#if your parents were constantly absent/only saw you when they wanted something/always talked about work/were never there for you/etc-

[luvevee]

Idk maybe it's fine to accept Sada and Turo are just really shitty parents who neglected and abandoned Arven instead of pulling the shortest straws in an attempt to make them seem like they were just sad workaholics who got too caught up in their work like a bad hallmark movie

[teddy06writes]

You Didn't Need Us Then, We Don't Need You Now

Requested by this anon: "Okay I thought of this idea during Fundy's stream. Quackity and reader were engaged to Karl and Sapnap, but they left because of Karl losing his memory and Sapnap paying more attention to him. Quackity and reader then created Las Navadas to try and cope with everything that's happened to them. They created a little wedding area where they planned to get married with Sap and Karl. Flash forward to a year or two later, Karl and Sap stumble across Las Navadas and their two former fiancees. And they see everything they've done, including the little wedding area. which is perfectly designed as to how they wanted their wedding together. That's is as far as I got to the imagine in my head. If you could make a fic out of it that would be cool. If not at least you have this cute imagine in your head! 😊"

{Okay, so- so man feels, so many ideas. I haven't seen all of the Los Nevadas streams yet because I've got a lot of school stuff going on, but, I think I have a pretty good idea of what's going on. [also Slime from The Ground my beloved]}

Quackity x reader; Past: Sapnap x Karl x Quackity x reader

trigger warnings: maybe some swearing, slight descriptions of a panic attack, slight drinking

premise: After L'manburg was destroyed, two of your fiancées seemed to disappear. With just Sapnap left, you had been scared, but he assured you that the right thing to do was split up to try and find Quackity and Karl. And, well, you found Quackity, but when He found Karl.... something else had taken over, and suddenly Kinoko Kingdom was more important than finding you and quackity again. But thats fine. You and Quackity had been together in the begining, so what did you need from the other two? Las Nevadas could fill the void they left,,, and it did, until they happened to come knocking, right as you were finally moving on.

{Also, parental unit for everyone in Las Nevadas, I love it, brain is going brr so hard}

{also also, purpled is the forgotten eldest child of the server and no the ufo does not get blown up}

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"It's gone, (y/n) it's all gone," You said with disbelief, staring over the barren, ashy place that had once been L'manburg and El Rapids, "We couldn't stop him."

Sapnap took in a shaky breath, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, "We were never could have. Even if the supplies weren't destroyed."

The remaining people had already cleared out, but you had only now come to see the damage, having been forced away from the battle by your fiancées.

"I could have helped." You fell to your knees, still staring at the wreckage.

Sapnap could only sigh at the broken look on your face. You had lost the only home you'd ever known, but what had he lost? Well, for one thing, Karl.

Karl was still no where to be found, and now it seemed that Quackity had disappeared.

He fiddled with the purple band that circled one of his fingers, "Look- we- we need to find Quackity and Karl. Q looked pretty bad the last time I saw him, and Karl-"

Resolutely you nodded, dragging yourself to stand, "Karl is Karl. He'll be happy that his statue missed being blown up. I think its Q we should be worried about. This place- El Rapids- that was everything to him."

"Well- how about you go find Quackity, and I go find Karl. We're bound to find them eventually if we split up." He offered.

You studied the look on his face, "You're covering for him. What's going on?"

Sapnap only shook his head.

Crossing your arms you turned toward the hill, and what was left of the prime path, "Quackity has the deed to some land. North of Spawn. Meet us there once you kind K, alright?"

"Okay." He said softly, leaning over to press a soft kiss on your cheek.

"Be safe." You advised, already starting away.

~~

It didn't take you very long to track down your Fiancé, in all the time you'd known him (much longer than you'd known the others), he hadn't changed too much.

So, when you made your way through the twisted paths near Pogtopia, he was up on the ridge, sitting on the rock that had for so long, doubled as a bench.

"It's good to see you're safe." You hugged your arms to your body, trying to keep your voice from shaking.

As soon as you were sitting next to him, he was leaning on you, "He destroyed everything- all that work- El Rapids-"

"I know." You wrapped your arms around him, finally letting your own tears fall, "I know."

"What are we gonna do? I just wanted a place for us- I just- I wanted to make a place for us- all we asked for was recognition- and now the only place that saw was recognizing us is gone."

It had taken a while for Quackity to stop talking about everything that had been destroyed. Even then he kept asking, "But- Just wanted to make a place for you guys, how are we gonna do that now?"

"We can still make a place," You assured him, even as you yourself were unsure, "We'll make our own little country. So far out where no one will be able to blow it up."

He seemed to take to the idea quickly, and that night, as the two of you sat together in the camp that had been made within the caverns of Pogtopia, he talked feverently of the country you two would make.

He talked of buildings, of businesses, and of wedding venues. The plans he made up that night, they were almost enough to make you forget about what had happened to your home.

"What about that land north of spawn?" You suggested, letting your head rest back on his shoulder.

Quackity thought about it for a moment, "I mean- its just some desert, but I think we could make it work."

"Good, I told Sap to meet us there once he found Karl."

He nodded, "We'll head up there, and start getting everything ready, and then when they're ready they can come up."

~~ This was how three months came to pass, with the busyness of planning the new city, the beginning of construction, the meetings with Sam to plan for the new economic system that the new country would spread through the lands.

Yet you still felt off. It had been that long and Karl and Sapnap had never returned, something must have gone horribly, horribly wrong. It nagged at you, constantly, Drove you sick with anxiety somedays.

"(y/n)."

You looked up from the designs for the next casino you had been going over, "Sam! I didn't know you were visiting today! What can I do for you?"

"Uhhh, I wasn't planning on it, you better come out here- it's Quackity, we had been discussing- some things. I don't know what happened but when he passed back through-" The creeper hybrid trailed off.

You quickly stood, rushing passed him and through the hall to the courtyard where Sam had left him, gasping for breath and tugging at his hair.

In an instant you were kneeling beside him, "Breath baby, breath."

"They- he- George- Kinoko- Sap- left- on purpose-" He blubbered.

"Hey, Q," You took his hands as gently as you could, "look at me. Breath, breath with me. Come on, breath."

Slowly, he began to calm down, and by the time Sam was long gone he slowly began to explain what happened.

"I was heading back from talking with Sam, I saw George outside the prison. He kept talking about something- about- Kinoko Kingdom..." He sighed.

"Kinoko- what?" You asked, confused.

He let his head drop into his hands, "Karl and Sapnap.... started another country- called Kinoko Kingdom... they didn't even wait for us."

You felt your heart drop, if you hadn't been holding his hands yours would've been shaking, "What-"

Quackity could only nod shakily as he pulled you into his arms.

"I told him to come back here- I told- why didn't they-" You muttered absently.

The only noise in the courtyard was from the fountains, and the small sniffles from the two of you.

You were still in a state of semi-shock and sadness when you felt his arms tighten around you.

"We don't need them anyway. Las Nevada's can prosper without them."

~~ "Purpled? You want to get him in on this?" Quackity frowned.

You shrugged, "He's a mercenary, he could be of some help around here."

Your fiancé studied your face for a moment, "No, that's not it. Why do you really want him here?"

"Look, he's-" You sighed, "The kids been through a lot. He doesn't really have anything anymore, he needs somewhere, someone at least. We owe that too him at least."

After a moment, he nodded, "I haven't spoken to him since I paid him for his help with that egg mess. He- didn't seem to like me being around."

"I'll try to find him, he'd talk to me, I'm sure of it." You stood up from your seat at the table.

"You're going now?" He asked, following you across to the coat room.

You nodded, tugging on your boots, "If I want to make it through to the Greater SMP before it gets dark. I'll see if Eret will let me stay the night, then I'll head out again."

"Be careful." Quackity advised once you were ready.

You pecked at his lips, "I always am."

The journey to the Greater SMP went quickly, and after a nights stay in Eret's castle, you had made your way to the UFO, disappointed to find it seemingly abandoned.

"How the hell am I supposed to find him if the one place he ever seems to be is empty." You muttered, glancing around the base of the UFO.

You shrugged off your knapsack, dropping it to the side, followed by the sword that had been at your hip, and then you began to climb.

Even the inside of the UFO was completely empty, devoid of any chests, crafting tables, or furnaces.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

You jumped, turning to find Purpled, in full netherite, sword gripped tight in his hand.

"I- We've been looking for you." You fumbled for an explanation, holding up your hands in a sort of surrender.

He scoffed, "I already did a job for you people, I'm busy now."

"Not for a job Purpled!" You couldn't help but exclaim, "Some people actually try to find you for more than just that."

"Then what do you want?" He snapped.

"Did Q tell you about Nevadas?"

Purpled frowned, "Yeah, he mentioned it."

"Well, I think you should join. Come in on the project."

"Why the hell would I do that?"

You sighed, "Look, Purpled, you- everyone here, in this smp, they don't care, they don't bother to know you. You- you don't really have a place here-"

"You think I don't know that?" Purpled's grip on his sword tightened.

"So, If you come with us, join Las Nevadas, you can have a place- have people who care. You need people, Purpled."

"I don't Need anyone." He insisted.

You sighed, "Someday your going to have to see that that's not true. Please consider joining Las Nevadas, no one here cares, but we do."

"That's not true," He said bitterly, "You just need me to do another god damned job."

With a shake of your head you turned, preparing for the climb back down, "Purpled, this smp isn't kind to children, but I think it's been the most unfair to you. Out here your being forgotten, but you might not be if you join us."

~~

At the base of the UFO you were surprised to find a strange, slimly looking boy digging through your bag.

"Hey!" You yelled, "Don't touch that! It's not yours!"

He looked up and froze, realizing he'd been caught.

You snatched your things away from him, quickly unsheathing your sword, "Who are you?"

"Uhhhh, I'm a meat person- same as you!" He offered.

"You- you're- uh-" You sputtered for a moment confused, "Why were you touching my things?"

"Uhhhhh, Dap me up!" He said avoiding the question.

You stared at him for a moment, "I don't have time for this."

As you started back toward the prime path you heard him call, "Nice to meet you (y/n) from Las Nevadas!"

"How do you know my name?" You demanded, whirling around.

"Oh, I know a lot of things." He laughed, "I see lots 'a stuff."

You frowned, "Uh huh. I'm gonna- walk away now."

~~ A week had passed, and there was still no signs of Purpled, nor Fundy or Foolish, (both of whom Quackity had gone to speak to whilst you were away), coming to Las Nevadas.

You were sure that Purpled would come around eventually, but had no faith that anyone else would join Las Nevadas, until you had heard a strange noise in the night.

It had been a cross between a clang and a yell, and then almost like something being dragged.

You had been going over some of the contracts you had been preparing for if anyone ever did show up when you'd heard it, and your fiancé seem to be gone from his own office, and your bedroom even, so quickly you armed yourself with your sword before hurrying out after the noise.

The streets of Las Nevadas were still partially lit by street lamps as you hurried along, it didn't take you long to find your fiancé, just outside of city limits, pacing In front of a strange looking hole.

"What the hell are you doing?" You hissed.

"Hey! It's (y/n) from Las Nevadas!"

You jumped at the voice, turning to see that no, the hole wasn't green, that the same slime boy from before was sitting in it.

"You! What are you doing here?!" You exclaimed.

"Quackity from Las Nevadas put me in this hole!" He said cheerfully.

Quackity grabbed your shoulder, turning you away from Slime and the hole, "You know him?"

"He was trying to look through my stuff after I talked to Purpled," You explained, glancing back over at the hole, "Said he sees just about everything, uhh, as far as I can tell, he's like the hybrids- but- weirder."

"Nope! I'm just a totally goopless guy! I'm bones and stuff!" He called from the hole.

"Oh god we have crazy people here." Quackity muttered scrubbing a hand over his face.

You moved to crouch next to the hole, "What- uh- What are you doing here buddy?"

"Oh I'm just oozing around. Dap me up!"

Confused, you complied, nervously laughing as he grinned at the handshake.

"I found him spying in the restaurant." Quackity sighed.

"What's spying?" The boy in the hole asked, "I just listen."

"Yeah well tell me exactly what you heard or I'll ill you right now!" Quackity threatened, pulling out his sword.

He hummed, "Well, I saw you, and I saw (y/n) from Las Nevadas. And there was a green guy, and a purple guy. I know of a Red guy, dead guy but he's not dead anymore-"

Your breath hitched, "Dead guy?"

"Yeah, looked real ashy- maybe even ...sooty?..." He confirmed.

Quackity glanced back at you, "And he's not dead anymore?"

"No. He's weird now. Got gray hair instead of grey skin. Used to run a country- got blown up though."

"How much have you seen man?" You asked, incredulous.

He shrugged, "I mean, I move slow but I've seen a lot. Lately a lot of conversations about taking advantage of the ever so fragile human psyche through gambling."

"Holy shit." you muttered.

Quackity glared up into the night sky, almost looking for an answer.

Shifting closer too look at the boy you frowned, "What's all that green stuff?"

"Oh- those are just- my totally normal- human parts! I'm a person!" He grinned.

You sighed, "Uhh, look, what's your name? Like how I'm (y/n) from Las Nevadas, who are you?"

"Oh, I'm goop from the ground!" He smiled for a moment before realizing his mistake, "I mean- I'm a meat person!"

Quackity still seemed to be praying to the sky, not paying any attention.

"Goop from the ground," You muttered, slowly connecting the dots, "Well, uhh, goop, how bout I give you a regular person name?"

"A person name? Oh boy!" He laughed.

You thought for a moment longer, "How about- Charlie?"

Charlie grinned, somehow even wider than before, "Woah! I have a real human name! Like any other regular human meat person!"

"Yep, you do." You chuckled.

"And, to be clear, I definitely am one of those, and not a piece of goop, that's slowly come to the surface, hiding as a person!"

As you continued to talk with Charlie, Quackity seemed to come to a realization, "He's like an accidental spy!"

And, when you helped him out of the hole Quackity was quick to say, "Well, this- this- was- was uh a formal greeting! Yeah that's what we call them!"

"Wow!" Charlie mused.

The walk back to Las Nevadas was quiet, until Charlie turned to you, "(y/n) from Las Nevadas, if I'm Charlie- where- where?"

You smiled, "Do you want to be Charlie from Las Nevadas?"

~~

By the end of the same week, after having gotten Charlie fully on board, and slight agreement from Foolish, word finally came from Purpled.

You'd been working on the next phase of the whole Nevadas Project when Charlie rushed in, "(y/n) from Las Nevadas! There's someone here!"

You frowned, "Who?"

"Purpled from UFO!" He practically yelled.

Standing, you tucked your papers away, "That's perfect Charlie, thank you. Do you want to come with to help show him around?"

He nodded, following you out of your office.

Outside, you found Purpled, along with his dog, looking up at the casino in awe.

"Purpled! You came!" You called cheerfully.

The boy turned, a strange expression you couldn't read on his face, "What? No 'I told you so'? No 'I knew you'd come around eventually'?"

You shrugged, "I'm just glad you finally came."

He sighed, "It's not like they needed me anywhere else."

You put a hand on his shoulder, "That's alright, We need you here."

"They- I went to tell Ponk I was leaving," Purpled sounded too broken, too tired, "He said he was too busy to talk to me."

Before you could say anything, he continued, "I had a house, near L'Manhole. I- I uh blew it up, to see what would happen," His shoulders began to shake, ever so slightly, as he finished in a whisper, "No one even noticed."

In one quick move you wrapped an arm around his shoulder and pulled him into a hug, "It's okay Kid, it'll be okay now."

That was how your fiancé found you, standing outside the main casino, a teen all but sobbing into your shirt, Charlie looking on confused.

~~

And so, the time passed, Las Nevadas grew, and you and your new little family did along with it.

Quackity found it funny, really, your ability to bring people onto your side be connecting with them emotionally, and as he put it, all but adopting them.

Charlie still took up a room in the apartments you and Quackity staid in above the offices. Purpled would come over when things around the country weren't so busy, and you'd talk for hours, Foolish joining in some of the time.

Fundy, on his first night in the city, had broken down to you, the same as Purpled, but you'd helped him put himself together. Though Tommy, Tubbo and Ranboo didn't have official places in Las Nevadas, it seemed a chunk of their time was spent there.

Yep, that was your new strange family. You, Your fiancé and the kids but not really young enough to still be kids you accidently adopted.

Now, you reflected on this quietly, from the top of the needle.

"You okay?" Quackity asked softly, looking over at you.

You chuckled softly, "Can you believe that it's been two years?"

"No, can you?"

You shook your head, "You know, I've been thinking. A long time ago, you told me we were better off with out Karl and Sapnap."

He watched silently, as you pulled the other two rings that you had kept, holding them up by the chain they were strung on.

"Maybe- you were right- and maybe it's finally time to get married. Just us. We didn't need them to get here, we won't need them for anything else."

A small smile slipped onto Quackity's lips, "Would you marry me?"

"You already know the answer to that." You chuckled.

"So it's a yes?"

"Obviously." You scoffed.

"When should we have the ceremony then?" He asked.

"Right now," You mused, "We opened that wedding hall for a reason, right? We could get married proper, right now. It's already decorated the way Tubbo originally planed."

He laughed, "Let's do it tomorrow that way we have time to get like, notices out and shit."

You smiled, "Of course."

The sun had begun to set during this discussion, and you looked out over the peaceful landscape with a soft sigh, yes, this, this was home.

And even as you heard Charlie tripping and crashing his way up the stairs, the thought still filled your head.

"Quackity and (y/n) from Las Nevadas!" He exclaimed, "Purpled from Las Nevadas found some people by the border!"

In an instant, both you and Quackity were standing, "What were they doing?"

"Looking around, real weird like. Fundy From Las Nevadas said they might be here to attack us! I hope they aren't."

You followed Quackity past him and back down from the tower, drawing your sword as Charlie called out where he had left Purpled and the mystery people.

What you found was not what you expected.

Purpled stood, sword drawn and pointed at the men you least expected to see now.

Karl looked scared, tucked back behind Sapnap who was moving to draw his own sword.

Not another move!" You barked, moving to stand in line with Purpled.

Karl's face light up upon seeing you, "(y/n)! Quackity! I missed you!"

"Did you?" Quackity spit.

"Sapnap drop your sword." You commanded, not paying attention to the strange look on their faces, no one, and I mean no, pulled a sword on your family.

He frowned, "Wh- (y/n) don't be like that. I get it- but- why..."

"What are your intentions? Why have you come here?" You asked.

"We wanted to find you!" Karl said, "We missed you (y/n)."

"Uhh, that's (y/n) from Las Nevadas to you." Charlie said.

Quackity sighed, grabbing Charlie by the collar and pulling him back, "Sorry- he's been learning sass and sarcasm lately."

"Still, what are you doing here?" You pushed.

"We wanted to find you! You've been gone so long, we thought we'd go looking." Sapnap explained.

"We've been gone?" You scoffed, "You were the ones who disappeared."

Karl moved forward, grabbing your left hand, and Quackity's right, "We just wanted to come back, to finally get married."

You pulled away, slowly sheathing your sword, "You can't be serious?"

"What do you mean?" Karl asked, the smile just beginning to drip off his face.

"You fucking left us- We were just trying to make a place for the four of us to be safe and you left us! And now you want back? Out of the blue?" Your voice steadily grew louder, "You cannot show up here after abandoning us like that!"

Quackity gently took your hand, murmuring, "(y/n)..."

"No. They don't get to do this!" You turned to him, watching his face change upon seeing the mix of anger and sadness in your eyes.

"W- We'll talk about this tomorrow, away from the kids," He asserted, for once not earning any protest about age from Purpled or Fundy, "Charlie, you think you can take these guys on a tour of the place?"

He nodded eagerly, "This way this way!"

As Sapnap, Karl, Purpled and FUndy began to trudge after him, Quackity turned to you, "(y/n)?"

You just shook your head, pulling your hand out of his and starting away.

~~ Purpled had followed the tour party quietly, taking a page from Charlie's book and watching, observing everything.

He had seen the pain in your face at the suggestion of marriage, and the anger in Quackity's just upon seeing them.

So, he followed the men warily, watching the way Karl exclaimed about how he had built an Effile tower just like the one in the city in Manberg, and the way that Sapnap mentioned fondly how the décor at the wedding hall matched the ones you two had always spoken about.

Hearing it nearly drove him mad. Did they not realize that it had all been for them? That dreams of them arriving were the only thing that had ruled Your and Quackity's minds?

When Charlie had directed the group, which by now included some of the other tourists, past one of the bars, he stopped.

Inside, Quackity was slumped at the bar, a bottle of whiskey in hand.

"Drinking away your problems won't solve them." Purpled sighed, pulling the bottle away from him.

"We were doing so good without them. You know that Purp. But here they are, back and ready to fuck things up again. That's how it's always been." He muttered.

The boy shook his head, "They don't realize how destructive they are? Do they?"

"Never have." He sighed.

"Lets get you back home."

Quackity allowed himself to be manhandled into standing, and then led out of the bar, back toward the offices, and toward the apartment.

"(y/n) will figure it out. They always do." Purpled assured him, pulling open the apartment door and ushering him in.

"But they shouldn't have too," He sighed, running a hand through his hair, not bothered by the way his beanie fell to the floor, "They've dealt with so much without help. Yet they're always the ones to help us."

~~

Once he had wrangled Quackity into the bedroom, Purpled headed back out, finding Fundy at the base of the Needle, "They up there?"

"Yeah," The hybrid sighed, "Quackity?"

"Got drunk. He's- painfully coherent though." He winced.

Fundy ran a hand through his hair, "It's hard to believe one of the nicest people around is the one to fuck them up like this."

"Makes perfect sense to me," Purpled said as they began to make their way toward the stairs, "My first night here- I was having a hard time, because- the whole server acted like I didn't exist. (y/n) told me about how Sapnap and Karl had abandoned them."

"Did it seem this bad though?" Fundy asked.

"No- but that was before they turned up again talking about marriage."

By now they had reached the top of the tower, and Purpled could see where you sat by the ledge, feet dangling over. Quietly, they both sat down on either side of you.

"How's Q?" You asked quietly after a moment.

"Drunk, but back at your apartment, well supplied with water." Purpled reported.

You nodded, "And K and- Karl and Sapnap?"

"Waaay to blissfully ignorant." Fundy said.

Quiet held you three in silence for a moment, until at last Purpled sighed, asking, almost bitterly, "So- are you gonna marry them? You were going to once."

"Even if I did it wouldn't change anything here." You mumbled.

"Sapnap was talking about how cool it would be to come back and visit from Kinoko after the honeymoon." Fundy admitted.

Before you could say anything Purpled drew one of his knees to his chest, "I- don't- it feels like they'd be taking you away from us- I like it the way it is. Things are nice, and they're just fucking it up."

Fundy nodded, "As much as I hate to say it, he's right. If you people all get married nothing will be the same. I kind of liked having parental figures, I don't want them messing that up."

"They won't." You promised softly.

By god, if you hadn't already made up your mind, their words would've swayed you.

~~ After a while, you stood, "Let's go home."

They followed you tiredly, Charlie joining the mini procession at one intersection, telling you that Sapnap and Karl had gone to get a hotel room.

At the apartment, Quackity was sitting on the couch, already seeming more sober than Purpled had told you. When you sat next to him, his arms were quick to wrap around you, holding you like a lifeline.

Charlie took his place on the other side of the couch, Purpled curled up in the armchair, and Fundy dug around until he found one of the old projectors he'd left there, queuing up a movie.

"Hey, just like on Nightmare's days!" Charlie laughed, referring to the infamous 16th, where, just about every month it seemed you, Fundy, Quackity and sometime Purpled would have nightmares of the Manburg Pogtopia war, and everyone would congregate in the living room to watch one of Fundy's movies.

"Sure as hell feels like one." Quackity muttered.

And so you watched the movie, though your thoughts drifted, thinking of how you would deal with your reappearing ex-fiancés.

As you thought, you created a mini script in your head. Exactly what you would say came you.

"You didn't need us then, and we don't need you now."

Yes, you thought, leaning more into Quackity's side, thats what you'd say, after you talked about your new family.

(and the next day, you did just that)

[melohax]

I’ve seen some people who finished Omori talking about how they don’t understand the game’s plot, what happens in the good ending or why the protagonist even decided to change his ways. So then, here’s my thoughts on Omori’s story.

Warning: SPOILERS AHOY. Only read this if you’ve already finished the game and seen the good or true ending. Or if you don’t plan on playing the game at all but still want to know the whole story.

I’ve seen some people around the internet talk about how Sunny’s character isn’t clear to them or how they feel Sunny doesn’t deserve a good ending. Here’s some thoughts I have on why I think Sunny’s growth was well depicted.

There’s two main routes you can go through in the game: the “Reality” route and the “Hikikomori” route.

In the “Hikikomori” route, Sunny stays in Headspace forever and we get to learn many additional details about him. Sunny’s parents are implied to have known what Sunny did to Mari all along. It’s also implied that Sunny’s mother covered the whole thing up and chose to present it as a suicide as well cus, in her own words, she can’t bear the thought of losing both of her kids.

Sunny’s mother insinuates her son isn’t a “good boy” even though she begs him to be good but she still sees him as her little boy (as seen by the overly-sweet and positive messages she leaves around the house and her voice mails) and needs him alive so she can survive her own grief. Sunny’s father is shown cutting down the hanging tree and telling Sunny he isn’t his son, presumably disowning Sunny. The father keeps being absent forever afterwards.

Fast forward to the present and the “Reality” route, Sunny’s moving in 3 days. He knows his time is up in the real world and the biggest catalyst for his personal growth is that he’s finally seeing his old friends in the REAL world after 4 years of only seeing their loving, idealized child version in dreams. For the first time, he gets to witness the collateral consequences of what he did to Mari in his now teenaged friends: Aubrey spirals into delinquency after feeling like she was thrown aside by everyone she loved. Hero is guilt ridden, can’t even go near Mari’s grave and gives up on his dreams of being a chef. Kel wants to make things better but feels powerless, useless and like a screwup. Basil lives in a miserable state of almost constant fear and psychosis.

