smile and you could see Jisoo was still smiling, and was the first to turn her attention to the movie like she did not say anything about marriage just now. Eventually, you followed what Jisoo did and wondered if Jisoo knew what she was asking. Age 13 & 14 "Marry me!" You winced at how loud Jisoo's voice is, the microphone was totally helping Jisoo to make everyone's ears go deaf in the venue. It was recognition day. The day where the teachers held an event for the honor and high honor students and gave their handcrafted medals. You are thirteen now and Jisoo is fourteen. You two were invited to go to recognition day, because you are an honor student while Jisoo is the valedictorian of her year. Now, Jisoo was making her speech, but you didn't really listen much to it. You knew it was made by the school and Jisoo is only reading them, because the school told her to do so. It was boring until you groaned at the sudden pitch from the microphone. Jisoo said it again. You found your eyes staring at Jisoo and Jisoo did the same, but with a cheeky grin. You rolled your eyes and shaked your head to the brunette earning a look from the other students, but chose to ignore. You could see Jisoo pout for a second, but then disappeared in an instant and smiled more. You sometimes wondered what is going on in her head. "Okay..." Ms. Kang trails off, "that was a nice speech coming from Ms. Kim. Please give Ms. Kim a round of applause." She says, flashing an awkward smile to everyone and making Jisoo return to her seat. And Jisoo did return to her seat which is a little bit far away from you. You found your eyes following her figure and she caught you staring at her. You tried to stop your chuckle when you saw her wiggling her eyebrows at you and mouthed, "Congratulations." You mouthed the same and Jisoo flashes her smile more. Around that time, there was something lurking inside you when you saw her smile. You shrugged it off, thinking it's because you're now one of the honor students and you'll be making your parents proud. Age 16 & 17 "Marry me," You heard a yell from the hallway. Somehow, you already know who's voice it is and know who that person is. You smiled at yourself when you immediately recognized it. Feeling proud, though you don't know why. You turned your back and immediately found the brunette's eyes, twinkling like how it twinkled back when you were nine and she was ten. She's looking at you the way Eugene looked at Rapunzel, and since you're sixteen. You started to have an idea what Eugene really felt for Rapunzel. While thinking about that, you couldn't help but to get flustered. You bit your bottom lip, feeling the anticipating stares of the students. You shake your head in response and swore you could see disappointment in some students' eyes. However, in Jisoo's eyes, there was no disappointment or perhaps Jisoo is just good at hiding it. You see Jisoo running to your way, entangled both of your arms with hers and she leaned closer to place her head at your shoulder. You couldn't see her face, so you don't know what she's feeling at the moment, and decided to brush it off. A part of you was disappointed, you at least expected Jisoo will show emotion to you. Or maybe, Jisoo is just totally joking about marrying you. Age 18 & 19 "Marry me," Jisoo said, quietly but still loud enough due to the microphone. You could hear the screams of the girls and roaring of the boys, but you didn't mind them. Instead you focused your eyes at what's in front of you. That line wasn't for you and somehow, you found yourself wanting to be the same class as Jisoo to be in Jennie's place. You sigh relentlessly at your sit and keep your gaze stable at Jisoo who's doing her best on the stage. Today was a sports festival and your teacher told the president to choose a presentation to present to the whole school. You and your classmates were debating whether to do a school play or a food stall. In the end, your class chooses a food stall and you are in your break. As for Jisoo, Jisoo told you that we're doing a play and she's partnered with the one and only, Kim Jennie from the Cheerleader team. Of course, you were happy that Jisoo got the role, but part of you was a little bit not happy to hear that. You wondered why you felt that, so made a mental note to ask your friend, Lisa, in the cafeteria later. You snapped at your thoughts when you heard loud claps from other students. You also joined them and clapped along. When the play was done, you checked your watch, and noticed that your break is almost done, so you made your way to the backstage to meet Jisoo and say your goodbyes. With a smile, you made your way to the backstage and found Jennie and Jisoo talking and laughing like they're on their own worlds. You could feel your heart is feeling something unfamiliar and you could only bring your hand near to it, tapping it softly as if you're comforting it. After that, you decided to walk away from them without Jisoo knowing. While you're on your journey on returning to the food stall, you saw your best friend, Lisa, crossing her arms as she waits for you near to your food stall. You could see how she frowned when she saw your expression and how you held your hand closer to your chest, "Are you alright?" She asked, cupping both of your cheeks, and made you look at her. You shake your head, "I'm fine." You said, looking away, and hoping the Thai will buy your lie. "You're clearly not fine, Rosie. I know you look away when you lie," Lisa really knows you well, even your body language. She also knows them. You looked at her in the eyes, pouting slightly, and decided to tell her what is bothering you. "It's Jisoo..." You whispered. "What about Jisoo?" You looked down and asked yourself: What about her? Jennie and Jisoo were only talking, so what's the problem? "I don't know..." You trailed off, looking down, and started to fidget your finger like a child, "I saw them talking, they looked like they were lost in their own world." You honestly said. "Why am I feeling this, Lis?" You desperately asked your friend. Lisa looked at you, cupping your cheek with her other hand, and giggled, "You're really dense, aren't ya? You're jealous, silly." You frowned at what the Thai said about you and opened your mouth, ready to deny that you're not jealous, but before you can say it to the Thai, Jisoo's loud voice echoed throughout the hallway causing you to look back and widened your eyes when you saw Jisoo still in her prince uniform and Jennie tailing behind her with a... smirk? "Marry me," Jisoo yelled. You freezed up in your position and you could hear your friend, Lisa, who is behind you is trying to restrain her laugh. Everyone was staring at you, this time you could feel their stares were sharp and kind of serious. You were nervous, pretty nervous, and the fact that Lisa told you a while ago that you're jealous is not helping you at all. You? Jealous? Impossible. You don’t look at Jisoo that way. So why would you be jealous of Jisoo and Jennie?

You shake your head in response, earning a disappointed sigh from the students, but they just smile, because it was like every other time. Age 22 & 23 "Can you be my girlfriend?" Jisoo asked quietly, holding your hands together with hers, giving a light squeeze, and she seemed almost pleading while looking at you in the eyes. Jisoo finally confessed to you and you were quiet speechless. You always thought Jisoo was kidding every time she asked you for your hand in marriage and now, since she told you that she was serious all this time. You couldn't help, but to tear up. Feeling bad all of a sudden, because you thought she was kidding. All these years, you've been trying to avoid your feelings for the brunette. After all these years, you've been fooling and hurting yourself, because you thought she doesn't love you, but it turns out that she did, and it broke your heart. "I'm sorry," That was all you could say to her. You were sorry, not because you're going to reject her. You were sorry, because you didn't take her seriously. Jisoo has been hurting all these years and you didn't notice that. You felt your tears finally falling down, streaming down to your cheeks while you looked at Jisoo in the eyes, "I'm sorry..." You whispered while you tightly held her hands back. "It's okay, Chaeyoung. You don't have to force yourself on me. I won't ask for your hand anymore," She whispered, taking you to her embrace. You cried still while shaking your head, "Now don't cry please. It hurts me to see you cry." This time, you shake your head more harshly on her embrace. You pulled yourself away from her, looking deeply on her eyes. You could feel your heart ache at the sight, because Jisoo was silently crying too-- just like you. "I like you, Jisoo." You bravely said, but frowned afterwards, "No-- I don't like you. I love you!" You told her that as you stared on her face. You could see confusion mixing well with shock on her face, but you only smiled as you wiped your tears away, "You love me?" She whispered, unsure. You nodded at her, "I love you, Kim Jisoo." "Chaeyoung loves me?" She asked, this time, you see her face start to lit up from the happiness. You slowly nodded, you could feel your cheeks are heating up. "You love me!?" She asked, making you giggle at your place and nodded. "Oh my god," Jisoo gasped, her eyes wide as she looked at you. In a second, you could see Jisoo cried more, harder than before. You tried to make her stop crying by giving her an embrace and you could hear her sobs are getting louder instead of stopping. "I'm so happy..." You heard her. "I do." "I love you, Chaeyoung." "I love you too, Jisoo." "Marry me," You giggled, "Aren't we a little bit early for that?" Age 27 & 28 "Marry me?" Jisoo asked sincerely, focusing her eyes on yours. You looked at Jisoo, eyes wide open. You couldn't believe Jisoo just proposed, though she's been asking for your hand for years. You two were still in your undies, Jisoo is on her black lacy set undergarments while you are on your red lacy set undergarments in the bed room. Both of you just woke up from deep sleep and a wild night. It wasn't a perfect situation to ask for your hand, but you didn't really care. For you, what matters at this moment is that Jisoo proposed and you're finally able to give your answer to her. You bit your bottom lip, still staring at Jisoo, and when you felt something streaming down to your cheeks. You realized that you just cried just now. Jisoo was looking at you with worried eyes, but you didn't bother. You, instead smile as you cry, and this time, you finally nod. "Yes, I will marry you, Kim Jisoo."

#chaesoo #kimjisoo #parkchaeyoung #gxg #oneshot #jenlisa #kimjennie #lalisamanoban #blackpink

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flyinghome-againstthewind · 4 years ago

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the best by far is you: chapter 14

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Previous Chapter

For all the things my hands have held, the best by far is you - Cecilia and the satellite

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Summary: An exploration of Claire & Jamie’s story if their firstborn had lived and they had the chance to be parents together of wee Faith Fraser before the Battle of Culloden.

Chapter 14

May 1746

In the light of morning, Claire woke in a strange room, in a bed she’d never slept in before last night. And yet her hand still reached for the pillow next to her as her consciousness slowly surfaced. Of course he wasn’t there. They’d never shared this bed, but being back at Lallybroch meant that his presence haunted this place at every turn. It felt wrong that she was here in his family’s home and Jamie wasn’t.

When she trekked downstairs in the mornings now, she half-expected to see him in the parlor with his arms full with the babies, or at the breakfast table in discussion with Ian and Murtagh.

And of course, any giggle or peep out of her young nieces had Claire’s gaze following the sound, knowing full well she wouldn’t find Faith at the source but still helpless to stop the impulse to check.

Her logical mind knew they wouldn’t be here, but the places in her mind that were filled with Jamie and Faith could not reconcile this. So much of Lallybroch was painted with memories of them.

Her one comfort in all of this was Fergus.

Fergus, who stayed by her side and in his own way told her he would do as Jamie had asked of him many times before; he would look after Claire.

And Fergus, who was only 11 and still reeling from the loss of Jamie, was in dire need of his own looking after. He was hers to take care of, to mother, to protect.

So when Ian told him after breakfast one day to get ready for a trip to Broch Morda for supplies, Fergus was hesitant to leave.

“You can go, Fergus. It’s alright.”

“No, Milady. I will stay.”

“Fergus,” her tone softened. “I will still be here when you come back. I promise. I’m not going anywhere without you.” She could see his resolve weakening at that so she gave him a quick side-hug and released him with, “Go on then. Go with your uncle.”

It didn’t strike her until they had left, what she had said. Ian had smiled at her, a little curiously, and left with Fergus, one hand on the boy’s shoulder.

��Uncle, hmm?” had been how Jenny announced that she had noticed, too.

She found Jenny’s gaze. “Well, he is, technically… isn’t he?”

“Och, aye,” Jenny agreed easily. “We kenned before the war that he was yours, when ye and Jamie asked us to… to raise both him and Faith, should anything happen. Ye’ve jest never said it like that, calling Ian his uncle.”

“There’s a lot that we should’ve said sooner with Fergus.” She swallowed roughly, fighting the urge to cry. The rest remained unspoken ‒ the fear that, with Jamie at least, they might’ve missed a chance to correct this.

The rhythm of life at Lallybroch didn’t cease with Claire’s return, though she found herself unsure of her place in it now. Lady Broch Turach no longer, she watched as Jenny ran the house.

She had been eager to help still, but Jenny had insisted she rest for a few days after her recent journey and in light of her condition.

Which is how Claire found herself trying to make herself less of a stranger to her small nieces and nephew.

Wee Jamie still held some small spark of recognition for his auntie, and his joy over her return warmed her to the backbone. Little Maggie was reticent and shy around Claire, needing some time and space to make up her mind about her. But fifteen-month-old Kitty, as the youngest of the household, had never known the luxury of having either of her parents’ undivided attention and had grown used to being passed from one set of arms to the next. As such, she’d never been a clingy child and in contrast to her older sister, Kitty warmed up to her Auntie Claire very fast.

By mid-afternoon, she’d crawled into Claire’s lap and fallen asleep. That was how Mrs. Crook found the two of them when she came to collect the girls for their nap.

“D’ye want me to take her, Mistress?”

“No.” Claire’s arms tightened ever so slightly around Kitty’s small form. “I’m alright with her. Thank you.”

Jenny flitted about throughout the day, never quite sitting still, but she paused when she found Claire and Kitty there in the parlor. “That didna take long,” she said warmly, her gaze flicking down to sweet Kitty.

“She’s quite the character now.”

“Aye, since she learnt tae speak, she’s kept us laughing.”

Claire exhaled a soft laugh, her gaze inexorably drawn back to the sleeping girl in her arms. She felt Jenny sink into the seat next to her, and drew in a deep breath.

“What’s she like now?” Claire asked, her voice trembling as she managed to get the words out. Her eyes flicked up to Jenny to see if she understood that she wasn’t asking about Kitty.

Jenny made a soft, pitying sound and took her time considering how to answer.

“She’s a terribly smart wee thing,” Jenny said at length and despite how Jenny’s words made her ache, Claire also felt the pull of a proud smile. “Always keepin’ me on my toes, that one. And she was always the one in charge, despite Maggie being six months older.

“And still as stubborn as ever, if no’ more. Took an age tae get her tae sleep wi’out needing to be held.”

Claire’s smile faltered, her thoughts flooded with the nights spent holding Faith in her arms, walking the length of the upper hallway until she fell asleep. She supposed Faith had been a bit of a difficult baby in that regard ‒ she never could fall right to sleep if they laid her down in her cradle. But Faith was their first baby and they’d been too wrapped up in her to try and change that nighttime routine with her.

Jenny studied her expression. “Ye ken I was the same way with my wee Jamie. Lad never so much as touched the ground until he was well o’er a year. But with all the bairns, I‒”

“Oh, Jenny, no. I’m not upset or judging you. With all the little ones, you couldn’t possibly…”

“She only started going to sleep on her own when we let her share a bed with Maggie,” Jenny added.

“Really?”

“Aye, they were always together when they were awake so we put her in wi’ Maggie one night and then she was happy as a lark.”

Claire’s gaze dropped again to small Kitty. “They must miss her,” she said softly. “As I’m sure she misses them.”

“She’s still such a wee darling,” Jenny said after a moment, and Claire felt her heart constrict. “She was always the last one out of bed every morning, but she’d look for me first when she woke, aye? After weeks of that, I… I never felt like my morning really started until after she’d run and found me... given me a hug. I miss that. I miss her‒”

She didn’t miss the way Jenny turned away slightly, surreptitiously wiping at her tears. Claire swallowed past the sudden lump on her throat as a heavy silence followed.

“Ken she’s yer bairn, Claire, but after months of…” Jenny’s eyes were watery but she blinked back more tears and straightened. Claire watched her physically steel herself against the pain.

“She was yours, during that time. I know that,” Claire whispered tightly, fighting her own rush of tears. For Jenny’s loss. For Faith’s. For her own. “You and Ian were prepared to raise her if… if Jamie and I didn’t make it back. I can never thank you enough.”

“I’ll accept no thanks for it. She’s blood.”

“I didn’t mean…” Claire reached for Jenny’s hand, surprised to feel Jenny’s tight squeeze in response. It was hard for both of them, unimaginably so.

“I wanted ye both to come back for her. I’m no’ saying‒”

“No, of course not,” Claire said firmly. “I only meant that it… it was a comfort to me when we were gone, knowing she was here. Knowing she was loved. Jamie and I couldn’t have entrusted her to anyone else.”

“I wasna in the house when Murtagh came and fetched her,” Jenny said suddenly, her voice suddenly wooden. “I found out a short while later. Mrs. Crook made a fuss of it but she didn’t stop him.” Her gaze met Claire’s and she saw the pain lurking behind Jenny’s stubborn resolve. “But if it had been me, Claire, he never would’ve gone one step away from here wi’ that child. And I jest keep thinking if I had been here to stop him, mebbe none o’ this would’ve happened. Mebbe Jamie would’ve had tae figure out a different plan if Faith never arrived. And surely ye wouldna have agreed to go anywhere wi’out her.”

“Jenny…” Claire sighed. “I have replayed that day over and over in my mind, wondering how I could’ve changed the outcome. But at the end of the day, it’s wasted energy. Because there’s nothing either of us could do now to change what’s happened. I know you know that.”

She squeezed Jenny’s hand a little tighter. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Neither did ye.”

Jenny’s words surprised her and she let out a humorless laugh. “Not so sure about that‒”

“Claire,” Jenny chided sharply. “Ye didna ken what would happen ‒ and how could ye? Would ye have gone if ye had?”

“No, but I‒”

“Are ye really goin’ tae argue wi’ me o’er the same thing ye just told me no’ to punish myself about?”

Her mouth snapped shut, no counterargument coming to mind. She’d meant what she said ‒ Jenny should carry no guilt for that day. That didn’t mean the choice of going through the stones that day didn’t weigh heavily on Claire’s conscience. But Jenny was bound and determined to make the same argument on her behalf, she could see.

“How far along are ye?” Jenny asked when their conversation stalled.

“Eleven weeks or so. Still so much that can go wrong.” The last sentence came out in a rush. Jenny’s hand held tight to her own, an unspoken understanding passing between them. “In fact, I‒ well, besides when I came through that morning, I haven’t felt sick once and I worry… what if that…”

“Have ye bled at all?” Jenny cut in, not unkindly but to the point.

“N-no, but it would take some time still before my body‒” She couldn’t finish the sentence, but Jenny squeezed her hand, seeming to understand.

“Were ye sick when you went through back tae yer time?”

“Sick as a dog the entire time I was there. That’s how it had been when I was pregnant with Faith.”

She hadn’t realized she was crying until Jenny’s hand gently brushed the tears from her face. She hadn’t realized how much she needed to talk to someone about this until the words were spilling out to Jenny, no longer festering under her skin.

“I’ve been so focused on finding Jamie and Faith the last few weeks that I’ve barely even thought about the baby, but I‒ oh god, I couldn’t bear to lose it!”

The sobs came then and she was pulled sideways into Jenny’s arms and held there. Kitty stirred but didn’t wake, stretching sleepily in her new position.

“Dinna talk like that, Claire.” Jenny’s voice was soft and soothing but laced with concern. “Until we ken otherwise, this bairn is jest fine. It’s no use tae spend yer time worrying when it might jest be yer sickness easing up.”

Rationally, Claire knew this could be the reason… her morning sickness letting up as she approached her second trimester.

“Ye willna be alone, Claire,” Jenny startled her by speaking right to the heart of her fear, the part she couldn’t possibly put into words without breaking. “No matter what happens to the bairn or to Jamie or Faith. Ye hear me?”

Jamie had said those same words to her once and though she would never quite be whole if she lost any of them, she knew Jamie was still right. He’d seen to it that she had a family who could carry her through even the unthinkable.

Her free hand came up to grasp Jenny’s arm where it was holding tightly to her. “I hear you.”

“Milady!”

“Jenny! Claire!”

Fergus and Ian’s voices announced their return from Broch Morda late in the day and had both Jenny and Claire hastening out to meet them.

“What’s happened?” Jenny demanded.

“There’s a letter for you!” Fergus jumped down from the wagon before Ian had even slowed the horses to full stop.

“Careful!” Claire scolded, but it was lost on Ian’s next words.

“Jest have a look at the handwriting.”

Fergus handed the letter over to Jenny, to whom it was addressed, and Claire had to restrain herself from snatching it from Jenny’s fingers when she caught sight of the familiar, fine penmanship that belonged to her husband.

“Jamie…”

Jenny tore open the letter abruptly and unfolded it while Claire arranged herself at Jenny’s shoulder, peering over at the contents of it. Not a word of it was in English and bits of the Gaelic was lost on Claire.

“What does it say?” Fergus asked impatiently, but Claire and Jenny were both too engrossed to respond. Instead, Claire slipped an arm around his shoulders and tucked him against her side.

“That word there ‒ what does that mean?” She pointed.

Jenny gave her a sideways glance. “Sorcha? It’s… well, it’s you, Claire. It’s yer name in Gàidhlig. He’s written that you’ve gone. That he’s lost ye.”

She didn’t need a translator for the next sentence written in French. One word jumped out at her and suddenly her vision blurred with tears. It was clear he was trying to be careful; he’d referred to their child as faith, a belief. But he had her.

There was no way to tell him of her return but somehow just the confirmation that Jamie and Faith were alive and together at the time he’d written gave Claire a sweeping sense of relief.

“They’re alright,” she breathed out.

“Where are they?” Fergus asked.

“He doesna say.” Jenny sighed.

“Where are they headed?”

It might’ve been quicker to hand Fergus the letter and let him see for himself, but instead, Jenny scanned it again, as though trying to extract some further message from it. “He doesna say,” she repeated, with no effort to hide her disappointment.

“He’s being cautious. Especially because of Faith. And he wouldn’t want to put any of your lives in jeopardy by disclosing his plans.”

“But…” Fergus began and then hesitated. When Claire glanced down at him, she could see the concern etched into his expression. His gaze slid up to meet hers. “How will we find them if we don’t know where he is or where he’s going?”

Claire breathed in deeply. An excellent question, she thought, and one she had no answer to. “Don’t you worry. We’ll… we’ll keep looking.”

They went inside, but the contents of the letter stayed top of mind for all as they tried to move about their day. Ian read the letter for himself and then Murtagh read it when he joined them before dinner. In the evening, they gathered in the parlor, and Jamie’s letter ended up in Claire’s hands while the discussion of Jamie and Faith’s whereabouts unfolded around them.

“He could’ve gone to Leoch.”

Claire pulled a face at that suggestion from Murtagh. “Surely not after Colum’s death and‒” her gaze broke away to wee Jamie and she couldn’t get the words out of how it had ended with Dougal in front of the little ones.

“Aye, with both brothers gone, the role of clan chieftain will pass to wee Hamish. Doubt he’d give Jamie much trouble, wee runt that he is. No one there would ken what happened wi’ Dougal MacKenzie. And Jamie does have people there who would be loyal to him and give him shelter if he asked for it.”

Claire considered it, but only for a moment. “No, he wouldn’t risk it. Colum wanted to remain neutral but Dougal fought in the rebellion with his men and there’s no telling how the British will interpret Clan MacKenzie’s loyalty. Especially in the immediate aftermath, they work tirelessly to squash any trace of rebellion. Besides, if anyone knows of Jamie’s ties to the MacKenzie clan, it would be the next place the Redcoats would look after here.”

Murtagh only grunted, still considering.

“I ken how he feels about Lord Lovat, but maybe…” Ian trailed off, staring at Claire. “Have I missed something, Claire?”

She breathed in briskly. “This hadn’t felt relevant when I shared my story with you all, but… Lord Lovat will be executed as a traitor by the British for his involvement in the rising. There was a… Well. Let’s just say I knew of this before Culloden, but I found confirmation of Lord Lovat’s execution when I returned to my time, while I looked for Jamie. And Jamie knows about his grandfather’s death, too. He won’t bring Faith there, even if they are family.”

Jenny took the news of her grandsire in stride while Ian cleared his throat awkwardly, not sure how to move on from that piece of news.

“More likely he’ll go where no one kens him,” Murtagh said softly, his gaze on the fire. “If he canna turn to family without risk involved.”

Claire didn’t miss the way Fergus’s face fell at this pronouncement. He had picked a spot on the floor, away from everyone else and closer to the fire, but his attention to their conversation was completely present.

She’d never seen him so morose before, but she understood perfectly why he felt so hopeless ‒ it was a daily battle of her own not to give in to the feeling.

“Fergus, come sit by me,” she called to him.

He went without any resistance and sunk into the spot next to her on the sofa. Claire pulled him closer and his head leaned against her shoulder. “It’ll be alright, love,” she murmured quietly.

“Can I see this?” he asked, ignoring her comment.

“Yes, of course.” With a sad smile, she handed over the letter to him and then let her attention drift back to the conversation at hand.

Fergus pored over the contents of the letter and, like everyone else, found nothing new to glean from it. Clearly frustrated, he began to fidget with the letter, using the weight of the wax seal on one end to flip the paper back and forth, open and then folded shut.

Claire watched him, unable to ignore the movement from the corner of her eye. Something clicked in her brain and her hand shot out, stopping Fergus. The red wax seal faced up to both of them and Fergus glanced curiously at Claire.

“I’ve seen this seal before.”

She said it quietly enough that none of the others heard it ‒ she’d said it mostly to herself but Fergus had caught it, too.

“Where have I seen this seal before?”

Fergus took a deep breath, his whole demeanor shifting. “Is it not Milord’s?”

“No, it’s not his. But it’s familiar, somehow…”

“If you remember, it could help us find them, non?”

She frowned slightly at it. “Perhaps. If I remember.”

That night she dreamt of the World War, of being back in the field hospitals tending to wounded soldiers. But she was looking for someone in particular as she checked the cots of the wounded. Suddenly, someone tugged on her arm and she turned, finding Mary Hawkins at her side, clad in the same dress she’d worn that day at the apothecary in Inverness.

“Please, Claire, you have to help him!” Claire could see Alex Randall suddenly, laid out on a cot just behind Mary. A nurse was pulling a sheet over his head, already gone. “He’s dying!”