Sunny finally gets to see the huge toll his lie took on his friends’ entire lives as they keep blaming themselves for not knowing about Mari’s supposed suicidal ideations. He’s finally forced to face reality and he still tries to hide in dreamworld but he can’t. The inhabitants of Headspace are all people or fictional characters he knows or likes in real life (that he changed in his dreams, like how Kim’s brother is a sweet gentle giant and Sweetheart looks just like the candy shop owner at the supermarket) and their quests end up leading him to events where he’s reminded over and over again his dreams will end soon (the end of the underwater highway, the tree near the whale, the shadows of Mari and Basil) and that he needs to delve into Blackspace.

This shows how his own subconscious mind knows well what needs to be done; he’s putting the mental and emotional effort of making himself face what he’s done, shown through the contrast between the whimsical nature of Headspace and the dark surrealism of Blackspace.

As this happens in Sunny’s psyche, in the real world he can try to “atone” a bit by doing good things for his little community like completing requests people around him have. He still has a lot of trouble being near Basil in the real world but considering his entire subconscious mainly revolves around finding and rescuing Basil, he wants and needs to face Basil sincerely before he runs out of time.

We’re shown through memories that Sunny’s personality was always quiet, wary, a bit distant and very bad at dealing with pressure. Some people even describe him as cowardly or mediocre but he was just a small kid who’s entire world ended when he was 12. Since then, he never left his house, spending most of his days asleep rather than awake. It’s no wonder his personality isn’t as developed as his friends. His friends, although they were also in immense pain, at least still continued to live beyond Mari’s death. Sunny didn’t. He only lived through sleep.

Subconsciously, it’s shown Sunny both loves and hates Basil. This is seen in Blackspace with the dialogue he has with the “strangers” walking in the void. They talk about how Sunny (as Omori) does horrible things to Basil in the darkness of Blackspace because he struggles with facing the truth of his own actions. It’s also revealed through datamine of Blackspace’s metaphorical photo album that Basil, in his attempts to save Sunny from the judgement of others and to get him to come out of catatonia, was the one who come up with the plan to hang Mari.

Sunny describes Mari as looking as if calmly asleep when he drags her up the stairs. Her eyes remained peacefully closed until Sunny and Basil hung her. Then, Sunny turned back to look at Mari’s corpse, her previously closed eyes were wide open. She might have even been still alive, might have opened her eyes during or after the noose was tied to her neck. Or the belief he saw her eyes open could have been a manifestation of Sunny’s guilt, instead.

Either way, the horrifying possibilities surrounding Mari’s death lead to Sunny handling his emotional pain by subconsciously taking it out on Basil. It’s why Basil in Blackspace is shown constantly suffering and dying in many different ways. It’s the only way Sunny has been able to deal with himself; by forcing Basil into the darkest corners of his mind, his perfect colorful dreamworld can’t be ruined by the ugly reality Basil’s mere presence represents. It’s less painful to try to forget Basil and to forever blame him for both of their sins.

Still, even with all these conflicted feelings, Sunny’s tried to come to terms with love he still feels for Basil many times before. The shadows point out how this isn’t the first time he’s tried to save the Flower Boy; how all the previous times before ended in Sunny failing to find redemption and so his mind turns back to torturing the Basil of his dreams instead.

However, one of the Blackspace shadows also mentions a very important detail that changes almost everything this time around: his time is almost up in the real world. Whether this means he’ll commit suicide or move away, it’s almost time for him to leave the friends he’s always loved so much behind.

Sunny is forced to do a lot of internal work and self-reflection in what little time he has left. It’s shown through his dream actions, the surreal imagery surrounding him and the characters with all the sub plots his subconscious makes up.

In the route to the good ending, he traverses Blackspace and manages to listen to every harsh truth Basil’s shadow has to tell him. His attempts to save Basil mean he’s fighting his own mind, forcing himself to accept the truth.

To achieve redemption for his greatest mistake, Sunny needs to start with accepting Basil entirely; he has to stop making Basil take the brunt of their combined regrets. It means being willing to finally face the REAL Basil instead of permanently burying him in the most painful place within Sunny’s mind.

So basically, it’s obvious to me that Sunny is forced out of his “comfortable” hikikomori misery the moment he opens the door to meet the REAL Kel.

Sunny and Basil have a confrontation in the real world. When Sunny entera Basil’s room, we see poor Basil suicidal and at his limit. He’s clearly in the throes of a psychotic episode and at the mercy of hallucinations and delusions he can’t escape from (“There’s no way out of this is there, Sunny?”). Basil attacks you in an attempt to save you by killing the “thing behind you” but as we know, there isn’t actually something behind you.

There was never any monster to take the blame for Basil’s regrets, nor yours. It’s always been just you.

Meanwhile, Sunny is trying his best not to completely lose his shit so he can save Basil and stop him from potentially killing the both of them. Sunny likely loses an eye in the fight, shown by the blood coming from your socket and the bandage over it in the hospital.

Incidentally, the eye you lose is on the same side as the eye that can be seen peeking through the hair of Mari’s face as she’s hanging from the tree.

In the good ending, the song at the end talks about how even after confessing the truth, Sunny is alone once again, so it’s not actually clear if Aubrey, Kel and Hero actually forgave him. I feel like this is deliberately left up to interpretation by the writers. The lyrics then continue on to say Sunny still finds it hard to wake up, still finds himself plagued some days with lingering regret, but that he still tries to take it all one step at a time to carry on living.

With the song’s lyrics in mind, the end scene that shows Basil and Sunny smiling at each other while Mari’s shadow leaves them doesn’t mean they’re completely fine all of a sudden. Whether their friends forgave them or not, they at least finally have the relief of honesty. The burden of their unbearable shared secret is now off their shoulders. It’s finally out in the open, which means they both can now start healing and working to find the redemption Sunny was looking for in Blackspace. It also means they can go back to loving each other again without the crushing pain they both felt in each other’s presence.

I agree that Aubrey and the gang get pretty left out in the good ending, though. I wish there was more of them and their reactions to the truth BUT I think it’s sadly a deliberate choice by the writers to leave their reaction up to the player’s interpretation. This can feel extremely unfulfilling to many people (me included, I hate when authors do that tbh) but also to many others that’s a good thing cus they get to apply their own personal meaning and feelings.

I personally feel like the friends forgiving Sunny and Basil right off the bat would be incredibly unrealistic. I think they would need a lot of time (especially Aubrey) for them to forgive the lie that wrecked their lives for years. Forgiveness isn’t impossible but it would probably come in the form of a slow, difficult, heartbreaking process. Bittersweet.

Redemption isn’t just about forgiveness, anyway.

Even if a person is never forgiven by the people they’ve hurt, they can still find redemption for their actions through doing good for the people around them and the world at large. An example of this is shown through what Sunny can do on his last days in his neighborhood. The gratitude and additional flowers he receives in the hospital from each person he’s helped are proof he can still do good for others even after something as horrible and unforgivable as accidental murder. In a way, it’s proof that his life is still worth living.

But ultimately that’s just my own interpretation of the ending and I understand other people would interpret it all differently. Some see forgiveness as a given in the story while there’s also others who think Sunny doesn’t deserve forgiveness or those who think Sunny is a sociopath/psychopath or that Basil is the true villain of the game. I think this is why the ending was left so open, to favor all the different interpretations people have of it.

ETA: Here’s a different take on Sunny’s parents. This post argues that, despite the initial implications, they actually didn’t know about the attempted coverup. It’s a really good writeup explaining the whys and hows and has me reconsidering that part of the story!

https://www.reddit.com/r/OMORI/comments/kr9nvx/major_spoilers_regarding_sunny_his_parents_and/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf

[diamaker-moon]

Moving Forward - Chapter 1

Chapter One

Change of Plans

—————

"Marinette, we need to talk..." Tikki trailed her words while glancing at the other Kwamis behind the girl.

They were out of the box, but instead of wreaking havoc inside the room, they were observing the young Guardian who's currently curled into a fetal position on top of her chaise. The Kwamis had a glance at her appearance at the moment, and they were more worried for her.

Marinette was tired. She was tired of everything.

Her issue with a liar in school, her current stand with her class, how the adults in school ignore the problem, and last night, Chat Noir ticked her. They were battling a late-night Akuma. He was not only late, but he also whined about Ladybug not doing her best. Instead of helping her, he gave her an ultimatum that if she doesn't confess her feelings for him, he'll not come to any Akuma battles or she confess and stop being stubborn. With that statement, she felt anger run through her veins and gave her more drive. She successfully defeated the Akuma all on her own. She tried to help the victim to their home, but the victim politely refused, after that, she rushed home, not looking back.

"What do we need to talk about, Tikki?" She replied still not looking at the ladybug kwami.

"About the miraculous holders and your situation at school."

Marinette sighed before sitting up and looking straight at the kwami. Due to her added responsibility, she had been on edge at school, and especially since the class is against her, she didn't care about them anymore. She dismissed and permanently retired the temporary heroes, and used the excuse of 'they already got exposed'.

"We agree about removing the other heroes, since you'll need to trust them, and that's currently a problem, but there's one more holder we refuse to see using a miraculous."

Marinette's brow shot up in confusion, "Who?"

"Chat Noir."

That made Marinette freeze. She knows where the conversation is leading.

"Plagg talked to me, he really liked his current holder, but it was getting annoying for him. He wants a new one, or you can use him temporarily for battle." Tikki explained.

Marinette thought about it for a while. Tikki was right. A lot has changed in Chat Noir's attitude, he became more pushy and annoying, and the people of Paris have been noticing his behaviour, some were disappointed, while others are reprimanding her for not returning the 'poor Chat's feelings'.

"Alright... We'll do it tonight."

The kwamis sighed in relief. That was one problem solved.

"Now the other problem... We think it might be best for you to be in a different environment."

"You mean, I should... transfer?"

Tikki nodded and when Marinette looked at the other kwamis they also nodded eagerly, and it made Marinette sighed.

Collège Françoise Dupont has been her school for a long time, even when Chloé was the one bullying her, she didn't consider transferring. Aside from the fact that her home is only across the street, she knew almost everyone in the school. But now... a lot has changed. She wondered how did Mlle Bustier and M. Damocles believe an Italian exchange student instead of investigating? Dupont changed drastically after the liar joined. Marinette doesn't recognize it anymore.

"I... I'll talk to Maman and Papa about it. Now, how am I going to claim the Black Cat Miraculous if I don't even know his identity?"

"I'll help you!"

Wayzz offered. It was only a small favour for him. After Tikki revealed to them their Guardian's current situation, all the kwamis were angry. They were also aware of Plagg's current holder, and they knew that both the Yin and Yang miraculous is currently unbalance.

The Yin and Yang Miraculous, which are the ladybug and black cat miraculous, are the most important miraculous in the Chinese Miracle Box. If the two miraculous are combined, the holder will be granted a wish, and that wish can even bend reality, however, every wish has its price.

And currently, all the kwamis feel the unbalance between the two miraculous. And it's all because of the blonde's promise.

'As long as you and I both know the truth' 

That was his words. But Adrien became blind to the fact that their classmates have been bullying her without concrete proof that she was the bully. He abandoned her when she needed someone, and didn't even apologize for leaving her, instead, he reprimands her for going against the 'high road' path.

There are going to be a lot of changes during the next few days.

—————

"Maman? Papa? Can we talk?"

Sabine and Tom who were busy preparing dinner turned their heads towards their daughter's faint voice. Sabine made her way towards Marinette and guided her to their living room and sat down.

"Is there something wrong, Marinette?"

Marinette gulped before looking straight into her mother's eyes.

She admitted everything. About the liar, how her so-called 'friends' abandoned her, how someone wants her to bend her morals and let the vixen fool their classmates, how her own teacher and principal lost their brain, how she was being bullied, how she was almost akumatized countless of times at school and their home, she breaks down.

Sabine was stunned. She didn't even notice how her own daughter has been suffering in that place. She wanted to be angry, she wanted to lash out, but she didn't want Shadowmoth to take over her emotions. Looking at her daughter who was now crying in her Father's arms, broke her heart.

She stood up, grabbed a tray and gathered food on it.

"Here, why don't you eat in your room for now... Your Father and I will talk about your transfer since I will not let you step a foot in that school anymore."

Marinette nodded and took the tray before heading to her room.

Sabine and Tom did work while they were eating dinner, they have founded a school that will suit their daughter.

Jeanne d'Arc l'Académie

A private school that is more expensive than Dupont, but they also grant scholarships. The school offered courses that will help the student's talents blossom. And both of Marinette's parents believe in their daughter's talent in designing, she could get a scholarship, and if that doesn't work out, they'll just have to work harder for her tuition.

The school offers a dormitory to all the students.

Marinette's home was a bit further from that school, that is why Dupont became an advantage to them since it is a street away from the bakery.

"Are we going to let her move to a dorm? Or she'll just be commuting?" Tom asked, worried about her daughter going to school late every time.

"We'll be talking to her about this, and if she wants to, I think it might be better. She'll be far away from Dupont, and the dorm building will only allow parents and listed guests to enter." Sabine said.

Marinette was a sixteen-year-old girl, but they are more worried about her mental health. If she was constantly near her old classmates, she might not feel safe. Sabine was hoping that Marinette will agree to move into a dorm. Sure, she'll miss her all the time in their home, but her daughter's health is much more important.

The next morning came, Sabine called the principal early morning, and informed that Marinette will not be going to class for a week due to personal matters. Which the man agreed immediately after hearing the woman's sharp tone.

When Sabine saw Marinette walked down from her room, she took a good look at her daughter. She was becoming thinner, she had bags under her eyes, and she can feel a looming aura around her.

"Morning, Maman..."

"Come, eat breakfast. I already called your school that you'll be absent for a week, while you rest and we prepare for your transfer."

Marinette nodded and gave her mother a genuine smile. Something she hasn't done for a while.

"Marinette. We found you a school that will suit you, it can help with your career. Now we want your input, they offer a campus dorm, me and your father, thought that it's much better if you get a dorm so that you'll be far away from Dupont."

The girl was stunned. She couldn't imagine waking up all alone, without her parents near her. She wanted to go against it, but she thought about it.

Far away from Dupont. She could gain more privacy, she'll be able to move freely especially when there's an Akuma. Especially now that she's all alone.

Last night, she reclaimed the black cat miraculous. Marinette was hurt that her partner was the boy who hurt her the most. Adrien Agreste. She was angry that the blonde couldn't be a hero without a mask. But she needed a new partner, someone she could trust and will always back her up.

"Don't worry, the dorm building is strict only parents and listed guests are allowed to enter," Sabine added after noticing how quiet her daughter was.

"Can I think about it until dinner?"

Sabine nodded and bid goodbye since she needs to work in the bakery now.

After finishing breakfast, she went upstairs to her room with a tray of foods that all the kwamis like. The Kwamis noticed that the girl was silent, but they didn't ask. Plagg who was silently observing while eating a cheese danish finally went up to her.

"You okay, kid?" Plagg asked.

Marinette looked at the cat kwami who had a reputation of being stubborn, it made her smile a bit.

"Maman said I'm officially being transferred to a new school. Maman also recommended that I stay in a dorm inside the school campus, for me to be away from Dupont."

"Isn't that good Marinette? You'll get more privacy without worrying about someone barging inside here or someone seeing you go inside while you're in the suit." Tikki said.

Marinette only sighed and calmed herself. She could only hope that Shadowmoth won't be sending an Akuma or an Amok today.

—————

"Guys! Did you hear?!"

Three pairs of eyes landed on the person who came in while shouting inside their dorm.

"What is it?"

"There are rumours that someone applied to be transferred here in Jeanne! We might get a new student and possibly a new dormmate!"

The three looked at each other and glanced at a closed door while thinking about the newcomer's words.

Meanwhile, back at Marinette's home.

Her parents informed her about her possible scholarship and the requirements— which was easy for her since she is applying for a fashion scholarship, she will need to pass a portfolio of her designs. She also let her parents know about her decision about the dorm. And her parents agreed to it.

For the first time in a while, Marinette had a fun time. She ignores the constant notifications on her cellphone, she dedicated the day to relax, something she hasn't done for a while.

It was a blessing in disguise that transferring out of Dupont will be easy, her mother will only need to get her student files then leave.

Ever since the bullying started, she slowly removes her belongings in her locker to avoid any rumours about stealing... again. Looking around her room, It felt bare to her. She took down all of Adrien's photos and class photos from her walls and burned them. Impulsive? Yes. Worth it? Definitely!

The gifts she had created for Adrien were getting donated. She was slowly removing any reminders about her life in Dupont.

She had to admit, she thanked Lila for letting her see her classmates' true colours. She wasn't a friend, she was a tool. She now realizes how her class uses her for free things, how Alya just dumps the babysitting on her without even getting paid, how her teacher kept moulding her to be a perfect student. She hated it. She was used. And now that she isn't 'useful' they abandon her.

She was currently preparing her portfolio, and even asked her clients if she can have permission to use the commissions she has made to be used in her portfolio, to which they happily agreed!

Three days have passed, she had successfully applied for a scholarship, her mother has retrieved her school files, no Akumas or Amoks attacking the city.

"You seem quite happy, bǎobǎo!" Sabine was glad that Marinette is slowly becoming happy once again.

Marinette deserved to be happy. Her parents will do anything to keep it that way.

"Have you started packing your things? You do know that even if the scholarship is rejected, we'll still enroll you, right?"

"Yes, Maman. Thank you. I know it is expensive, but I still want to thank you guys for the opportunity!"

Marinette hugged her mother and smile contentedly. She was happy. She was finally happy... for now.

While waiting for a response in her scholarship application, she was currently brainstorming with Tikki about her suit.

"You want to change it?" Tikki asks.

"Yeah. Like a reminder that I am beginning a new chapter, and leaving everything behind."

Tikki smiled and happily agreed with her holder. All the kwamis are out, but Plagg and Tikki were constantly out of the box.

Marinette wears both the miraculous, at first she was scared that it might trigger the ultimate power, but nothing happened, so she assumed that it will only happen if both are unified. She had also gained the Grimoire and missing tablet!

When Wayzz retrieved the Cat Miraculous, he had noticed his previous Master's tablet and the Grimoire in Adrien Agreste's desk, he informed Ladybug and she immediately went to his room quietly. She didn't even want to think why he suddenly has it. Returning to her room, she had successfully got three important things.

Master Fu's missing tablet where a translated Grimoire is stored.

The original Grimoire.

And finally, the Cat Miraculous.

It was more than what she had bargained. But she was lucky. Really lucky!

'Looks like lady luck finally gave me a good amount of luck!'

 Chapter 1 — Moving Forward: Masterlist — Chapter 2

[cas-kingdom]

Bad Blood

A/N: Set towards the end of season 3. 

Title: Bad Blood

Summary: After Peter discovers Neal stole the ship’s treasure, you’re worried he’ll be mad at you for keeping the secret.

Words: 2310

The problem with loving your brother so much you couldn’t possibly do something to put him in jail, despite your personal opinions, is that it puts you in an awkward position.

You had never had that problem. From the age of three, you’d gone everywhere with Neal. You’d grown up among thieves and criminals, and that’d been all you’d known. Until Neal was caught, and you’d lived a more subdued life for four years, learning things and picking up what it meant to have a normal life. You’d grown your own opinions, stemming from the simplest of things, and slowly come to realise that there was a life outside your brother’s antics.

Maybe that was why Neal hadn’t told you about the treasure. Perhaps he’d thought you might tell Peter. He should have known, though, that you’d never do that. So, more plausibly, maybe he’d simply wanted to keep you safe. Maybe he hadn’t wanted to put you in that kind of position – stuck between him and Peter. He’d been doing that a lot in the year and a bit he’d been out of jail; keeping secrets, only letting you in on what he thought you needed to know. It was a swerve in your relationship, and it was constantly hitting obstacles.

Peter had taken you aside a while after the fire and asked you if Neal had stolen the treasure. You could still remember the flurry of emotions that had hit you then.

“I need to know,” Peter said. His voice was gentle. He was leaning on his forearms, staring at you from his place behind his desk. His eyebrows were raised, and you would have squirmed uncomfortably if you knew what he was talking about.

You sputtered for a moment, glancing down at the floor, before shaking your head and looking back up at him. “Neal?” you asked. “You- you think Neal stole the treasure?” Peter lifted his chin and leaned back against his seat. “I thought it was all lost in the fire.”

Peter sighed. “We did, too,” he said. “But… we found something that leads us to think otherwise.”

Your frown deepened. You turned your head, just about seeing Neal immersed in conversation with Jones. He glanced up for a moment, your eyes meeting, and he gave you a questioning look. You bit the inside of your cheek and turned back around to look at Peter, who was watching you intently.

“I don’t know, Peter,” you said honestly.

Peter nodded. “If you did…” He tilted his head a little. “Would you tell me?”

It wasn’t an interrogative look that he was giving you. He loved you. Every moment he was with you was spent treating you as his own. But that love included protecting you, even from your brother, and he wanted – needed – to be sure that you weren’t withholding anything from him that could put you behind bars, because he knew he’d rather be behind them himself than let you go.

You bit your lip, absently fidgeting with your fingers. You glanced up and shrugged.

Peter nodded slowly. “Alright,” he said. He couldn’t say he hadn’t expected that response. He drew in a deep breath and stood up, rounding the desk. He leant down and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “As long as you’re safe, kid. That’s all I ask. Don’t get yourself caught in something I can’t get you out of. And… try get that in your brother’s head, too. You know where I am if you need me.”

Really, it should’ve been obvious to you that Neal had stolen it. You hadn’t wanted it to be – it was for that reason you’d never told Neal that Peter had even asked you about it – but you knew the man better than you knew anyone and anything. If the opportunity was presented, he would grab it up.

You’d cried after overhearing Neal and Mozzie discussing the treasure. They’d been quiet, whispering among themselves, and Neal should have known really that you wouldn’t have been asleep. He’d heard you sob, your pillow over your head, and got up from his chair so fast he’d knocked it over. Eyes wide, heart pumping, mind whirring, he’d slid into the bed beside you. You’d pushed him away, but he’d stayed, he always stayed, and he’d slept with you until morning, your back to him, his hand on your shoulder. You hadn’t talked about it the next day, and you’d been blunt with him since. You figured he’d worried you would tell.

“You have the treasure!”

You could hear Peter’s words. You’d been sat at the table when he’d come in, telling them Elizabeth had been taken, and you’d decided then and there that if Neal didn’t tell him, you would. Thankfully, you hadn’t had to, but the look Peter had given you after that had seared into your brain, and you hadn’t been yourself since. So, the moment Neal had been cleared – officially, anyway – you’d ached to speak to the agent.

“Peter, can we talk?”

It was a Sunday, and you, Mozzie and Neal were at Peter and Elizabeth’s for lunch. There was a sense of normality around Sunday lunch at the Burkes’. A familiarity that you had been terrified you’d lost for a moment back then.

Elizabeth and Neal were sitting outside, the both of them laughing about something or other, and Mozzie was sleeping on the deck chair he’d brought from June’s – nobody was sure why and nobody had bothered to ask. He was Mozzie, after all. You had been putting the plates away, Satchmo your shadow, and Peter had followed close behind, that smile on his face which told you he was happy. You didn’t really want that smile to disappear, and you knew he probably didn’t have anything to talk to you about, you were just being paranoid, but it would make you feel better, and you were too selfish to let that pass.

Peter glanced over his shoulder as you leaned against the kitchen counter. He nodded. “Sure,” he said, shutting the dishwasher. He turned around and crossed his arms, a look of slight intrigue crossing his face. “What is it?”

You swallowed, rolling your shoulders a little. You saw Satchmo nudge your hand with his wet nose and felt all the better for it. “I don’t…” you started, before feeling the lump in your throat stop your words. Peter, ever the concerned stand-in parent, moved forward immediately, his eyebrows furrowing together, those frown lines creasing his forehead. He stopped beside you, not wanting to invade your privacy yet needing to be there for you all the same, despite his not knowing what it was you wished to say.

He was a patient man, and so he merely stood beside you for a moment, waiting for you to speak up again. The open door was letting in the fresh breeze, the sound of Elizabeth and Neal’s laughter wafting in through it. It was the perfect day.

“I don’t want there to be any bad blood between us,” you said eventually, in a voice softer than Peter ever believed he’d heard.

He took a little while to mull your words over, staring fixedly at a spot on the floor. He shook his head as though preparing his words. “There isn’t any,” he said after a small moment, tilting his head to look down at you. When you didn’t reply, your hand on top of Satchmo’s head, he darkened his frown. “Hey,” he said, almost as softly as you. He pushed himself from the counter to move partly in front of you, taking your hands into his and waiting for you to meet his gaze. “What makes you think that?”

You swallowed again, foolishly feeling tears in the corner of your eyes. “I knew about the treasure.”

Peter made a face of realisation immediately. He squeezed your hands. “You knew about it after I asked about it,” he reassured you, shaking you a little, “you’re fine. I’m fine. We’re fine.”

“Well, I should’ve told you anyway,” you said, sniffling. “I should’ve told you the moment I found out. That’s withholding evidence… or something.”

Peter huffed a short laugh, releasing your hands only to pull you against his chest in a strong hug. “Your mind’s been working on this one for a while, huh?” he said gently, rubbing his hand up and down your back. You rested against him, eyes staring blankly ahead, lips trembling as you tried to hold the tears back. You felt Peter rest his chin on the top of your head. “I’m telling you, kid,” he said, “there’s nothing bad between us. You didn’t know about the treasure when I asked, and you said you didn’t know whether or not you’d tell me if the odd chance you found out later came up. I accepted that. That’s all that matters.” He turned his head a little, looking into the garden. As he’d expected really, Neal was craning his neck, eyes concerned even from this far away. He rose a dark brow, a silent question passing between them, and Peter nodded his head once, causing the younger man to reluctantly turn back to his conversation with Elizabeth.

Peter imagined it was difficult for both you and Neal to have someone like him in your lives. It’d always been you for a long, long while, and allowing someone in, opening up to that person like you had, was something he felt almost honoured for. Holding you in his arms like this, feeling your hands grip his shirt and your head all but bury in his chest, simply because you were worried he was upset with you, made him feel something indescribable. It was a good feeling, though. The feeling he felt when Neal did as he was told without argument, and called him his friend, and just came into work that morning because he’d decided it wasn’t the day to cut his anklet and run.

Things had changed for the Caffreys. He hadn’t known you at all before a year and a bit ago, but even he could tell that. You were letting people in. Trusting people besides yourselves and each other.

He pat you on the back and pulled away from you a little, gently putting a finger under your chin. “I don’t blame you for wanting to keep Neal safe,” he assured you. “I know it was difficult enough to keep it a secret after you found out.”

You nodded, sniffling a little. Of course it’d been difficult. It’d been the reason you’d cried yourself to sleep that night. You hadn’t wanted the task of having to make a decision, and you were only grateful – and relieved, more than anything – that you hadn’t had to.

“I think...” You glanced down for a second, glassy eyes meeting the soft brown ones of Satchmo. “I think I would’ve told you eventually.”

Peter wasn’t sure if he was surprised at that revelation. He lifted his chin a little, dropping his finger from yours. "Really?"

"Somebody would have found out in the end,” you told him. “Better it be you. You’re the only person who cares about Neal enough to fight for him.”

Peter regarded you carefully, watching as you shuffled your feet and chewed anxiously at the inside of your cheek. He hadn’t really thought about it in that way before, but now you’d mentioned it, he could see it.

It was true, what you’d said. Mozzie and Neal’s treasure-hiding hadn’t been the smartest. There’d been enough leads to have found it eventually, and definitely enough to drive whoever was following those leads to them. Those people would not have been so lenient. They wouldn’t have understood Neal’s (partly) turned over leaf. They wouldn’t have understood his kindness, and his compassion, and his general humanity. And they definitely wouldn’t have understood his need to stay in front of the bars if only to keep Y/N happy.

Peter understood it all and more. If you had told him about the treasure before he – and Keller – had found out about it himself, he doubtlessly, with a small amount of consideration and hesitation, would have decided on some way or another to give Neal the lowest possible amount of punishment he could receive for a crime such as this. He wouldn’t have thrown the guy in jail and left you without your brother for another few years of your life, and New York without Neal.

He loved you both too much to do that to either of you, or to him.

“Yeah,” he said eventually, a little distant in his tone. He looked back out at the garden, Neal’s grin threatening to split his face as he laughed along with Elizabeth. Though Peter could still see his aching need to get up and ask what he and you were talking about. That was Neal Caffrey. The first responder to all his little sister’s life choices. All except some, Peter decided, and he didn’t half mind that.

He turned back to you and gave you a smile, letting it widen as you responded with your own, half genuine one. “You’re a good girl, sweetheart,” he said quietly, “and you help me keep that man within his limitations better than anyone. Make sure you talk to him. I’m getting a little tired seeing those puppy dog eyes every day.” Your chest heaved with a breath of amusement at that, and he counted it as a victory as he pulled you towards him once more. “The only way there could be any bad blood between us is if you killed Satchmo. Or Elizabeth. Or me. Now, go out and ask the beauty, the criminal, and the winter sunbather if they want cheesecake or profiteroles for dessert.”

[boldlyvoid]

Intro to Criminal Minds: Why They Did It

Criminal Minds x MINDHUNTER AU

Spencer Reid x Margaret Carr (OC)

Part 1: Ed Kemper.

Summary: Spencer is teaching a 7-week seminar on the most interesting criminal cases, explaining their actions to understand why they took place. Only, not everyone in the audience is a student.

warnings: graphic details of a real rape and murder case, like every trigger in the book, applies to this fic so read with caution (if you watch either show you're used to it, however), it's all real and did actually happen and I don't support any of it. strangers to lovers, mutual pining, flirting, fluff, eventual smut, idiots in love, OC is Wendy Carr's daughter, her bio father is Jason Gideon

word count: 3.9K

He'd be lying if he said he wasn't having fun teaching.

He started with guest speaking, moving to special seminars a few times a year. But he wanted something more, settling for a 7-week criminal justice elective of his choosing.

Intro to Criminal Minds: why they did it. Giving Spencer an excuse to share the most intimate facts about serial offenders in a setting where no one could tell him to shut up.

14 students total signed up for the two-hour Seminar, taking place every Thursday at 11 am from September until Halloween. Over the 7 weeks, he would explain the fascinating insights of the most successful killers in the United States. Only asking that his students write about a prolific crime they find interesting by the end of term, for their full grade.

All he wanted was to read about obscure killers from around the world, from the perspective of aspiring profilers.

The first Thursday, he came prepared with his coffee a half hour before the class. He wanted to write the main points on the whiteboard in advance, nice and neatly.

To his surprise, a student was already there waiting for him. "Oh, hello,” he smiled softly.

She was sitting with a book in her hands, she pushed her glasses up her nose to look at him as he walked in. She was older than his typical student, around 35. Probably finishing up a degree or adding something to what she already had.

"Hi," she smiled at him. “Sorry, I’m early, I was visiting my mom at Quantico earlier.” She explained. "I'm not a teacher's pet or anything. Promise, I’m not even a student.”

It made him laugh slightly, correcting him like she read his mind. "It's okay, I'm Doctor Reid," he introduced himself softly.

“Margaret Carr, Peggy is also fine.”

"Pleasure to meet you," he said quickly before focusing his attention on the whiteboard.

He could feel her eyes on him the whole time he wrote, not wanting to turn around and catch her. "That's so interesting," he heard her mumble under her breath.

"Hmm?" He turned around.

"It's just that, everyday occurrences that never phase the regular person somehow cause psychopaths to kill," she read the board back to him.

"I was reading a study a while back about how psycho killers medulla oblongata is approximately 19% smaller than the average human’s. Based on the way they're nurtured as children affects if they grow up to kill. The ones that don't often end up in law enforcement and other positions of power where their psychopathic tendencies can come to play."

He was taken aback for a moment. He had never experienced a student who was like him before. Someone who just pulled facts into conversations like it was nothing.

"I read that as well," he smiled. "It is fascinating. The smallest amount of bullying and abuse from a mother or disappearance of a father figure can set them off."

"Or, on the other hand, there are people like Ted Bundy," she added. "He was well-loved and taken care of, but it went to his head. His god complex and affinity for lying led him to be incredibly charismatic and enabled his killing."

"You're very educated on this already; are you just interested in hearing me speak today?" He asked, not wanting her to leave, finding it interesting that she was there.

"Oh," she blushed. "I was going to talk to you more about it after the seminar actually."

“Okay, I’ll be waiting for you,” he felt a little giddy at the prospect.

"Thanks," she laughed. "Seriously though, I'm a big fan of your teaching style, I saw a few of your classes when my dad was teaching at the academy in 2005. It's a lot easier to remember facts if the lecturer genuinely loves what they're talking about."

"You're going to like this Seminar then. It’s basically just a way for me to get paid while unloading all the random facts I have,” he warned her with a smile.

"I know." She smiled back at him.

The rest of his students filed in slowly. By 11 am, 14 faces were staring back at him.

"Hello," he waved awkwardly. "I'm dr. Spencer Reid. For the last 12 years, I've worked with the FBI's Behavioural Analysis Unit. Catching serial offenders across the country."

He took a deep breath, letting the nerves find their way out of him. "I've been asked time and time again who my favourite serial killer is, which is a peculiar way to phrase the question. It feels morally wrong to have a favourite in the way people do with baseball players.

"I am, however, fascinated with several serial offenders' reasoning and explanation for why they did what they did. Every single killer is different, but it all comes back to 1 thing. Do you know what that is?"

They all shook their heads. “What is your relationship with your parents like?" He asked. 

Everyone in the room reacted; some students sighed, some rolled their eyes as they recalled their parents and childhoods to memory.

"When a person decides to kill, it's often never in the moment. It's in childhood. The majority of serial offender's stories start the same; their mother didn't love them, their father left. Someone at home abused them or put them down repeatedly."

"Thus, causing a hatred so primal to bubble. No matter how hard they try and fight it, the bubble always bursts. They go from fantasizing to killing in retaliation for their abuse, taking the anger out in stages."

He referred to the board. "Every killer has a stressor and a trigger—something that causes the urge to bubble and the event that causes the bubble to rupture.”

"Edmund Kemper is a fascinating example of this. He grew up with a family for the first few years of his life before his father fully abandoned them. His mother handled the situation by turning her anger onto her son; it was his fault his father left, he looked just like him, Ed was just another useless man who would never amount to anything," he emphasized the words. Hoping the class sees the effects words have on children.

"He started by cutting up dolls, stealing his sister's barbies and cutting their heads off. In his mind, he was getting out his anger and hatred for how his mother saw him. She hated men, causing him to mature with a warped idea of what women are truly like."

"His attraction to killing worsened his mother's hatred; she could tell something was wrong with him, that he didn't react to everyday situations the way he should. By the time he was ten, she was locking him in the basement for days on end, telling him he was a monster and her biggest regret."

"The change in her rage amplified his own. He hated hearing her speak. He hated the way she walked around, thinking she was better than him. That just because she was a mother and a working woman, she deserved respect and submissive’s. All he could see was a woman with a big head who needed to be humbled. This is the moment when the psychotic side of his brain blended his hatred of his mother with how good it felt to kill."

"Is that why he, you know?" Peggy cut in, running her finger along her neck as she pretended to cut her head off.

He pressed his lips together in an awkward smile, nodding. "His signature, as it's called, was decapitation. But more specifically necrophiling the severed head of his victims."

The whole class let out a disgusted noise, Peggy and Spencer making eye contact while they shrugged, it wasn't news to them.

"At age ten, he moved from barbies to cats and dogs, never leaving them around for his mother to see. While he hated her, he was also absolutely terrified of her. Breading a special type of killer. When you think of school shooters or preferential predators, what do they have in common?" He asked.

He pointed at a student in the back. "They have a specific type of victim they’re after?"

"Exactly. Most serial offenders want to go after the cause of their pain or attraction. However, Ed wasn't able to kill the source of his rage for a long time. His mother mentally abused him so intensely that he believed she was in control of him and that her opinion of him mattered. He saw her as his God, he loved her, but he also knew that he disappointed her.

"He ran away soon after to find his father. Travelling to California, only to be told he was unwanted there as well. It wasn't just his mother that his father was escaping; it was the fundamental aspect of family that he didn't want. Ed defiantly didn't want to go back to his mother after that, so he moved in with his paternal grandparents."

He kept catching the looks on Peggy's face. She knew the story already, waiting patiently to hear the words he chose to make the horrific acts seem a little more conversational.

"His grandmother was exactly like his mother. If I had to guess, his father most likely had a distaste for his own mother and thus divorced Ed's mom. Only he never grew up to be a killer, just an absent father—his absence doing to Ed what never happened to him."

"Ed killed his grandparents when he was 15. Telling the police and his therapists that they had beaten him constantly, they refused to feed him and called him names. He said he snapped from the trauma; it was self-defence."

Peggy laughed to herself, making him smile softly. "Sending him to a mental hospital instead of a juvenile facility was the worst thing they could've done for him," Spencer added.

"Why?" A student asked.

"Ed is a psychopath." He reminded them. "He doesn't feel empathy the way we do. You can admit that you feel bad for him, yes? If you understand why he killed people, it doesn't make you sick, like him, it makes you human. You see a hurt person hurting others; Ed Kemper sees himself as a new sort of God, choosing who dies, how and when."

"He was brilliant, having the exact IQ as I do," just a humblebrag, "the staff trusted him. He looked like an innocent boy, smart enough to take matters into his own hands for the betterment of his life. They gave him computer privileges, they let him work the front desk and file patient information. Giving him all the resources to learn about who he was inside and how to get away with it perfectly."

"Damn," another kid added. "When did he get out?"

"At 21.” He answered the student quickly. “Ed was interviewed by my mentor Jason Gideon, in the 70s. Where he explained that being locked up during his sexual prime, as well as the access to information, is what truly set him off more than his mother.

"He moved back in with her and his sister when he came out of the institution, immediately returning to the constant ridicule. He went from being told all the time that he was a smart and charming young man, capable of rehabilitation to a useless, no-good son, who would have been better off collecting in a condom or running down her leg."

The whole class laughed, shocked at his repetition of Ed's mother's words.

"He got his licence when he was released. And remember, this was prime time for hitchhiking in California; everyone and their mother walked the roads with a thumb in the air. It was the birth of free love and recreational marijuana usage. It was also the best hunting ground for a learning serial killer."

"He was able to pick women up, but like I said, missing his sexual prime while in an institution made him almost impotent. He didn't know how to speak to women; he had to create a fantasy in his mind every time, one that involved killing, before he could look at a woman."

"How did he get them in his car then?" A voice asked from the back.

"He was 6'9, 300lbs; he looked like a big teddy bear. And his mother was the local college administrative assistant, so the whole town knew him anyway. If Ed offered to give them a ride, it wouldn't be that bad, right?" Peggy turned around to face the class as she explained for Spencer, who just shook his head.

"He only wanted to rape the victims, originally," Spencer added. "But he couldn't. There was no release of the tension. The bubble that had been growing inside him was at its breaking point; he needed to just do it. Get it over with and move on."

"He killed 6 women in succession after that. Gaining the name "The Co-Ed Killer," well before anyone even suspected Ed Kemper," Spencer took a sip of coffee, feeling his throat start to dry as they reached the insane part.

"He was overly friendly with the cops; he wanted to get his record expunged and join the force.” Spencer finally continued. “Being told, "don't worry about your record, worry about your weight.""

"Most killers enjoy wearing a uniform for the power and talking to the police about their cases, in the hopes of gauging how smart they really are—taking pride in the fact that they are getting away with it for so long."

"He watched all the cop shows, and he read all the books. He knew that in order to get away with it, he had to do it where no one could trace it back to him. He knew he had to keep his cool and avoid looking obsessed with the case, but just curious enough to gain insight into how they thought he was doing it. It went on for years, and they had absolutely zero leads, finding headless bodies every few months before they finally received a call." He left them hanging, walking over to his sheet of paper and pretending to read it while they anticipated the catch.

"Ed always knew that he wanted to kill his mother. He just never knew when,” Spencer teased the story along. Noticing as the students fidgeted in their seats as they wondered what happened next.

“In his interview with Gideon, Ed said that he knew she would die 7 days before he killed her. He walked into her room that night to find her reading, with the audacity to ask if he wanted to come in and chat all night. Teasing him for the way he rambled to her. It was the last time she ever did that."

"It's hard to imagine his signature with the fact his second last victim was his mother," Peggy added, cringing at the thought.

"Wait," another student interjected. "Who was his last kill then if he only really wanted to kill her?"

"Remember how I said he lacked empathy?" Spencer asked. "He loved his mother in the same way a prisoner can end up loving their captor."

Peggy nods at the comparison, looking like she's never thought of it that way before, then smiling at him.

"You grow a bond through the trauma and when the only thing you've ever known is violence and hate, you don't know what to do when that's gone, it's hard to cope."

"He said he killed his mother so that she never had to know what he did. She'd never have to sit at his court hearings or be able to tell the media that she always knew he was a killer."

"His last kill was his mother's best friend," He finally answered the question.

"He didn't want his mother to be even more disappointed in him, but he also didn't want his mother's best friend to find her like that and be upset. So the obvious answer to him was to kill her too."

"What the fuck?" He heard a couple of kids say under their breath.

"Yeah," he agreed with an almost chuckle. "This is what I mean by their answers are fascinating. It makes so much sense to them; clearly, if I kill my mother, her friend will be upset, so the best answer would be to put her out of her misery as well. He sees them as objects, like a matching set. One would lose value without the other."

Everyone was silent then. The students took in all the information they had just received, staring up at him with a look of disgust mixed with wonder.

"Any questions?"

Peggy raised her hand for a change; he pointed towards her in approval. "You missed the part where he specifically took the heads from the three women before his mother and brought them back home with him. He buried them in the yard outside her bedroom window, making sure they were always looking up to her."

Spencer was amazed that she knew the details. "Yes, I guess I did."

"I always found that part particularly interesting in this case," Peggy added. "Her opinion mattered so much to him. He knew how much she loved her co-ed's and how they looked up to her so much. They'd be exactly like her. He felt trapped in a town of women who were exactly like his nightmare, and his response was to make them physically look up to her for the rest of her life."

"Exactly." Spencer smiled. "understanding how he sees the situation and how the events played out in his mind is the key in figuring out who he is."

"If you were on the case in '72 when the first victims were discovered, how would you have handled it, Dr. Reid?" A male student in the back asked in the silence between answers, taking his shot before Peggy and Spencer went any further in their discussion.

“That's a hard thing to answer, connecting evidence back then was a lot harder than it is today, if it wasn’t for men like Ed there wouldn’t really be this many answers,” Spencer said honestly.

Another student put her hand up, “what’s the worst thing he did in your opinion?”

That racked his brain, there was a handful of horrific things he did that were particularly horrific, “probably his mother's entire murder.”

“What did he do?”

Before Spencer could answer he saw Peggy open her mouth and start explaining. “He not only cut off her head and fucked her neck, but he also took her vocal cords out and shoved them down the garbage disposal. And before he called the cops, he cleaned everything up and made her look presentable because he said his mother wouldn’t want guests to see the mess.”

The class all cringed, sinking into their seats with disgust. But that didn’t stop Peggy from explaining it all further.

“He used to go to a bar all the cops went to and he would talk about his case. They would always one-up themselves and say they were close which gave him this false idea that they were on his tail and they’d find his mother soon. But when they didn’t, he called it in from a payphone and said he’d come over and explain it all. And boy did he ever, the cops said he wouldn’t shut up. And then when they put him in the cop car finally, a woman walked past him and he threw up.”

Spencer watched her with awe, the way she could call information to memory like that was beautiful. He listened to her like he’s never heard a fact before, she was so intriguing.

“Thank you for the detail,” he teased her lightly. “Sometimes I get so caught up that the really gross parts get swept aside.”

The class smiled at him, he had gained their trust and attention within only 1 hour of class.

“I know you said you don’t have a favourite,” another student asked from the back. “I agree it’s weird, but who is the one you gravitate towards the most?”

“I’ve met hundreds of serial killers, I’ve read about thousands,” he explained. “I think Ed Kemper is the one I gravitate the most around because he was so willing and open to explaining why he is the way he is. Going as far as to say that the only way they could keep women safe is to give him a lobotomy. He didn’t believe there was any correcting to be done, only removal of the evil within him.”

He heard slight mumbles as everyone took in what he said. “Does anyone here have a killer or a case that interested them in learning more, or just introduced you to the chase of justice?”

Peggy put her hand up, “I personally think BTK is the scariest, most tactical, and just downright evil man to ever exist. He scares me to no end but he’s so interesting to learn about.”

“Ahh,” Spencer agreed. “Too bad you won't be here for week 3. But with that I think I’ll end the class, next week we’ll be discussing the difference between Ted Bundy and Richard Speck.” He nodded lightly, watching the majority of them close their books and had on out.

“I really enjoyed the class,” she said softly. Holding her purse in one hand, a collection of files in the other.

Spencer turned to look at her then, smiling right back. “It was a pleasure to teach alongside you.”

“What do you mean?” She teased, “it’s not like my mom and dad were the ones who did all the interviews."

“Carr,” he repeats her last name. The gears turning in his mind as he brings all the information forth.

“Your mother is Wendy Carr, she was recruited after the BTK case with Bill Tench, she’s who was behind that study you mentioned.”

“I know,” she smiled.

“Who’s your father?”

“Guess,” she looked at him with an unimpressed look on her face, pushing her glasses up slightly.

“You’re kidding? Gideon never said he had a daughter let alone a,” he stops himself before he can embarrass himself any further.

She smiled at the implication of his words, “but he’s told me all about you Dr. Reid, that’s why I'm here.”

“You need help with a case and I’m the only agent in Virginia currently,” he pressed his lips together awkwardly. Knowing it was too good to be true that she would have any interest in him in the slightest.

“No actually, I have a case I’ve been working on privately and I need some help. I asked my dad but he said you’d be able to help me the best. I agree,” she corrected him softly. “I wasn’t kidding when I said I was a big fan of yours. When I would sit in and watch his lectures, before he knew I was his kid, you would always step in at the best parts, adding the smallest details to the story that the average person would forget. It’s magnificent.”

He laughed slightly, tugging at his collar as she complimented him. “Thank you, you’re quite magnificent as well,” he replied with a blush and a smile

She didn’t look like Gideon, probably because she smiled so much. Like sunshine on legs, she beamed, all but blinding him with her smile as she stared at him, “do you want to get lunch and go over this case with me?”

“I’d love to.”

taglist: (message me if you want to be added or removed)

@shemarmooresfedora @spencers-dria @spookyspence @reidsfish @manuosorioh @mochionly @samuel-de-champagne-problems @jswessie187 @k-k0129 @calm-and-doctor @blanchardsbk

[ohpretty-baby]

my babysitter’s a quarterback • jjk

⇥ pairing: qb!jungkook x cheerleader!reader

⇥ side pairing: namseok

⇥ synopsis: after getting cheated on by the star of the hockey team, park jimin, your life (as expected) goes downhill. what you don’t expect is your parents being skeptical of whether or not you’re a good older sibling for your sister. you also don’t expect them to call jeon jungkook—the person you hate most—to babysit the two of you.

or, alternatively: jungkook babysits you even though the two of you are the same age.

⇥ genre: fluff, crackfic, angst, e2l, jungkook is stupid, jimin’s an asshole, hoseok’s a sweetie, namjoon is also a sweetie, reader is Stressed, pining, mutual pining

⇥ warnings: cursing, crude humor, mentions of cheating, divorce

⇥ word count: 30.0k

based off a request for @fan-ati--c​ (i hope you like it dear!)

a/n: hi everyone!!! this is my first ever lengthy fic, so pls have mercy on me. i had a lotta fun writing this, so i hope you guys enjoy!!!! much much much much MUCH love <333 (feel free to give feedback and your opinions!)

“Y/N, what has gotten into you?” Your mom gently places the tip of her fork on her plate, folding her hands together. Her words are stern, but she doesn’t raise her voice in order to save face. The air at the dinner table is dense and heavy on you, and the fact that your father and your little sister, Clementine, seem to have their eyes glued on you doesn’t help either. Clementine sniffles and the sound makes your blood boil.

You sigh, looking up from your phone to shoot a glare to your mother. You also send a glance of distaste towards your sister, which allows you to get a quick sight of her puffy eyes and runny nose. The prongs of your fork are poking your lips while you lazily chew the spaghetti stuffed in your mouth. Shrugging, you place your phone and the fork down, folding your hands in order to mirror your mom seated in front of you.

You stay silent, lips pressed tightly into a thin line, because you know she has more to say.

“Darling, you’re being extremely immature,” Your mom always had to give it to you straight, “You know that Clementine didn’t mean to upset you.”

As always, your mother is articulate and sharp when she speaks. Not once does she stutter, and after being her daughter for 17 years, you’re not entirely sure if she’s ever stumbled on her words before in her entire life. It’s indicative of her personality: intelligent, quick-witted, skilled, yet unbelievably blunt. From the way her patients praise her for constantly being compassionate and kind, you often wonder if your mom really is a psychiatrist or if she’s hired a clone to work in her stead.

It’s not that you hated your mom. You loved her dearly, as you did with the rest of your family. The reason why you seemed to always butt heads with her, though, is simply because you have a little too much in common with her (personality-wise). Your dad’s always said that you were a carbon copy of your mother, after all.

“All I’m asking is that Clem asks me if she can use my makeup,” You cough, a few bits of the noodles going down the wrong pipe, “You, of all people, mom, know how expensive lipstick can be. I need that for football games.”

It’s not a clear statistic, but it is a pretty solid fact. You always use facts in order to back up your arguments, just so that your parents can’t say anything in response. Sometimes it works. You’re still waiting for the day when you have something impactful to use.

“Well, you know that when she sees you getting all pretty,” She taps her fingers on the wooden table, “She wants to do the same, and as the-“

“As the older sister, I have to share,” You roll your eyes, and you shift your focus on Clementine, “Sorry, ok? I won’t get so mad next time.”

“Clementine, what do you say?”

“It’s ok,” She sniffles, wiping her eyes.

“No, dear. What do you say?”

“I forgive you, Y/N.”

You bite back the sarcastic comments you’re dying to say, opting to stuff your mouth with spaghetti instead. The rest of your family starts eating as well, and you keep your head low to avoid making eye contact with your sister. You love her with almost every bone in your body, but right now, you can’t tell if you want to throw your food at her or slap her with your ceramic plate.

Today, she took it upon herself to go through your makeup bag and steal one of your (again, highly expensive) lipsticks so she could slice it with a butterknife purely out of boredom. This all happened while you were taking a bath, and when you got into your room, you saw her sitting at your desk, lipstick chunks spread all over one of your old math notebooks. So of course, you yelled at her.

Then she cried. Then your mom made you apologize because you were upset that she wrongfully went through your stuff without permission. But that’s really how things have always been, ever since you were 5 years old and Clementine was just born. You’ve grown up constantly taking the blame for Clementine’s wrongdoings. It’s just how things work in your household, because your parents genuinely believe that she could do no wrong.

Apparently, being 12 gave you lots of perks.

“Y/N?” Your mother’s voice brings you out of your thoughts, “Y/N, listen to me when I speak to you.”

“Sorry, what’d you say?” You don’t care about matching your mom’s formality anymore, your cheek puffed up with more food.

“I was asking you how your day was.”

“Oh, just wonderful. Fantastic. Dandy,” You snap back, not really aware of what you’re saying as your words fly out of your mouth.

“What’s with your attitude, young lady?” She scoffs, then pauses a bit before speaking again, “Listen, I know that it’s tough, having to see Jimin-“

You slam your hands on the table, standing up. Your chair screeches awkwardly against the wood flooring of the dining room. Swallowing down the rest of your food, you try to soothe the hard lump forming in your throat.

“Do not try to analyze me. I’m not one of your patients. There’s nothing you need to fix about me, got it?” You raise your voice, staring her dead in the eye, “I just had a shit week and I very much do not need you to try and pinpoint whatever’s going on in my head.”

Your mother gasps, and only now does your dad decide to speak.

“Young lady, go to your room right now,” His words fall flat, and you scoff at him.

Your parents were complete opposites. If your mother was over analytical, your father could never read the room. Not because he was dumb, per say, but because he was always in his own little world. He always responded a little too late, felt things a second after they should be felt. That’s just how your dad thinks. He doesn’t mean to be mentally absent when all of you were at home, but he’s always been preoccupied with his work. That’s a big thing you’ve admired about your dad, how easily he can focus on one thing and ignore the rest. It’s one of the main reasons why he was so successful as an architect. Growing up, you would stay up past your bedtime just so you could be with him in his office. You’d watch how he could just sit down and create a multitude of building designs without getting distracted.