“I’m sorry, Mary. There’s nothing I can do.” There was an urgency, an almost physical push for Claire to leave that she couldn’t define. “I have to find my husband.”

Claire woke with a start and laid very still in the dark room. For a moment, her mind struggled to place that room, and which year she resided in. She curled up on her side and breathed in deeply, the details of her dream already starting to fade. But seeing Mary, someone from this time, plopped into the middle of 1943 was hard to forget. And the powerlessness she’d felt of being unable to cure poor Alex…

Her eyes flew open again and stared through the darkness.

She had seen the seal before. Three weeks ago on Alex Randall’s desk.

“Randall?” Murtagh scowled.

“Alex Randall, yes.” Claire handed the letter to him. “During one of the times I tended to him in Inverness, I wrote out a list for Mary of what she could give Alex to keep him comfortable and help him rest. The seal was there. He must’ve recently written a letter ‒ or Mary.”

“And ye’re sure? Ye ken it’s the same as this one and no’ just because ye dreamed it?”

Claire, on some level, understood his skepticism, but she leveled an irritated gaze at him for that remark all the same. “Yes, I’m sure.”

“What the devil would Jamie be doing wi’ a dead man’s seal? Wi’ a Randall’s seal?”

“Not Alex,” Claire murmured, noticing the sounds of little ones up in the hallway. It wouldn’t be long before the family joined them. “But what about Mary?”

Murtagh gave a soft grunt, considering this.

“She would’ve still been in Inverness,” Claire pressed. “And Jamie knew this. What if he stopped there first after the stones?”

Murtagh looked doubtful of that possibility but he didn’t say anything.

“How else would Jamie have used this seal, hmm?” She pressed the issue, feeling for the first time a sense of hope. They had a direction, at least. They knew where to start. If Mary was still in Inverness, they had someone to question who likely saw Jamie and Faith after Culloden.

“Suppose we head for Inverness and we’re wrong about the seal. What then?”

Claire gave a helpless shrug. “We don’t have anything else to go on. If not Inverness, where else would we look that wouldn’t be a complete guess?”

In 4 days’ time, they were packing up from Lallybroch to head for Inverness.

For Claire, that meant grabbing what she would need for the journey, but also what she could bring should she find Jamie and Faith. When they’d left from Lallybroch the last time, there were plenty of their things they’d left behind, like Jamie’s mother’s pearls that he’d given to Claire on their wedding night.

She packed her maternity stays she’d worn in Paris, uncertain of where she’d be when the need arose for them again. She stilled in her packing at that thought. She had no idea where she’d be when the baby came, either, and that thought was terrifying. Digging into a chest in the Laird’s room, she unearthed some of Faith’s clothing from when she was a tiny baby. They’d packed them away last year ‒ was it only last year? ‒ with the unspoken hope between her and Jamie that they’d have a reason to use them again someday.

Her fingers toyed with the fabric of one simple white nightgown. These were such imperfect circumstances to bring a baby into, but then again… Faith had entered the world amidst equally imperfect circumstances. Claire knew she could do it, if she had to… raise the baby on her own. But oh, the thought of this baby never knowing Jamie or Faith broke her heart clean in two.

A light rap on the door startled Claire and she turned to see Jenny with a few of Faith’s things ‒ her doll, a blanket, and the wooden box that Claire knew held 12 apostle spoons.

“Are you sure about that one?” She gestured to the box. “I know that’s a family heirloom.”

“It was Faith’s christening gift. It should be returned to Faith.”

Claire smiled faintly, bolstered slightly by Jenny’s unwavering belief that wherever this journey ended, Faith and Jamie would be there.

“All set, then?” Claire poked her head into Fergus’s room. The boy was finishing up packing his things neatly into his pack as Jamie had shown him. He’d been different the last few days, since she’d remembered about the seal. Since they had a direction in mind to begin. Hope had returned for him and no shortage of determination as well.

“Oui, Milady. Just about.”

His wooden swords leaned against the wall in one corner. He’d already decided that those would go to wee Jamie, that they were too bulky to bring along and that he was too old for them now anyway.

But Claire felt a soft swell of relief to see him tucking his carved horse into his bag to take with him. He was growing up much too quickly, but he hadn’t outgrown her and for that, she was grateful.

“Are you sad to leave this behind? It’s been your room for a while.”

Fergus glanced over the room and gave a small shrug. “It’s only a room.”

She thought of all the places they’d lived over the two years that Fergus had been with them ‒ Jared’s place, Lallybroch, drafty cottages and flimsy tents dotted all along Scotland and England. They’d given him an upbringing not unlike what she’d had with her Uncle Lamb, and with it, an untethered understanding of home.

“You’re right, it’s only a room.”

She reached an arm out to him as he slung his pack over his shoulder, and they walked out of the room together with his shoulder tucked into her side.

“Ye have everything then?”

“Think so.”

Claire looked up from adjusting her saddlebag with last-minute provisions and saw Jenny standing there, arms folded across her chest.

She’d said her goodbyes to wee Jamie, Maggie, and Kitty already, which was harder for a second time, having felt as though she’d only gotten to know them again just to leave them, never knowing when ‒ or even if ‒ she might see them next.

Murtagh and Fergus were securing the last of the packs to Murtagh’s horse so she and Jenny had a moment to themselves.

“I feel like we just did this, saying our goodbyes,” Claire said ruefully.

Jenny pulled her into a tight hug. “Aye, weel, the two o’ ye never can seem to stay out o’ trouble.”

She gave Jenny a squeeze before releasing her.

“Take care of yerself, sister. And I don’t jest mean because o’ the bairn. Though…” her hand came to rest on Claire’s stomach over the layers of her skirts. “Do take care o’ this one as well.”

“I will. And I’ll send word as soon as I know anything. I promise.”

Jenny smiled appreciatively at that, though Claire knew in this century, it would take weeks if not months for the news to arrive. It hardly felt right in these circumstances to leave their family waiting that long without word, but they didn’t know anything different than the snail’s pace of correspondence.

“If I find them‒”

“When ye find them,” Jenny corrected her. The only time she’d even hinted at the possibility of losing Jamie and Faith had been that day in the parlor, and only to assure Claire that they would support her.

“When I do … it will still be a while that the British occupy the Highlands. I don’t know when it will be safe to return to Lallybroch, but it might not be for a long while.”

“I ken that.” Jenny’s expression was strong and unshakable but Claire knew… the reality of what stretched out before them even if they found Jamie quickly still meant that the Murrays might not see them for years. Might not see them ever again, even. “Dinna bring them home if it’s no’ safe. We understand.”

Claire nodded. It didn’t mean it wouldn’t hurt like hell to be apart. She pulled Jenny back in for a last hug, murmuring a quiet apology against her shoulder, and hoping that Jenny knew that she understood what Jenny was losing, too. What she’d already lost. Faith had lived under Lallybroch’s roof since she was four months old. And for eight months, she’d been entrusted solely to Jenny and Ian. It wasn’t just Jenny’s only remaining brother that was missing, likely not to return any time soon, but the niece who was also a little more than that.

“She’ll know about how you felt about her morning greetings,” Claire found herself saying. “I’ll tell her everything about her life here, including what you shared with me from the last several months. She’ll know it all, I promise.”

Murtagh and Fergus were hovering awkwardly nearby, having loaded everything onto the two horses they were taking ‒ Murtagh’s and the horse Claire had bought in Inverness. She released Jenny in time to see Ian making his way out to say goodbye to them.

“C’mere, lad,” Jenny beckoned Fergus to her. “Come say goodbye to yer auntie then.”

Claire turned to Ian, at a loss for what to say. He smiled at her, a touch sadly, and pulled her into a hug. “Take care o’ yer Fraser, aye?”

She felt her vision burn with tears, remembering how they’d parted last year. “I will,” she said, her voice raspy. “And you take care of yours. Take extra good care of her, please.”

Ian’s response was to squeeze her tighter. She sighed and finally released him, seeing that Jenny was laying into Murtagh what seemed to be instructions for looking out for her and Fergus. Murtagh appeared less than thrilled, but wisely only grunted in acknowledgement.

When everyone had said their goodbyes, it was time to leave. Claire turned to Fergus and tilted her head in the direction of the horses. “Your choice. You can ride with me or with Murtagh.”

“I will start the journey with Murtagh,” Fergus said decidedly. “And when he gets too grumpy, I will ride with you, Milady.”

His words broke the heavy feeling in their group as laughter rippled out.

“I dinna have to let ye ride wi’ me,” Murtagh fired back, though his eyes danced with merriment as he mounted his horse and extended a hand to Fergus to help him up.

Ian offered Claire a hand as she mounted her horse. She turned to Murtagh and Fergus. “Ready?”

Murtagh gave a curt nod, and Fergus from his perch behind Murtagh gave Claire a determined nod of his own. Claire gave her horse a firm kick and they were off.

This time, when they cleared the gates, Claire looked back. She wanted to remember seeing Jenny and Ian by the front steps waving goodbye, and how Lallybroch looked in the early May light with the rest of the world all green around it. For as long as she lived, if she never saw it again, it would live always in her memory just like this. The first place that felt like home.

But it’s only a place, she reminded herself. Though she couldn’t find it within herself to feel completely as Fergus did, as she might’ve when she were younger. Lallybroch was home for a while. And the Murrays were family.

But home would be if‒ no, when… home would be when she found Jamie and Faith, with Fergus and Murtagh with them, and their little family wouldn’t be separated for the first time since last August. Home would be back together again.

Jamie and Faith were out there somewhere. All they had to do was find them.

#outlander fic #OL fic #jamie x claire #faith fraser #outlander #tbbfiy #the best by far is you #my fic

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onceinsomniac · 4 years ago

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Snapshots Of Her Life Part 15

Previously: Part 14

Next: Part 16

Jennie was 38 years old when she told Lisa about her namesake…

Lisa had always been a curious child. Which is why it surprised Jennie that it had taken the six year old this long before she’d asked her about who the girl in the photo on her night stand was. The photo in question showed two girls, both about 16, standing in front of the statue of liberty. The brunette was looking up at the blonde one, a surprised look on her face while the taller girl was beaming at the camera, an arm thrown around the shorter girl’s shoulder, ignoring the questioning look on her face.

Jennie remembered the day it had been taken like it had been yesterday. Her mother had taken both her and Lisa on a week long trip during the summer. Jennie had been especially excited about going to see a Broadway show while Lisa had wanted to do all the usual tourist stuff. It was their second day in New York and Lisa had woken her up early to drag her to see the statue before it got too crowded. Her mom had decided to let them go alone, preferring to use that time to go shopping.

After taking the ferry to Liberty island, both girls finally stood in front of the monument. Excitement started bubbling in her stomach at the sight of the huge statue as they eagerly walked over to buy tickets so they could go up. Her excitement however, had diminished significantly by the time they got to the top, the exhaustion from the climb combined with the searing sun leaving her wanting nothing more than to be back in their air-conditioned hotel room.

In contrast, Lisa looked excitedly out at the view. Jennie smiled at the happiness in her gaze but started getting impatient as half an hour had passed and Lisa still was not ready to go down. “Come on Rose, it’s too hot. Let’s go get something to eat”, she complained.

“Right after we take a picture”, she assured her. Lisa went up to a woman who looked to be in her twenties and asked her if she minded taking a picture of them.

The woman smiled at them and nodded and Lisa made her way back to the edge, dragging Jennie along with her. Both smiled at the camera as the woman took the picture. “One more please”, Lisa told her. Jennie started complaining about the sun in her eyes but her whining was silenced abruptly by a pair of lips meeting her own in a chaste kiss. Jennie was shocked, immediately on alert, ready to face at least a few disgusted glances or jeers thrown their way. She was taken aback when she realized that, aside from the smile the girl taking their picture threw at her, there were no reactions at all. Nobody cared.

She was so used to having to hide their affection in the privacy of their homes that it had slipped her mind that it wasn’t like that everywhere. The camera had captured the exact moment after the kiss, the alarm clear on her face along with the carefree look Lisa's who had clearly come to that realization before Jennie.

Jennie remembered that moment as the first time she truly felt free. It was why she quickly went along with Lisa after she declared that they would move there after high school to go to college. She smiled fondly at the picture frame her daughter was pointing at, memories flashing through her mind.

“She’s my best friend”, she told her, knowing there were no words that could truly explain what she had been to her. Especially to a six-year-old. “I thought aunt Jisoo was your best friend”, Lisa stated, a confused look on her face. “Well she is. Lisa was a different type of friend”, she said. Jennie laughed as the look of confusion on her daughter’s face grew bigger. “But I’m Lisa”, she told her, looking at her as if she had forgotten her name. “You both are. You’re named after her.”

“Why is she never here”, she questioned. Jennie thought about it for a few seconds. She didn’t want to lie to her daughter but she also didn’t want her to know the truth, wanting to protect her from the harsh reality they lived in. “She had to go away, for reasons beyond her control”, she told her, trying to be as vague as possible. Lisa noticed her mother’s sadness and was confused. “Why don’t you just visit her?” she questioned.

Jennie smiled fondly at her daughter’s innocence, still too young to know of the horrors in the world and vowed silently to do whatever it took to make sure she retained it for as long as possible. “I hadn’t thought of that, what a good idea”, she told her. Lisa smiled at the praise, looking proud of herself. “I want to play now”, she told her before running out the room, the conversation already forgotten.

Jennie took one last look at the framed picture, a silent tear making its way down her cheek.

#imagines #angst #snapshots of her life #blackpink imagines #jenlisa #kpop au #kim jennie #lisa manoban #jisoo

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let-me-write-shit · 5 years ago

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Like We Used To: 30 *The End*

A/N: I can’t believe the last chapter is finally here! I’ve loved writing this story! Let me know what you think. The POV was suggested by tpwk. Thanks, love!!

And if anyone wants me to write a story for them, please message me any requests! I’d love to keep writing! :) Thank you so much for all of your love and support!!

P.S. Did the first two sentences of this chapter get to you like it did to me? Remember the first chapter??

[Click Here For Previous Chapters]

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CHAPTER THIRTY

This day could have gone a lot worse. Granted, it was only 11 AM. For weeks leading up to this point the subtle feeling of irrational panic nagged at the back of Harry’s mind. Did he get his haircut the right way? Was his suit properly tailored? Was he forgetting anything? It felt like he had done so little to prep, although he knew that not to be true. He had gone to plenty of events before, but this one would be the biggest and most important, after all.

Harry brushed his hair back with his fingers and straightened his birdseye dusty rose suit jacket and made sure his navy dress pants were at the proper height before grabbing his floral tie, draping it around his neck. He took a deep breath, tilting his head up slightly for more room as he tied it, making sure it fell just perfectly against his white button up and stepped back to get a better look at the whole ensemble.

The door flew open and Harry watched in the mirror as Jeffrey walked in wearing a full navy suit with a pink tie to match Harry’s suit and he smiled widely, smacking a hand on his shoulder.

“How are you feeling?” Jeffrey asked, the sounds of shouting laughter more noticeable with the door open.

Harry took a deep breath and grinned, nodding, “A bit nervous, mate.”

Jeffrey laughed, “You act as if you’ve never been in front of hundreds of people before.”

“Yeah, this is exactly the same,” Harry said, sarcastically.

Lewis poked his head in the door, dressed in the same thing as Jeffrey, except his suit was still untied. His eyes widened, waving a rather large sized box in his hands, “This just arrived for you.”

Harry nodded, stepping closer and grabbing the box out of Lewis’ grasp, following him out to the main room. There, he saw Mitch and Matt talking in the corner of the room, dressed in the same suit as the other two with beers in hand, while a woman with a camera skirted around everyone, filming. Harry sat down while the boys stood around to watch as Harry neatly unwrapped the box and pulled off the lid to see a card laying on top of what looked like a black hoodie. His eyes furrowed, looking through the window at the beautiful, warm May weather. It was far too nice out to need a hoodie. But as he pulled it out, his lips twitched upward into a smile, recognizing it as the hoodie he let Elizabeth borrow the night of the dare at the manor house after Kate and Lewis’ wedding.

The boys surrounding him clearly didn’t understand the significance, but Harry ignored their verbal thoughts of confusion as he opened the card, a picture of 14 year old Harry and Elizabeth fell out, with him kissing her cheek so hard that it made her make a fish face. He chuckled and read the card aloud.

“My Love,

I thought that after four years you might want your hoodie back. It’s kept me warm for long enough. I guess I can share it now. Do you like the picture? It was 16 years ago, almost to the day, and I can remember it so clearly in my mind. I remember right after this picture was taken, you gave me your ring pop and jokingly proposed to me. Do you remember what I said?”

Harry laughed. His voice began to break as he started to get emotional, reading the next line of the letter out loud, picturing the moment in his memory,

“I said ‘No, because it’s not strawberry flavored’. So what did you do? You ran 6 blocks back to the convenience store to buy a strawberry flavored ring pop, just so you could fake propose to me again. So typical of you. At 14 years old, you were just as kind, thoughtful, and as loving as you are now at 30. You always go completely out of your way to make sure that I am happy. You are that same 14 year old boy that I fell in love with 16 years ago (but with better hair). I can’t wait for more adventures with you. I can’t wait to grow old with you. I can’t wait to keep trying to one-up each other with gifts. And although I might not ever be able to top that strawberry ring pop, I'll still try. I have one more gift for you, but it’ll have to wait until tonight.

I love you, baby. See you at the altar.

Your bride,

Elizabeth”

Harry wiped the tears that had fallen down his cheek and laughed, slightly embarrassed at the emotions he had displayed in front of his friends. But they didn’t seem to mind as they all crowded around him, squeezing his shoulder and giving him hugs while the videographer continued to film them, joking about the last line. He found himself wondering what gift she could possibly have for him tonight and his mind wandered to all of the different types of lingerie she could have bought.

There was a knock at the door and Harry turned in his seat to see the one of the wedding coordinators pop their head in, eyebrows raised, “How are we doing? Are we ready to go?”

Harry stood up, smoothing out his suit again, “Yeah, we’re ready.”

The wedding coordinator stepped to the side and Harry’s mom, Anne came into view, smiling sheepishly. The second they caught eyes with each other, Anne cooed with emotion, covering her mouth with her hands before dropping them and jogging in the room towards her son, arms outstretched. Harry laughed, smiling widely and taking her into his arms in a tight embrace.

When Anne pulled away, she blotted underneath her eyes, blocking the tears from rolling down her face, “You look so handsome, my darling boy. I am so beyond proud of you.”

“Thanks, mum. You look lovely.”

She kissed his cheek and wiped away the lipstick mark before saying, “I just saw Lizzy. She looks beautiful. I’m so happy for the both of you.”

Before he could respond, the wedding coordinator clapped her hands to get everyone’s attention and round them up as it was time to get ready for the processional. Harry took one quick swig of his beer before following his friends out, arms linked with his mother. The boys made sure their suits were buttoned and ties were straight as they made their way through the stone building towards the back entrance.

Harry heard echoing clicks of heels and faint soft voices from a room nearby and felt the butterflies flutter in his stomach, realizing that Elizabeth was only feet away. The soft rhythm of string instruments sounded from the live band and through the speakers, covering the garden and signaling the start of the procession. Matt was directed to go first, followed shortly by Mitch, Jeffrey, and Lewis.

Anne tightened her grip on her son’s arm, turning to him and saying, “Are you ready?”

Harry nodded, blowing out some air, “Let’s do it.”

The coordinator directed them to make their way out, opening the door for them as they stepped into the fresh air. He looked out at the rows upon rows of guests who watched him as he made his way down with his mom by his side, smiling at his friends and family who came. He finally took in the decor, seeing all of the beautifully whimsical flowers, lanterns, and little tidbits leading up to the altar that stood just before a picturesque pond. Seeing all of their months of hard work come together made it feel more real.

Once at the end of the aisle, Harry kissed his mother’s cheek before she sat down at the front row, and he joined his friends, taking his spot in the middle, next to Lewis, his best man, shaking the hand of their officiant. He looked, again, at the rows of guests and his eyes fell upon Kim, Elizabeth’s mom who sat at the front on the other side of the aisle, her eyes wide in happiness.

A flash of dusty rose rounded the corner into view as he saw his sister, Gemma, walking towards him wearing a spaghetti strap, high slit, wrapped dress, color matching his suit top, holding a beautiful small bouquet of flowers. They smiled at each other as she made her way to the other side of the altar followed by Sarah who walked carefully down the aisle. Kate was next in view, and for some reason this made Harry’s heart pound even harder, nerves really starting to kick in. He would be seeing his bride soon.

Harry began to bounce lightly on his toes in anticipation and Kate shot him a reassuring smile as she joined the other two. Elizabeth’s sister and maid of honor, Jenny, was the next to come into view, smiling and taking her place at the front. Everyone watched, affectionate laughs ringing throughout the seats as 4 year old Mia came skipping down the aisle, basket of flowers in her arms that she had forgotten to toss onto the ground, beaming at the attention she was getting. She reached her mom at the front, holding onto her hand and swaying lightly.

The tone of the music changed and a voice over the speaker said, “Please rise for the bride.”

Eruption of people getting up on their feet echoed and Harry’s heart beat faster, shuffling from side to side. He could feel the butterflies that were in his stomach make his way up to his chest, forming a lump in his throat. His mind flashed through the past 16 years or so of memories with Elizabeth, from the first moment he met her, to the day he had left. He recalled the day he saw her again, walking down the aisle as a bridesmaid in Kate’s wedding. She looked even more beautiful than he remembered. From that moment on, he knew that he was done looking. No one could compare to her. No one could even come close since the day he met her when they were 14.

Still, even though he was so sure, he couldn’t help but feel the rush of nerves taking over him, waiting in anticipation to see her. Harry looked down at his toes, afraid to look up. He could feel all of the emotions starting to build up in his chest and he was afraid that if he looked up, he might lose it.

He heard soft scattered gasps of awe in front of him and he took a deep breath before looking up. His heart skipped a beat, looking down the aisle, eyes landing on the love of his life. She looked like she had come straight from a fairytale. Her strapless corset lace top held onto the draping puffy laced sleeves that hung just above her elbow, the smooth skirt of the a-line dress flowed elegantly behind her as her arm hooked on her father’s. There was no stopping it. Harry let out a soft whimper, a few tears spilling out. The overwhelming feeling of love encapsulating his entire being. He felt unbelievably lucky.

He felt Lewis squeeze his shoulders in recognition but continued to stare at the face of his bride as she softly giggled at his reaction, eyelashes fluttering. Elizabeth wrinkled her nose and quickly stuck her tongue out at him, making him chuckle as the feeling of anxiousness washed away. When they reached her, John turned to his daughter, pulling her into a tight squeeze and kissing her cheek.

“I love you, sweetheart,” he whispered to her before turning towards Harry and shaking his hand, pulling him into a fatherly embrace, “Be good to her,” his voice cracked, stifling his emotions.

“Always,” Harry grinned at him as he pulled away.

John took Elizabeth’s hands and connected them with Harry’s before joining his wife in the front row. The officiant started off his spiel as the guests finally took their seats and Harry grinned, looking Elizabeth up and down.

“You’re beautiful,” Harry mouthed, smirking.

Elizabeth grinned and winked at him, “You’re beautiful,” she joked, making him chuckle again.

The officiant wrapped up his speech before directing Harry to take the rings from Lewis and to start his vows. He handed Elizabeth the wedding band and fidgeted with Elizabeth’s band between his fingers. Feeling the eyes of hundreds of their closest friends and family on him started to make him feel nervous again. Concerts were one thing, but expressing your love for someone in such an intimate way felt like something entirely different.

He cleared his throat, speaking slowly into the microphone that the officiant held in front of him, his voice emitting through the speakers, “Well, I’m a much better song writer than I am vow-writer, but I tried,” he joked, causing harmonious laughter as he continued, “Lizzy, you have been my best friend since I was 14 years old. No amount of distance or time has ever changed my love for you. Not for one minute. So I promise, for the rest of my life, I will decorate our home with candles and rose petals. I will share a sleeve of oreo cookies with you. I will let you steal all of my hoodies. And I will always remember to get you the strawberry flavored ringpop. With this ring, I am yours.”

The guests laughed and he smiled tenderly as Elizabeth chuckled, a tear falling down her cheek while he pushed the ring onto her finger. With her other hand, she quickly wiped it away before joining hands with him again. He felt her palms beginning to sweat and tremble. Sensing her nervousness, he squeezed her hands harder and ran his thumbs across the top, soothing her.

Elizabeth took a deep breath, and began to speak, her voice trembling slightly from both nerves and emotion, “Harry,” she started, smiling at him, “I often think back to how this all started and am constantly blown away by all of the circumstances that always lead us back to each other. No matter how hard as I tried to avoid you,” Elizabeth laughed, causing everyone else to laugh as she continued, “You always came back. You are my constant. You are my everlasting. You are my anchor when I need to be brought back down to earth, and you are my rocketship when I need to let loose and dream. I’m proud to have been able to watch you grow into the man you’ve become, and I am proud to stand beside you as your wife. So, I promise to be your certainty when things seem uncertain, and to always tell you that your music is great, even when I think it’s not. With this ring, I am yours.”

Harry laughed as Elizabeth slid the band onto his finger, looking into her beautiful brown eyes as the officiant pronounced them husband and wife. He pulled her into him by the waist as she placed a hand on his neck and softly pressed their lips together, the guests jumping to their feet, clapping and whistling. A rush of exhilaration went through him and he wrapped his arms around her waist, arching back and squeezing her tight, lifting her off her feet. The two of them smiled into the kiss and she giggled as he set her back down.