By the way he looks at you with a flash of guilt in his eyes, you can tell that he’s the only one that gets your reasoning. You can also tell that he knows how wrong it is for your mom to bring up your ex-boyfriend during dinner.

But because he wants to uphold his “authoritative” figure, he needs to “put his foot down”.

“I was planning on it anyway, thanks,” You grumble, storming off.

Once you reach your room, you slam the door—purely for dramatic effect. You throw yourself on the bed, getting out your phone and doing the first thing that pops into your head. You call Hoseok and he answers right away. A smile flashes on your face as you feel some relief from your anger.

“Hello?”

Jung Hoseok has been your best friend ever since you first stepped into your hellhole of a high school building. He was your saving grace. The only thing that kept you sane.

When you joined the Monarchs, the cheerleading squad of your school, Hoseok was the only person who talked to you during practice, even if he was a year older than you. An infamous characteristic of his is his big smile. His lips always resembled a widened heart, and he showed off his pearly whites wherever he went, exuding happiness that was extremely contagious. And if his smile was big, his heart was even bigger.

You know this because Hoseok immediately asks you “Is everything okay?” when he hears your shaky breath over the line.

You explain to him what had happened seconds prior to this phone call. Then your conversation spirals into you ranting about how your parents have been telling you that you’ve been a terrible sibling. It’s something insulting to hear, knowing that they’ve always made you take the blame for everything your sister does. It hurts even more that they can’t acknowledge the fact that getting through a breakup is hard for a 17 year old girl. They couldn’t even cut you some slack.

A pang of guilt hits you when you relay everything you’ve said to your sister over to Hoseok. Maybe you were somewhat in the wrong here. But could you blame yourself? You were going through a hard time, and it’s not unusual for someone who’s stressed to act out. Not to mention when the stressor is heartbreak.

During the beginning of September, you found Park Jimin, your past boyfriend of one year, and some other Sophomore on the cheer team making out in his car afterschool. It was now the end of October, but the memory haunts you in your every waking moment. The image of another girl pressed up on him, her skirt hiked up high enough so that you could see her spandex, flashes in your mind. In your head, you see Jimin running her hands all over the girl’s skin, purple splotches blooming on her neck and on his.

You shut your eyes, rubbing them violently as you try to ignore the painful truth: If you hadn’t decided to surprise him with some brownies you made for him that day, they would’ve done a lot more than just making out.

The notion makes tears prick your eyes, the familiar sting returning. You had been crying almost every night. Everytime you close your eyes, the same image of him and that girl appears and you can’t get rid of it at all.

You’re about to break down again, and Hoseok talks you through it. He allows you to vent, to let everything out, and he promises that the two of you will hang out after tomorrow’s practice. It gives you relief, something to look forward to at the end of the next school day. Tomorrow was Friday after all, and like you said before to your mom, your week was shit.

There had to be at least one good thing you could have this week.

That statement is short lived, however, because instead of sitting with Hoseok at your favorite diner with a strawberry milkshake in front of you, you’re sitting at your dinner table yet again, poking at pizza with a plastic fork. You stare at the grease stains on your paper plate in disgust, as the dining room is so silent you can practically hear the small ticks of the red second hand of the clock on the wall. 

What a great way to start the weekend. Friendless, boyfriend-less, and miserable. You look up from the greasy mess before you to shoot a glare to the person in front of you.

“Why the hell are you here?” are your first words to the boy.

“Your parents called me?” He responds, mimicking your questioning tone. You scoff at him.

Jeon Jungkook. The cocky, annoying as fuck quarterback on the football team who coincidentally sits behind you in Pre-Calc everyday is now sitting across from you at your dinner table. The boy who breaks off pieces of eraser chunks and throws them at your head just to annoy you while the teacher is giving a lesson. The kid who kicks your chair at least five times every single day just because he has fun getting a rise out of you.

You don’t know how exactly your hatred for him began, but it definitely started when you first became a cheerleader.

Popularity was never something that came easily to you. Many people don’t remember, but in Freshman year, the only time your class knew of you was when your name was called for attendance. You didn’t play any sports, nor did you participate in theatre or had any musical talents whatsoever. You were simply just, there.

This all changed when your mom suggested cheerleading. You did have a few years of solid gymnastic experience and you really had nothing better to do, so you decided to take the opportunity to sign up for tryouts.

It was hard, and you slipped up a lot of times, but the coaches saw potential in you. They told you that you’ve really got drive, and they praised you for continuing to get up and perfectly following directions when they asked you to execute an especially hard move. Eventually, you were accepted and once you had more time to practice, you had gotten the hang of cheerleading quite quickly. You ended up falling in love with the sport, working hard both on and off the field. You always got constant praise for your willingness to learn new things.

And with your new success on the team, you gained a reputation for yourself.

When, exactly, did Jungkook join the picture?

You’re not sure. He kind of forced himself in.

One day, you weren’t at your usual best. The sun was beating down on you harshly, which didn’t make things any better. The football team had been practicing with you guys, and it was obvious that many of the boys were ogling at the cheerleaders. They would nudge each, looking suggestively at the girls while whispering crude comments about them.

Jungkook, being the youngest and most energetic one on the team, had other ideas in mind. You see, he lived quite loudly and he was… Eccentric, to say the least.

His eyes were focused on the cheerleaders, pinpointing at anything that would be of use to him. He peered around intently, looking for any mess ups or mistakes that they had made. He would have made fun of anyone, really. Jungkook didn’t know much about the girls on the squad, so he really had no problem using their flaws to his benefits. He wanted to make his own team laugh, and that in itself was justification enough for Jungkook.

It was just unfortunate that you were his target.

Once he saw you topple over on the ground, he was ready.

“Hey, thunder thighs! Be careful out there!”

After that, you heard nothing but boisterous laughter from the football players. It was an immature insult, one ridiculous enough to enrage you. You wished you could’ve ran over to the other side of the field and just punched him the gut, right then and there. But his own coach and grabbed him by the ear, dragging him towards you so he could apologize.

It was a lame apology, and you could tell that he was trying everything in his absolute power to bite back the laugh he was holding in. You would've said something about it, but since Jungkook was more built than you and there were authorities present, you reluctantly accepted the apology, choosing to go on with your practice instead of letting it get to you.

And after that day, Jungkook has made it his goal to torment you whenever he sees you. Since he sits behind you in Pre-Calc now, that’s become his job every day.

Jungkook was taller than Jimin. He was a pretty attractive football player, too. You would give him at least that. But he was meaner than Jimin. A bigger asshole than Jimin. More annoying than Jimin could ever be.

Literally any good quality that you thought you could find in a guy, Jeon Jungkook did not possess it. Any kindness, sympathy, or even general decency in his heart was nowhere to be found.

He had messy brown hair, a smug grin on his face that you’d love to punch, and a lean body that you wish had gone cripple. Confidence wasn’t something that he had a lack of. In fact, Jungkook’s cup overfloweth with so much confidence to the point where describing him as merely confident would be a misdeed.

Narcissistic was the word. He was extremely narcissistic and obsessed with himself, which was indicative of the daily gym snaps he’d post on his Snapchat story. He was everything that disgusted you about guys combined and turned human.

Jungkook’s very presence could set you off, and you know that he lives off of that.

This is no different from your Friday night, as he’s gnawing on pizza right in your own damn house. He’s scrolling through his phone and you’re staring at him in disgust, while Clementine has already eaten and is now sitting on the couch, curled up with some sci-fi book she got from the store last week. Taking in his appearance, you inwardly cringe when you notice him lick the oil that has found itself on his fingers.

“There’s a napkin right next to you.”

“That would be a waste of paper,” Jungkook responds, licking away the last remnant of oil and marinara sauce on his thumb, “Gotta be eco-friendly, y’know?”

He wiggles his fingers at you, his infamous shit-eating grin appearing yet again. You hate the way his mouth tugs up to the right a little bit, how his eyes gleam mischievously since he’s so full of himself. If Clementine wasn’t in the house right now, you’re certain that Jungkook would’ve been on the floor, knocked out. You would’ve hit him with a frying pan, like in that one Disney movie Clementine loved so much. Or you would’ve hit him with your Pre-Calc textbook. That shit was heavy. You could knock him out cold with that. Give him a taste of his own medicine.

You roll your eyes at him, saying nothing and eating the rest of your pizza. You make a mental note to ask your parents why the fuck they thought it was a good idea to call over Jungkook on a Friday night.

But you know the answer to that already. They seem to believe that you haven’t been “responsible” enough for Clementine, which is weird, knowing that you’ve practically raised her all her life. Your parents have always been too busy to spend enough quality time with her, save for when they defend her at dinnertime.

So instead of having a civil conversation with you—or even asking if you were doing alright—they decided (without your permission) that a babysitter would be the best option for your little sister. And you still had to stay at home tonight because your mom asked you to “see if the babysitter is okay for Clementine”.

You’re not sure where the logic was in your parents’ thought process, but you did feel bad about your sister. She had warmed up to you a little bit after yesterday, but you know that she’ll stay closed off for a while. Not only to you, but to everyone else. You wish that your parents had known that. If they did, they’d be able to get that you’re probably the best babysitter for her. But no, they had to invite Jungkook over, someone who’s boisterous and annoying, and they probably expect Clementine to get along with him just fine. (And also, what had even compelled him to start a career in babysitting?)

So you decide to stay, just so she won’t be scared of being in her own house. You have been hard on her for a little bit after all, getting irrational and moody whenever she talks to you. It’s the least you could do for her. Despite everything, you still did really love her. 

She was your sister, for goodness sake!

“Hey, just a reminder,” Jungkook’s at your trash can, throwing away his plate, “Your bedtime’s at 10 tonight.”

It’s a stupid statement, and both of you are aware that the rules are for your sister. You can’t help but feel yourself heat up, though, when he sends a wink your way.

“That’s for my sister, you dumb fu-“

Your obvious response and insult combo is interrupted when you find Clementine standing in the doorway.

“Y/N?” Her voice is timid, shy, and her head hangs low when she speaks. She doesn’t like how there’s some random stranger in the kitchen.

“Yes?”

“Can we play Telestrations?” She keeps her eyes on you, and you feel yourself soften. It’s been a little bit since the two of you played anything together.

“Mind if I join in?” Jungkook says before you can actually respond to her. He shoves his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants, and Clementine blinks at him, stunned. All she does is nod, too afraid to verbally respond to your classmate.

You’re also stunned by his sudden change in demeanor. His cocky aura is replaced with a soft tone, smiling brightly at Clementine instead of smirking at you. He walks over to her, asking her where the board game is. She mumbles something quietly, something only Jungkook can hear, and he responds with an even more enthusiastic grin. He turns to you before they make their way back to the living room.

“You coming, or…?”

So that’s how you find yourself at your coffee table with your little sister and the most annoying person you’ve met in your entire life, getting ready to play a round of Telestrations.

All you can say is that your night definitely isn’t going the way you planned at all.

He’s sitting criss cross applesauce on the carpet, extremely relaxed as you pass out the cards, the drawing pads, and the dry erase markers. You try to hide the scowl you oh so desperately want to show, but if Clementine sees you upset with him, she’ll definitely feel less safe with him.

You don’t know why you’re defending him, but here you are, attempting to be civil with him just to make sure your sister doesn’t feel as threatened as you do. You try your best not to start any fights with him, either. You’ve heard enough about people calling you a bitch at school. Ever since you broke up with Jimin, you’ve somehow been deemed the psychotic ex by all of your peers, because how could Jimin possibly do anything wrong?

You can’t tell what’s worse: the fact that everyone says you’re a bitch, or the fact that girls come up to you now, asking you for advice on your ex-boyfriend.

Sighing, you watch as Clementine rolls a four and chooses “This Side” of the cards. You internally groan when you look at the yellow side of the card. The glossy square seems to laugh at you, presenting what your subject would be.

How the hell were you supposed to draw “tunnel vision”?

Writing your name and the word on the first page, you mentally prepare for the challenge heading your way.

“Y/N,” Clementine calls for you, “Mine isn’t working…”

Jungkook hands his marker to her before you can, and he’s testing all the other markers in the box to see if they’ll work for him. You look at him accusingly, eyes asking him: “What the hell are you trying to gain?” He shrugs at you, a simple action that tells you:

“Sorry, I’m just a great babysitter.”

He quickly goes back to his own card, copying down the words with his new marker. You return your attention to your pad, figuring out how you were going to draw your word.

“Are you gonna set the timer, Clementine?” Jungkook asks, and she shakes her head.

“We don’t use it,” She responds in a mere whisper, and Jungkook can’t hear her.

“Huh?”

“We don’t use the timer,” You answer for her, “It’s more fun that way. You can take your time.”

He nods, and the three of you flip to the first page so you can start.

You draw—well, attempt to draw—a pair of glasses facing two strange rods. You squint at the doodle, examining it as if you had to guess what the answer was. The only possible answers you’ve come up with are that A.) You’re terrible at drawing, B.) Art is definitely not your future career, and C.) No one is going to be able to figure out your drawing, not even yourself.

“So, Clementine,” Jungkook starts, catching both you and your sister’s attention, “That’s a pretty cool name.”

“Thank you,” She doesn’t look up from her pad, too focused on her drawing.

“Do people call you anything else?” He prompts, going to work on his own pad as well.

“What do you mean?” “Like, nicknames.”

“Oh. My friends call me Tina,” She says, “Y/N calls me Clem, though.”

“That’s dope,” He pops the “p”, and the way his mouth moves is enough to annoy you.

“Yeah,” Is all your sister says, and it’s obvious that both of them are determined in making their drawings look good. You, on the other hand, are already done with your sad chicken scratch of a drawing, and you take the time to watch Clementine as she leans close to her pad, right hand clutching the marker tightly.

Like your dad, Clementine was able to immerse herself in a single task, but unlike him, she was incredibly skilled in multitasking. Sometimes, she’d read a book while having a full conversation with you, and she’d still remember the content of the chapter she was reading. It was a skill that you both envied and admired about her, how she could easily redirect her attention to one task while also still performing the second task flawlessly.

“You done already, Y/N?” Jungkook quirks a brow while he looks up from his drawing. You sneak a glance at your sister, who’s immersed in her drawing, before responding.

“Don’t push it,” You mouth out, folding your hands together on your lap while you wait for the other two to finish. Jungkook flashes an obnoxious smirk your way, and it takes everything in you to not kick him in the balls right now.

“I’m done,” Clementine announces, passing her pad to you. You pass yours to Jungkook, praying that he doesn’t say anything too terrible to you. He then passes his to Clementine, completing the circle.

“W-What?” Jungkook mumbles to himself, biting back a laugh while he examines your drawing. You internally groan. There was no use in hoping that he’d have mercy on you.

In an attempt to block out his bothersome snickering, you try to guess what Clementine’s word was. You feel part of yourself die inside, as you can already tell what she’s drawn. You write the word “deer” on the third page, after looking at the drawing one more time. In the short amount of time Clementine had given herself, her depiction of a deer was scarily accurate.

“Are you guys done?”

She has her pad lying on the coffee table while she drums her fingers on the surface. You nod, while Jungkook has his hand covering his mouth. He shakes his head, still trying to decipher your sad, sad drawing. Instead of making fun of you, he’s actually making an effort to figure out what your word was, eyebrows deeply furrowed while his eyes run across your pad multiple times.

You’d feel bad because you truly don’t have an artistic bone in your body, but seeing him frustrated by your doing slightly amuses you.

Jungkook takes a few seconds before taking a deep sigh and quickly scrawling something on your pad. You can’t tell if you’re excited or dreading what he put down for your word, but that doesn’t matter because now you have to draw Clementine’s guess of what Jungkook’s word is.

A frog?

How come everyone else’s words were so easy? And how are you supposed to remember what a frog looks like?

Biting your lip, you hesitantly put the dry erase marker on the pad. You stop when it makes the initial hit, a small dot appearing on the laminated surface. This is because Jungkook’s leaning over to watch you draw, his hair mere centimeters away from tickling your skin. When you freeze, Jungkook finally moves away, turning to face you.

“You need something?” You ask in an accusatory tone. He shrugs.

“I dunno. You look constipated, so I was curious,” He says, working on a new drawing. It’s another dumb yet excruciatingly annoying jab at you, and you’re baffled at how anyone could think that that was something of use to say.

Clementine giggles, and both you and Jungkook gawk at her in surprise. You feel a sense of betrayal, seeing as your own sister finds someone like Jeon Jungkook humorous. But she’s having fun, so maybe your dignity would have to be something to sacrifice tonight.

And your parents wonder whether or not you’re a good older sister for Clementine, as if you weren’t literally tolerating the person you hate most right now just for her. You steady yourself, being proud of your kindness to him so far. The fact that you’ve actually restrained yourself from knocking Jungkook out in itself is a surprise. You’ll be sure to reward yourself with something later.

You go back to your drawing, working on the small bumps for the eye sockets and the wide almond shape of the frog’s mouth. The frog looks incredibly awkward, its eyes a little too close for your liking. Did frogs have nostrils? Obviously, right? You draw two thin slits on top of its long line of a mouth, hoping that that’s what a frog’s nose looks like. It resembles a frog, and honestly you’re willing to take whatever you can get, so you close the pad, waiting for the other two to finish.

When everyone is done and all of the pads have returned to their respective owners, you get ready to present the devolution of your prompts. Clementine’s eager to go first, which puts a soft smile on your face.

She shows off her deer, and then your correct guess, and then Jungkook’s drawing. Quite frankly, you’re quite amazed at Jungkook’s depiction of the prompt.

There’s a cute deer standing on some grass with a few random flowers around it. Like Clementine’s, it’s quite realistic, keeping in mind of the limited time and resources you’ve all had. Jungkook’s chest swells in pride when the two of you stare at his drawing for a few more seconds, secretly admiring his handiwork.

“I didn’t know you could draw!” Clementine’s indirect praises increase his ego but you stay quiet, not willing to say anything too positive around him.

“You’re not too bad yourself,” Jungkook responds, pointing out how good her deer is.

Jungkook takes his turn to present, and even his frog is amazing. Then, he flips to your drawing, a failed imitation of a frog compared to Jungkook’s accurate one a few seconds ago.

“Tina,” The sudden use of the nickname confuses you. Since when did he think he could be this informal?

“Yeah?”

“Your sister’s not really the creative one in the family,” The corners of his mouth quirk upwards, “Don’t you think?”

Clementine thinks about what to say while Jungkook watches the steam coming out of your ears in pure delight. No matter how good of an artist Jungkook is, or how good of a babysitter he could be, nothing would ever make you want to be acquaintances with him, let alone being just civil with him. What makes matters worse is that Jungkook can easily get away with making infuriating jabs at you since your sister is here with you.

You also try not to think about how Jungkook is getting paid for tormenting you outside of school, because if you dwell on it for far too long, you don’t know what you’d do.

“Y/N doesn’t have to be good at that kinda stuff,” Clementine turns to you happily, “She’s already cool.”

You sheepishly smile back at her, and then she asks you to show your drawing pad now.

“Okay, so,” You clear your throat, “Uh, my word was tunnel vision.”

“...That actually makes sense now,” Jungkook nods, stroking his chin dramatically. He squints at the drawing as if he was in an art gallery.

“This is my drawing,” You flip the page, revealing your chicken scratch from before. Clementine bursts out laughing, and you can’t help but become a little annoyed at her reaction.

“How did you not get that?” She asks Jungkook, and you feel the anger bubble away and instead become replaced with smugness. Your sister still had your back after all.

“Hey!” He points at your drawing, baffled at your sister, “Look at that and tell me that you’d guess it correctly!”

“Um, yeah,” Clementine snickers.

“How?”

“It’s glasses. Vision,” You chime in, “Then those are tunnels. Tunnel vision, right, Clem?”

“Yeah!”

“What?!” Jungkook gawks while you give your sister a triumphant high five.

“What could you have possibly guessed?” You chuckle, turning the page out of curiosity.

Before you can see the word, however, Jungkook forcibly snatches the pad out of your hands. He’s no match to your quick reflexes, though, because you’re pouncing onto him, pinning him to the carpet so you can retrieve your stolen drawing pad.

You’re about to grab it, but then he grins at you, making you stop in your tracks.

Your eyes widen, realizing how you’re in an extremely close vicinity to him, his face inches away from yours. The two of you make unnerving, silent eye contact, each of you staring at each other’s face from time to time. It’s during this that you notice how big his eyes are, resembling Clementine’s drawing of the deer from before. You also notice the mole under his bottom lip and how his lips are naturally tinted a pleasant pink. Jungkook chuckles tauntingly at you and you come back to your senses. You’ve been staring at his lips far longer than you’d like to admit.

“Can’t get your hands off me, huh?” He whispers, winking at you. The pizza you had eaten 20 minutes ago crawls up your throat right away, and you immediately peel yourself off of him. Jungkook still has the pad in his hands, signalling a victory for him.

You cough awkwardly, returning to your seat and wiping away imaginary dust on your lap. You claw at some loose fabric of your sweatpants, balling up the material in your hands. Jungkook sits up as well, nonchalantly fixing his now messy hair. He remains unphased, even though you were literally on top of him a few seconds ago.

“He put Harry Potter and taquitos,” Clementine says, breaking the silence. Jungkook’s eyes shoot up to send her a glare with feigned annoyance, while you end up laughing a bit louder than you’d like to. Then again, anything to relieve the uncomfortable tension would work.

Jungkook’s cheeks are tinted a shy, light pink, while embarrassment is painted all over his face. It’s a lame situation to laugh at, one that you probably would never admit to anyone that you find it humorous, but seeing Jungkook flustered makes you the happiest girl in the world.

The night continues with Clementine bringing out all of the board games your parents bought you over the years. It’s fun yet unbelievably painful, having to cooperate with Jungkook just for the sake of Clementine. When you played Monopoly with them, you were always reluctant to give Jungkook money, even if it was fake. You were also reluctant to receive money from him, even if the action was beneficial for you and not the other way around.

He spends the night still making stupid jabs at you, some of them earning laughs from your sister. You suck it up and deal with it, because this is the happiest you’ve seen Clementine in a long time, so you just strain a smile and move on.

When it’s about 9:45 PM, the three of you stop playing board games since Clementine has to get ready for bed. You come up to her room so that you can say goodnight and tuck her in.

“Today was fun, Y/N,” She giggles while you pull the covers over to her.

“That’s good to hear, Clemmie,” You respond, placing a soft kiss on her forehead.

Before you shut off her light, Clementine grabs the bottom hem of your shirt.

“Y/N?”

“What’s up?” The scared look in her eyes tells you that you’re gonna have to stay for a little longer, so you sit down on the bed.

“Are mom and dad gonna be okay?”

At first, you’re shocked that Clementine had even noticed, but then again, she’s always been this observant. And she was 12 already. She wasn’t dumb. It was also obvious that the reason why your parents randomly decided to go to dinner tonight was because they were trying to iron out some issues that they’ve been having.

All you do is nod and ruffle her hair playfully. Another smile appears on her face when you kiss her cheek.

“Everything’s gonna be okay,” You say, although you’re not so sure yourself.

Recently, you’ve been having trouble sleeping as well. This was because your parents always start fighting whenever they see that Clementine is asleep. You don’t know what exactly they’re arguing about every night, but you’ve assumed that it must be money issues or something along the lines of that. Real adult stuff that they want to keep you two out of, but it’s so hard to ignore when they’re yelling at each other so loudly.

Clementine’s room is closer to the stairs. Of course it’s not a surprise that she’d notice there was something wrong with your parents.

“Do you think I…?” She mumbles out the question, but you don’t need her to finish the rest of it because you’re wrapping an arm around her, pulling her close to you.

“Don’t ever think that,” You say, sighing, “You didn’t do anything, ok? Mom n’ Dad are just fixing things between themselves.”

She nods, hugging you back.

“You should go to sleep,” You pull yourself off of her, placing yet another kiss on her head before tucking her in under the covers, “Everything’s gonna be okay.”

“Promise?” She sticks out her pinky finger and you chuckle, sticking out yours and looping it around hers.

“I promise.”

“Night, Y/N.”

You say goodnight to her, turning off her lamp and shutting the door. Now that she was attended to, you had to start cleaning up. You walk downstairs to see Jungkook sprawled out over your couch, lazily scrolling through his phone. You wish that the saying “Make yourself at home” never existed, since your parents have an affinity for using it, which in turn forces you to deal with Jungkook laying on your couch like a complete slob.

The first job you assign yourself is to tidy up the living room, and you stack up all of the board games together so you can put it in the random storage closet your house has. Jungkook, of course, doesn’t bat an eye at the fact that you’re cleaning up the house all by yourself.

An uncomfortable silence falls between the two of you. You walk over to the kitchen to have another slice of pizza while Jungkook acts like you don’t exist in your own house. Your stomach grumbles obscenely, even though you had a slice a few hours earlier.

It must be the stress. You do tend to be hungrier when you’re under a lot of stress, and today threw many annoyances your way.  

You check your phone and you realize that Hoseok texted you an hour ago.

[October 9, 7:30 PM] Hobi: Y/N i honestly think i’m gonna lose my mind?????????? Y/N? Y/N where tf are u i’m going insane holy shit text me when u get this PLEASE

Right away, your fingers move at the speed of light

[October 9, 10:30 PM] Y/N: omfg hobs you have no idea the shit i just went thru think i got three years taken off of my life anyways sry for the late reply what happened?

The iconic three dots and text bubble show up. You stifle a laugh. Hoseok must’ve been waiting by his phone for your text.

Hobi: i think i may have gotten myself into a date???

Y/N: a WHAT with WHO Hobi: yknow like mymanwhosnotreallymanbutheis yeah him Y/N: ur joking SPILL

You eagerly chew on the cold, stale pizza in your other hand as you wait for Hoseok to tell his whole story. Whether he’d be sending a voice memo or he’d just spam you with a multitude of texts, you never really knew. That’s just how Hoseok was.

But that didn’t really matter, because Hoseok had a date. With the kid he’s liked since the beginning of last year. Kim Namjoon.

Kim Namjoon, coincidentally in Hoseok’s photography class this semester, was easily the smartest person in the whole school. The teachers were more than heartbroken knowing that he’d be graduating this year. The students, more specifically the girls, were also saddened, because Namjoon was also quite attractive. He was tall, kind, and extremely smart, and because of this, he had earned the title as “The Package” by Hoseok. He was everything everyone ever wanted in one person. Accurately put, Kim Namjoon was a  full package.

Hobi: ok well like we have a project in photography class where we have to take pics of nature and i wanted to do the flowers bc yknow, easy A and since u couldn’t hang out today >:( Y/N: hey, not my fault my parents think that i’m a terrible sister

Hobi: yeah u have to tell me how that went but anyways i went out to take pics after practice and guess who i saw? namjoon

Y/N: aaaaAAAAAHHHH

Hobi: YEAH and then we were talking and stuff and it turns out that he’s doing flowers too and then he gave me HIS NUMBER Y/N: omfg,,,

Hobi: i  k n o w so like i think two hrs ago he texted me and we started talking and stuff and then he was like “yknow there are prettier flowers in the botanical garden downtown” and then he asked if i wanted to hang out next week so i said yeah Y/N: holy shit hobs

Hobi: yeah so it’s not really an official date but i’m counting it as one in my book

You hold back a squeal, though you want to scream at the top of your lungs so badly. You opt to just smiling from ear to ear at your screen as you continue to freak out over text.

Hobi: the only problem is that i have to pretend that i like nature :( but not only that…. like i have to know stuff

Now Hoseok’s begging you for advice on nature, and you mention that you also aren’t the biggest nature lover either. Hoseok tells you he’ll have to do some research on flowers and you think that he’s the funniest person you’ve ever met. 

Your brief moment of happiness is rudely interrupted, however, when you suddenly see Jungkook before you, standing across from you at the kitchen island.

“You’re still hungry?” He says, opening the box and grabbing the last slice.

“You’re one to talk,” You scowl, watching him take a bite from his pizza.

Jungkook leans on the island, which in turn causes him to be closer to you, since you’re also leaning on the same surface.

“You don’t really smile a lot, baby,” He teases, wiping off sauce from the corner of his mouth.

So there he was. The Jeon Jungkook you’ve known and hated so dearly. He’s always called you random pet names, simply because he knows how much you despise him. It takes everything in you to hold back the urge to cuss him out. The walls are thin and your sister might wake up.

“Don’t call me that, first off,” You spit, “Second off, why do you care so much?”

“Jus’ makin’ conversation,” His cheeks puff up as he continues to stuff his mouth with food.

“Like I give a shit,” You grumble, looking away from the chewed up food that you can see in his mouth. It’s so unfortunate that Jungkook thinks it’s a good idea to talk while eating.

“Wow, you’re so mean to me,” He takes a large swallow of his food and then pouts, “You’re killin’ me here, babe.”

Despite his seemingly sad words, Jungkook’s giving you a big, toothy grin. He winks at you for the umpteenth time tonight, and you try to think of all the ways to kill someone in silence. Right now, you wish that Clementine was awake, because it’s only around her that he seems to be somewhat decent towards you.

“You have a nice house and nice parents,” He says, more to himself rather than you as his eyes scan the tidy kitchen, “And your sister’s so nice. Why aren’t you?”

“Why are you such an asshole?”

“Why are you such a bitch?”

Some would say that 10 PM is too late to have a nonsensical argument with some douchebag quarterback from your grade, but here you are having a ridiculously heated dispute with Jungkook at 10 PM. Again, all of this is happening in your own house.  

You roll your eyes at him, and you wonder how you haven’t hurt yourself by the amount of times you’ve done that today.

The two of you eat pizza in angered silence, an uncomfortable situation you never thought you’d ever have in your entire life. Well, you’re a lot angrier than Jungkook, who’s got a smug, satisfied look on his face because he just thinks it’s so much fun to annoy the hell out of you. That makes you even more upset, which causes you to get angry with yourself because you know you shouldn’t let someone get to you like this. It’s a never ending cycle of negativity whenever you’re around him, really.

Soon enough, the faint, muffled sound of the garage opening is heard through the door, and you breathe a sigh of relief. That’s Jungkook’s signal to leave.

Before he leaves, though, he turns to you yet again.

“Thanks for the money,” He winks, “And the free pizza.”

The weekend goes by pretty slowly, but eventually, you end up in the classroom again.

Your school day is pretty much uneventful until you get to 5th hour Pre-Calc.

The busy click, click, click of mechanical pencils and the sound of scribbles from students’ writing are all you can hear after lunch. You follow their leads, hastily scrawling down your own notes on the lines of your notebook on your desk. Once you finally get into the zone of your note taking, you feel Jungkook lean in behind you. He’s so close that you can smell the cologne he uses, and the familiar odor sets off your flight or fight system.

Now that your parents have officially “hired” Jungkook as Clementine’s full-time babysitter, you realize that you’ll be forced to see him more often and have that strong, pungent cologne constantly wafting into your nostrils. You’re certain that you’d lose your sense of smell eventually.

If only Clementine hadn’t continued praising him after he left last Friday. Maybe then your house would actually be a safe haven for you. But no, now Jungkook is allowed to come and go into your house whenever your parents need him. (Again, as if they didn’t have a whole other daughter who was willing to take care of Clementine.)

But that’s another issue to worry about later, because Jungkook’s obnoxiously chomping down on his gum right in your ear. He’s so close that you can practically smell the watermelon flavor from his mouth, and you want to barf.

All you can think is: A.) Who in their right minds would ever actively choose watermelon gum over mint, and B.) Who would think it’s a good idea to chew on their gum so damn loud in the middle of class?

To both of those questions, the answer is Jungkook, plain and clear.

“Do you mind?” You hiss at him as you try to copy what the teacher has written on the chalkboard, “This isn’t a fucking ASMR channel.”

“Slow your roll there, baby,” His words come out in a teasing lilt, the pet name causing you to tighten your grip on your pencil, “First off, mind your business. Second off, I’d be an amazing ASMR youtuber, thank you very much.”

He’s imitating the way you talk to him, which makes your blood boil yet again.

“Well, you’re not giving me any chills.”

“I could if I wanted to.”

His statement causes you to freeze in your seat, mind racing as you try to think of a good comeback. Nothing appears, and you’re sure that if you were in the right headspace, you would’ve already had something good to say.

But you’re still going through heartbreak and the stress of dealing with your parents, so all you can muster to say is:

“You’re disgusting.”

Your words remind you of Friday night, which then makes you want the Earth to cave in under you and swallow you whole. You’re still dumbfounded at how Jungkook was able to come into your house without setting off all of the security systems your parents have installed there.

“Aw, baby girl,” The use of that pet name makes the digested lunch from 20 minutes ago crawl up your throat rapidly, “You really got me there! I’m so hurt, you know that? You’re so mean to me.”

You can’t see him, but you just know that he’s clutching his heart dramatically. Your whole body burns up in flames as you imagine the annoying smile on his face, the way it tugs to the right side a little more because he’s so proud of himself. He can see the steam pouring out of your ears, and all that does is egg him on.

Now he’s poking your back lazily with the end of his pencil, propping his head up on his elbow as he tries his hardest not to laugh.

It takes approximately ten seconds until you snap.

Once the pencil hits your back for the umpteenth time, you reach behind you quickly, snatching it and tugging it forcefully out of his hands. Without thinking, you hold the ends of the pencil between your fists and when your fists shoot up away from each other, the pencil breaks in half cleanly. You’re satisfied with the splintering ends of Jungkook’s pencil while he’s gawking at you, wondering how the hell you could have broken a pencil without any struggle. The smug smile is now on your face, but it quickly fades away when Ms. Lee turns to you and places her hands on her hips, a scowl on her face. You make eye contact with her and you immediately straighten up your seat, your breath hitching as you attempt to remain calm under her threatening presence.

You weren’t scared of many things, but Ms. Lee definitely made your skin crawl.

“Miss Y/N?” Her voice booms all the way to your seat in the back of the class, “Would like to share with the class as to why exactly you’re breaking a pencil in the middle of my lesson?”

“No, ma’am,” You quickly respond, your words coming out in a pathetic squeak.

You can feel the mischievous gaze Jungkook has on you, but you pay no attention to it. The teacher grunts, turning her back to the class and resuming her ever so important task of writing important formulas on the chalkboard.

You let out a soft groan and you noticeably slump in your seat, making Jungkookk chuckle.

“Nice save there, Y/N.”

“Fuck off, will you?” You toss the pencil halves back onto his desk, not wanting to have anything to do with any of Jungkook’s property. You made a mental note to wash your hands once class ended so you could rid yourself of whatever pathogens lurked on Jungkook’s pencil.

“Do you always have such a way with words?”

If you were in a private space with Jungkook, where his hands are tied and he couldn’t do anything to hurt you, you’re sure that he would’ve been beaten to a bloody pulp by now. You desperately yearn to have just one day where you can beat his ass.

But you frown, knowing that that day would never come.

“Do you always act like a pretentious dick?”

“Baby girl,” The name returns and you have never wanted to kill someone as much as you’d like to Jeon Jungkook right here, right now, in 5th Hour Pre-Calc with Ms. Lee, “If there’s anything to describe this dick, it’s certainly not pretentious, I’ll have you know that.”

“Wow,” You scoff, “Do you always have such a way with words?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact-“

“Miss Y/N and Mr. Jungkook!” Ms. Lee bellows, “I am teaching a lesson! Would you like to share-“

“No, ma’am!”

You keep your head low, continuing to copy down the notes on the board. Jungkook kicks the back of your seat multiple times throughout class, and the only thing you can think is:

How is this guy allowed to be around little kids?

Usually, when you see someone regularly in your life, your bond with them grows stronger. But with Jeon Jungkook, you’ve learned with each passing day that your hate for him becomes stronger and stronger. And it’s been exactly five weeks. You’ve kept track.

Because now that he’s your sister’s babysitter, he’s become a lot more involved in your life. At least, he’s become involved in Clementine’s life (which ultimately means yours as well).

And as a result, your parents have started going out almost every single night, save for when there’s a football game or when Jungkook is too busy with homework. This meant that he was at your house at least 3 times a week, sometimes even more, because he just loved being with your family and your family just had to feel the same way. Sometimes your parents would even ask him to drive Clementine home from school. 

(An issue that would easily be solved if they let you learn how to drive. But apparently that was absolutely preposterous.)

One thing you’ve learned about Jungkook is that he’s scarily good at acting. He’s amazing at being sweet to Clementine, offering to drive her home after school whenever he can and creating inside jokes with her all the time as if he wasn’t planning on ruining your life this whole time. Since he’s such a “good babysitter”, your parents have started having him come over for dinner, and almost every night you had to restrain yourself from starting a food fight with him. He was always polite to your parents, though, making easy conversation with them at the table but never even daring to say a single word to you.

If someone was on the outside looking in, they’d think that Jungkook was a good person. Like a superhero, however, when he was around you, he would take off his disguise and reveal what he really is: a conceited jock who only thought with his dick.

The only possible benefit of him taking care of Clementine is that you have a lot more freedom now. That freedom has turned into occasional hangouts with Hoseok on the weekend. You’d usually use any chance you could get of hanging out with your best friend, but you also didn’t trust the dangerous human being who was constantly in your house, watching her. As a result, you’ve chosen to stay at home with Clementine, babysitting her babysitter. You label it as being a protective older sister.

But as Jungkook annoyingly puts it, with his notorious, cocky grin:

“You really like my company, don’t you, babe?”

He couldn’t be further from the truth.

This is different from tonight, though, because you’re relishing in the overly sweet, artificial taste of the strawberry shake right in front of you. It tastes like relief, like some much needed freedom from your overbearing parents on a Thursday evening.

Today, they took it upon themselves to lecture you about your sleeping schedule, telling you it’s irresponsible to stay up so late. What they don’t get is that you’ve been working on an important paper for your AP Lang class while also helping one of your classmates with their own paper. It strikes you that they don’t realize how much schoolwork your teachers pile on you. And it infuriates you even more that they always jump to the conclusion that you’re a bad kid, even though you’ve constantly had good grades while balancing schoolwork with cheer. That notion’s always gone unnoticed.

Of course, this wasn’t a pretty sight to be seen, your parents arguing with you right before their dinner date, and coincidentally, right as Jungkook stepped into the house. You don’t know what his reaction was, but you presume that he was most likely stunned. The only time you’re ever truly enraged, bluntly saying whatever harsh comments come to your mind, is when your mom starts to belittle you. This was the first time Jungkook’s ever seen you this upset. Or articulate.

It was safe to say that things didn’t end well, you storming up into your room and slamming the door.

And, as expected, you chose to have a much needed diner date with Hoseok tonight. Clementine even encouraged you to go, saying that she’d be fine with Jungkook, but you couldn’t help but still be concerned for her safety.

“Y/N, stop checking your phone,” Hoseok whines, snatching it from you, “What’s got your panties in such a knot?”

You grumble in protest when Hoseok scrolls through your conversation with your little sister over text message.

The music from the old, torn down jukebox fills the diner, and you’re surprised that it still even works. That jukebox has been there ever since your parents were kids. Nonetheless, you enjoy the nice, cheery melodies playing from it. You kick at some random bits of fries on the floor, your beaten red converse still visible under the dark shadows of the table. The diner smells of fried food, a scent that you’ll happily breathe in everyday. There’s an elderly couple sitting at the other end of the diner, waiting for their waitress to bring them their food. The old lady waves to you, and you wave back, flashing a small smile her way.

“Y/N, Tina’s gonna be perfectly fine,” He says, creating a shooing motion with his hand, “It’s not like he’s going to kill her.”

“You don’t know that.”

“He literally loves her,” Hoseok takes a bite of his burger, some of the juice from the patty seeping out, “Yesterday he asked me to ask you what type of music Tina liked, Remember? Granted, he was too scared to talk to you. but-”

“Don’t,” You groan, stealing a fry as compensation, “Don’t remind me.”

“Hey, I don’t like him either,” He says, “But I’m just sayin’ that you don’t gotta worry so much. Your sister’s 12 already. She’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, but-“

“And technically, there would be no clear motive for him to do anything wrong because he’s getting paid,” Hoseok takes a fry for himself, “Why would he feel a need to get rid of his only source of income? That’d be ridiculous.”

You sigh, resting your head on the table in defeat. He was right. Even if Jungkook was a douchebag towards you, he wasn’t insane.

“Don’t do that!” Hoseok scolds, flicking your forehead, “Your menu was just on that table!”

“So?” You rub your forehead in a failed attempt to the pain Hoseok has just inflicted onto you.

“You know menus can have 185,000 germs per square centimeter?” He exasperatedly explains, pulling out some hand sanitizer from his backpack, “Or was it only 85,000…? No, I remember it being-“

“Wonder where you got that information,” You tease, wiggling your eyebrows while you cleanse yourself with Hoseok’s hand sanitizer. The tips of Hoseok’s ears turn red in seconds, and you laugh at his misfortune.

“You’re so lucky I love you,” He grumbles, hiding his face in his hands. You giggle, eating so many of Hoseok fries that he decides to order some more for you. That’s how your diner “dates” usually went, you only ordering a shake but then stealing all of Hoseok’s food.

“How’s that going, by the way?”

“He’s adorable, as always, but he’s really… How do I say this?” He pretends to search for the right words before deadpanning, “An absolute fucking idiot.”

“What?” The statement catches you off guard, and you almost choke on your shake.

“He’s so dumb, Y/N,” Hoseok hits his forehead with his palm, “So we’ve been hanging out a lot, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Then tell me why he can’t get the clue that I want him to actually ask me out?!” He groans, “Like, I’ve been trying to bring up prom, but he doesn’t get from the multiple times that I’ve said that I don’t have a date that I want him to ask me…”

Hoseok angrily chomps down on the last bit of his burger, while you’re still roaring in hysterics about how he finds Namjoon frustratingly adorable.

“I don’t get boys,” He pouts, “I really don’t. And I am one!”

“You can say that again,” You chuckle, sipping the rest of the shake in your glass.

The two of you catch up on everything you haven’t been able to share from weeks before, since school can provide only so much time for talking. When spending time with Hoseok, you realize how often you let the little things get to you. You tend to sweat the small stuff so much that you don’t realize all the good things happening to you. It was a nice albeit short break from reality, sitting with Hoseok in your favorite diner with your favorite strawberry shake and some greasy, delicious fries.

Eventually, you end up back at home at 10:30 PM. You come a little bit later than your assigned curfew, but it’s not like your parents would notice. They’d be home even later, since they’re stuck at your grandparents’ house. You snicker to yourself while you unlock the door, imagining the invigorating conversations they’re having over there.

The first thing you’re (begrudgingly) met with is Jungkook sitting on your couch, watching football.

“You’re home late,” He says, eyes glued to the screen. You kick off your shoes, letting them land wherever they want to, and you ignore him. You weren’t about to let anyone, not even Jungkook, ruin the fun night you had. It was too much for you to be constantly miserable.

Then, as if on cue, the smell of chocolate chip cookies wafts into your nose rather pleasantly.

“Did you guys bake?” You ask quietly, taking off your jacket. Jungkook nods.

You walk over to the garage door, where the coat closet is. Putting away your jacket, you smile to yourself. A cookie sounds amazing right now.

Grabbing some milk out of the fridge, you pour yourself a glass and take a second to really take in the beauty of the cookies. They’re perfectly browned at their edges, while their center is a light tan, and there’s a few visible chocolate chunks in all of them. Your mouth waters, despite stuffing yourself with milkshakes and fries. You place three cookies on a plate.

“I’ll be in my room,” You say as you walk up the stairs. You know Jungkook doesn’t care, but it’s been a force of habit ever since you were a kid.

When you reach your room, you quickly open the dormer window so you can sit on the roof.

If you were ever to meet the person who designed this house, you would give them a big hug and ask them to marry you, regardless of their gender. The dormer window and its alcove has been a safe space for you growing up, and you sit on the roof every time you need to clear your mind or if you just needed to treat yourself on an especially rough day.

You swing your legs outside the window, slowly moving near the edge of the sill until you’re comfortable. The brisk night air makes its way into your room, the wind pushing your hair gently in different directions. There’s a soft symphony of crickets chirping, and you take this moment to stare at the night sky.

A handful of stars shine in the pitch black sky, more than you’d see in the city but less than you’d see in the country. You make a silent prayer that one day that you’d be able to experience what a full starry night sky would be like.

Your plate of cookies and glass of milk is placed on the window seat. A cookie finds its way off of the plate, into your hands, and then into your mouth. The first bite is perfect, bits of chocolate and cookie crumbs left on your lips. You lick them eagerly, feeling nothing but euphoric as you take a sip of your milk.

“Never knew Tina could bake,” You hear a low voice behind you. It’s soft, but you still jump when you’re taken out of your cookie-intoxicated trance.

Looking up, you see Jungkook at your door, walking over to you. Your face is stuffed with mashed up cookie bits and some milk, and usually you’d be embarrassed, but you’re too tired to care, nonchalantly wiping off your faint milk moustache with the sleeve of your sweater.

“She’s great at it.”

“I know,” He chuckles before pointing to the window cushion, “Mind if I…?”

“If I said that I did mind,” You move your plate and your glass to the side so Jungkook has space, “What would you do?”

“I’d sit down anyways,” He jokes, doing just as he says.

“No point in asking, then.”

An awkward silence befalls the two of you, but that’s how nights with the babysitter went, unnerving pauses constantly appearing as he tries to figure out what to say to annoy you.

In fact, you’ve created a game out of these situations. You try to guess what he’ll tell you this time. Right now, you’re betting that he’ll mention something about your peach fuzz, or that you’re a fattie for having cookies late at night. He’s called you thunder thighs before. You wouldn’t put him past calling you a fattie.

“She talks about you a lot, y’know.”

You’re initially taken aback, but the night is too calming, so now you’re pulling your legs close to your chest, a soft sigh escaping your lips. You have your back turned to him, sitting on the window sill while he’s on the window seat, but you can feel his eyes on you.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” You hear him sniffle, “Didn’t know that you liked the Power Rangers so much.”

“Are you kidding me?” You turn around to face him, “That was my childhood.”

“Mine too,” He smiles, one that’s different from his usual smirk, “Favorite ranger?”

“Trini, easily,” You point to the Yellow Ranger plushie laying on your bed, and he chuckles.

“I personally like Zordon the most.”

It’s not something you’d usually laugh at, but Jungkook ends up cracking up at his own joke and somewhere along the way, you find yourself giggling at it as well.

Another silence comes, and you finish the rest of your cookies and milk while he fidgets nervously with his hands. If Jungkook was trying to have a conversation with you right now, he was failing miserably. It’s somewhat interesting to you, seeing him open his mouth to speak, hesitate, and then closing it out of the corner of your eye.

It’s kind of cute, even.

You blink, looking forward. What the hell were you thinking? Was the loneliness really getting to you that quickly?

“Tina made those for you, actually.”

“That’s sweet of her.”

“Yeah, um,” Jungkook scratches the nape of his neck, “She told me more about what happened earlier today.”

“Huh?”

“With your parents.”

“Oh.”

You imagine what Clementine must’ve thought, seeing your parents continue to yell at you for hours on end about your sleeping schedule. She hates seeing her family upset, and that probably made her sad for a while. You hope that she’s sleeping peacefully in her room right now, tucked away into a land of dreams.

“Yeah,” He mumbles, “I’m sorry about that.”

Involuntarily, you let out a scoff. Whether it’s directed towards him or your parents, you’re not sure. You are quite surprised, though. Since when did Jungkook ever apologize for anything? Since when did he ever feel bad?

“No need to be sorry,” You mumble, “Not like you did anything.”

Another silence, this time being accented with some awkward coughing.

“I mean, I think it’s sweet.”

“You think my parents getting on my back about sleep is sweet?”

“No, no, no,” He quickly sputters out, “I mean that your sister cares about you so much. I think that’s really sweet.”

“Oh, well, thanks,” You say, tugging the sleeves of your sweater over your hands, “That’s Clementine for ya. Sweet.”

“Like the fruit.”

“Yeah,” You chuckle, “Did you know her name means ‘mercy’?”

It’s a fact you like to share with anyone willing to hear.

“That’s really cool, actually.”

“Yeah, my mom chose that name because I was too mean when I was younger,” You shake your head at the memory, “She said that we’d need someone more forgiving in the family, so the name stuck.”

“I can imagine that.”

“Shut up!”

“Sorry, sorry,” He laughs, and there’s a beat of silence before he speaks again, “It’s nice, having dinner with you guys.”

“Dinner’s alright. Shockingly average,” You shrug, drawing out the last two words, “Why do you like it so much?”

“It’s nice to see you and Clementine together, I guess,” He runs a hand through his hair, “Things like that aren’t so simple for me.”

“What’s wrong with your home?” Your tone seems a lot more blunt and judgemental than you intended it to be, but Jungkook isn’t phased. He laughs at your question, even.

“Which one?”

You got the memo.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not a big deal. You’re not the reason why my parents split,” He says nonchalantly, but then he laughs at himself again, “You know, I have a little brother too. He’s a little bit younger than Tina.”

You turn around and stare at him, and you’re unable to hide the surprise in your face. The position of you constantly craning your neck just to talk to him is uncomfortable, so you sit on the other side of the alcove, pulling your legs to your chest once more.

“What’s his name?”

“Yeonjin.”

“Not trying to be mean, but I always thought you were an only child. You kinda give off the vibe,” You rest your chin on your knees, “How come he’s never with you?”

“I don’t blame you,” He says, “It’s ‘cause he tries to always be with our dad. He also hates my guts, so there’s that, too.”

“...Can I ask why?”

The warm glow of your bedroom light shines on one half of his face, while the dim lighting from outside paints his other half. You take in his appearance, how his hair has gotten messier every time he runs his hands through it, how his soft brown eyes are bouncing around your room, studying each poster and each picture that you have placed on your wall. He takes a sharp breath before speaking.

“I hate my dad,” He scratches his cheek, “Well, not really? I don’t know, it’s confusing.”

“I get that.”

“I caught him cheating on my mom, I think two years ago,” He bites his lip, “And y’know, I told my mom. So they split.”

You nod, listening intently to every word he says.

“Yeon doesn’t know that. I begged them not to tell him,” He says, resting his head on the wall and staring out the window, “So he thinks that I’m why they’re not together.”

It’s during that moment where you realize that you don’t know much about Jungkook outside of the classroom and your home. You try to imagine what he must’ve felt during that moment, seeing his own dad with another woman. Then, you think about what it was like for him to know that his brother still blames him and will continue to blame him for everything.

The conclusion you reach is that you can never truly know the pain that he’s going through.

“You know it’s not your fault, though, right?” You point out, “It’s your dad’s.”

“Yeah, can’t help but feel bad sometimes, y’know?”

“I mean, no shit.”

A few light, sad chuckles emit from both of your lips.

“Well, that was strangely freeing,” He hummed, “I think you’re the second person in our school who knows that now… I don’t really know why I shared that, sorry.”

You look at him. He’s still staring out the window, his Adam’s apple clearly defined since his head is leaning back. His black shirt stretches loosely over his skin, giving you a vague hint of the muscles underneath, and his sweatpants make him look… cuddly, almost. You don’t know why, but somehow he seems as if he’d be so comfortable to hug.

Even if he’s in basic clothing, he still seems to look good.

Your initial reaction to this thought is that it’s wrong, but you’re too tired to protest it. Instead, you’re focused on how shy Jungkook has gotten, how he avoids direct eye contact and slurs his words together, save for the occasional stutters in between his sentences.

“Don’t feel bad, that’s pretty heavy. You gotta let that shit out sometimes.”

“Yeah…” He says, more to himself rather than to you, “Can I, uh, ask you a question?”

“What’s up?”

“Why’d you and Jimin break up?” His eyes are on yours, and he’s immediately trying to take back his question, “I mean, you don’t have to tell me, cause that’s none of my business-“

“You’re good,” You chuckle, “He cheated on me.”

“Damn, I’m sorry, I never knew...” He frowns, “Y’know, everyone thought you were endgame.”

“Me too,” You replied, “But apparently not.”

It isn’t until you feel Jungkook’s hand on your face that you realize you’re crying. He gently wipes away the influx of tears falling from your eyes, not saying anything sarcastic or mean towards you. He’s just… there. Ready and willing to listen. He even shuts the window when he notices you shivering, a shocking contrast from his usual behavior towards you.

It’s the first time anyone other than Hoseok has asked you for the real story. The first time someone that’s not your best friend has actually taken the time to listen to the truth.