“Ladies and gentleman, Mr. and Mrs. Styles!” The officiant declared.

Harry took Elizabeth’s hand and shot his arms in the air, forcing Elizabeth’s arm up with him, victoriously. She beamed as they made their way back down the aisle towards the house, practically skipping. They rounded the outside of the building towards a little gazebo, waiting for the rest of the wedding party to take pictures together before heading in to party with the guests.

Pictures only took about 15 minutes before they made their way inside, the wedding party being introduced, and dinner being served. Speeches were made while eating from some of the wedding party and a few guests, Elizabeth laughing so hard that she needed to have her makeup touched up because of the tears that streamed down her face.

As people began to finish eating, a voice spoke through the speakers, “Ladies and gentleman, it is time for the bride and groom’s first dance as husband and wife, if you could turn your attention to the dance floor.”

Harry smiled, standing up and outstretching a hand for his wife who gulped down her glass of water before standing beside him, yelps from guests echoing throughout the room. Once at the center of the dance floor, the beginning tune of a piano began as Elizabeth and Harry took their positions, but suddenly Harry broke away, waving a hand across his chest to tell the hired band to stop. Elizabeth furrowed her eyebrows at him and he grinned mischievously, walking up to the stage and grabbing the mic.

“Lizzy’s going to kill me, I can see it in her eyes,” he joked, before addressing the room. “So, first of all, I’m a terrible dancer, so I just want to apologize in advance. Luckily, something I happen to be quite good at is singing. So if I could have my lovely band come up here,” he waved around the room as Mitch, Sarah, Adam, Charlotte, and Ny made their way to the stage, smiling, causing the room to fill with shouts of excitement. “We have prepared a little surprise for my beautiful wife tonight. I’ll be singing a song that I wrote for her.”

Harry rejoined his shocked wife on the dance floor, wrapping her arms around his neck while he held her close with his free arm, the other still holding the microphone.

“You’re so sneaky,” she whispered in his ear, out of range from the microphone.

He kissed her forehead before the music began, swaying his wife slowly in circles and singing the lyrics to the song he wrote when he thought back on their entire relationship, specifically for their first dance.

You're wearing that dress I like

Those heels make you six feet high

In the taxi you're trying to put your make-up on

While singing the words to your favourite song

My god, it's been awhile

Since the last time I saw you smile

Sometimes life gets so crazy that we can forget

All the little things we did back when we first met

Suddenly the room grows quiet, I'm lost in your eyes

It feels like we're all alone, as the lights go on

It's getting late, wish we could stay like this forever

Dancing 'till both our feet ache

My love, nothing can break these arms

In your embrace, this crowded room doesn't matter

But dancing like it's our own stage

My love, I just wanna say that you look incredible tonight

And all our friends are going home

Just leaving us all alone

And there's moments like this I never wanna let go

We're still those two kids putting on a show

Standing in the room, so quiet, I'm lost in your eyes

It feels like we're all alone, as the lights go on

It's getting late, wish we could stay like this forever

Dancing 'till both our feet ache

My love, nothing can break these arms

In your embrace, this crowded room doesn't matter

But dancing like it's our own stage

My love, I just wanna say that you look incredible tonight

Staring in your navy eyes as we hold each other

Dancing through the night

It's getting late, wish we could stay like this forever

Dancing 'till both our feet ache

My love, nothing can break these arms

In your embrace, this crowded room doesn't matter

But dancing like it's our own stage

My love, I just wanna say that you look incredible tonight

Oh, incredible tonight

Incredible tonight

My love, I just wanna say that you look incredible tonight

They came to stop as the music ended and all of their friends and family cheered, clapping and whistling loudly. Harry turned off the mic and looked down at his bride, smiling, “I love you,” wiping a tear from her cheek.

She laughed, sniffling, “I love you, too. Sorry,” she apologized, wiping another tear that fell down.

He laughed, kissing her forehead again, “So emotional tonight. Are you crying because you hated it, or loved it?”

She laughed, lightly pushing him, “I loved it, baby. Thank you.”

The two went to go thank the band members and they continued their night, dancing, laughing, eating cake, and making their rounds mingling with their friends and family. Eventually it was time for the send off, and everyone was directed to line up outside with their sparklers. As soon as they were lit, Harry took Elizabeth by the hand and they raced down the long line, laughing and smiling, feeling the immense amount of love from the guests. They stopped at the end and Harry dipped his wife into a romantic kiss, the shutters of the photographer’s camera going off.

Harry’s old classic car waited for them just feet away. At the passenger side he opened the door for Elizabeth before rounding to his side and getting in. They waved once more to everyone as he drove off, heading towards home. They would be flying out to Italy in the morning for their month-long honeymoon. Elizabeth’s head rested on her husband's shoulder as he drove, tired from the events of the day. Harry’s heart soared, occasionally glancing down at his wife, still astonished that he got to spend the rest of his life with her.

“So,” Harry spoke, “You mentioned that you had a gift for me in your card that I had to wait for until tonight.”

Elizabeth sat up, smiling, “Yeah. It’s at home. It’s a surprise.”

Again, his mind kept racing through all of the things it could be, listing them off in his head. When they got home, Elizabeth led her husband up to their room and directed him to close his eyes. Shuffling was heard around the room before he felt something thin and almost folder-like being forced into his hands.

“Okay, you can open,” she said, sitting beside him.

He opened his eyes and looked down in his hands to see what looked like a calendar. But upon further inspection, it looked to be a boudoir calendar. Beautiful and elegant pictures of his wife in lingerie on every page. Harry’s heart pounded, smiling, “Wow, these are amazing,” he flipped through the months, looking at all of her graceful poses and admiring her shape, “I love this one,” he noted, pointing to the picture from the month of September, wearing nothing but covering herself by hugging a pillow, her hair up in a neat wispy bun. She looked so natural.

He continued to flip through the pages, grinning as he landed on the last page. It looked different from the rest. She was covered up a little more, her silk robe tightly tied, her hair let down in loose curls. She had her hand held up, a finger in front of her mouth like she was ‘shushing’, and a sign in the other hand. His eyes squinted as he read the sign she carried. You’re going to be a daddy!

Harry shot up off of the bed, the calendar slipping from his hands and plummeting to the floor, “What?!” He exclaimed, “Shut the hell up! What? You’re pregnant?!”

His heart raced, stomach suddenly feeling like it was filled with rocks, looking at his wife who was smiling, her hands clasped together by her mouth. She nodded her head in affirmation.

“I’m going to be a dad?” A lump in his throat began to form, tears welling up in her eyes again, “How long have you known? When are you due? When did you find out?” a million questions came to mind as he continued to stand, arms out in shock.

She giggled, “I’ve known for almost a month now. The due date is on Christmas, can you believe that? Remember when I had that bad batch of takeout and felt ill and we thought it was stomach flu so I went to the doctors?”

Harry gasped, “Christmas? Holy shit! And that’s when you found out?! That was forever ago! Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

She bit her lip nervously, “I wanted to, but I was just scared. They’ve had me come back to the office a few times already to do blood work since I’ve miscarried before. They’re considering me higher risk, so they just wanted to make sure my levels were on the right track, and they are. So I thought this would be a good wedding gift. Are you mad?”

Harry listened in disbelief, shaking his head, “Mad? Are you kidding me? I’m gonna be a dad!” He exclaimed, a tear trickling down his cheek as he collapsed on the floor, kneeling in front of his wife and grabbing hold of her still flat stomach. He kissed her belly before pressing his ear against her, almost as if he was trying to listen for a heart beat, “Hello, baby” he spoke softly, “I’m your daddy.”

Elizabeth laughed, running her fingers through his hair, “It can’t hear you yet.”

Harry shook his head, wiping his tears, and sitting up, pulling her into a tight hug, “I love you so much! I can’t believe you’re going to make me a dad. But from now on I want to go to every doctor’s appointment. I want to be there every step of the way.”

Elizabeth smiled sweetly at her husband, nodding and taking hold of his face, crashing her lips onto his. “You’re going to be an amazing dad,” she whispered.

The End.

#harry styles #harry styles smut #harry styles fan fic #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #one direction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles one shot #one direction smut #one direction fanfic #one direction fan fiction

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wosofan14 · 4 years ago

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Jackie Groenen House Tour Interview - 22/10/20 (Rough English Translation) 

Little note - The format of the interview was a little weird. The interviewer guy was very random with what he said, so some things in the translation are very random. But other than that, the video was super interesting. Hope you enjoy the translation :)

 Interviewer: Welcome to a brand new episode of “Inside”, a show where we get an inside look into the houses of professional footballers, e-sports players, Youtubers etc... I’m very excited about today’s guest, as we get to go international on this episode. We are going all the way to Manchester, England to get an inside look in Jackie Groenen’s house.

*On screen text* Woonkamer = Living Room

Badkamer = Bathroom

Slaapkamer = Bedroom

Logeerkamer = Guest Bedroom

Balkan = Balcony

Interviewer: There is an Easter egg hidden in this video, so if you pay attention, then you can spot it, then you’ll have a chance to win some cool prizes. If you’re as excited as I am about this video, don’t forget to like this video and subscribe to the channel to not miss any cool videos. Hopefully after this video, there will be more people that will want to give house tours. Or not, I’d also understand if no one wanted to show me their house. Haha just joking. Now let’s ring the (imaginary) doorbell, or we can knock. Please ignore the huge headphones I am wearing.

Jackie: Hi Matthy (interviewer’s name) and viewers of this show. Welcome to the tour of my crib and welcome to Manchester!

Jackie: Come on inside, this is the hall. I can’t show you too much of the guest bedroom, as my dad is currently visiting. He is also currently filming this video and he’s filming for the first time, so don’t be too cruel on him.

Interviewer: I think your father is doing very well to be fair.

Jackie: Because of the current situation we are in, I’ve frequently had people sleep over and it’s been fun, as it’s meant that I haven’t been alone very often. Now here is my fantastic closet with, if I’m being honest, way too many clothes in it. And I see my father is already looking a little bored behind the camera, as this is his least favourite part.

Interviewer: Yes, I could hear him sigh deeply or take a deep breath behind the camera. You could also see him in the reflection of the closet.

Jackie: This is Mimo (it’s a cushion of a bunny) and he’s my best friend’s bunny. I’ve been able to take this cushion of with me so that I can always think about Mimo and Jenny because I miss them a lot when I’m here in Manchester. I also have a sweater here from training with Manchester United. As most of you will probably already know, I’ve always played with number 14 and I’m lucky enough to be able to play with that number here at Manchester United as well. That’s something I’m very proud of if I’m being honest. I’ve always been a huge fan of Johan Cruyff and I’m always very proud whenever I get to wear the number 14.

Interviewer: Very cool.

Jackie: Alright, here we have the first bathroom. I’ve never actually watched MTV Cribs before, so I don’t really know how people present their bathrooms to the camera.

Interviewer: I’ve never watched MTV Cribs either, but I can tell you that this is a very nice bathroom.

Jackie: People brush their teeth here.

Interviewer: (laughs). I hope that people brush their teeth in the bathroom. People at home, if you don’t brush your teeth, then start now!

Jackie: One of my favourite things about my apartment is obviously my bedroom.

Interviewer: If you have the same bed in your own bedroom as you do in your guest bedroom, then you know that the guests are really well cared for. That is really good to see. I’m adding points on for that!

Jackie: Another of my favourite things about my house is the view. At the moment, you can’t see too much because of the rain. That gives you a good idea about what the weather is like in Manchester.

Interviewer: I was just about to say, that’s typical in Manchester. The view is really pretty though.

Jackie: And here is my very very first guitar. I began playing on this guitar in Frankfurt. I take this guitar with me if I ever go with the girls to the park or somewhere like that. I’m still very careful with it though, as it’s my first ever guitar

Interviewer: I used to play guitar as well. The fact that you have the courage to play the guitar in front of a crowd of in public is very impressive and something I never would have done. I am intrigued though to know how long you’ve played the guitar for.

Jackie: Ummmm I think I’ve been playing the guitar for around 3 years, but I’ve only started taking it more seriously in the past 6 months or so with taking lessons. In Germany, I also had some lessons, but there weren’t very many of them. At the moment though, I play a lot and take a lot more lessons than I used to. I try to have 1-2 lessons every week and I try and play as much as I can before I go to bed so that I can keep improving. I’m still not very good, but I can play some songs. For example, if my dad is sitting on the couch in the evening, or if we are sitting by the heater, I always find it fun to then play a song on my guitar. Slowly but surely, I’m getting better and better at playing.

Interviewer: *says something about the Easter egg in the video and not wanting to spoil anything*

Jackie: Moving on, this is my record player. I’m obsessed with LPs and I find it lovely to put some music on in the evening before I go to bed. Because of my dad, most of my LPs are from the 70s and 80s.

Interviewer: *sees Black Stories in the cabinet* Black Stories is a fantastic game. It’s good to see that you play that game too. But LPs are old music aren’t they? I see and LP of the Beatles, which I like listening too as well. No modern music ever comes out on LPs though, so what do you listen to? Do you only listen to older music?

Jackie: There’s a bit of everything here. 80s music, Beatles, Queen, Jeff Buckley. My absolute favourite LP though is this one of Jim Croce. My dad first introduced me to his music and now I listen to it nonstop. I also love Fleetwood Mac, which is in the record player right now.

Interviewer: I think that most of the people watching this show will have never heard of Jim Croce. This type music is really not something I would enjoy listening to. But I do like that you have such a specific taste in music. You could have also listened to the Top 40 or Despacito.

Jackie: This is something that might be nice to show everyone. I feel like I don’t look at it enough, but I always enjoy holding it. This is the medal from when we became European Champions in 2017. I also have the silver medal from the World Cup in 2019 here where we got 2nd place and lost against the USA. Hopefully now everyone has forgotten about that though (laughs).

Interviewer: That’s still super cool though. A silver medal from the World Cup and a gold medal from the Euros is something that not many footballers can say they’ve achieved.

Jackie: Moving onto my nightstand, I have a picture of all my friends. One of my friends made this painting of us. She’s a very good artist. This is actually my friendgroup, and this painting reminds me of them a lot. And umm... (picks up book of crossword puzzles)

Interviewer: Yes! Zweedse Puzzelboekje (crossword puzzles). Those puzzles are so fun people!

Jackie: I know, I’m old (I guess because she likes doing those types of puzzles that makes her old).

Interviewer: If you’re old then I’m old too.

Jackie: Alright, on to the second bathroom. I think they call this an en-suite. Here is also a place where people brush their teeth.

Jackie: Alright, moving on again. Welcome to my living room/kitchen. This is the room where I study a lot. I also have my Player of the Match award from the World Cup semi-final game against Sweden.

Interviewer: A Player of the Match award is so cool to get, and especially in the semi-finals of a World Cup. It doesn’t even seem that much smaller than the trophy you’d get if you won the whole competition. Obviously they can’t give the big trophy to everyone though. That award is still super cool though.

Jackie: This is my most recent player of the match award from last Sunday from the game against Tottenham.

Interviewer: I think they have those awards in the Premier League for every game as well. Super cool that you have one of those.

Jackie: Someday I’ll make a nice decoration with all these Player of the Match awards.

Jackie: Welcome to my kitchen! I’ll give you guys a small look at what’s in my refrigerator. There’s not too many interesting things in here. I have some fruit and some yoghurt in my fridge.

Interviewer: I think I see some vanilla yoghurt or honey, one of those two things. There are lots of Dutch foods in the fridge though, which is good to see even if you’re in Manchester.

Jackie: Something that is more fun to tell you about is my guilty pleasure. I am obsessed with beschuit met muisjes (a sort of cake like thing with sprinkles - it’s a little hard to explain, so here’s a link to a picture: https://www.iamexpat.nl/lifestyle/lifestyle-news/strange-and-funny-dutch-traditions-beschuit-met-muisjes). I always have some beschuit and some muisjes here, as my dad always brings them for me from the Netherlands.

Interviewer: I assume that they don’t have De Ruijter (company that makes muisjes and hagelslag) in England, so it’s good to see that there’s still lots of Dutch foods in your kitchen in England.

 Jackie: On to the living room, and this is where I relax a lot. I lay on the couch a lot to recover after trainings. For me, this is the most comfy part of the house. I’m always ver relaxed here.

Interviewer: I see another guitar there.

Jackie: Now, this second guitar is one of my most prized possessions. I bought this right before the lockdown and I am really proud of this guitar. I try and play some songs on it as much as I can in the evening.

Interviewer: Now this is the third or fourth time that music has come up on this tour and the second or third time that the guitar has come up. I don’t know if I dare to ask you this, but Jackie, I think that you should play a little bit of a song for the viewers of the show and for me.

Jackie: Now, I don’t play very much on camera because I’m not very good yet.

*plays song and sings*

Interviewer: I did not expect this at all! Jackie can sing! You acted as if you were shy and didn’t want to play the guitar, but then you started singing as well.

Jackie: The song goes on like that for a while, and for the viewers, anyone who can guess that song has a good taste in music.

Interviewer: Unfortunately, I do not know that song. Clearly I don’t have much knowledge about music.

Jackie: Another fun little thing to know is that since the lockdown, I have a Nintendo switch. I must say that I’ve used this quite a lot. Especially when some of my teammates where living with me in my house and we all played Mario Kart. A little secret about that that I have to tell you as well is that we always used the Player of the Match award from the World Cup to hold conversations and give a little speech (thanking your parents friends, etc - think about thank you speeches after awards ceremeonies) thanking people after someone won a game of Mario Kart.

Jackie: This is my balcony.

Interviewer: That’s really high up.

Jackie: It’s really nice to have. I’ll point to some things now.

*points* Here are some restaurants that I would usually eat at frequently.

*points again* That’s one of my dad’s favourite restaurants.

Interviewer: I’m not very familiar with the city of Manchester and I don’t recognize the area that you live in, but is the stadium close to your apartment?

Jackie: *points towards stadium* The Man United stadium is right over there behind that building. It’s about a 10 minute walk away from my apartment. I go there quite a bit as well.

Interviewer: A 10 minute walk?! That’s so nice to have the stadium so close.

Jackie: So, from rainy Manchester, I’d like to say thank you for watching my crib tour. I hope you enjoyed watching, and I hope to see everyone very soon again in the Netherlands. Bye!

Interviewer’s report of Jackie’s crib tour:

Inside Challenge: 5/5. I think that everyone who saw that was flabbergasted by your singing.

Football Factor: 3,25/5. The location relative to the stadium is perfect for a footballer. The fact that you can walk 10 minutes to the training as well is so nice to have as a footballer.

Food: 5/5 I saw a lot of Dutch food there, and you also get some bonus points for the beschuit met muisjes.

Chill area: 2,75/5. The chill area was okay. I don’t think you need much room for a chill area as long as there is somewhere to brush your teeth (laughs).

Final score: 4,5/5

#jackie groenen #translations

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truecrimesposts · 5 years ago

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THE TORTURE MOTHER - PART THREE - The Tragic Death Of Sylvia Likens

Now living in the basement of the home, Sylvia’s lack of access to a toilet, or even to a bucket, leading her to have to urinate and defecate on the floor of the basement. Gertrude created a ‘bathing regime’ for Sylvia, which consisted of tying the girls hands and feet, dunking her into scalding hot water and then rubbing handfuls of rock salt onto her skin.

It was around this time that Gertrude got herself a ‘personal assistant’ for dealing with Sylvia, this assistance came from Ricky Hobbs, a 14 year old honor student from a middle class family nearby, who had never gotten in trouble with the law prior to this. Reportedly, Ricky’s personality changed almost as soon as he met Gertrude and the family, and it was actually rumoured that Gertrude was molesting the young boy, and using this is a way to ‘seduce’ the boy into taking the ‘job’.

It was also around this time that the neighbourhood kids really began to get involved, with the Baniszewski children overseeing and actually profiting off of their involvement. The kids would charge the kids in the neighbourhood in order to get involved, from simply seeing Sylvia naked, since she was forced to remain naked while in the basement, to pushing the young girl down the basement stairs.

As well as being kept naked, Sylvia was very rarely fed, and when she was, it was in strange almost torturous ways, such as having to eat a bowl of soup with her fingers. In place of actual food, Sylvia was fed disgusting things, she was forced by Gertrude and usually by Gertrude’s 12 year old son John Jr to ‘clean’ the basement, which entailed her collecting and being forced to eat her own feces. She would also be forced to urinate in containers and drink it in place of water.

Seeing how severe the abuse was growing by this point, Jenny managed to overcome her fear of Gertrude and actually managed to sneak a letter to the girls older sister Diana, telling her everything that was happening in the home. However, Diana didn’t take the letter seriously, believing Jenny to be exaggerating because she wasn’t happy, and instead wanted to be allowed to live with Diana and her family, and so she was in no rush to go and check on the girls. When she did go to check on the girls however, she was not permitted to enter the home, which naturally made her very suspicious and very concerned, and when Gertrude threatened to call the police, Diana hid just around the corner, hoping that Jenny or Sylvia would leave the home and walk by her. At some point she found Jenny, but the young girl was terrified and shaking and told her older sister that she wasn’t ‘allowed to talk’, before running back to the home. Diana did all she could, contacting social services and expressing her concern about the Baniszewski home. It is not known for sure whether Diana told them or showed them the letter which Jenny had sent her previously. However, when social services paid the family a visit, Gertrude claimed that Sylvia no longer lived in the home. She claimed that Sylvia had been thrown out for being a prostitute, and a bad influence on her own children, and Jenny had already been told that if she told the social worker the truth she would be thrown into the basement to love with Sylvia. Clearly a check of the home either didn’t take place or wasn’t done very thoroughly, since the social worker left the home with no concerns, and wrote a report claiming that no further visits were needed.

This is probably one of the most saddening parts of this case, is the amount of times someone or something could have put an end to this horrific abuse before it was too late.

Besides the Vermillion’s, and this social worker, there were several other people who knew and did nothing. When Judy Duke, who was 12 years old saw the treatment which Sylvia was enduring, she returned home and actually told her mother that “they were beating and kicking Sylvia”. Apparently not concerned, her mother reportedly responded that they were punishing the girl and that it was her own fault for misbehaving.

Another person who spent time in the home and expressed no concern, was Reverend Roy Julian, who visited the home more than once during this time. The first time that he visited, he drank coffee with Gertrude, who complained about Sylvia to him, claiming that she was a prostitute and that she was pregnant despite the fact that it was actually her own daughter, Paula who was pregnant. Gertrude and Reverend Roy Julian reportedly prayed for Sylvia before he left. When he returned to the home a few weeks later, he actually spoke with Paula, who admitted to having hatred in her heart for Sylvia, with Gertrude rushing to try and assure him of the opposite. The unusual behaviour and the state of the home was apparently not enough for him to think anything was wrong, and he said nothing, and reportedly never even spoke to Sylvia.

Police were actually called to the Baniszewski home on the evening of October 20th, but it was not for the crimes against Sylvia, but because a young boy from the neighbourhood, Robert Bruce Hanlon was attempting to break into the home, wanting to take back something that he believed the Baniszewski children had taken from his basement. The police did not check the home, and none of the children said anything about what was happening to Sylvia, likely partially due to how scared they were of Gertrude, especially in Jenny’s case. While the police were parked outside of the home, Phyllis Vermillion came outside and actually spoke to the officers, trying to speak on the young boys behalf, and despite having witnessed some pretty severe abuse against Sylvia and already being in a conversation with the police, she said nothing.

After her time in the basement, Stephanie and John Jr, brought Sylvia upstairs, tying her to one of the beds in the home at Gertrude’s request, The young girl was told that if she made it through the night without wetting the bed, she would once again be allowed to sleep upstairs. However upon waking, Gertrude quickly realised that the mattress was damp, and once again forced the young girl to strip for her sons and neighbourhood boys, forcing her to once again masturbate with a glass bottle, afterwards being allowed to dress once again.

There was reportedly an eerie silence from Gertrude after this, where it seemed as though she was desperately trying to find something else to be angry about. A few moments passed before she began to scream at the young girl, shouting “you have branded my daughters so i will brand you!”

Sylvia was then stripped, tied down and gagged while one of the Baniszewski children, under Gertrude’s orders used matches to heat up a sewing needle until the metal glowed a bi=right orange. Once it was hot enough, Gertrude used the needle to carve and burn the letter I and part of an m on the young girls stomach as the kids held her down. Gertrude then handed the needle to Ricky Hobbs, telling him to carve “I’m a prostitute and proud of it” into her stomach. The young boy carved 23 and a half letters into the stomach of a screaming and sobbing young girl, while all the kids held her down and watched. Part way through the torture, Ricky had to stop, but not because he felt bad, or because he was disgusted, but because he didn’t know how to spell the word prostitution. Gertrude had to actually write out the spelling on a scrap of paper so he could complete the cruel message. The burns and wounds caused to the young girls stomach were reportedly so severe that even modern day plastic surgery would not have been able to correct it and remove the scars.

Gertrude then reportedly left the room, but some of the children, Ricky, Paula, and Shirley, who as just 10 years old, weren’t done with her, deciding that they wanted to brand another message into her skin. Ricky drew the lower half of an ‘S’, which was believed to stand for slave, on her chest, before ordering Jenny to do the rest. However, dispute the threats she endured, Jenny refused, and the needle was instead handed to 10 year old Shirley, but she messed it up, and it ended up saying ‘3’ instead.

After this happened, Gertrude returned to the room, reportedly mocking the girl and saying, “What are you going to do now Sylvia? You can’t get married now, you can’t undress in front of anyone...what are you going to do now?”. Now un-gagged, the string young girl reportedly responded “I guess there’s nothing i can do. It’s on there.”