“You know that’s not your fault, either, right?”

He’s repeating your words, but for some reason they don’t sound so convincing to you.

“I dunno,” You sniffle, “Feels like it is.”

“Why would it be? He cheated on you. Not the other way around.”

You take a few moments to steady your breathing before you speak. You don’t know why you want to spill your emotions out to Jungkook, but under the moonlight and your bedroom lights, there’s a sense of security in opening up to him.

“This is gonna sound so fucking stupid,” You start, “And you better not tell anyone, or else I’m for sure gonna kill you right when I see you.”

“I promise, I won’t.”

“I’ve never… done it,” You cringe right when the words come out of your mouth, “I told Jimin that we should wait until we… y’know.”

“That’s perfectly fine,” He states, and you can’t help but be surprised at how understanding he could be.

“You don’t think it’s a little bit weird?”

“Nah,” He replies, “I also think it’s absolutely not a reason to cheat. There’s literally no valid reason in doing that, no matter how unsatisfied you are with your partner.”

“I guess so.”

The fact that Jungkook is getting mad in your stead makes you giggle.

“And plus, it was you. How do you cheat on someone like that?”

“What do you mean?”

Jungkook pauses for a minute, processing what he had just said.

“I mean, if I was Jimin- No, I mean, if I was me,” He gestures to himself, “Which I am, I would never cheat on my partner. It just makes no sense. You already have a whole ass person who likes you. I think I’d be happy enough with that already.”

“Yeah, you’d think so,” You add, and now it’s you taking a few moments before speaking again, “Um, thanks, by the way. For talking with me, and stuff.”

“Oh, no worries,” He smiles at you, “Just kinda wanted to see how you were doing because of earlier. You did look pretty upset before you left the house.”

You smile back, and it seems like he’s about to say something, but the sound of the garage interrupts him, signalling that it’s time for him to leave. He stands up from the alcove and grabs your empty plate and cup to bring downstairs.

“Hey, I’ll see you at school tomorrow, right?”

You both know the answer to the question but Jungkook asks it anyway.

“Yeah, of course,” You can’t seem to wipe off the grin present on your face, “There’s nowhere else I could be.”

If you had to go back in time and tell yourself that eventually Jungkook would start driving you home after school and that you’d actually enjoy his company, you’re certain that your past self you’d slap your future self in the face and say that you were insane.

And maybe the latter was true.

“You’re terrible at singing,” He snickers, trying his best to keep his eyes on the road.

You’d retort and say that he doesn’t know shit and you’re actually an amazing singer, but you’re too preoccupied screaming One Direction lyrics off the top of your lungs. You decide to just jokingly flip him off instead.

The band’s songs hold a close place in your heart, because their music was what brought you and your sister closer. Although you’ve somewhat grown out of their cheesy lyrics about love and youth, you had to admit that their music was extremely catchy.

And apparently Jungkook thought this as well, because he was quietly singing along to each song word for word.

“Didn’t know you were a fan,” You tease, and he’s caught off guard.

“I’m not…”

“I bet you cried when Zayn left.”

He doesn’t look at you, because he’s driving, but the tips of his ears turn bright red, and you roar in hysterics at his reaction.

“You know I very well could’ve just left you at school,” He’s got a smile on his face despite his harsh words.

“Oh, you’d never,” You reply, staring out the window and enjoying the basic scenery around you.

After the one night where Jungkook and you dumped all your emotional baggage on each other, you found yourself looking forward to him being in your company from now on.

At first, you only decided to be nice to him since he knew the fact that you were with Park Jimin—that bombshell of a boy—and you never got it on with him. It’s not something you’re ashamed of, but you know you’d hate it if anyone else knew, because the rumor that you were crazy would just then become truer and truer to them. So you became nicer, gentler with Jungkook. Plus, hearing his story made your heart sadden a little whenever you saw how excited he was to be with Clementine.

And somewhere along the way, between him walking you to your classes and buying a Poptart pack and saving one for you after school every day, you realized that maybe he wasn’t such a bad kid to be around. He seemed to like being with you a lot too, always offering to drive you home when you had practice and when you didn’t, he’d offer to get fast food with you before going home.

Maybe it was the solidarity of experiencing pain, or it very well could just be that you’re one of the only people who knows Jungkook’s secrets and he’s one of the only people who knows about yours. Maybe there’s some pity for each other present, or it’s simply just because the both of you are tired of constantly bickering whenever you’re within a 20 foot-wide radius of each other.

You could spend countless hours trying to draw a conclusion, and you’ve tried to, during the late nights where you can’t sleep where you’re tossing and turning around restlessly. But eventually, you end up falling asleep, always answerless to the paradox you’ve been trying to solve.

Whatever the answer was, you’ve stopped caring about it, because you deemed it useless to keep trying to find it.

“How’s the new routine going?” He asks, desperate to change the topic.

“It’s going, that’s for sure,” You chuckle, “I think we just need a little bit more practice and we’ll be good.”

One thing that you’ve learned about Jungkook after becoming his friend is that he loses his natural vulgarity when you know about his family history.

You noticed this when Hoseok came over to your house one night and Jungkook didn’t call you a demeaning pet name at all during the time being. He also never bothered the two of you, making some small talk with Hoseok before leaving to play Just Dance with your sister. (He bought her that game when he found out that you guys had a Nintendo Switch that you never use).

The first thing Hoseok said to you when the two of you went to your room and you closed the door was:

“Where the hell is Jungkook and what the fuck did you do to him?”

It was a comical night, Hoseok freaking out over the wonderful, ever elusive mysteries named Kim Namjoon and Jeon Jungkook.

Another thing you (and Hoseok) had learned about Jungkook is that, surprisingly enough, his best friend was the Kim Namjoon himself.

This happened that same night, when Jungkook knocked on the door and accidentally overheard Hoseok say his name. Jungkook’s initial reaction was:

“It’s you?!” He almost shrieked in disbelief, “You’re the one Joon has a crush on?!”

His words, of course, came with a shrill: “He has a crush on me?!” from Hoseok.

Through this rude awakening, Hoseok and you learned that Namjoon was the only friend Jungkook had. Apparently, he started tutoring Jungkook when Jungkook was about to fail freshman year. Jungkook said that Namjoon was the only reason as to why he survived his first year of high school, and because of that he never left Namjoon alone. Eventually, they had strangely become the best of buddies.

And being the best of buddies meant that he knew Namjoon’s secrets.

(Safe to say, it was a rough night for both Hoseok and Jungkook but a fun one for you.)

“How’s Seok and Joon?” Jungkook asks, out of the blue, and you can tell the question has been on his mind.

“Hobi’s waiting for Namjoon to make a move.”

“Ha, that’s funny.”

“What?”

“Namjoon’s waiting for him to.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“I honestly wish I was,” He chuckles, driving into your subdivision.

“It’s amazing how glaringly obvious the two of them are,” You sigh, “Hoseok made bracelets for him. Tell me that that doesn’t scream: ‘Oh hey, by the way, I like you!’”

“Yeah, Joon has so many pics of him on his Insta, you’d think they’d be dating by now…”

“They’re really, really oblivious.”

“Well,” He shrugs, taking a turn into your driveway, “It happens to the best of us.”

Jungkook walks out of the car, heads over to your door, and as usual he helps you out while reaching for your backpack and your cheer bag so he can carry them for you.

Clementine’s sitting in the kitchen, working diligently on her math homework.

“Tina!” Jungkook sings, setting down your bag on the couch. You walk over with him to her, and she has a bright smile on her face when she sees the two of you together.

“Hi!” She responds, “I’ve got something to tell you guys!”

“What is it?” You ask, sitting next to her and taking a peek at her worksheet. It’s something about fractions.

“I think I have a crush!”

“Holy-“ You stop yourself before you can say anything bad, “Uh, wow, Clem!”

“Yeah, wow…”

You and Jungkook look at each other with somewhat sad eyes. He may not have known her for as long as you have, but he feels the same, strange dull pain that you’re feeling in your chest.

Your little sister isn’t so little anymore.

Tonight was going to be a long one.

Late night conversations with Jungkook at your dormer window have become a regular thing.

It’s the moments where fatigue starts to really hit the two of you that you have the most fun with him. There’s no shame in what you say, and no judgement stemming from one another. During then, it’s just you, Jungkook, the occasional plate of pizza and snacks, and the moon.

“I can’t believe she has a crush already,” You muse, a hint of melancholy in your tone.

“She’s 12, Y/N.”

“That’s still too young, don’t you think?”

“How old were you when you had one?”

“I think,” You pause, sorting out your vague childhood memories, “In Kindergarten, maybe?”

“My point exactly.”

You curse under your breath as you’re obviously defeated. You hate when logic is used against you. Jungkook just laughs, performing his usual habit of rubbing his nose and jerking his head so his hair can stay out of his eyes. Both of you are leaning on either side of the alcove and the window is slightly open so that you can hear the regular music of crickets outside. A light gush of wind blows through, gently shifting around random strands of your hair.

Jungkook’s yet again scrolling through his phone, looking at funny memes on Instagram and sending them to the group chat titled: “Namjoon’s Angels” that he so cleverly named. Your phone buzzes multiple times, and when you turn it on, 4 notifications from the said group chat appear on your screen. They’re all from him. You look at the boy in front of you and he’s got a delighted smile on, eyes crinkled up into crescent moons while he’s so focused on whatever’s on his phone.

“We’re in the same room, Kook,” You say, showing your screen to him, and Jungkook’s a bit surprised at the nickname, but he quickly shoots you a fake glare before going back to his own phone.

“Those aren’t just for you, princess,” He retorts, tapping away on his screen, “Those are for Joon and Hoseok too.”

Your phone buzzes once more, and this time it’s a notification from just Jungkook.

[November 15, 10:40  PM] jeon.jk on Instagram *Sent a post* [November 15, 10:40 PM] jeon.jk on Instagram This one’s for you! :)

Upon opening the chat, you’re met with an obscure picture of-

[November 15, 10:41] y/nnnn_ beans? jeon.jk Beans.

You send him a questioning look, and Jungkook squeakily laughs, almost out of breath by how funny he thinks the picture is.

jeon.jk Do you not like it? I think it’s rather nice.

The most surprising thing you’ve discovered about Jungkook is that he’s quite the articulate texter, which is a weird juxtaposition from his usual character. It’s certainly the strangest thing you’ve known about him.

y/nnnn_ it’s quite off putting jeon.jk :(

“I’m right in front of you,” You declare, turning off your phone and putting it on the cushion. Jungkook rolls his eyes, but nonetheless does the same.

“But that’s no fun.”

“You’re so weird, you know that?”

“I like to think I’m pleasant to be around.”

It’s your turn to roll your eyes. He sticks his tongue out at you before looking out the window.

“Are you going to the football game tomorrow night?”

“Kook.”

“What?”

“I’m on the cheer team…”

“Oh,” His lips form a small, tight circle and then spread into a sheepish smile once he connects the dots, “You’re right.”

“Always am.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” He starts, “Anyways, did you get invited to the party after?”

“At Taehyung’s?” You ask, and he nods, “I did, yeah.”

“You gonna go?”

You bite your lip, deep in thought over the question. Hoseok got invited too, and he was begging you to go because you hadn’t talked to Namjoon enough, save for whenever he asks you where Hoseok is after school.

While it would be a good idea to come along and really start to get to know your best friend’s crush, you could already tell that it wouldn’t slide with your parents.

“There’d be no one to babysit Clementine,” You reason, “I mean I’d love to, but yeah…”

Jungkook visibly deflates, so much so that he looks like a cartoon character. You suppress a laugh, an apology coming out instead so that you don’t make him feel any worse.

“No, I get it,” He sighs, shoulders slumped down, “It’s no worries then. We’ll still see each other after the game, then, right?”

“If you really want to, sure.”

“I want to.”

You smile at him, and Jungkook mirrors you, a toothy grin flashing your way.

Your favorite moments with your unconventional, newfound friend are during the late nights, because of times like this. Around you and around him, the world is soft and light. There’s a calming simplicity when you’re talking to Jungkook, and your chest constantly feels light and fluttery. His lame jokes become funnier, and your words towards him become kinder.

Even though it’s dark, the nights seem to shed light on who the two of you really are and how you two really feel about each other.

There’s no malice, no ill intentions towards each other either. You like being there with him. Time isn’t an obstacle, which is something you’ve always felt slipped out of your hands like fine sand. The world just comes to a standstill, both of you trying to talk as much as you can before your parents come home.

For you, time has been a nuisance. You lose sleep while you hunched over your desk, working on assignments because the night is the only freetime you have. Because of that (and so that you can peacefully talk to Jungkook whenever he babysits), you simply just do your homework in the morning. Your alone time is always cut short, since you’re swamped with cheer, homework, and family obligations.

You hated how time ran out.

After all, your time with Jimin had run out.

But when you’re sitting on the cushion in your alcove with Jungkook, you slowly but surely start to adjust to the ever changing world around you. Sure, you feel guilty about constantly dumping your emotional baggage to someone you’ve just become friends with after two years of having pure hatred for them, but time and time again he’s always reassured you, telling you that he really didn’t mind you venting to him.

It’s not like Jungkook was your only option, since you always had Hoseok to rant to. But seeing Hoseok happy made you happy, and you didn’t want to ruin it by being a complete pity party.

So yeah, maybe Jungkook was the only option you had. You didn’t really mind either, since Jungkook had his fair share of problems that he’d talk to you about. There was no point in feeling bad at all, actually. There was a fair exchange of listening and venting between both sides.

You did find having an issue to restrain yourself around him. Everytime he spoke about his brother, you just wanted to jump into his arms and tell him everything was going to be okay. Even more so when his voice cracked and slowly turned into silent whispers and warbled mumbles. Your heart always broke when he would start blinking more and more so that his tears wouldn't come out. Sometimes, when things really got rough, he’d let a few ones fall, but he always followed it up with forced laughter and a strained smile.

It always made you wonder if he was hiding anything else from you.

“Wait, Y/N,” He says, raising a pointer finger up, “You can go to the party!”

“What do you mean?”

“Did you forget?” He asks, seeing how confused you are, “I’m Tina’s babysitter.”

“I didn’t forget that…?”

“I’m gonna be at the game, cause, y’know, I’m, yeah,” He explains, “Your parents are gonna have to stay at home regardless.”

You stare at him blankly as it registers in your head that there’s nothing stopping you from going to Taehyung’s infamous house parties.

“You’re right,” You mumble, “Sorry, I must be tired.”

“When’d you sleep last night?”

“Yesterday?” You stare up at the ceiling while you try to remember the other night, “4… I think?”

Jungkook shakes his head at you, ashamed.

“What’d I say about sleeping late?” He wags a finger at you, “You’re gonna ruin yourself if you keep doing that.”

“Okay, thanks, mom,” You snicker.

He then changes the topic, now complaining about the very same paper that you stayed up late to work on. You added on to his ranting, speaking your own mind as well.

The conversation is stopped abruptly when you hear knocking. Jungkook and you turn from each other to see your parents standing at the doorway. Neither of you had even heard the garage opening, or your parents walking upstairs.  

They’ve got tired, but happy smiles on their faces, and it comforts you knowing that they’re starting to iron out whatever issues they're going through. Your mom waves at you two and you echo her movements.

“Ah, I gotta go, then.”

Jungkook swiftly gets up from the alcove, grabbing his jacket that was resting on your desk chair. He greets you goodbye and then does the same with your parents, your dad walking him to the door. When both of the boys leave, your mom joins you, replacing Jungkook’s spot. She smells of steak and has a faint scent of wine about her. The relaxed, blissful state she’s in tells you that she’s intoxicated right now.

“Glad you had a fun night out,” You say, a soft smile on your lips.

“I quite like Jungkook,” She seems to not have heard your words, “Don’t you?”

“He’s nice, yeah.”

“He reminds me of your dad.”

She’s definitely a lot more drunk than you thought she was.

“Let’s get you in bed, mom,” You chuckle, standing up and helping her, “I think that’s enough for today.”

When you take her to her room and she staggers over to sit in her bed, you say goodnight to her. She responds, and you know very well that she’s most likely going to fall asleep with her dress on. You decide that your dad could handle that.

After getting ready for bed and crawling under your covers, your mind starts to wander, fixated on the idea of Jungkook and your dad being similar.

You can’t find a single distinct comparison between the two of them, but then your mind travels to the topic of your parents when they were younger. When they weren’t dating and they just knew each other as neighbors. Were they nice to each other?

Was there ever a time where they hated each other?

In between the many questions traveling through your mind, you start to enter the deep limbo of being half asleep and half awake. This doesn’t stop your curiosity about your parents story, as you see the two of them in your dreams. A young version of your mom bickering with your dad.

Then, it suddenly flashes to you walking with Jungkook in the hallways of high school, talking and bickering like you usually do.

Despite being heavily sleep deprived, you actually have a good night’s rest for once.

It’s Friday, which meant one thing and one thing only. It’s game day.

And although you complain about how sore your muscles are after practice and how you hate staying after school for so long, but when you’re sitting on the track, listening to the shouts from the student section and watching the football get tossed back and forth between players, you can’t help but be excited for halftime. You even become immersed in the sport, intently watching the boys tackle their way through the field. Half of the time you’re not completely sure about what’s going on, but you definitely were having fun sitting with Hoseok and watching the football teams brawl for a simple leather ball.

You had to admit it. There really was something magical about football games.

It was the way the grass smelt of rain and sweat, the way you could hear nothing but excitement from the crowds of students in the student section, the way that everyone was donning the school’s signature colors of purple and gold. The energy tonight is explosive, and you relish in every single section of it.

Your teammates are focused on the game and on themselves, making sure they remember the routines you have been practicing for months. But you, on the other hand, have separated yourself from the group of girls standing on the track and talking to each other. Instead, your focus is stuck on Jungkook.

Watching him on the field is like magic.

You don’t mean to, but your eyes follow him as he rushes past the opposing team, pushing past everyone effortlessly. He knows exactly when to keep the ball clutched closely to his chest or when to throw it to his fellow teammate, and he defends himself against the opposition, turning his back against them in order to protect himself from their tackles. It’s all like clockwork, like Jungkook could predict the other team’s movements. Even though you’re far from him, you notice the way he scans the field, so much so that you can see the gears turning in his mind. He’s got a whole map of the field and the teams in his head, creating a strategy right on the fly. All to get a touchdown.

Jungkook may be the big-headed goofball who used to enjoy annoying you, but he was a completely different person on the field. He’s someone determined and clever, and he doesn’t show off or become cocky when he’s on the field. Instead, he looks out for his own teammates and becomes a real leader.

You see this when Kim Taehyung, one of the running backs, gets tackled and crashes straight onto the turf, his helmet thudding quite loudly. Before Jungkook grabs the ball in Taehyung’s hands, he gives a quick tap on the running back’s helmet as a simple way of telling him that he’s doing a good job. To tell him to not give up and to get back on his feet. It’s a barely visible gesture that no one in the crowd would notice. It’s basically insignificant to… anyone, really. But you feel your heart soften when you figure out what the gesture meant.

Then you sit up, slightly, because his eyes meet yours and suddenly all the air in your chest has decided to leave. The crease in his eyebrows disappears and he’s beaming at you.

What amazes you is that Jungkook still has the ball secure in his hands, shoving his way through the hordes of players like they’re nothing.

You wonder what it’d be like to see Jungkook running up close. It’s hard to see from this distance, but you can see how the sheen of sweat glosses his skin. There was no doubt that he was muscular and you knew that, because you saw him every single day, but tonight his body is even more defined. They flex as he moves, biceps bulging because he’s clutching onto the ball so tightly.

You’re unaware of the way your thoughts travel to Jungkook being sweaty and hot on the field. Somehow it makes you feel like you’re betraying everything you’ve stood for by thinking like this, but instead of creating an even greater inner conflict between yourself and your conscience, you give up and continue to spectate the game.

(If by the game, you mean Jungkook.)

It isn’t until you decide to give him a small wave that he stumbles. He passes the ball to Kim Seokjin, the receiver, and quickly gets up on his own feet before he can fall on the ground. The opposition’s focus is now moved onto Seokjin, and so is Jungkook’s.

Seokjin reaches the end of the field. He scores a touchdown, and the crowd goes wild. The roaring sounds like music to your ears and you stand up, cheering along with your friends to congratulate your team. You beam when you see Jungkook running alongside the receiver, genuine grins on the boys’ faces. You feel proud, but you’re not entirely sure about what.

“We’re gonna kill it soon, Y/N!” Hoseok grins, and you mirror him, a happy smile on your face as well. He’s also too focused on memorizing the steps in his head to notice that you’ve been drooling over your little sister’s babysitter.

“I mean, duh,” You dramatically flip your hair over your shoulder, making the both of you giggle.

People say that cheerleading is such an outdated sport, but you actually loved it with your entire heart. You’ve created many lasting friendships with the girls (and Hoseok, of course) on your team, and the cheer squad was the exact reason why you had a somewhat reputation at school. It was basically the only thing that kept you going during the 3 years of high school you’ve gone through, and you’re sure that it’ll be the only thing keeping you sane for the rest of your years at this hellhole of a school.

Well, that was a topic for another day.

Because before you can have another existential crisis about the fact that you’re already on your junior year of high school—you haven’t figured out exactly what you want to do with your life—and that time has really slipped you by, the timer on the big, chunky, outdated metal screen ticks down. A bold, orange “0:00” appears, signalling that it’s halftime. The football teams slow down and head back to their respective sides, getting ready to take a break while the cheerleading squad gets ready for action.

When all of the boys are seated at their benches, some of them guzzling water or simply just catching their breath, you, Hoseok, and the rest of the girls make your way onto the turf. The speaker announces your team, staticky voice emitting from the speakers and filling the air.

It’s go time.

You all huddle in a circle, hyping yourselves up with team chants. It’s invigorating, being with all of your friends, getting ready to present the routine you had been trying to perfect for the past few months. You step into the circle, and the girls lift you up, throwing you up in the air. As you’re thrown, you let the force move you, your body twirling around. You land gracefully back into their arms, and the crowd goes wild once again.

The cheerleaders grab their pom poms that are lying on the turf and they get into position. Everyone places their hands on their hips, smiles forming on all of your faces as the crowd simmers down to get ready for the show. A beat starts from the drum line, and you all wave your pom poms in the air, the tinsel-like material sounding almost like rain as they swivel in circular motions. You scan the crowds, looking at all the different students sitting together.

Then your eyes meet, and your face falters.

Park Jimin is sitting in the bleachers, beaming at the Sophomore on the cheer team. You’re rudely reminded of her sitting on his lap in the back of his car, and your eyes become hazy as you try to save face.

“Don’t pay attention to him,” Hoseok whispers, “He’s not worth it.”

You nod, averting your focus from Jimin. This was the final football game of the season. You had to make the most of it, and you weren’t going to let him get in the way of it.

The cheer captain starts with a “5, 6, 7, 8,” and the rest of you follow her chants.

The routine starts with a high kick and a right punch up, followed with another high kick and then a strict order of arm positions along with a few more kicks that you all execute with style. Some of the girls move to the front, doing backflips to entertain the crowd. The flyers, bases, and spotters, get ready for extensions while the girls in the front keep the student section preoccupied.

Hoseok is assigned as one of your bases, and two other girls—a base and a back spotter—get into formation along with him. They lift you up carefully, steadying you right away as you're raised up. The other flyers are lifted up, too, and you sigh in relief knowing that everyone did their extensions easily. You flash bright smiles to the crowd and they all scream, cheering you on as well. Your combined shouts add even more energy to what was already an electric game.

The cheer is something cheesy about having more spirit than the other team, and the words are really cringy at points, but you don’t care. You’d shout them to the ends of the earth for all you cared. What mattered was the way the student section responded with almost double the enthusiasm. Kids are hollering, practically jumping out of their seats and yelling as they repeat the school’s signature lyrics. There’s nothing but pure excitement for the game, the football team, and the cheerleaders.

You’re lowered down for a few minutes by the bases only to be thrown up quickly. Keeping your stomach tight and your arms stiff, you fall back into the arms of the cheerleaders underneath you. It’s a perfect execution of a cradle, and you’re practically glowing with pride for your team. It’s obvious that the coaches would praise you all at the next practice. The crowd goes crazy for your team as well. Once you’re placed on the ground, it’s your turn to perform flips and high kicks, and you carry out the rest of the routine effortlessly.

Staring at the crowd, you take in how everyone is smiling at you and your team, impressed at the stunts you all pulled off in such a small time frame. Their eyes are shimmering with pride and you’re certain that their throats have gone raw from all their hoots and hollers. The night sky is painted black, but the atmosphere you’re in is far from dull. The crowds are colored purple and gold, matching your uniform and the football players’ uniforms. There are kids from different cliques, but they’re all sitting together and cheering, showing the solidarity a school could have.

You hold on to the moment for as long as you can, your chest heaving up and down as you pose confidently when the routine is done. Hoseok looks at you with immense pride and you do the same, both of you practically radiating out there on the field.

Eventually, halftime is over and you’re back to sitting on the track. You’re sweaty, but you don’t care. You know you did amazing and that was worth it.

A wave of uneasiness hits your chest when you see the sophomore rush over to her backpack to check her phone. She grins at her screen before running over to your coach, using some lame excuse so she can leave. After that, she rushes out, and you see Jimin following suit.

You plan to see what they’re doing, but Hoseok grabs your wrist, already knowing what you were going to do.

“Y/N,” His voice is stern, “I love you. Don’t.”

“But-“

“It’s not a good idea. You know that.”

“Yeah, I do.”

Some of your nerves fade away when Hoseok demands that you’ll get pictures with him, even if both of you are drenched in sweat. He reasons that it’s because you rarely have any pictures with him. But isn’t that the sign of true friendship? Not being able to have pictures because you’re either having too much fun together or the both of you look so ugly you can’t even bear to have a photo taken? You use that reasoning with Hoseok and he simply pinches your cheek, telling you that you’re insufferable and forcing one of your teammates to take your pictures.

When the game is almost done, the sophomore is nowhere to be seen.

You see your coach asking around the other girls, but they all respond with a shrug. Hoseok keeps you distracted by talking about the new friend group you’ve created with him, Namjoon, and Jungkook. Then, he starts to talk about Namjoon and the latest “date but not date” that they had last weekend. You realize you’ve never wanted to talk about Namjoon more than ever before.

While he’s gushing, you look at the photos you’ve taken with your best friend. A satisfied smile finds its way on your face when you see that they ended up a million times better than you thought it would. Hoseok also admires them while you swipe through the many new pictures in your camera roll.

“Told you it’d end up good.”

“Oh, whatever.”

You decide that you’d post your favorite ones, since you haven’t put anything new on your Instagram.

You tap on the app, planning to create a draft to post tomorrow. To your surprise, though, a new post from Jimin appears on your timeline. It’s a picture of the girl in his car. She has a bright smile on her face, her cheeks tinted a rosy pink.

Under the picture there’s a blue heart.

You’re reminded of all of the posts he had of you that had the exact same caption. You frown. Blue was your favorite color.

You go to his page, and all of your photos from before are gone. You’re frozen in your spot. Your mouth feels incredibly dry and a hard, rough lump forms in your throat. Your eyes start to sting, and the pain you thought you’ve forgotten about has come back twice as strong.

Hoseok notices this and you hand him his phone.

“Y/N… I’m so sorry.”

“I’m gonna,” You wipe your eyes and fan away the moisture so you don’t mess up your mascara, “I’m gonna go home after this.”

“Do whatever you need to,” He says, patting your head so you can rest your head on his shoulder, “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

You text your parents, asking them to drive you home.

The game is slow, dull, and boring, but after such an excruciatingly long wait, it finally ends. Once it’s over, you’re immediately walking out and making your way to your parents car. You ignore all of the students around you, pushing your way through them.

You also ignore Jungkook, who’s been running after you right when the game ends but loses you in the crowd.

When you come home, the car ride with your mom consisting of you breaking down and your mom comforting you, your mom quickly takes you to the bathroom, drawing a warm bath for you. She closes the door so neither Clementine or your dad can see the state you’re in, and she drops in a few drops of lavender into the steamy water. You hastily take off your uniform and your makeup, wanting nothing more than to get in the tub.

Shutting your eyes, you allow yourself to feel the warm water soaking your skin. The oil she added to the bath creates a pleasant scent to the steam, and your lips curve upward when you get a whiff of it. You rest your head against the edge of the porcelain surface, eyes getting hazy as the scent of lavender drowns out your senses. Your mother puts her hands through your hair, massaging your head with shampoo.

If your mother was being this gentle, this nice to you, then this was really serious.

When she plants a loving kiss on your forehead, humming sweetly, you feel your lip quiver. You were tired. This was your breaking point. You couldn’t take it anymore. Warbled, shrill sobs escape from your lips and you’ve lost all notions of self control. Your mom holds you close to her, indifferent to the soap suds and water soaking her shirt.

“Sometimes change is necessary for growth,” She says as you cry everything out.

“It hurts,” Your words come in between gasps.

“I know, darling, I promise you that you’ll find someone who truly deserves your love.”

“...Really?”

“Yes, and, you know, I already know one person who deserves it.”

“Who?”

“You.”

You hang onto every word she says, hoping that they’re actually true.

[November 16, 9:35 PM] Jungkook Hey, is everything okay? I tried talking to you after the game but I couldn’t find you Why is that? You don’t have to tell me, just wanted to know if you were okay I’ll tell Joon you say hi later tonight. He was really excited to hang out with you Sorry, I must be spamming your phone Anyways, just wanna say you did great tonight

Read at: 10:01 PM

[November 19, 4:02] Jungkook You didn’t show up to school today I think this is actually the first time you’ve skipped school Let me know if you need the homework or anything Read at: 4:10

You tap out of the conversation and put your phone face down on your nightstand. Tossing around in the bed, the sheets are uncomfortably hot around your sweaty skin. Your room is humid, since you’ve been doing nothing but lay in your bed for the past 3 days. Your eyelids slowly droop downward while you attempt to remove yourself from the throbbing pain in your head.

A slow, soft creak emits from your door. You open your eyes to see your sister, holding a tray with a cup of water and a grilled cheese sandwich. She still has her school clothes on.

“We ran out of soup,” She says, walking over to you.

You give her a weak smile, shifting over so she can sit next to you.

“Thank you, Clem.”

She sits up straight, expectantly watching you eat. She waits for your reaction, and your lips curve up naturally while you chew, she lets out the breath she’s unconsciously been holding in.

“Are you… doing okay?”

“I’ll be alright,” You nod, and then you roll up the sleeve of your hoodie to flex your bare arm, “Your sister’s strong.”

Clementine giggles and she leans back, resting her head on your shoulder. Her hair tickles your skin, but you don’t care. The grilled cheese in your mouth tastes absolutely amazing—most likely because you haven’t eaten anything since a bowl of soup yesterday.

“I never…” She starts, but then stops. You reassure her that she can tell you whatever she wants, and with a deep breath, she continues, “I never really… liked him.”

“Hm?”

“Jimin. I never liked him,” Her words lower into a nervous whisper. You wonder how long she’s been holding it in. She looks up at you once more, “Sometimes I could hear when you guys talked on the phone.”

Your initial response is to be angry, but there’s no point to. It wasn’t her fault that your rooms were so close to each other. Clementine scoots down so that she can rest her head on your chest, and you wrap your arms around her.

“He was kinda mean,” She sighs, “And I didn’t like how he talked to you.”

You nod. There was a truth in her words. You imagine what she thought hearing you cry behind a closed door, hearing you freak out because Jimin would end the call on you randomly when you mentioned Hoseok. Thinking back on it, Jimin was quite possessive when the two of you were together. Quite ironic.

“He’s like Gaston.”

“Gaston?”

“Yeah, full of himself,” She spits bitterly, and it’s the first time you’ve ever seen your sister speak negatively towards someone, “Only likes you ‘cause you’re pretty. Gets mad if you don’t give him something when he’s nice to you.”

Despite her dulled down description of Jimin, her words are a rude awakening for you. It’s as if you were roughly picked up and dropped into a cold, freezing bath, the frigid water creating an abrupt awareness of the reality of your past relationship. The reality was that Jimin was terrible to you, and no matter how many times you tried to label it nicely, tried to dumb it down so you yourself could swallow it easily, the truth is that whatever the two of you had wasn’t love.

It hits you that you really don’t know anything about love.

“You deserve someone better than Jimin.”

“You can say that again,” You chuckle, but Clementine cranes her neck and looks at you with burning eyes.

“No, I mean it,” She huffs, “He was terrible-“

“I know, I know, Clem,” You give her a light, reassuring smile, “But we’ll figure that out later, ‘kay? Right now it’s just you and me.”

“Yeah,” She relaxes, resting on you again, “I’d like that.”

You pinch her cheek before speaking again.

“So, you wanna tell me more about the new guy?”

She hides herself in your embrace instantly. Her new crush, Lucas, seemed quite nice from what she tells you.

The rest of your day is spent with Clementine over board games, movies, and cookies, and from how she eagerly spills out everything to you, you realize just how much she’s held from you, afraid to bother you since you “had a lot on her plate”. You secretly promise her that you’d be there for her more, that you’d forever be a shoulder to cry on for her from now on.

It’s almost funny, how a breakup forced you into having a better relationship with your sister.

When the night falls and you’re in Clementine’s room with her, ready to say goodnight, she musters enough courage to say something else to you.

“I like Jungkook.”

“I know, so does everyone,” You reply, suddenly remembering the multiple text messages from him that you’ve ignored.

Would he be upset with you? You decide that you’ll deal with that later.

“I like the way he looks at you.”

“What do you mean?” You questioningly state, taking the covers and putting it over her body. Even though she’s already 12, you don’t think you’ll ever stop tucking her in. She doesn’t object, either, eagerly accepting your advances and pulling the covers over so only her head pops out.

“He kinda,” She yawns, “He looks at you different.”

“Different?” You chuckle lightly, reaching out to turn off her lamp.

“Yeah,” She slowly closes her eyes, “Like how Dad looks at Mom.”

You freeze in place at her words, but then you quickly shake it off. She was most likely dreaming.

“You must be tired, Clem,” You mumble, “You should sleep.”

“Yeah, I should.”

You leave Clementine so she can sleep peacefully. With the absence of her around you comes the presence of an underlying issue that you never noticed was in your life.

When did Jungkook ever come into the equation?

Returning to your habit of tossing and turning around uncomfortably in your own bed, your mind tackles the notion of what your true feelings are for Jungkook.

Was he a bad person? Certainly not, from what you’ve learned. Were you guys friends? Yes, you were, obviously, from all the conversations you’ve had at your window.

Staring at said window, you imagine Jungkook sitting there, with his wide grin and his tousled, chestnut hair. You can almost smell the scent of his laundry detergent on your nose. His laugh rings in your ears, soft, breathy chuckles sounding almost like a melody to you. You think of all the times he’s walked you to your classes, dropping you off to your room before rushing on over to his own class that was on the other side of the building. He’s never told you, but you know that he’s always late to class because of you. This revealed itself because you’d see Jungkook hastily walking over to the attendance office to get tardy slips for his teacher.

You chuckle at the thought. It never registered in his head that the office was in the hallway of your 6th hour, so whenever he gets a slip you’ll see him pass by your doorway.

An image of Jungkook with Clementine flashes in your mind when you close your eyes. You see him dancing goofily with her to some Spanish song you’re not familiar with, all so that Clementine will be comfortable dancing around him. You take in how he smiles at her, how he looks at her so happily, and how he’s so eager to embarrass himself because he just likes seeing her laugh.

Then, when you close your eyes, you see Jungkook looking at you. His eyes are soft, and there’s something there you can’t really describe. It makes you feel safe, makes you feel like you can put your guard down around him. You notice that whenever your eyes meet his, there’s a bright, warm smile on his face.

A light, fluttery feeling hits your chest, but it’s far too faint for it to be significant, you think. You brush it off as something trivial. Jungkook was your friend, and that was that.

He was nothing more and nothing less, thank you very much.

[November 20, 12:30 AM] Y/N sorry for not texting back haven’t been feeling well i’ll be back tmrw, tho you got time to talk after school tmrw? we could get burgers or something [November 20, 12:31 AM] Jungkook Of course, yeah It’s no worries btw, Y/N Just wanna know you’re okay. I’m driving you I’m guessing? Y/N yeah there’s no one else who will, lol

Going back to school is a little rough, and although you only missed one day, you were already toppled with absent work and new lessons that you had to teach yourself.

But every worry seemed to disappear when you finally got to the diner with Jungkook. During this, you explain everything to him, stuffing your mouth with the fries that you loved so much. Jungkook listens to every single word you say, gnawing down on his bowl of mac n’ cheese.

“That’s so shitty of him.”

You can sense the anger in his tone.

“Yeah, I don’t know,” You shrug, pulling your strawberry smoothie close to you so you can take a sip, “Not my place anymore.”

Jungkook redacts what he was about to say, only nodding as to make sure he doesn’t speak over you.

“Sorry about not responding,” You mumble, and he shakes his head profusely.

“No, no, I get it,” He smiles fondly at you, “Don’t be sorry. I’m here for you, okay?”

It amazes you how understanding he can be. Seems like just yesterday he was chewing gum obnoxiously in your ears, blowing bubbles and popping them in hopes that the sound would destroy your eardrums.

Jungkook fills you in on what you had missed yesterday, already offering to help you if you need any help. The two of you spend the time at the diner talking about anything and everything, and things somewhat feel normal for once.

You wish that everything could stay just like this in the diner, where Jungkook is sitting in front of you, cracking lame jokes left and right and you’re laughing so hard that you can’t even be bothered to breathe anymore.

A few weeks pass, and you’ve slowly started to adjust to the “new normal” of your life. But this was only because you had such amazing friends to help you out whenever you saw Jimin with his new girlfriend. Hoseok has been there for you and always will be, Jungkook constantly has new jokes up his sleeve that he’s constantly waiting to use, and even though you’re not that close with Namjoon just yet, you’ve learned just how kindhearted he is.

This is because when you told him the whole story of you and Jimin, he started sending you pretty flowers every single day. Those were Namjoon’s “cheer up” texts that gave you a soft comfort when you received them.

Slowly but surely, your regular diner dates with Hoseok have turned into full on hangouts with the other two boys. Jungkook would drive you, while Namjoon would take Hoseok. Usually, though, your hangouts would consist of you and Jungkook losing your appetites over how sweet Namjoon and Hoseok are to each other. There wasn’t one time where Jungkook wouldn’t roll his eyes to you when Namjoon would compliment Hoseok’s hair, and you’ve lost track of how many times you’ve lost it over Hoseok pinching Namjoon’s cheek whenever he teases him.

It’s still a complete shocker to the both of you that they’re only friends.

But you honestly wouldn’t change your new friend group for the world. Albeit sort of dysfunctional and unconventional, you all worked together nicely.

Things slowly came together piece by piece, and you felt that maybe your life would continue on peacefully, just how you wanted it to.

However, today is different.

After school, Hoseok asks you if the two of you can hang out one on one, just like before, and of course you agree, because you had to admit that you did miss spending time with just him. So you expect it to be a fun filled Friday afternoon with Hoseok. Maybe you’d hear him rant about Namjoon being clueless for the umpteenth time without ever acknowledging how oblivious he is himself.

What you expect, however, is very different from your reality, because when Hoseok and you walk out of the school building and into the parking lot, you’re met with a pretty sizable crowd. There’s kids, mostly boys, pointing their cameras and you hear multiple shouts and cheers from the crowds.

You’re about to stealthily dodge the crowd and head over to Hoseok’s car, but then a gap forms in between a few students and your jaw hits the ground.

“Fuck you,” Jungkook spits, his familiar voice confirming your suspicions.

The other boys spur him on, yelling out incoherent words that you can’t decipher. You grab Hoseok by the wrist and pull him over to the crowd.

Getting a closer look at the scene, you and Hoseok give each other a scared, concerned glance. Jungkook has Jimin on the pavement, landing multiple brutal punches across his face. Jimin, whose eyes have turned hazy, has blood coming out of his nose, and if Jungkook lands one last punch, Jimin is bound to have a broken nose (if he already didn’t).

It’s a good thing, though, that the principal suddenly appears, pushing past everyone and splitting the two boys up. Jungkook and Jimin are both sitting up now, tattered and beaten down. Jungkook wipes away the blood on his mouth, while Jimin tries to catch his breath, his chest heaving up and down heavily. His face is screwed up in agony and you wince upon seeing the newly formed black eye that he’s sporting.

Jungkook doesn’t look any better either. He’s got bruises all over him, and a handful of deep cuts and scrapes from falling on the ground. He has blood on his sweatshirt, and you can’t tell if it’s his or Jimin’s.

The crowd disperses, students not wanting to get involved with the authorities. You and Hoseok stay, however, because Namjoon appears out of nowhere, his arms crossed and a tired look on his face while he assesses the damage. The principal pulls them away by their collars in order to create distance from the three of you standing there. Once there’s a reasonable space between all of you, he begins to mouth them off.

“He made jokes about it but I never thought it’d happen,” He sighs, rubbing his temples, “I got the principle once I saw what was going on. I was too late.”

“What’s gonna happen?” You ask, voice coming out in a weak whisper.

“They’ll both be expelled for a little bit,” Namjoon strokes his chin.

“Expelled?” Hoseok gasps in disbelief, “Don’t you mean suspended?” 

“The fight’s on school grounds, and they were both deliberately violent,” Namjoon explains, “If Jungkook had only made a threat to do it, then he’d be suspended. Expulsions last much longer than suspensions, based on what the principal will think is a fit punishment for the kids.”

Leave it to Kim Namjoon to know the school’s rulebook like the back of his hand.

“What’ll happen with sports?”

“Now that, I’m also not entirely sure,” Namjoon answers, and you can see the gears turning in his head, “Let’s hope the coaches will even be willing to talk to them.”

Jungkook makes eye contact with you and although he’s tired, he seems to have sobered up. You stare at him with shocked, disappointed eyes, and he looks down at his feet, like a dog who just got scolded by his owner. He rubs his nose, taking a deep breath and choosing to just listen to what the principal has to say.

What could have possibly compelled Jungkook to beat Jimin into a pulp?

The next night you see Jungkook at your door, the bruises and cuts on his skin somewhat faint, but still apparent.

“Um, hi,” His eyes bounce around from you then to the ground, “Listen, Y/N, I-“

“What the hell is wrong with you?” You hiss at him, coming out of the house and closing the door behind you.

“What?”

“Don’t you realize what you did yesterday?” You say, “Because of that you got fucking expelled!”

“That’s what I was here to talk about,” He explains.

“There was literally no reason for you to do that, Kook.”

“Y/N, if you were there, you’d understand.”

“No, Jungkook, no,” You shake your head, “I get it, Jimin’s an asshole. That doesn’t mean you need to beat him up for it!”

“Y/N,” He sighs, visibly irritated, “If you would just let me tell you why-“

“There’s no point, Jungkook!” You throw your hands up in the air while you yell at him, “You’re expelled! Do you even know if you can play football anymore?”

He bites his tongue, giving you a perfect answer.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Y/N,” He grabs your wrists, forcing you to look at him, “If you had just heard the things he said about you, you’d get it. Please, I just wanted to talk to you and apologize. Please don’t be mad at me. I didn’t mean to.”

He’s pitiful before you and you feel your anger rise.

“Y/N, he said such shitty things about you.”

“I don’t give a shit!” You retort, pulling away from him,  “I don’t need you beating up people for me, Jungkook. Do you really think I’m that weak?”

His eyes widen and he’s at a loss for words.

“No, Y/N, I never said that,” He reasons, “I just didn’t want him to talk about you like that anymore. You guys aren’t even together anymore. I was fed up.”

“Don’t you think there’s other ways you could handle that? Maybe you could, I don’t know, ignore it?”

“Y/N, please,” He pleads, exasperated, “I know this sounds stupid, but I really couldn’t handle it. I’m sorry, I just-“

“Do you really think I’m that helpless?” You scoff, “That I can’t handle when someone speaks of me badly? That you have to do everything for me?”

“No-“

“There’s something wrong with you.”

“I know,” He mumbles, “I couldn’t control my anger.”

“Yeah, that’s apparent,” You deadpan, crossing your arms, “I don’t need you to fight my fights for me, Jungkook. That’s not how it works.”

“I know.”

“No, you don’t,” You spit, “If you had known that, then you wouldn’t have done anything.”

It’s an awkward position to be in, fighting with Jungkook at your front porch in the middle of a cold, December night, but you’re too heated to care. You ignore how you can see your breath come out in a light fog whenever you speak.

There’s a thin covering of snow everywhere, and you’re glad that you consistently wear a hoodie and sweatpants as pajamas in both summer and winter. Some snowflakes are resting on Jungkook’s head, leaving delicate white, sparkling dots in his hair. Matched with his red nose and red ears, you’d almost say he was adorable if you weren’t cussing him out right now.

“Why would you even think that was okay? Why would you do that?”

“Y/N… I…” He sputters out, “I just…”

“You just what? You think I’m so weak that I can’t handle my own problems?” You roll your eyes, “You’re unbelievable, Jungkook. You really think that I’m that weak?”

“No.”

“Then what is it?”

“You don’t get it do you?” He scoffs.

“What do you mean?”

“I did it because I couldn’t stand to hear him talking shit about you.”

“Why couldn’t you? It’s not your issue. It’s mine, and quite frankly-“

“It’s because I’m in love with you, Y/N!” He yells out, then coughs once his confession registers in his head, “I couldn’t… I didn’t want to hear him anymore.”

HIs words make your breath catch in your throat. Your heart stops, and Jungkook stares up at you nervously. You step away from, shaking your head profusely.

“No, you’re not,” You breathe out, “You’re really not.”

“I know it’s super wrong to say this now, I just,” He scratches the nape of his neck, “I guess I felt that I needed to tell you.”

“You barely even know me,” You say, and you can’t explain why tears well up in your eyes. You wipe them away, “Go home, Jungkook. It’s late.”

You’re about to go back into the house but Jungkook’s words make you stop dead in your tracks.

“I know that you’re ass at drawing,” He prompts, “You’re also shit at singing, but you do both anyways, because you think it’s fun.”

“Kook-“

“You say that you don’t do much in your freetime, but I know that you spend all of your time hanging out with Tina whenever you can, because you care about her that much,” He states, “I also know that you secretly really like Monopoly, even though you’re fuckin’ clueless on how to play it. Most of the time you go bankrupt, but even then you’re happy playing that. You’re the only person I know who’s like that.”

You’re speechless as Jungkook begins to list off specific details about you that even you don’t know.

“You always try to twirl your pencil in class, but every single time you get embarrassed when you drop it on your desk and everyone looks at you.”

“Jungkook, don’t do this,” You turn around, “Listen, you don’t know what it’d be like to be with me. You wouldn’t like it.”

“Who says that?”

“Me,” You say, “I’m still confused about everything. It’d be bad for both you and me. And plus, what if I’m not over Jimin? You wouldn’t want that. You wouldn’t like being with me.”

“Are you trying to convince me or yourself?”

“Huh?”

“Because I’m set, Y/N,” Jungkook declares, “From the moment I really got to know you, I figured that I wanted you for the rest of my life. And I’ll wait for you for as long as you need me to.”

“There’s no way you can be so sure.”

“I can feel it, Y/N,” His words are desperate as he tries to reason with you, “It’s different with you. I’m different when I’m with you. I’m happy.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I do know, Y/N!” He shouts, “I’ve spent so many nights trying to figure out why the fuck I think about you so much until I eventually realized it. I wouldn’t have told you if I wasn’t sure about my own feelings.”

“You’re wrong, Jungkook.”

“Can you stop?” He snaps, “Stop belittling my feelings. Stop acting like you know shit about love, because you don’t. Your only relationship was with an asshole who cheated on you and talks shit about you even though he’s with another girl.”

Jungkook’s right. He’s absolutely right. You’re reflected on it, too. But you can’t help but become enraged when the truth comes out of his mouth.

“I don’t know shit about love?” You laugh bitterly, “Yeah, I don’t. And Jimin was an asshole. But you don’t know anything about love either.”

“At least I know what I deserve and what you deserve,” He says, “If you could just give me a chance to show you-“

“Show me what love is?” You interrupt, “Jungkook, how can you? Your own brother doesn’t even love you!”

You struck a chord, and you see that right when the words come out of your mouth. It’s only during then that you realize that using facts in your arguments aren’t always the best thing. Jungkook gawks at you in disbelief, his mouth ajar.

“I.. Jungkook, I’m really sorry. Stuff like that isn’t your fault,” You open the door and step inside, “I think that just shows we’re not good together. You should go home. It’s late. Goodnight, Jungkook.”

After that night and once Jungkook is done with his (mercifully given) 10 day expulsion, he finds a way to avoid you at all costs at school, going as far as to even switch seats with someone in the one class you have together. Your supposed “long lasting” friend group had ultimately split up, you and Jungkook giving each other the cold shoulder while Hoseok and Namjoon tried to find a good balance of seeing each other and you guys at the same time.

Jungkook no longer drives you home, and there’s now an empty seat at the dinner table that looms heavily on your conscience. Clementine hasn’t said anything, reassuring you that she’s happy just being with you, but you know that she’s having a hard time dealing with the situation as well.

His name is omitted in your house, and no one in your family asks about him.

Well, until now.

Because when your mom sits with you on your bed, asking what really happened, you cry once more in her arms, the guilt finally pushing you past your breaking point again. You tell her everything, and she holds you close, hushing you while you cry.

“Why were you so upset with him?”

“I don’t… I don’t know,” You say as you think about it.

“Do you still have feelings for Jimin?”

You reevaluate your sentiments toward Jimin, and what used to be feelings of love and pain have simply withered away into disgust.

“No…? I don’t think so.”

“So what was the real reason?”

“I guess… I guess it’s because he was expelled and that means he could be off the team. He shouldn’t be risking that for me,” The words come out of your mouth almost involuntarily, as if they’ve been waiting to reveal themselves to you, “And the fact that he says that he’s in love with me when he hardly knows me… It was such a stupid fight and I feel terrible.”

You hide your face in your hands, thinking about what you’ve said to the poor boy.

“Are you in love with him?”

Something stirs in your heart, and it scares you.

“I can’t tell anymore.”

“Well, only you know what’s best for you, and you’ll figure it out. We’ll be here every step of the way,” Your mom assures you, “Can I just say one thing, though?”

You nod.

“When two people argue over something that’s considered stupid or trivial,” She starts, “That usually means they actually care about each other the most.”

[December 19, 8:09] Clem Y/N Can you come pick me up from Charlotte’s pls? I wanna go home Y/N why? is everything ok? Clem Please just pick me up I wanna go home I don’t like birthday parties anymore

“Hey, mom,” You rush over to her, showing her your phone. In an instant, you’re driving over to Clementine’s friend’s house. Once you reach the place, you knock on the door, and upon meeting the parents, you say that you need to pick up Clementine for an “urgent reason”.

It isn’t until she closes the car door and your mom starts driving that she breaks down in tears.

“What’s wrong?” You ask immediately, and once she regains her composure she responds.

“They made me,” She gasps, “They made me tell Lucas that I like him. H-He made fun of me and rejected me in front of everyone.”

You and your mom look at each other with sad, knowing eyes.

Looks like there’d be a warm bath and a lot of tough conversations for Clementine in the near future.

While you mope around and recharge your mental battery during heartbreak, it turns out that Clementine does the exact opposite. She overworks herself in order to distract herself from the fact that she’s devastated.

You take note of this when you come downstairs and you’re hit with the smell of chocolate chip cookies for the sixth time this week. They’re your favorite, but if Clementine bakes any more, you’re bound to get sick of them.

You ignore that and grab a cookie anyway, shoving it into your mouth with delight.

“Do you like it?” Clementine asks, nervous. You nod, and she beams at you.

For something as simple as chocolate chip cookies, Clementine sure does put a lot of pressure on herself to make them perfect.

“Seok’s coming over later tonight,” You attempt to make conversation while she’s already looking through her phone for a new recipe to try.

“Ah, really? That’s great! I miss him,” She smiles, “I actually, um, I have plans today too.”

“Really? With who?”

“Mom already knows,” She says rather quickly, “I’m going out with a friend to dinner.”

Despite your curiosity gnawing away at you, urging you to ask her who this friend is, you stay quiet. This was something she needed, and if your mom was okay with it, then things should be fine.