It was at this point that Ricky, apparently not content with burning and carving 24 letters into he young girl, took Sylvia back down to the basement, and practiced his judo on the young injured girl for a while before leaving her wounded, naked and alone in the basement. When Jenny visited her sister in secret, she recalled Sylvia telling her that “I’m going to die, I can tell”.

Reportedly realising how severe Sylvia’s new wounds were, Gertrude collected Sylvia, allowing her to sleep in one of the beds upstairs instead of the basement, and she was allowed to sleep util noon of October 23rd, at which point she was woken up by Gertrude and Stephanie, who for the first time in quite a while, gave Sylvia a warm soapy bath, and then dressed the young girl in clean clothes, before they sat the young girl down to write a letter to her parents, which was dictated entirely by Gertrude. The letter read:

Dear Mr and Mrs Likens,

I went with a gang of boys in the middle of the night. And they said that they would pay me if i would give them something so I got in the car and they all got what they wanted...and when they got finished they beat me up and left sores on my face and all over my body.

And they also put on my stomach, I am a prostitute and proud of it.

I have done just about everything I could do just to make Gertie mad and cause Gertie more money than she’s got. I’ve tore up a new mattress and peed on it. I have also cost Gertie doctor bills that she can’t really pay and made Gertie a nervous wreck and all her kids.

She was told to not sign the letter.

It was after this that Gertrude, within earshot of Sylvia began to plan what to do with her. She planned to have John Jr and Jenny take Sylvia over to the dump, where she would be left to die. Upon hearing this, Sylvia plucked up the courage to make a run for the door, but in her ill and wounded state, she moved so slowly that Gertrude managed to catch Sylvia as she reached the door, taking her back to the kitchen. For the first time in quite some time, Gertrude made Sylvia some food, cooking her a slice of toast which was laid in front of her. Sadly, Sylvia was unable to swallow by this point, she had grown too weak, leading Gertrude to grab the curtain pole in the kitchen, hitting her right in the mouth with the pole.

Sylvia was then taken back down to the basement and tied up while they essentially waited for her to waste away. While in the basement, Gertrude offered Sylvia a plate of crackers, to which Sylvia reportedly responded “Feed it to the dog. It’s hungrier than I am.” Before she left the basement, Gertrude pinched Sylvia in her wound covered stomach repeatedly before leaving her on her own in the basement.

Apparently tired of waiting for the young girl to simply withering away, and knowing that if Sylvia recovered somehow, that she and her entire families crimes against her would certainly be discovered, On October 24th Gertrude attempted to bludgeon Sarah to death. She first attempted to hit the young girl with a chair, but she missed and ended up breaking the chair to pieces against the wall. She then proceeded to attempt to hit her with the wooden paddle which she had beaten the young girl with so many times before, but somehow ended up hitting herself with the paddle instead, giving herself a black eye. Ricky then hit the girl unconscious and they left her in the basement once again. During the night, and into the early hours of the morning, Sylvia used every ounce of strength that she could muster and hit the floor over and over and over again with the metal part of a scoop that had been left in the basement.

Tragically the neighbour’s, who did hear this noise, decided against contacting the police, and once again no one came to rescue the young girl who was so desperate for help.

On October 26th, when Gertrude said she wanted to give the young girl a warm bath, Ricky and Stephanie went to collect her, carrying her upstairs and putting her in the empty bathtub fully clothed, at which point they realised that the young girl wasn’t breathing. The children removed her from the bath and Stephanie actually tried to give her CPR, but it was tragically too late, and Sylvia was already dead.

The young girls body was taken back to the basement and stripped, at which point Ricky went to a nearby payphone to call the police, as there wasn’t a phone within the home, and upon their arrival. However, during the commotion, a terrified Jenny Likens plucked up the courage to whisper to one of the officers, “Get me out of here, and I’ll tell you everything.”

Gertrude, Paula, Stephanie, John Jr, Ricky and Roy were arrested for murder, while Mike Monroe, Randy Lepper, Judy Duke, and Siscoe were arrested for ‘injury to a person. The charges against Siscoe, Monroe, Duke and Lepper were quickly dismissed, but the Baniszewski’s, Roy and Ricky were held in jail without bail.

After some time, the murder charges against Stephanie were also dropped.

During the investigation, the autopsy into Sylvia’s murder revealed the sheer number and severity of the wounds that she had sustained during her time in the Baiszewski residence. It revealed:

Up to one hundred cigarette burns, various second and third degree burns, severe bruising, muscle and nerve damage, her lips were almost severed from biting through them, her vaginal cavity was almost swollen shut (though her hymen was intact, discrediting the ‘reasons’ that Gertrude had given for her abuse), and the official cause of death was discovered to be brain swelling, internal brain hemorrhaging and shock.

Paula was convicted of second degree murder, but after winning an appeal for a new trial, she plead guilty to involuntary manslaughter, for which she served just 3 years before moving to Iowa under a brand new identity.

John Jr, Roy and Ricky were found guilty of involuntary manslaughter, and due to their young age they were sentenced to just 18 months. Upon his release at 17, Ricky, who had been very heavily involved in the case, suffered a nervous breakdown when coming to terms with what he had done, and he started to smoke so heavily that within for years, at just 21, he died of lung cancer.

Gertrude was sentenced to 18 years to life. During her sentence, she became a model prisoner who became a caring figure for her fellow inmates and sickeningly earned herself the nickname ‘Mom’. And she was put up for parole.

Jenny Likens actually appeared on TV with her family, begging for her release to be stopped, gaining the support of the Protect The Innocent movement and the League Against Molestation movement, who actually traveled to Indianna to start a sidewalk picket campaign, collecting at least 4500 signatures. However despite all of this, she was granted parole after being deemed not a threat. Her statement upon gaining her parole was “I’m not sure what role I had in it...because i was on drugs.” I never really knew her...I take full responsibility for whatever happened to Sylvia”. She was released on December 4th, 1985 and moved to Iowa under the name, Nadine Van Fossan, where she died of lung cancer in 1990.

Stephanie, who’s charges were dropped, took a new name and actually ended up working as a school teacher, which is completely terrifying to me, though reportedly she hasn’t re-offended since getting away from her mother.

John Jr, changed his name to John Blake, and lived a quiet life, working as a truck driver, before finding work as a real estate agent and lay minister. He never offended again and ended up marrying and having 3 children of his own, living in anonymity until 98, after the ‘Jonesboro Massacre’ when he came forward for the first time to talk about Sylvia. John discussed how he took full responsibility for his heinous actions, expressed deep remorse, and said that he believed a harsher sentence for all those involved, including himself, would have been far more just.

#true #true crime #true facts #Gertrude Baniszewski #Crime #Criminal justice #crime and punishment #american crime #killer #kill #The torture mother #Torture #sylvia likens #psychology

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justkindaoverhereobsessing · 5 years ago

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okay hear me out - 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19 and twenty. for the ask thingy, please ma'am

Gonna go ahead and tag @wanna-be-bold here because your ask clearly had some overlap with Sofia’s mega-ask. XD

1. who is the hardest character for you to write? Anyone outside of my normal ships, lol. I’m pretty comfortable with Tiva but you throw Vance (and his toothpick) in there? I’m gonna struggle.

2. who is the easiest character for you to write? Ziva, I think, or an original character I wrote years ago. Characters I really feel like I understand!

3. How do you know if your writing is “in character”? I don’t, lmao. I just write what feels right and then hope for the best!

4. Where do your story ideas come from? YOU SOF. And sometimes other places too, lol. But seriously, a lot of my ideas are sparked from the fics of other writers! I love a good “what if” that stems from a different “what if”.

5. Do you tell the people in your life that you write fics? Lmao. Well you know my mom read WAAO so you really think I keep any secrets after that? Everyone in my life knows what I love and I don’t hesitate to talk their ears off about it all!

6. What has been the hardest fic for you to write? We Are an Ocean, definitely. There’s so much more range to it than anything else I’ve ever written, so I’ve had to figure out how to shift gears from smut to fluff to plot to angst and back again!

7. What fic of yours makes you the most emotional? The Place Where the Light Enters, a very old collab I never finished, lmao. That story saw me through some tough times and we put our characters through some REAL TOUGH times, too! Actually, one of my tattoos relates back to it, lol. “I picked up a pen; I wrote my own deliverance.”

8. What is a scene you wrote that you are most proud of? Gotta be some scene from That We May Forgive, but I’m not sure which one. I just know that’s the fic I’m most proud of!

9. Is there one character that you refuse to write? why? Ehhhhhh not really. But there are definitely characters I don’t enjoy writing. Jenny Shepard, lookin’ at you!

10. When you write fics, how much of canon are you willing to ignore/skip over? Lmao. Depends on the day, my mood, and the fic in question. I love AUs so really I’m willing to throw everything out the window. Suck it, canon writers. You don’t own me.

11. Do you prefer to be cold or hot when you write? COLD COLD COLD COLD COLD. I’m allergic to the cold but I would love to be cold for my whole life, so long as I have a decent supply of quilts and hot tea. I can’t focus when it’s too hot... living in Ghana was a STRUGGLE.

12. What is your ideal writing area? I usually write in bed, laptop in my lap and my back leaning on a pillow propped against the wall. It’s not ideal but I don’t have a desk so it’s become MY “ideal”.

13. How do you come up with your titles? I have zero creativity in my body so I’ll decide on a theme and then google quotes for that theme. For example, for a fic I referenced earlier, the theme was healing. I found the quote “The wound is the place where the Light enters you.” (Rumi) The fic then became titled as a shortened version of that quote, The Place Where the Light Enters.

14. How do you come up with chapter titles? I never title my chapters, lol.

15. At what point in writing a fic, do you decide to quit? I... okay, I can’t truthfully say what I was about to say. I WANTED to say “I don’t quit fics” but I have definitely abandoned a few in my day. (Haven’t done that for years, though.) Unless this question really means when I decide a fic is finished and ready to be published, in which case my answer is that I throw a dart at my nonexistent plotting paper and end the fic wherever it lands. I’m terrible at ending things, lol.

16. How much of your personal life do you put into fics? Oof. Enough to be offended by this question, lmao. I sometimes use events from my personal life to inspire or plot fics, but more often, I explore my own confused emotions by making characters feel similar ones and writing it out.

17. What is the most supportive comment you have gotten? Definitely something from you, @indestinatus, the queen of fic comments (and also the queen of fics, shush). But I’ve gotten some really really nice ones from strangers, too, especially on ff.net.

18. What is the most negative comment you have gotten? Well this is embarrassing to admit. My first ever fic when I was... eh, ten years old? I tried to post it on Mugglenet, the only fanfic site I’ve ever been on that needed fics to be approved. My fic was rejected and the mod who rejected it said my main character was a Mary Sue. I’ve never recovered.

19. How do you handle negative comments? I genuinely don’t get them often, so I’m not sure how to answer. People are usually really really nice.

20. What story that you have written makes you the happiest to re-read? That We May Forgive! I poured my heart and soul into it.

#sofia i love you #my typing hands will never recover from the 17 hours of work they put into answering this ask #but it's fine cause i love #YOU #thank you for asking! <3 #lmao you're just always getting ever-deeper looks into my soul aren't ya

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whiskynottea · 5 years ago

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An Interruption in the 1st Law of Thermodynamics.

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16, Chapter 17, Chapter 18, Chapter 19, Chapter 20, Chapter 21, Chapter 22, Chapter 23, Chapter 24, Chapter 25, Chapter 26, Chapter 27, Chapter 28, Chapter 29, Chapter 30, Chapter 31, Chapter 32, Chapter 33, Chapter 34, Chapter 35, Chapter 36, Chapter 37, Chapter 38, Chapter 39, Chapter 40, Chapter 41, Chapter 42, Chapter 43, Chapter 44, Chapter 45, Chapter 46, Chapter 47, Chapter 48, Chapter 49, Chapter 50, Chapter 51 Chapter 52, Chapter 53, Chapter 54, Chapter 55, Chapter 56

AO3

Thank you @theministerskat for your beta! ❤️

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Chapter 57. Juggling and Swimming

Jugglers.

People skilled enough to throw three, four, five balls into the air, and with swift and precise maneuvers of their hands, keep them flying over their head. Easily. While smiling.

I remember watching them as a child, open-mouthed, mesmerized. I always kept my eyes on the fast-moving balls, as if studying their hands would steal the magic away. As a consequence, I never tried juggling myself. I was sure that I would drop the little balls -- or lemons, I had seen a guy juggling at the side of the road using the yellowest lemons once -- even before throwing them up in the first place.

Maybe if I had tried to juggle before, my life at university would be easier. Because it felt like juggling. I often found myself lying on my bed after midnight with my eyes closed, not because I sought sleep, but because I was trying to imagine how I would manage to keep all the tasks I had undertaken -- my very own lemons -- successfully flying around me and not send them crashing to the ground.

If I finish this essay on Tuesday night, and then start with the presentation for Dr. Raymond after Wednesday’s practical…

No.

If I first work on the presentation, on Monday…

Shit. We have the ‘Dissection Drinks’ on Monday night. I can’t miss it again.

No matter how I tried to schedule my tasks, my lemons were one too many.

Jenny had called me twice that week, and both times I had texted back, explaining that I was in the middle of a lecture and I would call her later. Texts had never been Jenny’s preferred means of communication. Which was more than odd, since she had to be the only Gen Z-er who hated texts. With practicals after my lecture and heading to the library to prepare for the tutorials after that, later had become tomorrow, and tomorrow became the day after.

Don’t forget to call Jenny, I would think to myself at the most irrelevant and inconvenient times. Tomorrow morning. I will call her tomorrow. Before she comes down to Oxford herself and I have to justify the radio silence to Jenny face-to-face.

With Joe things were different. He demanded pictures from my college, my dorm, and my textbooks, so we could compare our respective medical schools and start bickering about whose university was better. It was utterly ridiculous and we both knew it -- since mine was the Oxford University and there was no real competition, to begin with. Not that Joe would ever agree with that notion. We usually texted when I was in the library and ended up writing in caps, our conversation nothing more than ludicrous arguments. I had choked more than once in my desperate attempt to swallow my laughter, but it was more difficult to pretend that I wasn’t aware of the irritated glances shot at me from my fellow students who were trying to study in silence. To Gail’s utter despair, Joe kept arguing with me even when they were together, and on top of that, he tried to pull her into the debate. When Gail grabbed his phone and started talking New York bagels and pancakes, I knew the conversation was over.

Apart from feeling totally overwhelmed by the workload, life at Oxford was good. More than good. Mary and I got along fine, and when we weren’t deep in the library researching for the essays we had to prepare for Dr. Hildegard’s or Dr. Raymond’s tutorials, we had late nights together with Malva and Davie, drinking beers and discussing professors and medics from other colleges. Davie had proposed we call ourselves the very humble ‘Lifesavers’, while I was inclined more towards Malva’s ‘Where’s the Finish’. We settled for ‘Four Angry Pencils’ and we were very proud of our little team.

Texting with Jamie was a constant. He was becoming more and more stressed as his meet in New Jersey approached, and I pulled out all my feel good moves to calm him down. Silly, sweet gifs in the middle of the day, ridiculous voice messages, goofy selfies... We stopped calling in the morning because he was literally running to the pool the moment he woke, and we kept our conversations short at night because he was usually exhausted and needed sleep. No matter how much I smiled or played the fool, he was getting more distant as the days passed by.

“Ye don’t understand, Claire,” he would say, again and again, even though I insisted that I did understand. “It’s very important to do well in this meet.”

I would spend the rest of the call reassuring him that I knew how much the meet meant to him and that he would do great, until at last, he would mumble that I was right and he shouldn’t be so nervous, but that he couldn’t help it. By the time we would say goodnight, he would become my sweat Scot again, sure of himself and his abilities. Until the next morning.

The Wolverines departed for New Jersey on a rainy Tuesday -- or at least it was drizzling in Oxford. When he was with his teammates, Jamie fell back into being much closer to his old self. He was sending pictures of himself and John making silly faces or smiling like loons, and when he called, his voice sounded aloof, unconcerned. I wasn’t sure whether he strived to maintain a cool facade in front of the others or if he really relaxed around them. I could see that the strain back on his face, however, a frown establishing itself between his eyebrows, the moment he was alone.

“No matter what happens tomorrow, know that we are very proud of you and that won’t change,” I told him the night before the competition and saw him heaving a deep sigh, his chest deflating.

“What if I fail, Claire? What if I’m not as good as they thought I would be? I can’t continue here without the scholarship and I don’t want to go back to Scotland like that.”

I looked him in the eye and put on my most serious face. “Jamie,” I intoned, trying to keep my voice harsh on purpose. “Stop doing that. It’s not fair! You’re doing a disservice to yourself, can’t you see that?”

“What if --”

“There are no what-ifs. I’ll have none of that,” I announced as if I was his mother and he was asking for another scoop of ice-cream. “You will go out there, and you will swim. Remember what I had written on your birthday cake last year?”

I could still see the dark blue buttercream letters if I closed my eyes. Not my most beautiful work, but it had served its purpose.

“Just keep swimming,” Jamie replied, and I could swear I saw a smile crack on his lips.

“Just keep swimming, Jamie. I’ve seen you swim, I’ve been there. You swim because you love to. And you’re good at it because when you’re in the pool, you feel free. Don’t be afraid, you stupid Scot! Live it! Go out there and enjoy yourself!”

He rubbed his face with his palms, then ran a hand through his hair. “Ye’re right, I guess.”

“I am. I always am,” I amended. “You should know it by now.”

Jamie snorted, but didn’t disagree. He was smiling now. A wide, toothy smile. “I will think of you the entire time,” I said, softly. “You won’t be alone, I promise.”

Jamie nodded but didn’t speak.

“I won’t be in the bleachers but I will be thinking of you,” I said again and felt the guilt painfully squeezing my heart. Jamie needed me and I had chosen to stay in Oxford. Not that it had been the wrong decision. It just hadn’t been the right one, either.

“I ken, babe. ‘Tis irrational, this worry.” The camera lost focus as Jamie moved to lie in bed. When his beautiful blue eyes were back on mine, I gave him my biggest smile.

“It is. Don’t let it eat at you. But first, you need to get some rest, and I need to go to bed because we have Hildegard’s tutorial tomorrow and it’s a pain in the arse.”

We ended the call and I returned to my room, my heavy steps the only sound in the corridors. Speaking with Jamie before he went to bed had made me Oxford’s resident nocturnal animal. I fell asleep the moment my head sank oin to the pillow and dreamed of swimming pools, wet auburn curls, and finishing times.

Jamie was more cheerful the following day, but I could tell he still wasn’t completely himself. I went on with my pep talk as I had prepared it, trying to boost his confidence in a break between two practicals, and promised again that I would be thinking of him. Before hanging up I risked sending him a ridiculously loud kiss while wishing no one was around to hear it. I returned to the class keeping my head low, in case anyone would identify me as the silly girl kissing a screen.

I hadn’t wished Jamie good luck, because I planned on calling him again right before his race. It was our little tradition since we had been in Scotland. He would say “I will imagine that I’m swimming towards you, Sassenach,” and I would reply, “Come find me, then, ridiculous Scot.”

It was cheesier than I could usually handle, but Jamie insisted that he loved the way I blushed every time before I said my part. And that was the reason he demanded we hold onto our own version of ‘good luck’.

I spent a good part of the practical checking the time, counting down the hours to Jamie’s race. It was two hours later when Mary stood in front of me, asking if I was ready for Hildegard’s tutorial. I was ready to nod when I checked my bag and realized I had forgotten the USB drive with our presentations back in the dorm. And like that, we found ourselves running in the rain, boots splashing through puddles and breaths hitching in our throats, frantic to get the flash drive and be back before the tutorial started.

We made it. We entered the class with our cheeks red, our hair matted on our faces and coats soaked in water, but we made it on time. Dr. Hildegard crooked an eyebrow but gestured towards two empty seats without any verbal comment, and I felt immensely grateful towards the taciturn professor.

The tutorial was amazing. Dr. Hildegard was so serious and collected, that she kept making jokes we only got when it was too late. She managed to stop Mary’s stuttering while she was a few slides in her presentation by subtly praising her work, and after mentioning a few points I should have addressed differently in mine, she concluded that it was one of the best presentations she had seen from a fresher. I beamed and nodded repeatedly my thanks before I found my voice to properly thank her.

When we left the tutorial, I realized that I had missed the time window for Jamie’s ‘good luck call’.

I had six unanswered calls and two texts on my phone.

Scot: We left the room and we’re heading to the pool.

Scot: Oh god, there are so many people here. I think the backstroke race is in fifteen minutes or so.

Scot: Sassenach?

Scot: A few minutes left, babe.

Scot: Where are you?

Scot: Claire? Where are you?

Scot: I’m going.

I wanted the earth to open beneath my feet and swallow me up. I had promised I would think of him during his race and instead I had been thinking of… physiology.

Not listening to what Mary was saying about our next tutorial, I called Jamie. It was an hour since I had received his last text and the race must be over now. He didn’t answer.

I called again. And again.

Feeling the tears rolling down my cheeks, I texted him.

Sassenach: How did it go?

It wasn’t enough.

Sassenach: I’m sorry I didn’t call.

Sassenach: I’m so, so, so sorry Jamie.

Sassenach: I was in Hildegard’s tutorial, and got carried away.

I waited for a minute after that, then called him again. Nothing. The initial plan was to leave the class at some point to call Jamie, but with presenting my work and then listening to the others... I had forgotten.

Sassenach: Jamie, please pick up your phone.

It wasn’t that terrible, was it? I didn’t say good luck before a race. A single race. I had talked to him that morning and every day before that. He knew that I would think of him��

I paused on this thought. I had said that I would think of him, but I didn’t. I wasn’t thinking of him at the time of the race. I had promised.

Pulling my hood over my head I walked back to the dorm, my eyes fixed on my phone.

Sassenach: I’m sorry.

Jamie needed me and I had disappointed him. And even though calling him for one last time didn’t seem that important to me, it obviously was important for him. I had messed up. Royally.

I entered my room and changed out of my clothes, but didn’t dare take a shower. He might reply at any moment. Maybe he hadn’t seen his phone yet. Maybe he was with the rest of the team, celebrating his victory. It wasn’t the end of the world.

As if there was a chance Jamie wouldn’t reply to my texts, no matter where he was.

It was irrational. He was irrational. I repeated that thought to myself, trying to smother the burning feeling that kept eating at my heart.

Jamie needed me and I hadn’t been there.

I wore an old t-shirt I had stolen from him when I visited Michigan and buried myself under the blankets. I unlocked my phone and kept looking at my screensaver. He was hugging me tight and we were both smiling at the camera.

It was just a call, it couldn’t be that bad. I had always been there. People make mistakes.

I looked at Jamie’s eyes in the picture, so slanted from his smile that I could barely see the blue in them. I called him again.

One more time.

And again.

Two hours had passed. I saw the lemons I had flying over my head, falling, crashing down.

I set my jaw, tried not to cry, and sent yet another text.

Sassenach: Call me. Please?

Chapter 58

#thermodynamics #the first law of thermodynamics #jamie x claire #high school AU #college AU #outlander fanfic #outlander fanfiction

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sam-not-samantha · 5 years ago

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The Blackwoods & the Rheiders

“A train wreck dynasty of cash stacks and funny farms.”

#sltask02

[Photos embedded, but not all characters have a faceclaim.]

The Blackwoods (Immediate)

Andrew Blackwood | Father | June 21, 1969-April 30, 2017 “Paycheck giver. Businessman. Quiet and kind, yet so apathetic.” Eliza Blackwood (née Rheider) | Mother | October 28, 1971-April 30, 2017 “Whiny bitch. Passive-aggressive. Judgmental. Tasteless. Fucking DEAD.” Samantha “Sam” Blackwood | Self | February 5, 1995 “Best fucking person you’ll ever meet.”

The Extended (And not-so-distant)

Jodi Rheider | Maternal aunt | July 1, 1975 “Anti-vaxer. Vegan. Cunt. Used to get cocktails with Kris Jenner.” Jenna Rheider | Maternal cousin | April 14, 1994 “Brainless twit. And a narc; ratted me out for doing coke only for her mom to do the rest.” Connor Rheider | Maternal cousin | November 2, 1999 “Quirky. Genius. Loves drones. Probably in charge of WikiLeaks.”

Luke Rheider | Maternal uncle | May 4, 1966 “Pretentious. Thinks old money is anything over a year. Football fan. Moron.” Charli Diamond | Maternal aunt-in-law | October 31, 1982 “Second wife. Thinks Luke’s gonna die soon, but she deserves gold. Refused the name.” Bastien Rheider | Maternal cousin | January 28, 1988 “One of the two actually cool people in this family. Sarcastic. Sick. Sweet.” Evie Rheider | Maternal first cousin, once removed | September 12, 2008 “Started sweet, is now fully demonic.”

Paul Blackwood | Paternal uncle | October 6, 1965 “Loudly republican. Loudly terrible. Horrible suits. Still calls me ‘Squirt’.” Charlotte Blackwood (née Gilfrey) | Paternal aunt-in-law | May 10, 1967 “If Ann Coulter was slightly younger and somehow slightly worse.” Kim Blackwood | Paternal cousin | August 1, 1987 “Couture PotteryBarn expert. Insufferable. Screechy. Trend-chaser.” George White | Cousin-in-law-to-be | November 7, 1980 “The manifestation of Kim’s daddy issues. Wedding date is permanently TBD.” Lisa Blackwood | Paternal cousin | April 9, 1989 “Mini-Eliza. Clothing terrorist. Should’ve been aborted.” Salvatore Stracci | Cousin-in-law-to-be | October 22, 1976 “Tall, Italian and scary. Also in a state of perpetual engagement and dissatisfaction.” Alessandro Blackwood | Paternal first cousin, once removed | May 31, 2010 “Had to hold him at a party once. He spat on me.”

Michael Blackwood | Patnernal uncle | May 1, 1967 “I legitimately don’t know if he and Paul are different people.” Natalie Blackwood (née Gainsbourg) | Paternal aunt-in-law | July 1, 1968 “Quiet, but clearly judgmental. Alopecia. Clings to Michael desperately.” Heather Blackwood | Paternal cousin | March 14, 1990 “The only sane woman. Editor at Harper’s Bazaar with Natalie. Goddess. Soul sister.”

Matthew Blackwood | Paternal uncle | Stillborn August 8, 1970

Dances– The Blackwoods | A Personal Essay (Written pre-parental death).

It was a dance.

It always was, no matter what. No, there was never any music. No stage. No choreography. But conversations with my mother were always an intricate samba on a tightrope.

It could begin at any moment, about anything. Simple small talk about where I went for brunch yesterday morning could turn into a bitchfest about my weight– as if being 110 was something to be ashamed of. The mere presence of an unopened, monthly bank statement could turn into a lecture about financial responsibility– as if she wasn’t surrounded by new, shiny things and maxed out AMEX cards. And, far more recently, a quick, innocent glance at the alcohol cabinet would have me sat down with some professional life coach while she watched, a vodkatini in hand.

Eliza Blackwood (born Eliza Rheider in 1971) was a bitch. An absolute bitch. A wretched, spoiled, high-strung, narcissistic, classist, borderline-anorexic, Valium-addicted, Shalimar-drenched, Kris Jenner-wannabe bitch. She was lucky she came from money, because if she wasn’t, I don’t think she’d be alive right now. I mean, I’m lucky, too, but I’m grateful for what I have.

Her parents were corporate assholes– her dad worked for Goldman Sachs, and his wife was a vapid, shrill, useless little brat not unlike her daughter. And, of course, that unloveable little bitch went and married someone who could satisfy her financial needs and not embarrass the family name– Andrew Blackwood, a New York politician from a family of Wall Street types (Some of whom also worked at Goldman Sachs, which is how the two met). On paper, they were a match made in heaven. A wealthy politician and his obnoxious jetsetter wife.

But, fortunately for me, even though I hadn’t been born quite yet, Andrew was a good, caring man. While Eliza was (and still is) ruthless, selfish and absolutely disgustingly horrible, Andrew had a heart. He cared about people. And things. Which was why he went into politics. He wanted to make a change. While his family was a bunch of wealthy Republicans, he was entirely Democratic, a fact that nearly alienated from them entirely (if only it had actually managed to keep his family out of my life) which is why I’m still in awe that he wound up with a pathetic Paris Hilton knockoff. A politician with a heart of gold wound up with a blue blood twat who measures her love in karats.

But back to her dances.

I’m not entirely sure where they come from. I mean, no matter how much you analyze someone and their family and upbringing and everything, you can’t pin point their personality traits and their behaviors. That said, I think I have a fair amount of clues as to where Eliza’s horrid personality came from.

While her relationship with her mother is mostly concealed to me, their lifestyle was no secret. Eliza always went on about how well she lived as a kid, how luxurious her house was, how high the thread count in the sheets of her crib was, and how she washed her face with caviar or something. But how she got along with her mother was never fully described. I’ve seen hints here and there– a glare across a table at a gala or whispers on the phone. But I don’t know too much. As far as I know, Eliza’s mother– Mrs. Karen Rheider– didn’t even bother to raise any of her three children. I wouldn’t have been surprised had they all been raised by a nanny while Karen went went on living as a trophy wife. But I assume that the two of them, when they did interact, got along the same way Eliza and I do– and that would make it safe to assume Eliza picked up her bitchy words, malicious intentions and passive-aggressive, condescending demeanor from her mother. The family bitchiness is hereditary.

Passive-aggressiveness is definitely a running trait in my family. I see it to an extent on my dad’s side– his brothers and him bicker endlessly, and they seem to show some slight disapproval for his opposing political stance, as if world views are trivial dinner conversation. But it pales in comparison to the Rheider family’s guilt. Aside from me, and my mother, I see it in the rest of the family.

My aunt Jodi, mother of two, is another disgusting person. Like Jenny McCarthy, she refused to vaccinate her kids because she believed it would make them autistic. Her son, Connor, has caught the flu every single year since he was six. The three (including her daughter Jenna) currently reside together at a nudist resort, where the kids were homeschooled… because they lack their immunizations. But that’s kind of besides the point– any time Jodi decides to dress up and sneak out into the world of normalcy, she misses no opportunity to make slick comments that everyone else in the family is living incorrectly. Thankfully, everyone else has mastered the art of clapback.

Eliza’s brother, Luke, and his wife, Charli (a full 16 years younger than him) are an obnoxiously pretentious couple who are all too proud of their FormDecor relationship and all too ashamed of everyone else’s. Luke has a son, Bastien, who he had with his first wife, that’s only 6 years younger than Charli. However, Bastien’s one of the few people on my mother’s side of the family that I actually enjoy. We share similar morals, and gratefulness for what we’ve been given, and spend every single family function together ripping the family apart. It’s a shame they never hear us.

Even the family elders have the same disapproving, condescending disdain for everything that my mom displays. But they’re far too silent around me to reveal anything noteworthy. The most words I’ve ever heard from my great grandmother Dorothy Cross (my mother’s mother’s mother), was scolding Jodi for her nudist colony being racially integrated, so it’s safe to say not much good was going to come from that generation. Fortunately, most of them are dead– Dorothy passed in 2011 (though her husband is still living off of a diamond-encrusted life support machine), and Eliza’s father’s parent’s are both long gone. Three out of Andrew’s four parents are deceased, his mother’s mother Clarissa Pullock (or something like that) is still alive, though I’ve never met her and probably never will– our first interaction will probably be at her funeral where I’m forced to pretend to mourn.

While Eliza’s family is dominated by a vile matriarchy, Andrew’s family has been dominated by powerful men with miniature dicks who made the Blackwood name known very much for investment banking until bank holding companies began to reign supreme, after which the family figured they would be better off in electoral politics. Andrew’s grandfather, Adam Blackwood, worked up a networth of slightly over $1 billion, and while his successors haven’t exactly been slacking, I don’t think any of them are ever going to do as well as him (but at the end of the day, if Andrew decided to have a bonfire using $100 bills as kindling, we’d recover before the fire even went out). Adam had two sons– Matthew and Bernard, and both received their jobs at Wall Street after him in a clear sign of nepotism. Bernard married a real estate agent named Elaine or Elle or something like that and had a million kids– most of which were boys. I don’t know much about them, and I don’t really care to. Matthew married some Janet something and had four kids– Paul (1965), Michael (1967), Andrew (1969), and Matthew Jr. (stillborn in 1970).

Unfortunately for this generation of men, who, unsurprisingly, continued the trend of nepotism and began work at the same place as their ancestors (save for Andrew who stayed in school, exploring his interests), none of them were able to produce any boys to continue the line. Paul was the first to reproduce– shooting out Kim and Lisa in 1987 and 1989, and as soon as the Kardashian sisters came around, they tried their hardest to be them but soon settled with just being their very close friends (and it’s safe to say I can’t stand any of them). Michael had Heather in 1990, and somehow, amidst a family of putrid, selfish monsters, she wound up a tasteful and snarky angel of hope. Like Bastien, we spend our family events together, an unholy trio of stylish black sheep.

And then finally, February 5, 1995, I came around. Eliza and Andrew had been married for about three years, and finally had me. Adam was still alive at the time and was praying for a great grandson– only to be disappointed for the fourth time. Almost as a sign of flippancy towards him, they named me Sam (well, Samantha, but I’ve grown accustomed to Sam and refuse to be called by my full first name unless I’m being charged with something). My mother made my middle name Elizabeth– because she hoped that I would follow in her footsteps. She once said naming me after her was “the biggest mistake” she ever made, which I don’t think is entirely unfair because taking after her is the last thing I ever want to do. And I’ve spent the last twenty-one years learning all of this.

People always say that blood is thicker than water, or whatever. That we’re supposed to stick with our families (over friends, or, well, anything). There’s been some mindset that family comes before all, that you honor your last name above anything and everything. I don’t believe that for one second. As if who happened to bang should determine everything about you. I despise almost all of that. And I won’t claim any of the ones that I don’t like for one second. I’ll take a tango any day. Fuck blood. And fuck the Blackwoods.

#sltask #sltask02

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princess-of-france · 5 years ago

Note

Also- since Love's Labour's Lost has been on the brain, and you are such a cool theatre person: dreamcast for LLL? Thank you so much!

OMFG MY FAVORITE COMEDY YES YES YES

*blows kazoo*

(Also, I’m cracking up at you thinking I’m a “cool theater person,” because I promise that’s a wonderfully accidental illusion; in reality, I’m just a cryptid who’s entire genetic makeup consists of triple-espresso lattes, Gmail push notifications, Shakespeare plays, and tears. But you’re very kind!)

Before I answer this amazing Ask, I think I should clarify that my dreamcast for LLL already exists — or, at least, it existed in 2018 — and I had the dazzling, life-affirming pleasure of seeing them perform my beloved plotless comedy at my favorite theater festival on the planet: the Oregon Shakespeare Festival.

So here’s to Amanda Dennart and her IMPECCABLE Love’s Labour’s Lost:

^^^ Yes, that is King Ferdinand of Navarre, played by the once and future Daniel José Molina, meeting the Princess of France — the fabulous Alejandra Escalante — with a paper bag over his motherfucking head so that he doesn’t break his kingly oath of Not Looking At Female For 3 Years. (Fun fact: these two are now married!)

[Photo credit: Jenny Graham.]

BUT NOW TO THE MAIN EVENT:

Critically, I think LLL is a play about eight young people experiencing love for the first time and struggling to reconcile that love with their desire to be the Cleverest Person in the Room. Like so many whip-smart young people, the Crazy Eight equate cavalier carelessness with power, but the problem is: true love requires radical, wholehearted, unbearable vulnerability. It demands chaos and madness and mess and mistakes. True love asks us to be willing to look like an idiot. And most young people just aren’t ready for that, the first time it happens. It’s why the ending of this play is so goddam devastating.

And it’s why it’s so important to me that my cast list for the Crazy Eight reflects the youth, innocence, and inexperience I see baked into every one of their lines. Love has to seem like a first-time visitor to all of them. Love has to shake up their worldview like a snow globe, bowl them over, and then leave them impermeably altered. Love has to be the thing that makes them grow up.

So, with that, I am proud to present...

~THE NAVARRE NERDS~

1. KING FERDINAND OF NAVARRE — Paapa Essiedu

Love of my complete life. I don’t know if there’s a better actor with a bigger heart anywhere on earth. His Henry VI was utterly inspired, so I know he can be Kingly. Plus, he’s a passionate advocate for decolonizing Shakespeare and making classical theater accessible to all and...yeah. I adore him.

2. BEROWNE — Anthony Boyle

THIS IDIOT. I had to find a picture of him laughing, because he’s played a lot of Moody Broody Types, but OMG when he cracks a grin... Anthony is just a jewel of an actor: versatile, intense, thoughtful, emotionally articulate. He’ll keep Paapa’s Ferdie laughing, but also bring out the big guns for Berowne’s gorgeous character arc from horny cynic to lovesick wooer to chastened fool.

3. DUMAINE — Alfred Enoch

Perfect angel darling. There’s no doubt in my mind that Alfie can do Smug, Suave, Would-Be-James Bond Dumaine as well as Dorky, Clumsy, Foot-Constantly-in-Mouth Dumaine with equal flair. Also, I love him. <3

4. LONGAVILLE — George MacKay

Apparently, this sweetheart is playing Hamlet soon in the new Ophelia movie, which is HILARIOUS, because he looks like the most Innocent Innocent to ever Innocent. I suppose this is what makes him a good actor. And he is very good.

~LES FILLES~

5. PRINCESS OF FRANCE — Lily James

This goddess is always getting cast as ingenues who fall in love with their eyes and hearts wide open, which is all fine and good. But I wanna see her fall in love against her will, against her better judgment, and with stubborn denial attending her every step of the way...partly because Lily is up to the challenge, and partly because it would be precious af.

6. ROSALINE — Karla Crome

BAMF. Berowne won’t know what hit him. Karla is talented in a way most of us can only dream about, but even more importantly, she is whip-smart, self-possessed, and in love with herself. Get it, girl.

7. KATHARINE — Shay Mitchell

It’s hard to beat Shay for Sleek, Feline Intelligence. I like to imagine Katharine as the ultimate duchess: rich, spoiled, overeducated, overprivileged, dressed to the nines every minute of every day. But she carries so much pain behind the mask. Being fabulous is no substitute for losing your big sister. And I think Shay can do justice to all those layers.

8. MARIA — Francesca Mills

I had the honor of seeing Francesca in Rachel Chavkin’s epic production of American Clock at the Old Vic this past winter. In a cast of over 20 brilliant actors, she emerged as the brightest star. I have never fallen in love with an actress so quickly. Sweet, inquisitive, sassy, and smart, with a crystalline voice, Francesca is the ultimate heroine. Her Maria will be the most adorable in human history, I think.

9. BOYET — Tamsin Greig

Imho, no one does Blustery Spinster Energy better than Tamsin. (See her performance as Miss Bates in the 2009 BBC miniseries, Emma.) My favorite version of Boyet is the adult female chaperone that the Princess and her ladies gleefully dress up as a man to stymie Ferdinand’s guards. It makes 5.2 all the more giddy and revelatory, and also it just makes narrative sense. Tamsin will play the beleaguered and increasingly exasperated Wine Mom to perfection.

~THE PSEUDO-SCHOLARS~

10. DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO — Riz Ahmed

I just can’t even express how much I love Riz. He dissolves completely into every single role he plays, no matter how absurd the character may seem on paper. And that is a very pertinent qualification for playing Armado, because he has the hard-fought distinction of being the most Abjectly Batshit Character in this bonkers play. Also I just really wanna get his autograph help

11. MOTE — Kiernan Shipka

THIS GIRL. Oh man, I don’t even know where to begin. She’s so flipping good at her craft, and at such a young age!! Honestly, I’d hate her if she weren’t so damn precious. All she needs to do is learn how to do a Scottish accent and then she’ll be 100% ready to play the wee snickering Watson to Armado’s pirate-Holmes. I’ve always read Mote as Armado’s platonic life partner slash surrogate daughter. She’s probably the only person in the world who knows Armado’s social security number. (Plus, Riz is a sweetheart, so you just know they’ll become great friends!)

12. DR. HOLOFERNES — Olivia Colman

What can I say? She’ll play the broad, slapstick comic relief stock character of Il Dottore to perfection...right up until the moment she doesn’t. Then she’ll make us all sob. “This is not generous, not gentle, not humble!” (V.ii.2570)

13. NATHANIEL — Cyril Nri

Can’t you just see this angel loving the crap out of Olivia’s Holofernes?? Like, he probably built an extension onto his rectory home JUST to give the famous visiting Italian academic a place to stay during her time in Navarre. Great actor, great human, great smile. 11/10

~BELOW-STAIRS~

14. COSTARD — Andy Samberg

My only Costard. I mean, he’s the only white boy I know who could play such a cowardly fuckboi of a character without turning him into a 2-D caricature. Not to mention the fact that Andy is a spectacular improv actor, so he can invent a lot of new lines and jokes for the hallboy! Win-win!

15. JAQUENETTA — Phoebe Waller-Bridge

Because I want the oft-disregarded Jaquenetta to be the Narrator of this whole wild shebang, I need an actor who can foster a deliciously familiar, non-4th-wall relationship with the audience and/or camera. Phoebe is the undisputed Queen of this. She’ll be STELLAR. And she and Andy will make people cry from laughing so hard.

16. CONSTABLE ANTHONY DULL — Andre Braugher

I love the idea of this Juilliard-trained classical actor sitting quietly with his crossword puzzle in the back of the polished oak Navarre library, watching a group of the Dumbest Smart People in human history talking themselves into a tizzy over false Latin and prickets and excrement and bad, mis-delivered iambic hexametric sonnets and just chuckling to himself. (Also: BB99 reunion!)

17. MERCADÉ — Randall Park

Tbh, I feel bad giving such a small part to such a phenomenal actor, but the thing about Mercadé is that he is like the BIGGEST small part in all of Shakespeare. He’s right up there with the First Servant in Lear in terms of the sheer narrative punch he packs into just a few short lines. And I think the best Mercadé is the one who has a personal relationship to the Princess. Maybe he was a personal aide to her father, the King? Maybe he helped raise her? Regardless, I think their conversation at the end of 5.2 is more than just the delivery of a sad message. It’s a communion between two grieving patriots of France. I want an actor whose warm heart will shine through that brief interchange. Randall can obviously do that, tenfold.

Aaaaaaand I think that’s it! Thanks again for the Ask, Lauren!! This was an absolute treat. xx Claire

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sevenpabosandabunchoffans · 7 years ago

Text

The Meaning of Family | Chapter 15 (Final)

Characters: Kim Seokjin, Kim Namjoon, Min Yoongi, Jung Hoseok, Jeon Jungkook, Kim Taehyung, Park Jimin, Original Characters, Kim Yugyeom, Jennie Kim

Words: 10,803

Genre: Foster Dad!Jin, Preschool Teacher!Jin, Social Worker!Namjoon, Little Kid!Yoongi, Little Kid!Hoseok, Little Kid!Jimin, Little Kid!Taehyung, Little Kid!Jungkook, America!au, namjin but it’s more of a side thing

Warnings: recovery from an eating disorder, one character pressures another to have sex but nothing happens, mentions of past sexual abuse towards a child, mentions of child abuse (teenager), mentions of alcoholism, mentions of past child neglect, one character is basically just a cunt and says so many offensive things that it would take forever to type them all out, mild sexual harassment, jin is an emotional wreck

Summary: Jin is a preschool teacher at a small center and has an absolute adoration for younger children. During his time as a teacher, he sees an unfortunate percentage of his students placed in the foster system, so he decides to become a foster parent himself, forming an attachment with five children that get placed with him and their case worker.

A/N: The final chapter is here! Thank you to everyone that has followed this series. If you’ll stay after the chapter, there will be a detailed explanation of the surprise I mentioned at the end of this post.

Previous Chapter

“What are your thoughts on sex?” Hoseok was at his quarterly appointment with Dr. Pruitt to check up on his medication and coping strategies. As he did at the end of every meeting, the man had asked Hoseok if there was anything else he would like to talk about, and for once, Hoseok actually did have something.

“Well,” Dr. Pruitt pushed his glasses further up his face before clasping his hands together. “That is a very broad question, Hoseok. Do you mind elaborating a little?”

“It’s just…” Hoseok paused as he figured out how to word his question. “I know that a lot of people are against sex before marriage, or at least sex in high school, but I know a lot of people my age are having sex, and the media shows it as a normal thing for 16-year olds, so I was just wondering…should I be having sex already?”

“I can tell you that a lot of your peers are probably lying about having sex just to seem cool.” Dr. Pruitt answered. “But it does seem that you have some reservations about sex, and that is absolutely okay.” Hoseok bit his lip nervously, not sure how far the therapist would be attempting to dive into Hoseok’s problems. “This could be due to your parents’ views on sex, have you talked to them about it?”

Hoseok scoffed lightly. “My dad literally bought my older brother a box of condoms as part of his school supplies, I don’t think they’re too against sex.”

“Okay, so that’s not it.” Dr. Pruitt closed his notebook, signifying that their meeting was coming to an end. “I think you’re having an inner conflict because you have all these signs around you sending mixed signals about whether or not sex is okay at your age, and I believe you might have some repressed feelings towards sex. If you can figure out whatever it is that you are subconsciously feeling, it might be a little easier for you to navigate those mixed signals and figure out what you believe is best.”

At the soccer fields, Taehyung was getting in some summer practice before the school year, and the season, started. Taehyung kicked the ball towards the goal, just barely missing it. “If you shift to the right just half an inch, it’ll go in.”

Taehyung whirled around to see Kortni approaching him, her soccer bag over her shoulder. “What are you doing here, it’s off-season.”

“Then why are you here?” Kortni shot back as he retrieved his ball. “Mind if I join you?” Taehyung shrugged, and Kortni immediately set her own ball on the field and kicked it towards the goal.

Taehyung was just about to get back to practicing when he saw Hoseok’s car pull into the parking lot, meaning his appointment was over and it was time for the two of them to go home. “I gotta go, my brother’s here.” Kortni nodded and was about to kick again when Taehyung stopped her. “If you twist your core just a little more, your kick will be more powerful.”

Kortni turned to see him already halfway to Hoseok’s car. “Thanks!” She called after him, and he waved his hand in response as he opened the passenger door.

“Who’s that?” Hoseok asked as Taehyung put his seatbelt on.

The 14-year-old shrugged. “Just someone from the girls’ league.”

When they walked in their front door, they were greeted by a serious conversation between their older brother and their parents. “Yoongi, we told you that you don’t have to get a job, we just want you to focus on your schoolwork and preparing for college.”

“But I want to work.” Yoongi insisted, bending over to pick Holly up when she began pawing at his legs. “I wouldn’t have applied to work at the music store if I didn’t.”

Jin sighed. “And you think you’ll be okay? You won’t get overly stressed and anxious?”

“I’ll be fine, Dad.” Yoongi insisted.

“Yoongi got a job?” Taehyung asked, setting his bag on the couch.

“That’s not where that goes.” Namjoon stated, not even looking up from his laptop.

Taehyung picked his bag back up as Yoongi answered him. “I start working at Jack’s Music on Monday after school.”

“Congratulations~” Taehyung said before heading to his room. Yoongi left shortly after him, cuddling Holly close to his chest as he walked to his room.

“Wait, Yoongi, I gotta ask you something.” Hoseok chased after him, leaving Namjoon and Jin alone in the living room.

“What are you working so diligently on?” Jin asked as he opened his binder up to continue lesson planning for the coming week.

“A new case~” Namjoon started off vaguely, hitting send on his email before finishing his thought. “We have a girl in Greenbrier that just went into protective services, so I’m coordinating appointments for both her and her family. It’s not looking too good, though.”

“I hope everything works out okay.” Jin commented, and Namjoon nodded.

“Me too~” He said quietly before shutting his laptop, deciding he needed a little break from his depressing work. “What are you working on?”

“Community helpers week is coming up soon, so I’m trying to come up with various activities and decide who to call to come talk to the kids.” Jin answered, filling out part of his weekly lesson plan. “I’m going to call the fire department tomorrow to see if they can bring a truck over for the kids to look at, that’s always a favorite of the kids’.”

“Don’t let Jungkook know.” Namjoon teased. “You remember how much he loved that when he was in preschool.”

“Oh my god, I thought we would never get him out of the truck.” Jin thought back to the day that their youngest son bawled his eyes out at the thought of having to exit a firetruck. “Speaking of Jungkook, it’s probably time for me to go get him and Jimin.” Jungkook had joined the 7th grade football team and had morning summer practices starting at the end of July that coincided with Jimin’s dance camp.

“I’ll hold down the fort here.” Namjoon stated as Jin stood up from the couch, setting his binder on the coffee table. He leaned down to press a quick kiss to his husband’s lips before going to the kitchen to grab the snacks he had prepared for the two boys.

Jimin entered the car, skin glistening with sweat from his hard work that morning. “Hey, I brought you some peanut butter crackers.”

“But I ate all of my breakfast today.” Jimin commented as he put his seatbelt on.

“You did, and I am very proud of you, but your doctor said you’re still underweight and that you still need to have snacks between meals.” Jimin sighed and grabbed one of the packages from the cupholder between him and his dad. “You don’t have to finish it, just have at least two of the crackers and that’ll be fine.”

Jimin ate his snack in silence as Jin drove to the middle school to pick up Jungkook, finishing half the package before putting it away (which was only one more cracker than Jin had asked him to eat, but Jin was extremely proud of him anyway). Jungkook entered the car, much sweatier than Jimin was. “Hey, Kookie, I brought you a snack too in case you were hungry.”

“Thanks~” Jungkook reached up and grabbed the unopened package of crackers. “Yugyeom asked if it was okay if he could come over Friday after we get our schedules.” Jungkook was thankful that his face was already red from practice so that his heated cheeks wouldn’t raise any questions. “We want to get our school stuff together and make plans.”

“That’s fine~” Jin approved. “As long as his mom says it’s okay.”

They entered their house to see Hoseok on the couch next to Namjoon with an annoyed look on his face. “What’s up, Hobi?” Jin asked as Jungkook and Jimin started racing each other to the bathroom to shower. “One of you just use ours~” Jin called to them before turning back to Hoseok.

“Yoongi and Sophia kicked me out.” Hoseok grumbled, harshly hitting the guide button on the TV remote to see what was on.

“They did not kick you out, you chose to come in here.” Namjoon shared his input. “Sophia came over so she and Yoongi could start looking at college applications.”

“Oh, is that what they’re doing?” Hoseok muttered, crossing his arms over his chest as he finally decided on The Avengers.

“Leave them alone,” Jin softly scolded the 16-year-old. “Think about if it were you and Izzy.” Hoseok just turned the volume on the TV up slightly. “Alright, any ideas for what you want for lunch?” Jin asked as Taehyung entered the room, and Hoseok shook his head.

“I’m in the mood for a ham and cheese sandwich.” Taehyung supplied, rolling over the back of the loveseat to land on the cushion.

“I’m sure you’re capable of making that yourself, Taehyung.”

Taehyung dramatically pouted. “But it doesn’t taste as good as when you make it.”

“Dude, you just slap a slice of ham and a slice of cheese between two slices of bread.” Hoseok rolled his eyes.

“I don’t know what it is, but Dad just makes it better!” Taehyung insisted.

“Alright, come on,” Jin gestured for Taehyung to follow him into the kitchen. “I’ll show you how I make it.”

Soon enough, the family of seven, plus Sophia, were sitting down to dinner. “Jimin, you need some chicken on your plate.” Namjoon said when he noticed the 14-year-old trying to get by with a just a helping of side salad.

Since Jimin had eaten all of his breakfast that morning, an entire sandwich as opposed to half of one at lunch, and the two snacks Jin had him eat, he knew that it would be difficult for him to eat a substantial amount at dinner. He picked out the smallest grilled chicken breast and cut that in half, placing that amount on his plate. After seeing a slight nod from his dad saying that that was a good amount for that night, he began to take small bites of his salad.

“Is the preschool hiring?” Sophia suddenly asked.

“Oh, you’re looking for a job, too?” Jin inquired, and the 17-year-old girl nodded. “Well, unfortunately, you have to be 18 to work there…” Sophia’s face fell as she took a bite of chicken. “But if you’re still looking for a job in April after your birthday, then I can put in a good word for you with the director.”

She gave the man a small smile. “Thanks, Jin.” Underneath the table, Yoongi squeezed her hand before picking up his glass of coke.

“So, we have Math, Health, and Study Hall together this year.” Yugyeom commented after comparing his and Jungkook’s schedules. “This is gonna be awesome!”

“Yeah, awesome~” Jungkook agreed, trying to will his heart to slow down.

Yugyeom looked up from the paper and smiled at his best friend. “What class are you most excited about?” He asked as he handed Jungkook his schedule back, grabbing his backpack from the floor that he had packed with his school supplies, so they could get their binders together.

“I’m really excited about art this year.” Jungkook stated honestly.

“I can’t wait to see some of your projects!” Yugyeom exclaimed, making Jungkook pray to all the gods that he wouldn’t turn red at that moment. “I’m excited about health. I heard from some of the eighth-grade football players that we’ll get to watch a lot of movies.”

“That sounds fun…” Jungkook trailed off as he was mesmerized by Yugyeom’s fingers moving as he set his paper inside his binder. When he realized he had been staring, he quickly shook himself out of his trance and busied himself with his own school supplies.

“What’s your schedule look like?” Jimin asked Taehyung as he entered their room after taking a shower, flopping on his bed and grabbing his laptop.

“Why do I have to like girls?” Taehyung was obviously in his own world as he cuddled Soonshim to his chest, looking up at the ceiling.

“You could try liking both.” Jimin responded. “Both is fun.”

Taehyung ignored him as he continued his rambling. “I’ve only seen her twice and I’m in love.”

Jimin looked up from his laptop. “Why am I just now hearing about a girl in your life?”

Taehyung rolled onto his side. “I don’t like this feeling. Distract me.”

Jimin rolled his eyes as Lily jumped onto his lap. “Are you gonna tell me your schedule or not?”

“Oh, right!” Taehyung sat up, and Soonshim shot out of the room due to her newfound freedom. “What lunch do you have? I have second this year.”

“I have second, too. Dad’s gonna be extremely happy about that.”

“You’re doing good, Jimin.” Taehyung stated seriously. “We’re all just worried about a relapse.”

Jimin sighed. “I know, I am too.”

“Let’s not talk about this now.” Taehyung crossed the room to join Jimin on his bed. “Let’s see if we have any classes together.”

“I don’t get why you’re taking all of these computer classes still.” Izzy said from where she was lounging on Hoseok’s bed, Hoseok at his desk as he messed with some computer parts he managed to get from a garage sale.

“Because I like computers, you know this.”

“Yeah, but it’s like you don’t want us to have any classes together.”

Hoseok turned around in his desk chair to look at her. “You know that’s not true.” He got up to move to lay on his bed next to her. “I just want to take classes that I’m interested in.”

Izzy sighed. “At least we have oral com together.” She nuzzled into Hoseok’s chest before looking up at him. “Let’s do it now.”

Hoseok nearly choked on air. “Izzy, you know we can’t.”

Izzy scooted away from him and rolled her eyes. “It’s not like your dads don’t know that Yoongi and the cheerleader are fucking, I don’t get why they’re so strict about stuff like leaving your door open.”

“They haven’t given Jungkook the whole sex talk yet, and they said that they’ll change the rules once they have.”

“Great, so we’ll have to wait another year or two.” Izzy crossed her arms.

“Doesn’t waiting make it better?” Hoseok asked, but Izzy didn’t respond. He didn’t care, as he was happy to have put it off anyway.

Yoongi stood in Abuela Martinez’s kitchen, spooning some soup into a bowl for the elderly woman. He caught part of her and Sophia’s conversation as he carried the dish into the living room. “Yes, Abuela, I am okay with going to a community college.” Sophia had decided on going to the community college in Morrilton, which was 20 minutes away from where they lived now.

“Here you go, Abuela,” Yoongi handed her the bowl of soup.

“Thank you, Yoongi, you’ve always been such a nice boy.” Yoongi smiled at her as he moved to sit on the floor next to Sophia, where they had already begun filling out college applications in hopes of early acceptance. “Don’t you want to go to school with your boyfriend? Can’t you get that preschool degree at UCA?’’

“Yeah, but it’ll be way more expensive.” Sophia explained. “Plus, it’s not like I’ll never see Yoongi again. The school is only 20 minutes away, so I can still live in Conway and drive down there for class.”

“As long as you’re sure.” The older lady set her soup on the side table before slowly pushing herself up from her chair. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to go to the ladies’ room.”

Once the woman was out of sight and earshot, Yoongi looked at Sophia. “Have you told her or your mom yet?”

“No, have you told your dads yet?”

Yoongi shook his head. “If I had, they probably would have been even more against me getting a job.”

Sophia moved to sit on Yoongi’s lap, wrapping her arms around his neck as he wrapped his around her waist. “We have all school year to tell them. Until then, we can ease them into the idea.” Yoongi nodded and lightly pressed his lips to hers before turning his attention back to his laptop where the application for UCA was pulled up.

Taehyung sat in the desk he claimed as his for French class, scribbling on a random piece of paper out of boredom until a bag dropping onto the desk in front of him caught his attention. “Fancy seeing you here, stranger.”

“Kortni?” Taehyung asked, not fully believing the blonde girl that had been invading his thoughts was actually there.

“Wouldn’t expect some macho soccer player to be taking French.” Kortni sat in the seat, staying turned around to face him. “I would have pegged you as the type to take German or something.”

“A-actually I’m the type to take-take the same language as my genius brother so that I can, uh, I can copy his homework.” Taehyung was only partially joking, too busy cursing himself for allowing his stutter to slip out right then.

Kortni must have found it cute, though, because she giggled lightly at him. “Well, you’ve just made it that much easier for me.” Taehyung furrowed his eyebrows, and Kortni picked up on his confusion. “I hope you don’t think I kept seeking you out on the practice field in an attempt to form a friendship.” He tilted his head slightly, even more confused. “I was setting you up to obliterate you on the field. But then I saw you sitting in here and I decided why not obliterate you in the classroom? It’ll probably be much easier, because you actually are fairly skilled with a soccer ball.” Taehyung was at a loss for words as the bell rang, making Kortni turn to face the front.

Taehyung ran up to Jimin as he was walking into the cafeteria. “I was wrong, I am most certainly not in love!”

“Wait what?” Jimin asked as they walked up to the lunch line.

“Kortni! The girl I told you about the other day.” Jimin nodded in understanding as Taehyung handed him a tray. “I’m not in love with her. It turns out she’s actually my arch nemesis. I have to destroy her!” Taehyung took it upon himself to fill Jimin’s tray with a slice of pizza, a cup of pears, and a cup of baked beans.

“O…kay.” Jimin reached out to grab a bottle of water, but Taehyung smacked his hand out of the way and grabbed a milk.

“Meal plan says milk until you get your weight up.” Jimin rolled his eyes as he accepted the milk carton from his brother.

“Why don’t you start from the beginning with this Kortni girl?” Jimin asked as they sat down at a table together.

“Gladly~”

“My mom’s not home.” Izzy said as Hoseok began to pull out of the parking lot. “You wanna come over and have some fun?”

Hoseok’s grip on the steering wheel tightened. “Can’t~ I have to go pick Jimin up from school and take him to his ballet class.”

“I thought that was Yoongi’s job.” Izzy asked, obviously annoyed that her advances had been shot down again.

Hoseok shook his head as he approached the Jr. High. “Yoongi works at the music store now, so chauffeuring Jimin is my responsibility now.”

“Alright, well how about after you drop him off?” Izzy asked, reaching over to rest her hand on Hoseok’s thigh.

“I, uh, promised Jungkook I would help him with his homework today.” He hadn’t, as Yugyeom came over after school everyday after their football practice to help. Izzy removed her hand, and Hoseok let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding.

That Saturday night, Yoongi was out on a date with Sophia while Hoseok’s other three brothers had already holed themselves up in their rooms. Hoseok knocked on his dads’ bedroom door, waiting for them to say he could come in.

“What’s up, Hobi?” Jin looked up from his laptop, where he was downloading some activity sheets to print out for the following week, his glasses perched on his nose. Namjoon was sitting next to him on the phone, speaking quietly about a court meeting that was coming up.

“Can I ask you guys something?” Jin set his laptop to the side and Namjoon finished his call, letting both of their attentions be on their second oldest. “What do you think is the right age to be having sex?”

The question caught both of them off guard. “Well, Hobi,” Namjoon began, “I don’t really think it’s a matter of age so much as it is a matter of maturity.”

“What do you mean?” Hoseok asked as he sat on the foot of their bed.

“There’s a lot of stress that can come from being sexually active.” Jin explained. “From the possibility of getting a girl pregnant, to the risk of STDs, and even the emotional connections that can be formed from having sex with someone. And a person shouldn’t consider being sexually active until they are mature enough to handle any consequence that can come from having sex.”

“And you think Yoongi is mature enough for that?” Hoseok knew he was stalling now.

“Your brother’s sex life is not something we want to discuss with you, Hobi.” Namjoon said. “But we have already discussed this with him too.”

“What is this about?” Jin asked. “Are you wanting to have sex with Izzy? You don’t have to ask our permission, Hobi.”

“No, actually~” Hoseok took a deep breath. “Izzy has been talking about the possibility of us having sex, but I don’t particularly want to, and I was just wondering if that was weird for me to not want to have sex at 16.”

“It’s not weird.” Namjoon said. “I wasn’t interested in having sex when I was 16. There’s a lot of different reasons as to why one wouldn’t want to have sex.” Hoseok nodded, and Namjoon took that as a chance to ask his next question. “Are you thinking you might be asexual? It’s okay if you are.”

“No, I don’t think so.” Hoseok stayed quiet for a few seconds as he gathered his thoughts. “I mean, I know I want to have sex one day, preferably with Izzy, but whenever it comes up, it scares me. Like, I’m actually terrified.” Saying it out loud made Hoseok realize that Carter was the reason behind his reluctance.

“That’s completely understandable.” Jin said, willing away the tears he felt coming on. “You experienced something horrible as a child, and the repercussions of that are going to carry on through to adulthood. It’s completely normal for you to be scared to have sex, because you associate it with what you went through. No one can blame you for that.”

Hoseok wasn’t sure when the tears began to pour out of his eyes. He just knew that he needed his dads’ reassurance and love at that moment. He moved to lie between them, welcoming the both of their arms around him. “Will I ever be okay?”

“One day, Hobi.” Namjoon whispered into his hair.

“Have I ever mentioned how much I love breakfast for dinner?” Taehyung asked rhetorically as he loaded his plate up with hash browns. “Because I really do.”

Jimin had been struggling with eating properly over the past few weeks, which he and his dads agreed was probably due to football season starting and worrying about all of the people in the bleachers looking at and judging him (even though they wouldn’t be). Due to this, Jin had gone back to fixing Jimin’s plate up for him to make sure he had all the proper components on it while Jimin focused on eating at least five bites of each item on his plate (he was usually able to eat at least half of each item, sometimes more depending on what it was). After fixing Jimin’s plate up with a pancake, a piece of sausage, and a scoop of eggs, he sat down at his own spot and fixed himself a plate. “Tomorrow’s Sunday, meaning grocery day, so everyone needs to think about what they want or need from the store.” The boys all mumbled in acknowledgement, too busy enjoying the food in front of them. “Yoongi, do you need any more condoms?”

Yoongi dropped his fork on his plate and hid his face in his hands as he groaned in annoyance. “Dad, if I need condoms, I am perfectly capable of buying them myself.”

“I’m just making sure-“

“Yes, I know, thank you.” Yoongi waited until he was sure the conversation was over before picking his fork back up.

Jungkook snickered at the exchange until his phone began to ring. He pulled it out of his pocket but froze when Jin scolded him. “Jungkook, you know no phones allowed during mealtimes.” Jungkook had just received the phone as a gift for his 13th birthday two weeks prior and was still struggling a bit with the rules that came with it.

“But it’s Yugyeom!” Jungkook insisted.

“And you can call him back after dinner.” Jungkook whined, but put his phone up anyway, picking his fork back up as Namjoon’s phone began to ring. “How come dad can have his phone?”

“Because he needs it for work.” Jin explained as Namjoon answered the phone. Namjoon only stayed on the phone for a few seconds before hanging up and standing up from his chair. “What is it?”

“I gotta go, a case in Greenbrier. I’m not sure when I’ll be back.” He gave Jin a quick kiss before waving goodbye to their sons.

Namjoon arrived at the house at the same time as the police did, and they could hear glass breaking and muffled shouting from outside. As they approached the door, the yelling became clearer. “You little bitch!”

“Mom, stop!”

Entering the house was a blur to Namjoon, as all he was focused on was making sure the girl was safe. He registered the girl was huddled against the wall, protecting her head from the plates and glasses her mom was throwing in her direction. When the police restrained the intoxicated mother, the girl finally looked up and realized what was happening. “Jennie, we’re going to-“ Namjoon couldn’t finish the sentence before the girl was running after her mother, who was being escorted by the police to the squad car.

“That’s my mom!” Namjoon went after her, encasing her in his arms, not letting go no matter how much she struggled. “Let me go! They’re taking my mom away!”

“Jennie, calm down.” Namjoon guided her towards his car, at which point she started scratching at his arms to try to get away from him. He set the 14-year-old girl in the passenger seat of his car and crouched down to be eye level with her. “Can you calm down for me?” The girl just glared at him. “Jennie-“

“Are you happy, you bastard?” Namjoon stayed silent, allowing her to get her anger out. “You fucking ripped my family apart!”

“Jennie~” He said quietly, pausing to see if she was going to say anything else. “I didn’t want to take you away from your mom. That’s why you were under protective services because we wanted to keep you together.” Namjoon tried to make eye contact with her, but she just stared forward. “But tonight showed that you are not safe with your mother right now. So, I’m going to take you to a nice family who will take care of you while your mom gets the help she needs.”

Jennie stayed silent for a few seconds before turning her head to look at him. “Save your shitty fairytale for someone who’s gullible enough to believe it.”

Jimin and Taehyung exited their English class. “I have a quiz in French today and I am determined to finish it before Kortni.” Jimin rolled his eyes at his brother. “Wish me luck.”

“No~” Taehyung didn’t catch Jimin’s response as he was already walking towards the stairs to head to the second floor.

Jimin walked outside to cross over to the other building where his Health class was located. When he entered the building, he stopped at the sight of his dad speaking with one of the school counselors, his counselor. “Hi, Dad~” Namjoon looked up at Jimin’s voice. “Hi, Mrs. Duncan. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, Minnie, nothing you need to concern yourself with.” Namjoon assured him. “Just go on to class and I’ll see you at home.”

Jimin nodded and turned to walk down the hall. As he was turning, he caught a glimpse of long, dark brown hair in Mrs. Duncan’s office, but thought nothing of it as he entered his Health class. He ignored the boys behind him that were snickering over the fact that they were about to start the sex ed chapter (Jimin already knew what they would not be learning in class thanks to his dad and older brothers), instead opting to get a head start on the reading he had just been assigned in English. He was distracted from the words on the page when the boys behind them switched their attention to ‘that hot girl that just walked in’. He looked up to see a girl with slightly puffy eyes walking briskly across the room and sitting in the first seat she could find, using her hair to shield her face from the rest of the room. He looked over to the classroom door and saw his dad out in the hallway with Mrs. Duncan and Coach Worlow, the Health teacher, and he suddenly understood the puffiness of the girl’s eyes.

The teacher stayed out in the hallway for a few minutes still talking before she finally walked back in. “Alright, class, we have a new student with us today.” She gestured to where the girl was sitting. “Jennie, would you like to tell us a little about yourself.”

Jennie looked up and looked around the room. “Do I seem like I want to talk about myself? You were standing out their talking for a really fucking long time, did you ignore them or are you just a fucking idiot?” The new girl, Jennie, had shocked everyone in the classroom, but what shocked the class even more was the teacher’s response.

Coach Worlow sighed. “Jennie, I understand-”

Jennie scoffed, “Clearly~”

“We do not accept this sort of behavior or language at Conway Jr. High. Due to the circumstances, though, I will let you off with a warning this time.”

“What a blessing~” Jennie smiled sarcastically at the teacher, who turned to her computer to begin taking roll.

Jimin saw Jennie again that afternoon in his Biology class. Mrs. Duncan had, once again, escorted her to the class, but his father was nowhere to be seen. The class went without any episodes, completely uneventful until the bell rang to dismiss class. “Jimin, Jennie, can I speak to you two for a second?” Jimin was confused as to why Mr. Hill was asking him to stay behind, but still went up to the man’s desk. “Now, Jennie, I have no doubts that you will do well in our class here, however, after speaking with your teachers in Greenbrier, it seems that your class was slightly behind where our class stands now.” He gestured to Jimin. “Jimin here is the top student in the class, so I am pairing the two of you together as Biology Buddies, just to make sure that you stay on track with our class.”

Jennie glanced over at the 14-year-old before rolling her eyes. “Great~” She grabbed her backpack from her desk on her way out of the room to meet Mrs. Duncan who was waiting for her.

“You’re okay with this, right?” Jimin tore his gaze from the door Jennie had walked out of to look at his teacher.

“Of course, Mr. Hill. I’m happy to help.”

The next day, Jimin walked out of the lunch line with Taehyung after paying for their meals, gaze immediately falling on Jennie. She was sitting alone, pulling apart the bun from her pulled pork sandwich. “I’ll see you later~” Before Taehyung could ask any questions, Jimin was already walking in the girl’s direction. She looked up as he set his tray down on the table, raising her eyebrows when she saw who it was. “Hi, I’m Jimin~” He greeted cheerfully.

“I know.” She said, waiting for him to explain what he was doing there.

“I thought we could talk about times to get together to work on Biology.”

“Thanks, but no thanks. I got it.” Jennie flashed him a fake smile before going back to tearing her bun apart.

“Look,” Jimin said, smile gone from his face. “I know what you’re going through right now is hard, but it will get easier.”

Jennie looked back up at him. “Listen here, Jimin,” the way she said his name full of scorn, “I know all about you. Perfect family, perfect grades, first boy to make it onto the dance team, highly attractive, and nice to everyone.” Jimin just stared at her as she continued on. “Of course, you would say it’ll get better. What could you and your perfect life possibly know about what I’m going through?”

Jimin clenched his jaw as he reached into his pocket for the slip of paper he had put in there during health, slamming it on the table in front of her. “Here’s my number. Text me when you decide to stop being a bitch to people that are just trying to be nice.” He threw his backpack over his shoulder and picked up his tray, walking over to his and Taehyung’s normal table.

“Thank you, come again~” Yoongi said with fake enthusiasm as the customer walked out of the store. Sophia came in shortly after with her laptop.

“Look at this!” She opened her laptop and put in her password, setting the computer on the counter in front of Yoongi to show him what she had been looking at. “Nice, huh? And since I got that job at Purple Cow, the two of us should be able to afford it by the end of next summer! Just in time for college!”

“It’s perfect~” Yoongi commented, pushing the laptop back towards Sophia. “Now for the hard part of telling our parents.”

Sophia closed her laptop and placed it in her bag. “It’s only October, we still have a while.”

“Izzy~” Hoseok had agreed to go to Izzy’s house after school but was suddenly regretting it as she continued to trail kisses along his neck, her hand creeping ever higher. When her hand finally came in contact with his crotch, he pushed her away. “I can’t~”

“What do you mean you can’t? You’re not gay, are you?’

“No,” Hoseok assured her, pulling his legs into his chest as he subconsciously tried to protect himself. “I just can’t.”

“Well, why not?” Izzy sat up.

Hoseok took a deep breath. “You’re the first person outside of my family that I’m telling this to.” Izzy stared at him, waiting for him to continue. “As you know, I was three when I was placed with my dad.” She nodded, and he went on. “Well, when I was there, there was another guy there, named Carter. Carter used to…come into my room at night and…” he trailed off, knowing he would cry if he finished the sentence, but he’d said enough for Izzy to understand.

“Oh~” was all she said. “Well…” The two of them fell into an awkward silence until Hoseok’s phone buzzed.

“It’s my dad.” He said after looking at the text. “I need to get home for dinner.”

Izzy nodded. “Okay, yeah, go.” Hoseok went in to kiss her goodbye, but she pulled back slightly.

Yugyeom ran up to Jungkook as they walked to the football field for practice. “I’ve been meaning to ask,” is Yugyeom’s greeting. “Where do you go every day during Study Hall?”

“Uh, my art teacher writes passes for me to come and help her in her room since I get so bored in study hall.” Jungkook said, mentally patting himself on the back for being able to come up with an excuse so quickly.

“Even on the very first day of school?” Instead of coming up with another elaborate excuse, Jungkook decided it was time to come clean to his best friend.

“Alright, the truth is…” Jungkook pulled Yugyeom off to the side, away from where the other football players were congregating before practice. “I have a learning disorder, so I have to meet with a tutor during study hall.” Jungkook mentally braced himself for the teasing that never came.

“So that’s why you struggle with math so much. You could have just told me.” Yugyeom pat him on the shoulder before turning back towards the field. “You ready to go?” Jungkook took a second to calm his fluttering heart before following his best friend to practice.

“I just can’t believe it!” Jimin continued to hum as if he were paying attention to Taehyung’s ranting as they waited for Hoseok to pick them up from school. He wasn’t. “There I was, just about to set my test down on the table when her hand shoots out and sets her test paper down first! I can’t stand her!”

“Yep, that sucks.” Jimin said, turning a page in his book. Jimin felt a shadow fall over him, so he looked up.

“Hi, Jimin,” Jennie said shyly. It had been about a month since that day in the cafeteria. “I was gonna talk to you after Health, but you got checked out, and then I thought I lost my chance, but you were back in Biology, and you’re here now, so I’m having a lot of trouble with this photosynthesis stuff, and I don’t know if it’s because our student teacher sucks at teaching or what, but do you mind-“

“You don’t have to tell a whole novel’s worth of stories.” Jimin cut her off. “I’m happy to help.”

Taehyung silently watched their exchange, already plotting out his next embarrassing of his brother. “Do you mind if we do it today?” Jennie asked sheepishly. “The people I’m staying with work late on Fridays and then have date night, so…”

Jimin spotted Hoseok’s car pulling up. “Lucky for you, Fridays are the only afternoons I have completely free.” He stood up and shouldered his backpack, picking up his violin case. “Come on~” He gestured to the car with his head.

“Shouldn’t you ask-“ Taehyung was cut off by Jimin.

“Dad will be fine with it.” He looked at Hoseok’s car, noticing for the first time that Izzy wasn’t there. “Where’s Izzy?”

“Don’t know, don’t care, shotgun!” Taehyung practically dove into the passenger seat as Jimin opened the back door.

Jin arrived home between 5:30 and 6:00 with Jungkook, as he had walked to the preschool after his football practice, seeing Hoseok and Taehyung playing a video game in the living room. “What’s up, guys?”

“Jimin brought a girl home.” Taehyung’s words made Jin stop his path to the laundry room to throw his jacket in the wash due to having been drooled on by one of the new babies.

“Do what now?”

“Yeah~” Hoseok agreed, aggressively pressing buttons on his controller. “They’re in his and Tae’s room.”

Jin went straight to the hallway, grateful that the door was at least open. He paused in the doorway and saw Jimin sitting on the floor next to a girl, both of them with a textbook open across their lap. “Hey, Dad, I didn’t know you were home.”

“I just got here~” Jin answered. “Hi, I’m Jimin’s dad, you can call me Jin.” He greeted the girl.

“I’m Jennie~”

“Will you be joining us for dinner?”

Jennie looked over at Jimin. “If it’s okay. She’s not getting picked up until 9:00.”

“Okay, I’ll call your dad to let him know to pick up an extra pizza just in case.”

When Jin walked out of the room, Jennie spoke up. “So, you have two dads? That’s cool~”

“I thought you knew all about me~” Jimin said, not looking up from the homework sheet, and Jennie knew that he was still upset over their previous interaction.

Namjoon arrived home at the same time Yoongi had from work, Sophia with him. Yoongi and Sophia offered to carry the pizza boxes in for him, which he was very grateful for. “We’re home~” He called out, carrying his briefcase to his and Jin’s room. When he came back out, he was met by Jimin exiting his bedroom with a very familiar face. “Jennie?”

“Oh, hi, Namjoon~” Jennie obviously didn’t know how to react to realizing she was in her case worker’s house.

“Dad, our biology teacher asked me to help Jennie stay caught up in our class, so is it okay if she comes over on Fridays?”

“Yeah, that’s fine~” Namjoon said, gradually getting over his shock. “Jennie, if you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.” The 14-year-old nodded before following Jimin into the living room where everyone was settling down for pizza and a movie.

Jin entered the room with a makeshift tray of drinks in his hands. “Alright, claim your drinks.” He took the glass of whole milk off the tray and handed it to Jimin before it could be spilled by all the grabbing hands. “Here’s your milk, Jimin. You can have a soda once you’ve drunk it all.” Jimin nodded and immediately took a sip before putting a slice of pizza on a plate.

After the movie, Jimin and Jennie went back to his room, Taehyung going into Jungkook’s room to help him with his math homework as he had offered during dinner. Since they had already finished their homework, they just sat on his bed in silence as they waited for her foster parents to come by to pick her up. Lily came into the room and jumped into Jimin’s lap, who immediately began scratching the top of her head. “Cute cat~” Jennie said.

“Thanks~” Jimin said, picking Lily up and nuzzling his nose into her fur.

“I’m sorry~” Jimin looked up at Jennie’s sudden apology. “I shouldn’t have judged you when I first met you, especially when you were just trying to be nice. I honestly know nothing about you.”

“You’re right, you don’t.” Jimin responded. “But what brought this on?”

“The milk~” Jimin tilted his head in curiosity. “I have a friend back in Greenbrier who’s recovering from an eating disorder and has to drink two glasses of whole milk with each meal as advised by her doctor.” Jennie confessed. “And now I know that your life isn’t perfect, so I’m sorry.”

Jimin stayed silent for a bit, watching Jennie stare down at her lap. After debating with himself, he finally decided to speak up. “I was three when I went into the system.” Jennie looked up at him in shock. “My dad was my case worker at the time. The only thing I remember from my old house is rummaging through discarded pizza boxes and McDonald’s bags trying to find even the smallest scrap of food.” He subconsciously cuddled Lily closer to him. “And I was extremely angry all the time, just like you are. But trust me when I say that it will get better. Whether it be from your parents putting themselves together or from you finding a better home with someone else.”

“Do you think my mom will get better?” Jennie asked, tears glistening in her eyes. “She blames me for my dad leaving her. Most of the time she’s okay, it’s just when she gets drunk that she’s not.” Jennie felt a sudden lightness to her chest about finally venting to someone. “Your dad started to come twice a week to check on us as what he called protective services, and she was doing better. And then she got drunk, started throwing things, and the police came with your dad and that’s when he took me away and left me with some random family.” She took a shaky breath. “And I just want my mom back.”

“He wouldn’t have taken you away if he didn’t feel that it was absolutely necessary.” Jimin told her. “We can always tell when it’s a day that he’s had to remove a child from their family. In fact, I remember the night he picked you up, he left in the middle of dinner.” Jimin sat up and scooted a little closer to the girl who was trying not to cry. “He hates taking kids from their families and only does it if the child is in danger in their own home.” Jimin waited for her to respond. When she didn’t, he continued. “As for your mom, I don’t know her personally. Maybe having you removed will knock some sense into her, maybe it won’t. All I know is that my dad will do everything he can to make sure you’re safe and taken care of, like he did for me and my brothers.”

“So, all of you were in the system?” Jimin nodded. “And Namjoon took all of you in when it turned out that you couldn’t go back to your families?”

“First of all, this is our family.” Jimin said, smiling lightly. “Second of all, it’s actually a cute story. My other dad, Jin, he was our foster parent, then he and dad started to fall for each other, so dad requested that our cases be transferred to a different worker so that his judgment on how well we were being taken care of wouldn’t be influenced by his feelings. They got together after Hoseok and Yoongi were officially adopted.”

Jennie gave Jimin a sad smile. “Well, I’m glad it worked out for you guys.”

Jimin reached out, hesitating slightly before taking hold of her hand. “It’ll work out for you, too.”

“Izzy!” Hoseok walked up to the girl standing at her locker. “You’ve been ignoring my texts.”

“Listen, Hoseok…I need time.”

“You need time?” Hoseok asked, confused as to what Izzy was talking about.

“Yeah, I just found out that you’ve been with a guy! I need time to process that!”

“Been with…you make it sound like it was willingly.”

Izzy shrugged. “Wasn’t it?”

Hoseok’s heart stopped as he finally began to realize the kind of person his girlfriend was. “Are you implying that, at the age of three, I asked for someone to come into my room almost every night and violate me?”

“What would you call it?”

Hoseok lowered his voice. “I and everyone that knows what happened call it rape.”

“You’re a guy, Hoseok!” Izzy exclaimed. “You can’t be raped.” Hoseok scoffed and turned to walk away. “And I thought you were the normal one of your family.”

“What do you mean ‘normal’ one?”

“I mean, one of your dads is a manwhore who will sleep with anyone, including your other dad, I mean, people say that’s the only reason Jin was able to adopt you guys in the first place-“

“Izzy-“

“And Yoongi is a depressed freak who will probably shoot up the school any day now-“

“Izzy-“

“Jimin is so queer, like, what guy would actually willingly want to be on a school dance team, and did anyone ever teach Taehyung how to speak properly, what is up with him-“

“Izzy-“

“Jungkook is a total retard-“

“Isabella!” Izzy was shocked into silence at Hoseok using her real name. “That’s my family you’re talking about!”

“Oh, Hobi, they’re not your family!” Izzy exclaimed. “They’re some freaks that you got stuck with because your mom abandoned you!”

Hoseok shook his head. “I’m done, I’m not doing this anymore!”

Izzy’s mouth dropped open in shock. “Are you breaking up with me?”

“I want my hoodies back~” was all Hoseok said before leaving.

Yoongi got home from work that night and immediately went to the kitchen to see what was for dinner. “Ooh, we’re having biscuits tonight.”

“Yes~’ Jin replied, standing up from where he had been bent over in front of the oven and giving Yoongi a hug. “How was work?”

“Good, my boss said I can have all of Thanksgiving Break off since I’ve been working so hard.”

“Well, that’s nice of him~” Jin turned to cut up some chicken to throw into the salad he was preparing. “Would you mind checking on Hoseok? He hasn’t come out of y’all’s room.”

Yoongi nodded, stealing a piece of chicken. He popped the grilled meat in his mouth as he walked back to his room, stopping when he saw Hoseok curled up in his bed facing the wall. “Hobi? Are you okay?”

“You were right~” Hoseok said quietly, but it was enough for Yoongi to be able to tell that he was crying, or at least had been.

“About what?” He took his shoes off before moving to sit on the edge of Hoseok’s bed.

“About Izzy~” Hoseok rolled over, and Yoongi could see his red eyes, tear stains on his face.

“I’m guessing you broke up?”

Hoseok nodded. “Why does it hurt so much? I broke up with her, so I shouldn’t be feeling like this.”

Yoongi sighed. “Because you loved her. And I’m guessing this wasn’t a planned break up, that it came seemingly out of nowhere.” Hoseok nodded again, and Yoongi ran his fingers through his younger brother’s hair. “It’ll be okay.” He stayed quiet for a few seconds before deciding to lighten the mood. “Are we too old for brother cuddles or…” Hoseok silently lifted his blanket up for Yoongi to climb under with him.

Jungkook glanced up periodically to see if Yugyeom had arrived for math class yet. The boy finally did, but Jungkook felt his heart drop when he saw him walking with a girl. He watched as the two laughed together and felt a pang in his chest when Yugyeom kissed the girl on the cheek before walking into the classroom. “Hey, Kookie,” Yugyeom greeted as he took his seat next to the other 13-year-old.

“Hi…who was that?” Jungkook asked, hoping that Yugyeom would deny his assumptions.

“Emily, my girlfriend. I asked her out this morning.”

Jungkook swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat. “Oh…congratulations~” He bent his head down and made it look like he was busy working on the beginning of class problems, but really, he was trying not to cry.

He managed to do so until he arrived at the preschool, at which point he collapsed into Jin’s arms and let all of his feelings out. “Oh, Kookie, what happened?” His mind was jumping to the worst-case scenario: kids at school had found out about his disability and were now bullying him. It wasn’t until they went home, and he got Jungkook into his room that he realized how far off he was.

“Dad, I like boys,” Jungkook said once all of his tears were out.

“Well, Jungkook, that’s okay. I like boys, your dad likes boys, Minnie likes boys-“

“But I like a certain boy,” Jin suddenly realized where this was going. “And he doesn’t like me. He has a girlfriend.”

Jin wrapped his arm around the 13-year old’s shoulders and pulled him into his chest. “Well, sometimes you’re gonna like people who don’t or won’t like you back, and it’ll be okay. Because when you finally meet someone that does like you back, it’ll be that much better.”

“Like you and dad?” Jungkook inquired, looking up at Jin.

“Exactly like me and dad.” Jin assured him. “You know…I was gonna wait to give all five of you your valentine’s present after dinner tonight, but I think I’ll give you yours now.” Jin left the room for a few minutes, coming back with a framed picture. When he handed it to Jungkook, the boy could see that it was a picture of them at Universal Studios during Namjoon and Jin’s wedding. “I thought that since Yoongi is graduating in a few months that you guys might like a picture of the moment we truly became a family.”

Jungkook threw his arms around Jin’s neck in a bone-crushing hug. “Thanks, Dad.”

“My dad’s been extremely emotional.” Jimin spoke up as he and Jennie ate their lunch. After their heart to heart, they had become fairly close friends, meaning she started to come over more often, and not just for homework. Taehyung hadn’t joined them that day because he felt the need to mess with Kortni during lunch.

“Your brother’s graduating this weekend.” Jennie responded. “I don’t blame him.”

“Yeah, but he’s going to college in town, he’s probably going to be living at home, it’s not that big of a deal.”

Jennie observed him. “Is someone getting upset over their older brother graduating?”

“Shut up, I am not!”

“What is this? Jimin has a girlfriend?”

Jimin glared up at the boy that had just approached them. “Go away, Michael.”

“I’m surprised someone out of your family turned out normal and likes a nice pair of tits.”

“Excuse me?” Jennie moved to stand up, but Jimin did before she could.

“I already asked you once, go away, Michael.”

“Or maybe you’re just a slut like your father, going for anything and everything that’s breathing.”

“Shut the fuck up!” Jimin could feel himself getting angry, and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold on.

“Why? Am I wrong? Is that pretty little thing next to you the slut?” The laugh had barely left Michael’s mouth when Jimin tackled him to the floor.

Taehyung and Kortni looked over when they heard the chants of “FIGHT, FIGHT” and saw a group of people had swarmed to a certain area of the cafeteria. “What’s going on?” Kortni asked just as a teacher went over to break up whatever fight was going on, but he was unable to get through the crowd of people.

“Let’s go see.” Taehyung said, moving quickly across the cafeteria to the group of people. Unlike the teacher, Taehyung and Kortni were able to push their way through the crowd of students with their phones out, capturing the brawl to put on YouTube. As soon as they made their way to the front of the crowd, Taehyung jumped into action to break the fight apart. “Jimin, stop!” He pulled his brother off of the other guy just as the teacher finally made his way through the crowd.

“You two, come with me!” He grabbed Jimin and Michael both by the arm and tugged them off to the principal’s office.

“What happened?” Taehyung asked Jennie as the crowd began to disperse.

“I don’t know! It all happened so fast!” Jennie said, still shocked at seeing this new side of Jimin. “One second the dude was harassing us, and the next Jimin had him pinned on the ground and was throwing punches!”

An hour later, Jin was speaking with the principal. “Believe me, Jimin will be punished as soon as we get home, but don’t suspend him. He’s a good boy, and this will be a one-time thing!” Jin assured the principal.

“Don’t worry, Mr. Kim, we have witnesses stating that it was an act of self-defense.” The principal stated. “And since Jimin is a top student and has had no problems before, we will only be giving him a warning and sending him home for today. However, his coach might take other actions.” Jin nodded in understanding.

Jimin had his phone taken away for the weekend as punishment, so he was definitely shocked the next day when Jennie walked into his room. “Jennie? What are you doing here?” Jimin asked as he jumped up from his bed, disturbing Lily who was napping.

“You weren’t answering any of my texts.”

“Yeah, my dads took my phone away for the weekend.” He hissed as Jennie brushed her finger along the light bruise on his cheek.

“Michael looks much worse.” Jennie commented.

“As he should.” Jimin joked. “It’s not the first time I’ve kicked his ass.”

“Really?” Jennie asked. “Jimin Kim has a bad boy side to him?”

Jimin snorted out a laugh. “No, in kindergarten he was saying a lot of hateful things about my dads that he learned from his mom, so I took it upon myself to teach him a lesson.”

“Well, he apparently didn’t learn.” Jennie said. “And neither did his mom, she came up yesterday afternoon demanding that you be expelled.”

Jimin rolled his eyes. “Not the first time she’s done that.” Jimin cleared his throat. “So, did we have homework in Biology yesterday? Is that why you came here?”

Jennie’s eyes widened, “Oh, no, not at all! In fact, my foster parents are waiting outside in the car to take me to the mall. I asked them if we could run by here first.” Jimin furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “Michael was saying a lot of things about me, and you defended me, so I wanted to say thank you.”

“Oh, no problem.” Jimin waved off her thanks. “It was my pleasure.” They stood there in an awkward silence. “I guess if-“ Jimin was cut off by Jennie pressing her lips to his for a total of two seconds. They stared at each other wide-eyed until the clearing of a throat by the door caught their attention.

“Dad wants to know if you’re staying for dinner, Jennie.”

“Oh, no, my foster parents are waiting outside.” Jennie rushed out of the room but paused in the doorway. “Bye, Jimin,” she smiled shyly before leaving for good.

When she was gone, Taehyung waggled his eyebrows at Jimin. “Shut up~” Jimin flopped back on his bed, grabbing the book he was reading when Jennie had arrived.

When the seven of them sat down to dinner, they were all shocked by what Jin had prepared. “We’re having chicken nuggets and peas?” Jungkook asked, not fully believing it.

Jin nodded as he sat in his chair. “It was the first meal Yoongi and I had together when he was first placed with me.”

“Oh my god, Dad, if you start crying-“

“I won’t if you be quiet and eat this food I slaved over a hot oven to prepare for you.” The boys all rolled their eyes but laughed as they dug into their simple but meaningful meal.

Taehyung felt the table was too silent, so he decided to do what he did best: embarrass Jimin. “Dad, did you know that Jimin has a girlfriend?”

Jimin dropped his fork. “She’s not my girlfriend!”

“Well that sounds familiar.” Hoseok commented, shooting Yoongi a look.

“But she’s not!” Jimin insisted.

“She kissed you!” Taehyung shot back, at which point Namjoon dropped his own fork.

“Jimin, you had your first kiss?”

It was at this moment that Jimin decided to deploy the weapon he had been holding onto since the first day of the school year. “Tae, how’s Kortni?”

Jin looked up from his plate. “Who’s Kortni? Taehyung, do you have a girlfriend you didn’t tell us about?”

“She’s my sworn enemy!” Taehyung exclaimed as Jimin smiled smugly to himself, taking a bite of chicken nugget.

Jin rinsed his toothbrush and placed it back in the holder, leaning close to the mirror to make sure there were no stray remnants of his face mask stuck to his skin. He turned off the bathroom light, pausing in the doorway to his connected bedroom and chuckling at the sight of his husband sleeping while partially sitting up, his laptop still on his lap and a file open next to him. Jin quietly approached the man, closing the laptop and gathering up the papers into the file, taking care not to look at it in order to keep confidentiality. After setting them off to the side, he carefully removed his husband’s reading glasses, smiling as his eyes opened slightly. “What-“

“Shh,” Jin helped guide him to lay down under the comforter. “Go to sleep, Namjoon.” He lightly pressed his lips against Namjoon’s before leaving him to make his nightly rounds of checking on the children.

He passed the rooms closest to his bedroom, wanting to check on the oldest first. He slowly opened the door and smiled softly at Yoongi and Hoseok sleeping. Yoongi was lying in his bed peacefully with earbuds in, probably playing Mozart or Beethoven or some other composer that he found relaxing. Hoseok, on the other hand, was fairly restless, constantly tossing and turning as if trying to get comfortable. Jin tiptoed into the room, taking care not to step on any of the creaky floorboards on his way to Hoseok. Upon reaching him, he gently placed his hand on the boy’s head, softly combing his fingers through his hair until he calmed down and was still.

Next, he checked on who they referred to as the “twins”. He couldn’t help the warm feeling that filled his heart as he opened the door and saw that Taehyung had climbed into bed with Jimin, alerting Jin to the fact that his nightmares were back, but he pushed that thought to the side in order to enjoy the precious moment between his sons. He indulged himself a little longer before backing out of the room and closing the door, making a mental note to have a talk with Taehyung the next day.

He finally came back to the room right next to his and Namjoon’s room. He almost expected to find Jungkook to be sleeping on his stomach, his rear end sticking up in the air as his knees were propped under him, the way he did when he was a toddler, but instead found him sleeping curled in on himself, his blankets having been kicked fully off the bed at some point during the night. Jin smiled to himself as he entered the room and picked up the blanket, laying it over his baby and making sure he was covered properly, even making sure to tuck the blanket around his feet, so his toes wouldn’t be subjected to the cold air he knew the room would provide. He brushed Jungkook’s hair out of his eyes, taking the time to appreciate the innocence on his face as he slept before going back to his own room.

He climbed into bed next to Namjoon, reaching out to turn the lamp on his bedside table off. He jumped in shock as soon as the room was doused in darkness as Namjoon’s voice reached his ears. “They okay?”

Jin scooted closer to his husband, resting his head in the crook of his neck. “Just as perfect as they’ve always been.” He murmured into the tan skin, falling into a deep slumber.

The next afternoon, Jin took an excess of photos of Yoongi before the ceremony, Yoongi sitting during the ceremony, Yoongi walking across the stage, and of Yoongi and Sophia after the ceremony was over. After the graduation ceremony, the two families made their way back to the Kim house for a celebratory dinner. It was when everyone had finished eating and was sitting around the living room that Yoongi and Sophia stood up in front of their families. “There’s something we’d like to tell you.”

Both families stared up at them in confusion and curiosity. Sophia took the lead. “As you all know, we both got jobs this school year, and we’ve been saving up our money…and we’ve been looking at apartments.”

“We picked one out,” Yoongi picked up, “and at the end of the summer, we’re going to move in together.”

Jin put his hand to his chest. “My baby’s moving out…my heart…”

“Dad, don’t-“

Abuela broke through the sentimental moment, making laughter flow through everyone. “There better not be a baby until there’s a ring on that finger.”

Namjoon and Jin stood up as everyone laughed and walked up to Yoongi. Sophia moved over to her family to let them talk. “We are very proud of you for making this decision on your own and working to get there.” Namjoon told him as the two parents pulled him into a hug, which the rest of the family soon joined.

“Does this mean I get my own room?!” Hoseok suddenly asked, which made everyone start talking about what stuff of Yoongi’s they would get.

“I’m moving out, not dying!” Yoongi exclaimed as Jimin tried to claim his keyboard.

Jin watched on as his sons play argued with each other, sad that one was moving on, but glad to see how far all of them had come.

Okay, so I have actually planned out their entire life stories, ranging from Jin and Namjoon’s childhoods to years after this fic ends. Because of this, I will open requests for very special drabbles/short stories. Basically, if there’s a moment from this fic that you would like to see, for example if you would like to see the time where Jungkook didn’t want to get out of the firetruck, or if you want to see something from Namjoon’s past, or even if you’re just like “hey, I want an update on how Hoseok is doing”, then just shoot me an ask and I’ll add it to an already growing list. I’ve already written and posted a few to AO3, which will be posted on here very soon, so don’t be shy to request whatever you would like to see!!

Thank you for following the boys on this journey :)

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creideamhgradochas · 6 years ago

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Thanks to the lovely @whostheblondegirlwriting for taking the time to answer these! Get to know more about lovely E, go give her a follow and then show her some love!

These questions are from this list. You should check it out, there’s 50 questions all together and they’d be great to ask your favorite fic writer!

*Disclaimer from E, herself: If you’re looking for some sage-like writery advice...keep lookin’. You won’t find it here. This whole fic writing endeavor is an adventure in “[shrugs] We’ll see what happens”. Behold! An odyssey of half-assed, one line inspo. Marvel at the absolute appalling lack of plotting and vision. Tremble at the underwhelming realization that “Huh. I could do better than that”. In short, at least you don’t pay money for this, right?

1) How old were you when you first starting writing fan-fiction?

I have no idea, honestly. I signed up for AO3 to actually share it though in September 2015 when I was 36. So we’ll go with that.

2) Do you prefer writing OC’s or reader inserts? Explain your answer.

I think I have done more reader inserts than OC, counting all the tumblr oneshots. But you can actually create something substantial with an OC. An OC makes you work. I prefer them.

3) What is your favorite genre to write for?

I don’t know if I’ve done enough variety to have a fav, honestly.

4) If you had to delete one of your stories and never speak of it again, which would it be and why?

I wouldn’t. They’re all mine and I’m proud of each of them, no matter how popular (or maybe I should say, unpopular) they are/were.

5) When is your preferred time to write?

Whenever I have the time! I’m not picky, because time is very hard to come by with my job anymore and the fact that my husband doesn’t know I write. Morning, noon, or night for me. It can be hard to sneak it in and still get everything else done.

6) Where do you take your inspiration from?

I don’t have a good answer for this and I’m laughing to myself thinking I should have one. Lol An idea comes up and I write it. That’s it. Shameful, I know.

7) In your Back to One series, what’s your favorite scene that you wrote?

Oh, damn. Uhhh...I think I liked Sebastian fumbling through his confession to Lily in Montauk. But I also probably had the most fun with the “champagne incident” because it was for my tumblr-lifemate, @ceebeetumbles.

8) Have you ever amended a story due to criticisms you’ve received after posting it?

Nope. It is what it is. You can’t please everyone and I don’t try. As long as I like it, it’s good enough. It’s not like anyone’s paying me for this, anyway. Lol

9) Who is your favorite character to write for? Why?

Hmm. Right now, I’d have to say Jack Rollins, because he preoccupies so much of my writing lately. Besides his own fic, he’s also featuring in an AU for Echo that’s in draft. Considering he had two lines in Winter Soldier, I’m very proud of the interest and love my Jack gets.

10) Who is your least favorite character to write for? Why?

Chris Evans, for right now. Only because he has been less than inspirational for some time due to his relative inactivity and, uh, [ahem] some personal choices he made. But I’m optimistic he’ll come back.

11) How did you come up with the title for the Back to One series?

The main character, Lily, goes through some personal and professional ups and downs as an actress. The phrase “back to one” is a direction for actors to go back to their first mark, so I thought it was fitting, as Lily would hopefully get things right, find her best self again, and have a fresh start as she meets different situations and opportunities in her story.

12) How did you come up with the idea for the Back to One series?

I thought I’d write a Sebastian Stan fic and figured a good match for him (and someone to help drive the story) would be an actress. But then I considered an OC like Lily could have more angles to write and it became really an OC fic that features Sebastian Stan. Oops.

13) Do you have any abandoned WIP’s? What made you abandon them?

I haven’t ever abandoned a fic. I refuse to give up on A Touch Up and do write a line or two here and there, just nowhere near the volume I need to publish a full chapter like I used to. It ended up on the shelf because Chris Evans got so boring after Civil War premiered and the fic is literally built on what he was doing in his everyday life. I also have a personal distaste for Jenny Slate and I guess you could say his decision to date her made me doubt the version of him I’d created in ATU, which is a problem when your fic is paired so purposefully around the assumptions I/we all had made by that time about him.

14) Are there any stories that you’ve written that you’d really love to do a sequel to?

I’m doing it. Echo was my pet project and, though it has my smallest following for a WIP, I had enough demand/interest for the story to be told from another character’s perspective that Jack Rollins and the STRIKE Series were born. There’ll be some unexpected things along the way in that series that I hope those fans/readers enjoy.

15) Are there any stories that you wished you’d ended differently?

No. I’ve only ended a couple fics (Echo and Kindness). Everything else is still a WIP or open ended series that publishes oneshots every once in awhile. The rest of my work is basically oneshots.

16) Tell me about another writer(s) who you admire? What is it about them that you admire?

Don’t laugh at me when I say I admire anyone who puts their work out there, even if it’s just a paragraph long imagine only on tumblr. It takes a lot of nerve, no matter what level your work is at or how big the scope. I’ve seen some good, bad, and ugly fic floating around, but I see value in it all and love seeing experience/determination help the writer evolve.

We ain’t all Hemingways or Shakespeares. And that’s okay. Some of the best writers don’t have thousands of followers and get hundreds of notes (but deserve them). And some of the behemoths out there aren’t necessarily turning out mind blowing fic, either. It’s a crapshoot and fandom can be fickle (if not downright confusing af).

17) Do you have a story that you look back on and cringe when you reread it?

Not at all. If it posts, I’m happy with it.

18) Do you prefer listening to music when you’re writing or do you need silence?

Either is fine. I probably write more in quiet, though, because my husband works 3rd shift, so I’m mindful not to disturb him.

19) Have you ever cried whilst writing a story?

No. Closest I could say to giving me my own feels was when I wrote The Death of Brock Rumlow (when it existed as part of the original Echo plot).

20) Which part of your Back to One series was the hardest to write?

I’m happy to say I don’t think there’s been a hard part to write for Back To One, or any of my fics. I’ve enjoyed every minute of it!

21) Do you make a general outline for your stories or do you just go with the flow?

Nope. No outlines or plans. I pretty much just sit down and write. If inspiration doesn’t hit, I’ll switch to a different WIP. If I have an idea for a line or scene I might make a note for later (maybe just a few words to point me in the right direction/remind me, or a line or two of dialogue), but once I get to it, I usually just write it out at once.

22) What is something you wished you’d known before you started posting fan-fiction?

How little time I’d have down the road for it. Maybe I wouldn’t have run such long WIPs/fics at a time. It feels like it’s been 100 years since I had time to open requests and I had to abandon a weekly posting schedule for 3 WIPs earlier this year because I just don’t have the time to manage the volume I used to anymore.

23) Do you have a story that you feel doesn’t get as much love as you’d like?

OMG yes! Echo and its companion fic, Jack Rollins (and I’ll probably say the same for the au/the STRIKE series). At this point, I can confidently say the following for Echo didn’t carry over to Jack Rollins, but I knew both were niche fics in the beginning anyway. I’m grateful for the attention Echo got, but it was such a labor of love, I’d have liked to see it do better. I may only have several regular readers for Jack Rollins commenting or reblogging, but those few readers and myself are the ones I wrote it for, and that I’ll keep posting it for until it’s finished, regardless of how tiny the readership because I love it.

24) In contrast to 23 is there a story which gets lots of love which you kinda eye roll at?

Not in an “oh, geez. Not that again” way. More like a “oh, stop. I can’t believe you guys like it that much” kind of humbled eye roll.

25) Are any of your characters based on real people?

Obviously the celebrities like Chris Evans and Sebastian Stan, technically yeah. I have no doubt that some of my own ticks, experiences, etc have made it into a character or plot, or things from people I know or have come across. Things you don’t necessarily draw lines between on purpose but maybe catch on to later, sure.

26) What’s the biggest compliment you’ve gotten?

Any of the comments or messages from people who say they cried, laughed out loud in public, got way too giddy, or held their breath because of something I wrote. They make me so happy, just to see someone got so lost or involved in a moment means I did a good job. Having someone say they reread a fic (or are reading for the X time) is a hell of a compliment, too.

27) What’s the harshest criticism you’ve gotten?

It was about A touch Up and how I had given the reader insert character, or implied, too much description (ex. noting that POC don’t blush as often as this girl did, when I wrote it as that feeling in the cheeks anyone can experience to convey her nervousness/embarrassment/etc at those points in the story so people maybe shared that sense as they read, not that she frequently ran around with a noticeable flush) and that, although I may not have said it outright, things like that apparently had made her so that she was obviously white. That ruined it for the commenter, despite there not actually being that much said about appearance in the story.

28) Do you share your story ideas with anyone else or do you keep them close to your chest?

Rarely. @ceebeetumbles gets a snippet of a chapter thrown at her once in a very blue moon, if I want to be sure something isn’t too cliché or generally awful. Lol But there’s a chance she’s reading along with the fic, so I may not send the whole chapter. I don’t plot per se or collaborate with anyone though.

29) Do people know you write fan-fiction?

Just the lovely people who’ve visited me on Tumblr or AO3.

30) What’s you favorite minor character you’ve written?

It’s a toss up between Frank Grillo’s appearance in A Touch Up and Jack Rollins or Eric Mickelson in Echo. I’m also a little fond of Drew Madison in Back To One.

31) What spurs you on during the writing process?

That I told you I’d post an update to a WIP, promised a drabble, or set a deadline that a request would be done by. So, really just my self-imposed “schedule”.

32) What’s your favorite trope to write?

I don’t really have one.

33) Can you remember the first fic you read? What was it about?

Nnnope. Lol

34) If you could write only angst, fluff or smut for the rest of your writing life, which would it be and why?

It’s a toss up between angst and fluff. They both come pretty easily. Honestly, smut is exhausting to write and I do so little of it because I don’t want it to be repetitive. Fluff is always fun. But, man...the possibilities with angst are pretty limitless, so maybe I’d lean a little more that way.

#milestone celebration #ask the author #whostheblondegirlwriting

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otherpeoplescreativity · 3 years ago

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I posted 101 times in 2021

22 posts created (22%)

79 posts reblogged (78%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 3.6 posts.

I added 100 tags in 2021

#art - 21 posts

#signal boost - 16 posts

#project cheery subjects please - 12 posts

#long post - 10 posts

#science! - 9 posts

#food - 8 posts

#video - 7 posts

#cat - 6 posts

#star wars - 6 posts

#violence - 5 posts

Longest Tag: 130 characters

#a 'boom box' my cousins was a precursor to the mp3 player but it was the approximate size and weight of dwayne johnson's thighbone

My Top Posts in 2021

This thin rectangle of blue paper has on a three cartoon root beer mug. The three of them are labeled "Rootin' Tootin' Good!". Below them is a yellow box with some parts pre-printed and some parts filled in, so that ultimately it says: "Jennie earns this award for" and then the next blank has written in cursive handwriting: "receiving no consequences Jan. 1982". Blue cartoon letters add "That's cool!" And it is signed by Ms. Cahir.

In the fine print on the bottom is some copyright information for the people who pre-printed this school certificate. The top left corner has a formerly scratch and sniff sticker that I must have really liked the scent of because the root beer mug on the sticker is almost completely scratched away.

In case any of you folks are wondering whether school has always been kind of messed up, I was 9 years old when I got this and I must have been really proud of getting an award for not earning consequences that month.

I have always been a nerd. I like reading. I like learning things. When I was nine, I was the new kid at yet another school, this time having moved from Southern California to Cape Cod, Massachusetts. I had never gotten a grade below a B minus because I was pretty sure that my life would end if I ever brought home something as low as a C.

But it was apparently a big deal to the teacher that I had gone one month without being a pain in the tush, and it was apparently a big deal to me that I got an award for it.

Don't let anybody tell you that awards for participation were a new thing spawned for millennials. I was apparently getting an award for keeping my mouth shut and my head down.

4 notes • Posted 2021-06-14 22:08:47 GMT

This most excellent advice-requester has compared The Problem Lad to Miles Naismith Vorkosigan of the Vorkosigan Saga by Lois McMaster Bujold, and advice-giver Captain Awkward absolutely runs with it.

To my great delight.

The advice itself is great, too!

But for folks who pick this post up due to the Vorkosigan tags: who among us would disagree with that final line?

7 notes • Posted 2021-01-06 19:24:20 GMT

This needs to be emblazoned across the sky:

“We’re like family” nearly always is used against employees, rather than in their favor.

from https://www.askamanager.org/2021/08/did-i-burn-a-bridge-by-resigning-right-after-i-was-promoted.html

Alison Green goes on to say:

It usually means you’re going to be pressured to work unreasonable hours (check), receive insufficient recognition (check), be underpaid (check, I’d bet), sacrifice things that are important to you like your health (check), and that they’ll use your commitment to the work against you (check) and make you feel guilty when you make normal business decisions for yourself (check).

7 notes • Posted 2021-08-24 18:44:47 GMT

bread maker question

I admit up front: this is probably an obvious thing that I’m just failing to recognize.

But. Why is garlic bread almost always “premade bread + butter/margarine/oil + garlic spread on top” and then maybe toast it?

Why is sandwich bread mostly not made with garlic inherent to it?

Is this a chemistry reaction problem?

Does the garlic react to oven temperature during baking at a speed that leads to bad tastes?

I can find exactly 1 recipe that includes garlic and other seasonings in it, and that recipe includes some other ingredients which I cannot have.

10 notes • Posted 2021-03-20 09:01:48 GMT

Is there any sensible reason why not Patrician Susan Sto Helit?

Limited patience.

Terrifying.

Does the sensible thing, not the emotionally appealing thing.

Analyzes people's inner drives accurately.

Can TALK THAT TALK.

Assassin's Guild is going to take Public Figure Sto Helit off the register so fast it may make other candidates' heads spin. Also their graves.

Hallway traps won't impede her stroll through places other people wish to keep secret.

DO NOT LET ME DETAIN YOU.

61 notes • Posted 2021-01-11 07:08:22 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

#my 2021 tumblr year in review #long post #food mention #gnu terry pratchett #2021

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davidfostercomedyblog · 6 years ago

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Memories Of Pops (M.O.P.)

My Dad loved going to sleep to the sound of the rain, which he ensured I’d never forget, as he said it almost every time it was raining at bedtime. Who knew his repetition would be such a blessing, as I am reminded of my pops on each night that it rains (good thing I moved back from L.A.)?

My father loved Neil Diamond. I think that’s one of my earliest memories, being “dragged” to a “Neil” concert at Madison Square Garden, and I couldn’t have been a day older than seven. I put dragged in quotes because Dad didn’t have to drag me anywhere. He was my hero; I would have followed him any place. I put Neil in quotes because once Dad liked someone enough for long enough they were on a first name basis. After that they’d graduate to some affectionate nickname, including for my sister, Jenny, he’d always greet with: “Ferman!” as in “Jenni-ferman.”

Cracklin Rosie and I Am, I Said, those were Dad’s jams, and although he would have gladly donated his limbs to divide amongst all of his kids, he would equally quickly shush any and all conversation whenever one of his jams came on. The volume was up, windows down, shades on, and my elder father, the self-proclaimed “Fossil,” was instantly and consistently 30 years old again.

We’d arrive at our destination and always knew so once we heard one of Dad’s signature exclamations: “Throw out the hook!” That meant get out of the car.

My father shared a birthday with Biggie Smalls, and maybe it was no coincidence that he so enjoyed word play and linguistics. Some of it was Italian or Yiddish, the latter borrowed from Mom’s side of the fam, but other regularly used words or expressions neither my brother nor I have heard anywhere else:

1. Gudalia (phonetic sp?), basically meant any kind of leftover scrap, or maybe most literally translated as “thing.” Eg. He’d point to the corner of your lip during dinner: “Ya got a little gudalia there on the side of your mouth.”

2. Schmendrick: Term of endearment for anyone he feels needs to be reminded of their carelessness or stupidity.

3. Weirdly: My brother.

4. Fossil: Himself.

5. Gavalt! Shit!

6. Foccacta: Fuckin’

Dad was a chef, great on the barbeque, but most famous for Sunday night spaghetti bolognese and garlic bread, a recipe passed down from his mom, and rejoiced over by all extended family as well; and he’d bottle up extra sauce to give to loved ones each week.

He was insensitive to individual sleep requirements, subsequently famous for shouting up from the bottom of the stairs at whatsoever hour he finished making breakfast: “Motion! Motion, you guys! I wanna hear motion up there!” An ex-girlfriend of mine once slept over and was so scared and confused that she just started shuffling her legs back and forth in place. “What’s happening?” she asked. “Why motion?” Breakfast is ready.

Dad was a dad. He loved his scotch and beer, and later on wine by the liter when Mom disallowed the former. He loved sports and Playboy magazine, and I was always grateful that issues of the latter were never disallowed. I recall my first experiences of comfort having a beer with my father on our back deck. However socially pathological, it felt good to be acknowledged as a man, accepted as a peer, subtly welcomed into the next stage of life.

Dad loved his BMW’s, and although we weren’t wealthy (wealth is relative), he ensured during my first 13 or 14 years that the “company car” lease was a “Beemer.” My vague memories are of the red 3-series, but later on, assumedly with promotions, he graduated to the 735i. I recall my friends being impressed, and I was so proud.

Everyone everywhere truly loved him. I think it was partially for this reason that it made it all the more sadder later in life when his faculties waned to the point of compromising his capacity for interaction. What has life done with my father? I would think, typically alternating between frustration and acceptance.

I don’t know if we were spoiled, nor do I necessarily know if spoiled is necessarily wrong, so long as your kids understand they have to work. But Dad surely spoiled us in the sense of doing anything in the world for his kids, and I hope I some day get to pay forward his selflessness with even half as much heart.

I have few memories of playing a little league baseball or soccer game without Dad there, cheering me on. Maybe he’d occasionally show up late from his morning golf outing, of which I was always curious to know his score, and I knew it wasn’t as good when his response was: “I hit some nice shots.” That meant over 90. Yikes.

Some of my favorite childhood memories were of our trips together to Giants Stadium, usually about five per year, as my younger brother was too young and older brother too old, plus lived separately with Dad’s first wife. I used to get so excited once I started recognizing the navigation to the game, then even more excited for the hot dogs and soda and hot chocolate, and reminders: “Just one more. Don’t tell your mother.”

In my rebellious years when I’d get arrested for shoplifting or graffiti Dad was always the one to come and pick me up, as Mom wanted to leave me in the holding cell for as long as possible. He never yelled, never hit or berated me for my actions, instead just shook his head and tried talking to me like an adult. The next day I’d find a nice letter from him on my bed, gently inquiring what was wrong, offering his help, reminding me that he loved me. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to hear you, Pop.

When I grew up and started doing comedy Dad was my biggest fan, an inversion of roles I’ve come to believe indicates success, and most of our trips to Giants games were spent eagerly discussing my shows from the week. Incidentally it was originally his idea to begin this blog, or “diary” as he called it, to document my journey.

Dad was a great writer. He looked forward to writing cards and letters to his old friends, mostly his fellow alumni, fellow fossils from Colgate University and Trinity Pawling Boarding School, where his own mom had sent him in response to his own juvenile mischief. He loved to read, mostly biographies on political or sports figures he admired, loved the written word and it loved him back. When phone conversation became more difficult in his final years, we’d exchange emails, at least one per week and I try not to beat myself up for not being more consistent.

Though I begged to stay in New York, Mom forced me to go to college in D.C., mostly because I’d gotten into a great school that she insisted I try. When I promptly returned after my one-semester “try” my GPA was uncharacteristically low, and I wasn’t even accepted into City University. Dad immediately drove into Manhattan with my high school transcript and SAT scores, and made a logical plea to the dean of students to just give his son a shot. They agreed, and four years later I graduated with Honors from Baruch College. Unfortunately, because of the extra time we had to spend in the admissions office Dad’s car was towed to the 12th Ave. impound, thereby bumping the price of that first semester tuition up another $100.

What can I say, but I loved my father? Apparently he loved me, all of his children quite a bit, and I’m just so grateful, so fortunate and blessed to have had one of the good ones - one of the great ones. I can’t think of any more appropriate way to close than with one of my favorite spiritual mantras for interpersonal closure: I’m sorry, I forgive you, I thank you, I love you.

Love,

David

#fatherhood #fatherandson #ripdad

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lorenzo-insigne · 7 years ago

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Anche D10S Ama Napoli

Source: The Players’ Tribune (read in italian; read in english)

Before I begin this story, I have to start by apologizing to God.

And by “God,” I mean “D10S” … Mr. Maradona.

I also want to apologize to my father.

Because when I was eight years old, I committed a sin. Maybe it’s not a sin to most people, but when you grow up in Napoli, especially when I was a kid, it was definitely a sin. I had just started playing for the football school in my area, and I really wanted some proper boots. I didn’t have any, because I wasn’t even supposed to be playing for the football school yet. I was too young, and definitely too small.

I was a shorty!

But I didn’t care. I wanted to play football at all costs. So one day I showed up to the football school with my older brother, and I was just supposed to be watching him. But I had other plans. I forced my way onto the field by crying all day until they let me play. Man, it was dramatic. I threw myself to the ground and acted like I was dying. And finally one of the coaches said, “O.K.! O.K.! Let the little kid in for a minute.”

I think they just wanted to shut me up, but I guess I showed I could play, because they let me in the school with all the older kids. I was so happy, but now I needed some real football boots. Every day, I begged my father to buy me a pair, but there were two problems.

First, my family came from very humble means. Frattamaggiore, the neighborhood where I grew up, was very difficult. At that time, there was nothing. There weren’t many jobs, and my family did not have much money to keep us going, so it was almost impossible to buy some expensive boots.

Second, I wanted a very specific pair of boots. I wanted the R9s. The boots of the genius, Ronaldo. Do you remember those? Silver, blue and yellow. They were iconic. Ronaldo had just played in the ’98 World Cup in those boots, and it was all I would talk about.

“Papa, please, please, please get me the Ronaldo boots.”

Every day. Every day.

“Please, papa, the boots!”

Thinking back on it, he probably wanted to kill me, because the only player my father ever wanted to talk about was Maradona. I grew up with only the myth of El Diego and his greatness, and of course he is a legend all over the world …

But in Napoli?

In Napoli?

He is like a God. My father wanted me to get some plain black boots like Maradona wore, you know? But I said, “No, you don’t understand. Ronaldo is the greatest.”

Haha! I’m sorry, Papa! I’m sorry, El Diego!

My father was a huge Napoli supporter, and of course Ronaldo played for Inter at that time, and he was making Napoli cry. But I was just a kid. I didn’t know any better, and I was obsessed with these boots. So one night, completely by surprise, my father said to me, “Come on, we’re going to the shops.”

I asked why.

He said, “We’re going to get you your boots.”

My father definitely did not have the extra money to spend. But, somehow, he did it for me anyway, and I cannot express to you the feeling of walking the streets with him that night and searching all the sports shops in the city for those boots.

The first shop didn’t have them.

The second shop didn’t have them.

The third shop had them, but not in my size.

We walked all over town.

We went to four or five shops, with no luck. I remember it was getting dark, and I was thinking maybe it was hopeless. Finally, just as all the shops were closing for the night, the last store we went into had the R9 boots, and they had them in my size.

I know for sure — for sure — that there is one memory that will stay with me for my whole life, and it’s my father handing over the money for those boots and giving the box to me. It’s better than any gift I’ve ever received. You know, it’s funny, because as a professional footballer now, I receive so many boots for free, and after a while it loses all meaning. It doesn’t really feel like anything special.

But those boots … wow. It was an indescribable feeling putting them on, because in my mind, it was like, O.K., maybe I am small, and maybe I am from humble means, and maybe I am not even very good yet … but I am wearing these boots, and Ronaldo the genius wears these very same boots … and maybe, one day, I can become as good as him.

I am not joking — I used to clean those boots every single day. We would play on fields that were not so perfect. There was a lot of dirt and rocks, you know? So I would come home and scrub the boots with a rag, because I knew what my father had sacrificed to buy them. I wore them for so long that the shops stopped selling them, and the day that they finally broke and fell apart, I cried. I actually wept, because I cared about them so much. They were sacred to me.

Perhaps I am crazy, I don’t know. But I have always been this way, according to my family. My mother tells the story that when I was in preschool, she came to pick me up and all the kids were playing with some Lego construction blocks — building houses and castles and whatever kids do — and I was in the corner of the room kicking my feet and running around. She didn’t understand what I was doing, and then she got closer and saw that I had made a football out of some paper and I was playing by myself.

I was probably supposed to be doing my homework with that paper, but I had only one thought in my head: Football.

My dream, always, was to play in the Napoli shirt at the San Paolo. For me, there was no other dream. I didn’t play any other sports. I didn’t think about anything but football. But as I grew up and got tryouts with different youth teams — Inter, Torino, even Napoli — the scouts always told me the same thing.

Well, actually they did not tell me. They told my father, and then he broke the news to me. And it was the same verdict every time.

“We like him, but he’s a shorty.”

In Italy, people are very honest like that. They all discarded me because of my height. After I was told this by Torino at 14, let’s just say that I didn’t want to play anymore. I told my family that it was useless. I was too short. Technique, strength, speed — you can just work harder and improve. But your height? What can you do? I’d wake up every morning hoping I’d grown overnight. But nothing. So I told my dad, “It’s impossible, I’m done.”

But then he said, “O.K., so what are you going to do if not football?”

And I thought about it, and I said, “Shit, what am I gonna do?”

So I kept playing with the local football school, and finally, Napoli came along and gave me another shot when I was 15 years old. There were so many kids at the tryout. So many. But for whatever reason, the scout saw something in me, and he chose me. When I got into the youth academy, it was just incredible because my family were always huge Napoli supporters, but we could not afford to go to many matches when I was a kid. So when I was in the youth system, I would always beg to be one of the ball boys just so I could go to the San Paolo and stand on the sidelines.

That feeling of being in the stadium, and feeling that energy as a Neapolitan … I can’t express it in words. I thought, Damn, if I can just play one match here in the Napoli shirt someday, I can die happy.

It was funny, because when I got to play my first game with the senior team in 2010, we were playing away in Livorno. It was such a big deal for my family, obviously. Such an honor, to be a kid from Frattamaggiore, playing in the Napoli kit. And I remember after the match, we flew back home and my father picked me up at the airport, and on the drive back I said, “Is anyone from the neighborhood waiting for me?”

And my father said, “Oh no, no, no. It’s very late. Everyone was very proud, but it’s so late and everyone went to bed.”

I said, “Come on.”

He said, “No, really, I’m sorry, but I don’t want you to be disappointed. There’s nobody waiting for you.”

So, of course, we arrive at home and the whole entire neighborhood is waiting for me in the streets, and they’re singing and shooting off fireworks, and they’ve got a special cake for me and everything. It was unbelievable. Seeing my mother’s face was the best part, because she’s crazier about football than all of the boys. I’ll come home now and I’ll find her watching the replays of Napoli matches. She will be yelling at the television, and I’ll say, “Mom, what are you doing? It already happened!”

Napoli is in our blood. And I owe everything to the club, because they stuck with me in hard times. After I made my debut in 2010, I spent two years on loan at Foggia and Pescara in the C and B leagues.

At Foggia, I was under a manager who was a real character. Mr. Zdeněk Zeman. I knew that he was super intense, and demanded a lot from his players. But it was really funny because he was like someone from an old movie. He would make all the players come into his office and be weighed at this old metal scale every morning. But he would be smoking like a chimney in there. So you would open the door, and it was all white smoke. You could barely breathe. It felt like Milan. So one day I walked in and I said, “Mister, do you think maybe you could stop smoking when we come in?”

He thought about it for a second. Then he took another puff, and he said, “… You can step out then.”

I loved him. We had a great relationship. He really believed in me, and maybe it took a character like him to believe in someone like me. I scored 18 goals that season, and when Mr. Zeman got hired at Pescara the next season, Napoli let me follow him there. That was a very, very important moment. And it was a very, very important year, because I met my wife, Jenny, that year.

If you know anything about southern Italy, it will not surprise you that I met Jenny through her cousin, who went to school with me in Frattamaggiore. Where I’m from, everybody knows everybody. Instantly, I wanted to be with her. The problem was that I was living 250 kilometers away in Pescara.

I told her, “Come with me.”

But again, if you know anything about southern Italy, then you already know what her parents said about that. They were not going to let her follow me. No, not a chance in the world. So I had a double motivation that season. I had to convince Napoli to bring me back, so I could live my dream of playing for the club, and also so that I could be with Jenny.

That season, I wasn’t going to be stopped. I scored 19 goals, and after the season ended, I had a meeting with Mr. Mazzarri, the coach of Napoli. He said, “If you want a spot here, you’re going to have to conquer it yourself.”

And I remember I said, “No problem. Ever since I grew up, no one gave me anything for free.”

Really, nothing was going to stop me. I earned my spot. Early on that season, I scored my first goal at the San Paolo against Parma, and it was so special because we had just found out that my wife was pregnant with our first son. I grabbed the ball and put it under my shirt as a dedication to him, and I remember the crowd was singing my name.

You cannot write about this feeling. It is something you can only experience in your heart.

It has been six years now that I am wearing this shirt, and I still have that same emotion when I score a goal for Napoli. It means so much to me, because I am so proud to be from my city. You know, I hear some people speak bad about Napoli, and it’s very frustrating for me, because they don’t know the city. To me, it’s the best city in the world. And if you don’t believe me, just look at my teammates. Look at how many players have stayed here instead of moving to bigger clubs. Some have been here three or four seasons, and they don’t want to leave. Our captain, Marek Hamšík, the guy is Slovakian, and he’s been here for 11 years. I ask my teammates why they want to stay, and they say, “I love the city, I love the life here, I love the fans.”

So maybe when people speak bad about Napoli, they need to wake up. Even God himself loved it here. And by God, of course I mean Mr. Maradona 🙂

My only focus now is on winning the league title. It was extremely heartbreaking to miss out on the World Cup with Italy. There is nothing I can say that will express my disappointment. It still upsets me. But I have to close that chapter and focus on trying to win Napoli’s first scudetto in my lifetime. I want to do it for my city, my neighborhood, my friends, my family, my children.

Every time I go out to play at San Paolo, I get goosebumps. Because I think about what it means for my family, and I think about everything my father sacrificed over the years to keep me going. I don’t know what he had to do to get that money for my boots, but I know it was a struggle. That sacrifice started the whole dream. And now I get to walk out on the pitch in my hometown, and I always get goosebumps because I think, “This is where the greatest player in the world played. This is where Maradona played.”

With all due respect to Ronaldo, now that I am older, and I know my history, I have to repent and say that Maradona is the greatest who ever lived.

Mr. Ronaldo, you had great boots. You were a genius. You were my inspiration. But I am a Neapolitan, and so I have to say that there is only one king, and his name is Diego.

Lorenzo Insigne

#do you know what?#i copied and pasted it #because i'm not brave enough to read this interview #and write a comment about #lorenzo insigne #ssc napoli #the players' tribune

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