Leaving the kitchen, you go upstairs to take a nice, long shower.

“Y/N?” You hear Clementine’s muffled voice behind your door.

“It’s open.”

She steps in, and you stare at her in awe. She’s wearing a light blue, off-the-shoulder dress and from the looks of it, your mom has done her makeup beautifully. Her hair is curled, waves gently framing her face. She fidgets with the silver clutch purse in her hands shyly, while she feels your gaze on her.

“Do I, um,” She gulps, “Do I look okay?”

“You look beautiful.”

She gets even shier, sporting a soft smile on her face. While she looks amazing, she still is unsure of herself, standing awkwardly as she tries to get used to wearing such nice clothes. You feel a touch of pain that comes along with the swell of pride in your chest when you see how beautiful your sister is. It’s such a shame, seeing how fast time flies.

“Do you know which shoes would look good with this?” She asks, “I don’t think my sneakers aren’t really ideal.”

“Oh, definitely not,” You tease, getting up from your bed, “We’re almost the same shoe size, right?”

“Pretty much.”

“Okay, you can borrow my flats then,” The two of you make your way to the shoe closet, and you crouch down to sort through the piles of dress shoes, “Unless you want heels?”

“Oh, no thank you,” She spews out, and you laugh. Even under all the makeup and fancy dresses you could put Clementine in, you could never change who she really is.

You grab a pair of light beige ballet flats. They’re rounded at the tip and have a black section at the too. There’s a thin, dainty elastic bow on both of them, and when Clementine sees them, she falls in love. Of course, you knew right away that she’d like them. There was no use in having her try on other flats.

“Thank you so much, Y/N!”

“Anytime.”

There’s a bright smile on both of your faces, and your conversation is interrupted when Clementine’s phone ring.

“Oh, I’ve gotta go,” She says, leaning in to press a kiss in your cheek, “Bye, Y/N!”

“Bye, Clem. Be safe.”

“I will!”

And with that, she’s out of the door and you’re left by yourself on this frigid Friday evening. You sigh, slouching down into the couch and turning on the TV. You can’t seem to remember a day in your life where you’ve been by yourself like this, both your parents and Clementine off to dinner at some fancy places you don’t know.

For the hundredth time this evening, you check the time.

 7:23. 

Hoseok would be here any minute, but right now you’re left to your own device.

It’s during then where your thoughts start to travel to the mess of your own life.

You mindlessly watch the cartoons that are playing on your screen while you reflect on your past mistakes. Jungkook continues to flash into your mind and you can’t help but wince every 2 or 3 minutes when you’re rudely reminded of your harsh words towards him. You cover your face in your hands, regretting every single moment of your life up till now. There was nothing that was going to bring back your friendship with Jungkook.

Why did you care so much? You shake your head as you try to sort out the discordant jumble of your emotions. There was no reason to care. You had only really gotten to know Jungkook this year. If someone was able to develop feelings for you that quickly, then certainly they weren’t real. Maybe Jungkook is in love with the idea of you. Or he’s incredibly bored and mistakes feelings of friendship for being in love. That’s usually how things play out.

So why were you bothered so much?

Why did you keep checking your phone to see if he would ever text you? Even now you’re tapping into your conversation with him, waiting to see if he’d type something out. Without thinking, you type a simple “I’m sorry” out. The words glare back at you, asking you why the fuck you haven’t sent them to him yet. You let out a tired sigh and delete them.

Although it’s childish, your mind’s first defense is to tarnish your version of Jungkook’s image. Jeon Jungkook was, in his core, a conceited, good-for-nothing quarterback who cared about no one else except for himself.

You groan, hitting yourself. Every single word in that statement isn’t true.

“What the fuck,” You whine to nobody in particular, curling up into a ball.

Why did Jungkook have to force his way into your life like that? Jungkook with his stupidly soft brown hair and his annoyingly pretty eyes. With his kind smile and laugh that you’d love to record and just hear on repeat for the rest of your days. Jeon Jungkook, the person you’d never expect to be your new best friend, but here he was, just popping up out of nowhere and disappearing without a trace. You curse his name over and over again. Why couldn’t you get his face out of your mind?

His infuriatingly attractive face and his built frame that always makes an appearance, no matter how loose his clothing is. It’s a whole repeat of the other night, where all your senses, all your thoughts, are nothing but him.

You hear his laughter. How it’s so sweet, so soft. You see the way his eyes crinkle up into pretty little crescent moons, how his toothy grin makes yet another appearance into your mind. How his eyes look so endearingly at you, like you could do no wrong in his sight. You think about reaching out to him. Maybe for a hug? You’re not so sure. All you can think about now, though, is how warm his embrace probably is. He’s always gentle with Clementine. There’s no doubt that he’s gentle and kind towards you now, too.

How would he look, laying next to you in bed? How would he look in the morning? Would he have even messier hair? Sleepy eyes? A lazy smile across his lips? Would he—

The doorbell rings, literally saving you from the grave you’re digging yourself. It wakes you up from your thoughts, making you realize that you shouldn’t be thinking of a friend like this.

You run over to the door, and when it’s open, you’re suddenly engulfed in Hoseok’s arms. You almost topple over, Hoseok being quite taller than you and stronger. He’s got a giddy grin on his face, and it looks like he’s just received the best news of his life. You have a confused, although happy smile on your face as well.

“Y/N, I’ve got so much to tell you!”

“Let me go make some popcorn,” You say, excited to hear the good news, “You got the movies, right?”

Hoseok takes off his backpack and pulls out three DVD cases.

“Obviously.”

They’re all cheesy rom-coms that are supposedly targeted towards teenagers, but are made by adults that apparently haven’t talked to a teenager in their life, despite having been one a few years earlier. That makes the movies all the better, though, because Hoseok and you like to take your time to nitpick all of the flaws in every single one. It’s a nice pastime with your best friend.

“Well, let’s get to it then!”

For the first time in forever, you can’t wait to torture yourself by watching shitty chick flicks with Hoseok.

“He did what?” 

“He kissed me, Y/N! He kissed me!” Hoseok squeals, and he almost drops the bowl of popcorn on his lap. 

The terrible movie is long forgotten.

“In the rain?” You ask, equally as excited, “Holy shit, Hobs, that’s like a movie!”

“I know,” He can’t wipe the grin off his face, “I was so mad at him before, ‘cause like, he just wouldn’t do anything! But then he kissed me out of nowhere!”

He‘s head over heels, dramatically leaning into the couch while pressing the back of his hand to his forehead, an over exaggerated performance of a faint.

“I feel like I’ve been struck by Cupid!”

“I think you’ve been like that a long time ago.”

“Shut up.”

“Just sayin’.”

Hoseok angrily grabs a handful of popcorn and shoves it in his mouth, the popcorn squeaking and crunching between his teeth.

“I hate that you’re always right.”

“Well, that’s not so true anymore…”

Your head hangs low, your vision on the screen now on your own bowl of popcorn. You grab a handful for yourself, using the action of chomping as a way to preoccupy yourself from the guilt.

“Hey, listen,” Hoseok wraps an arm around you and you rest on him, “It was in the heat of the moment.”

“Doesn’t make it right.”

“Okay, maybe you’re right there,” He chuckles, “But, hey, no one’s perfect. Jungkook was out of line. So were you. Stuff like that happens.”

“Why do I care so much?” You sigh, dejected.

“Because you like him,” He hums, almost nonchalantly.

“W-What?”

“You like Jungkook, Y/N.”

You stay silent, and Hoseok lifts you off of him so he can grab you by the shoulders.

“...Do you seriously not know?” His brows furrow, and you stare at him blankly.

“I think you might be wrong there, bud,” You give him a questioning look.

“Y/N, I love you. You’re an idiot.”

He stands up, and you’re still dumbfounded at his words. Hoseok reaches over to the coffee table and takes your phone. He clicks it on, the brightness causing you to squint. You take a mental note to stop having the brightness setting so high all the time. Once your eyes adjust to the lighting, you’re met with an image of Jungkook standing next to you in the living room, his arm around you while the both of you smile at the camera.

He’s got a tiara on and you have a fairy wand and a scratchy tutu wrapped around your waist, the tight elastic causing your t-shirt to bunch up in thick wrinkles. You involuntarily giggle to yourself when you see the picture. After playing a few board games with Clementine one night, she wanted to go into the attic and dress the two of you up in her old Halloween costumes. Of course, wanting to entertain her, the both of you granted her wishes.

And as if on cue, the smile from ear to ear that you’re sporting has dawned the realization on you.

“We’re just friends…”

“Y/N. I know you. You’ve been a bitch before. Without remorse,” Hoseok sighs, shaking his head.

“Hey!”

“All I’m saying is,” He puts his hands up in surrender, “Y/N, you know how good you are in arguments when you’re angry. You almost never feel bad when you use your words.”

“Okay, I’m not that bad-“

“Y/N,” He asserts, “Remember last year when you cussed that one Freshman out ‘cause he threw a french fry at me?”

“Yeah…”

“You went out of your way to sit down next to him and then proceed to tell him that if he disappeared, no one would notice.”

“I said that?” Your voice has only now become a pathetic little squeak.

“Yes, yes, you did,” He waves his hand after he speaks, “We’re getting off topic. What I’m telling you right now is that you’re blunt. Incredibly blunt. Like, holy shit, how can you say that? type of blunt.”

“I got that, but-“

“Not done,” He shoves the phone in your face even more, as to prove a point, “As we’ve seen before, you forget half of the crap you say. You never feel bad.”

You huff, not sure if you want to hear what Hoseok’s about to say next.

“Look at yourself right now. You’ve been moping over one sentence you’ve said to one boy for how long?” He wags the phone around, further emphasizing the said point, “And now you see one picture of him and you’re giggling like a dumbass.”

You sink back into the couch, the weight of everything hitting you way too strongly, too quickly.

“Well, let’s just say I did like him-“

“You’re fucking kidding me.”

“Just, just hear me out, okay?” You beg, and Hoseok tosses your phone on the table before slumping down on the couch, “So let’s say I did like him. Don’t you think I would’ve known by now?”

“Holy- Jungkook was right when he said you didn’t know shit,” Hoseok’s so close to losing it and killing you, “Have you seen the way you look at him?”

“No?”

“You’re insufferable,” Hoseok groans, whipping out his phone and scrolling through his camera roll. He taps on a video and he shows it to you.

On his screen, you’re sitting in the front passenger seat while Jungkook drives, both of you screaming out the songs on the radio from the top of your lungs. It was some cheesy song both of you hated but knew all of the lyrics to. You examine yourself in the video. When you look at Jungkook, there’s—yet again—another bright smile on your face, and there seems to be a twinkle in your eye. You cringe at yourself, hearing your voice and seeing just how wide your smile is, which causes your cheeks to puff up unflatteringly.

A hand reaches to your face when you notice how chubby it is.

“Where and how did you take that?”

“Remember when Joonie’s car broke down and we had to ride with you losers?”

“Oh.”

You think about that day. It was oddly suspicious as to how quiet they were in the car. Usually, Hoseok would’ve been nervously mouthing Namjoon’s ear off by then.

“Need I say more?”

You almost feel betrayed. Betrayed by how blind you’ve been, how stupid you’ve been.

“Well, it’s a lost cause,” You lament, “I fucked everything up. He probably doesn’t care about me anymore.”

“Not exactly.”

Hoseok swipes out of his camera roll and goes into Snapchat. He slides over to the Stories section and taps on one of the small circles. You’re met with yet another truth revealing image.

Took this kiddo out since some meanie broke her heart ;(

The translucent black bar almost laughs while Clementine smiles back at you—or, the camera, at least. She’s wearing the light blue dress from before and her hair has slightly gone flat, but is still quite wavy. There’s a huge plate of spaghetti before her, and she’s holding onto her fork with anticipation.

“If he didn’t care, why would he take the time to take Tina out tonight? He could’ve ignored her reaching out to him.”

While he is extremely right, you’re more focused on the situation itself.

“Why didn’t she tell me it was him taking her to dinner?”

Yet another betrayal tonight.

“I dunno, maybe it’s ‘cause you probably would use those pretty little words of yours towards her.”

“Am I really that scary?”

“Not all of the time,” He says, “But that’s ‘cause Jungkook makes you less high strung.”

“Hey, I’d watch what you’re saying right now-“

Hoseok wraps his arms around you, and he lets out a shaky, forced laugh. You don’t hug him back, but instead you let his embrace cool you down.

“You know I love you, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Anyways, more important than you planning out my funeral in your head right now,” He continues, “This is perfect for you.”

“What? The fact that my sister is going out on a date and I’m not is perfect?”

“No, no, you really are clueless, aren’t you? You poor, poor little girl,” He sighs, “This is a perfect opportunity for you to make amends with Wonder Boy tonight!”

“He just cares about Clem, not me, Seok,” You pout, “It’d be nice to, but he probably hates me.”

“Oh, but that’s where you’re also wrong!”

Once again, Jung Hoseok is pulling out receipts left and right with the sole purpose of proving you wrong. He goes into his text conversations and taps on a group chat between him, Namjoon, and Jungkook. You squint at the title.

“Therapy from Y/N’s Stubborn Ass?”

“Poor kid named it, not me!”

You roll your eyes, scrolling through the conversation. An odd clump of texts from Jungkook shine out to you the most. They’re all from the night of you messing up your friendship with him.

[December 6, 12:54 AM] Jungkook (Namjoon’s Stalker) I feel like I’m going insane I know I should be mad at her And I’m sure when I think about it properly, I will be But for some reason I don’t?

“Nice name for Namjoon.”

“Shut up and read the fucking texts before I lose it.”

[December 6, 12:55 AM] Joon Bug <3 Maybe you’re just tired, that was a lot to take in Hoseok yeah, but also try not to take it too hard. y/n’s kind of just like that. she thinks before she speaks and she gets way too angry for her own good. even more so if she cares about you.

“No need to call me out like that.”

“Trust me, Y/N, you needed to hear it eventually.”

[December 6, 12:54 AM] Jungkook (Namjoon’s Stalker) Yeah, you’re right It’s kind of cute, isn’t it?

The rest of the conversation is Jungkook praising you, adoring how “strong” you could be and how cute you were when you got upset. It’s a complete shift in mood from seconds ago, and obviously the reaction you were not expecting. The same fluttery feeling becomes stronger in your chest, so much so that it’s too obvious to ignore. You throw the phone back to Hoseok, not being able to cope with the heaping amounts of new information you’ve received.

“What time do you think they’ll get here?” You murmur.

“Soon enough,” Hoseok sighs again, this time in relief, knowing that you were finally going to listen to him.

You decide to ease some of your nerves by actually watching the movie, pinpointing the many beautiful flaws of the characters and the stories.

“Y/N?” You feel someone shake you, “Y/N? Wake up.”

You croak some incoherent grumbles, rubbing your puffy eyes. You cautiously open one of them, gauging how bright the lights are. Once you’ve adjusted, you blink to see Clementine above you. You sit up from Hoseok, who you’ve been leaning on for the past few hours and who’s still sound asleep.

Who knew criticizing three romance movies back to back would make you so tired?

“Hi, Clem,” You yawn, stretching out your arms, “How was dinner?”

“Great,” She giggles, “I actually have something for you, and you might be mad at me for it.”

“What is it?”

“Well, it’s more of a who, than a what.”

You nod, as Clementine helps you get up from the couch. In your sleep ridden daze, you forget about your urgency to talk to Jungkook and you also don’t recognize that she’s pulling you from your arm and walking you out the door. You only realize it when a brisk wind slaps you harshly in the face, causing your hair to become even more tangled than before.

Before you know it, you’re standing in front of Jungkook on your driveway and Clementine is running back into the house to find refuge in your best friend.

He’s dressed in a simple black suit, a white dress shirt neatly tucked into his pants. The thin, breathable fabric is tight against his skin, further showing just how built he is for his age. The scars and bruises have faded away completely, but you do see a bandage or two when his sleeve rolls up to scratch his nose or fix a piece of hair that’s out of place. His hair is neatly combed into a middle part, some of the hair fanning over his eyes. His hands are now shoved in his pockets, and he’s staring down at you, waiting for you to say something.

Small is probably the best way to describe how you feel when you’re in his presence right now. Underdressed, too, maybe, as you’re only clad in an old hoodie that has the name of a college you’ve never heard of, some thick, baggy sweatpants, and a pair of bunny slippers. Not to mention how messy your hair is and how your face is still puffy from the deep sleep you were in mere minutes ago.

“Um… Hi,” You wince once you hear how scratchy your voice is. This certainly is doing wonders for your image.

“Hey,” He responds, hesitant as well.

You bite your lip, trying to find the right words to say. You plan to confess to him, right here and right now, but another harsh wind hits you, causing you to shiver and clutch your arms around yourself to try to create some warmth for yourself. Immediately, Jungkook takes off his blazer and wraps it around you. He leads you to the trunk of his car, and once it’s open, he helps you get up there so you can sit.

Bless his parents for giving him an SUV.

The car trunk blocks out the outside wind, and Jungkook’s blazer gives you immense warmth. The scent of laundry detergent mixed with faint, pleasant cologne floods your senses, calming you down right away. Jungkook watches as you snuggle yourself in his clothes. His legs hang over the edge of the trunk while you curl up in a ball, leaning on one side of the car.

“I’m sorry,” You clear your throat, “For being an asshole.”

“It’s no-“

“No, don’t say that. It’s not something you can just brush over so lightly,” You look him dead in the eye while you speak, “I was terrible and I’m really sorry for saying such mean things to you. You didn’t deserve that.”

Jungkook nods, pressing his lips together into a thin line before licking them. A thin layer of saliva glosses his lips, their color a more vivid shade of pink.

“I’m really sorry, Jungkook,” You repeat, “I shouldn’t have said that.”

Your voice is clear even though your heart is beating violently against your chest, and even you’re amazed. Hoseok was right when he said that you were good with your words.

Well, up until now.

“Y/N-“

When he says your name, your words ungracefully sputter out of your mouth, displaying just how afraid you are. 

“No, I’m, like, really, really sorry,” You feel tears well up in your eyes, but you brave on nonetheless, “I get it if you don’t want to talk to me anymore, and that’s okay, I just-“

“Y/N.”

In a split second, Jungkook’s hands are cupped around your face. He stares into your eyes deeply, fondly, just like he always does. You blink back at him, eyes fluttering while you try to adjust to the proximity. It’s then where you see every single little detail on his face that makes him who he is. The little scar on his cheek, the moles lightly dotted on his skin, and the way his eyes seem doe-like, almost. You take it all in, noticing how your breaths have synchronized, cold fog coming from of both of your lips.

You almost forget how much you like the way he says your name.

“Listen to me,” He whispers, “I’m okay. You’re okay.”

“Really?”

“I forgive you.”

The tears you’ve been desperately trying to hold back have somehow found their way out, and Jungkook chuckles while his thumb wipes them away. His touch is gentle on your skin, almost ticklish, and he doesn’t say anything else but just continues to dry the tears falling from your eyes.

“Jungkook,” You sniffle, “You’re too nice for your own good.”

He shrugs, letting out a breathy laugh. It’s music to your ears, just like it’s always been.

“Only to the people I love,” He tilts his head to the side, “Other than that, I’m pretty selfish.”

You giggle as well, putting your hands on his and leaning more into his touch. Your eyelids flutter downwards, as you take the time to just feel him on your skin, to savor this moment for yourself.

“Do you still think I don’t know anything about you, Y/N?”

You open your eyes and look at him, as he expectantly waits for you to answer. For some reason, though, your words catch in your throat. You never seem to be able to speak properly around Jungkook. He sighs, taking your silence as a resounding “yes”.

“Your name is Y/F/N Y/L/N and you’re a junior in high school. You’re on the Monarchs cheer team, and your best friend is named Jung Hoseok,” He says, not taking his hands away from you, “You have a little sister named Clementine, who’s 12. Your mom’s a psychiatrist and your dad is an architect. Even though they’re always busy, they’ve been trying to find ways to spend more time together.”

The routinely symphony of crickets mixed with Jungkook’s voice and the scent of Jungkook constantly wafting into your nose almost makes you faint. The state you’re in is one of complete bliss, complete relaxation as his hands are warm and welcoming against your skin. You’d go to sleep if Jungkook wasn’t professing his love for you for the second time right now.

“You like One Direction, even though a lot of people think that’s cringy. You’re still a big fan of the Power Rangers, and Trini, the Yellow Ranger, is your favorite. You can be incredibly mean and you can say things out of line, but most of the time you just don’t think before speaking,” He smiles at you while he speaks, “Deep down inside I know you’re an incredible softie. And I know that because of how you treat Tina. And, ‘cause you’re a softie ‘round me too, even if you don’t realize it.”

“Oh, Jungkook,” You breathe out, a smile forming on your lips as well.

“You used to hate me, because I called you thunder thighs during practice, and rightfully so,” He mumbles the last part, and you giggle.

“Didn’t know you’d remember that.”

“Remembered it ‘cause I can never forget how angry you were that day,” He teases, “Anyways, you used to hate me so much. And I’ll be honest, you had every reason to. I didn’t like you that much either.”

“Ouch.”

He rolls his eyes at you.

“But then I got to know you, got to see how kind and genuine you are around people, even if you don’t see that,” He says, “Sometimes you say terrible things, but under that tough exterior, all you are is just a genuine girl who does her best to make the people she loves happy.”

“You’re hardworking, smart, and extremely funny,” He continues, “In and out, you’re a beautiful person. That’s the Y/N I know, and that’s the Y/N I love and I will be in love with for a long time.”

You sniffle, and Jungkook waits, afraid that you’ll start crying again. When you don’t, he takes a deep breath before talking again.

“You’re all I’ve ever wanted, Y/N,” He confesses, “Can’t you see?”

You shake your head, reaching out to grab him by the collar. You pull him in and press your lips against him, your whole body being set aflame and your lips telling him everything that you’re dying to say. There’s a faint taste of Jungkook’s watermelon flavored gum on your tongue (If you thought about it hard enough, there was a hint of pasta there as well). His lips are soft and pillowy against yours, and you feel as though you’ve waited for this moment for your entire life.

Who knew it would take your mom, your sister, and Hoseok to make you realize that?

Jungkook smiles against your lips, caressing your face lovingly with his thumbs. Your hand finds a way through his soft brown locks, combing through the strands that fall in between your fingers.

The sky is painted pitch black, save for the bright stars and the moon shining for the two of you, but your world is painted in deep shades of pink. Sure, it may be extremely cold because it is still December after all, but Jungkook’s lips feel warm on yours and that’s all the heat you needed to survive. You could stay like this forever if you could, if your lungs could take it.

However, that isn’t humanly possible, and after what feels like forever, your body reminds you that you still need oxygen to function.

You pull away, hands still in their respective place while the two of you meet eyes, chests moving up and down in sync. Your lips are slightly parted, mimicking Jungkook’s, and a silence falls on the two of you, but it’s not uncomfortable. It’s peaceful, as your world becomes nothing but Jungkook right at this moment.

“I love you,” both of you say at the same time, and before you know it, you’re laughing. Jungkook’s still stunned at first, but now he’s laughing just because you’re laughing and it’s contagious.

And in this moment, you feel safe.

Sure, you didn’t know a thing about love. You couldn’t even tell left from right at some times. But maybe that was okay. Maybe you didn’t have to figure everything out right now. Sitting with Jungkook in the trunk of his car, where the stars are beaming down on you and his coat is keeping you warm, is honestly all you need tonight. And maybe you still have some negative feelings you need to resolve from your past relationships. Maybe you had some issues in yourself that you needed to sort out, but that was okay, because Jungkook had his fair share of issues himself. And regardless of all of that, he was ready to risk it all for you. He was willing to learn and grow with you. Jungkook would wait for you as long as it takes. And you don’t need him to reassure you. You didn’t need to worry about it. You didn’t need to worry about anything, you realize.

Because now Jungkook’s walking you back into your house, offering to tuck you into bed and stay with you until you fall asleep, even though you’re 17 and you’re very well aware that you don’t need someone else to keep you company so you can sleep.

That doesn’t mean you’d decline his offer, though, as you lie in bed with him, snuggled up in his arms while he runs his hands through your hair. His dress shirt is scratchy against your skin, but you don’t care. Being with him is enough for you. 

“Are you still on the team?” You ask out of the blue, eyelids drooping down while your burning curiosity gets the best of you, “You didn’t get kicked off because of me, did you-“

He peppers your face in kisses.

“Coach and I are close, he gets it,” He mumbles against your skin, “Just gotta do a lot of his chores for the rest of the year and summer. I’ll be okay, Y/N.”

“Okay…”

“That’s not your fault, princess,” He chuckles, “That was mine.”

“Yeah, definitely,” You nuzzle your face in his chest, “Still upset you did that.”

“Oh, I know,” He places yet another kiss on your head, “But for you, I’d do it all over again if I had to.”

And as the two of you fall asleep soundly in each other’s arms, you’re unaware of the loving smiles from your family and Hoseok’s faces when they see you two through the slightly opened door.

Epilogue

A little more than a year has passed. You’ve kept track.

Life has thrown obstacle after obstacle your way, but you’ve overcome all of them so far, and you plan to do so until your last breath. Jungkook was right when he said that you were strong. It’s amazing how you didn’t quite exactly realize this until now. 

But this “strength” is long gone today, as you’re sitting on a fancy wooden chair, the soft cushion feeling good under you, in the middle of an Italian restaurant. The chandelier’s are dimly lit, shading your beige surroundings in elegant oranges and creams. You take a deep breath, trying to still your heart that's pounding violently in your chest. Your nerves work against every single word of the pep talk you’ve given yourself this morning, and you steady yourself, fidgeting with the silk, blue fabric of your dress that’s laying across your lap.

You look over to your right, and if you were stressed out, Jungkook was ten times worse, to say the least.

His right leg is bouncing up and down uncontrollably, and he continues to wipe away sweat from his forehead with a napkin, despite the fact that the restaurant is heavily air conditioned. His lips are formed in a tight, miniscule circle, and he’s also trying to steady his breathing, but he fails time and time again, hyperventilating right after. Every few seconds, he’ll pull out his phone and use his camera as a mirror, his fingers fixing the littlest flaw in his hair that his mind seems to create. His left arm is resting on your chair, the feeling of the thick material of his sleeve tickling your skin.

You sigh, watching how much of a nervous wreck he was, despite how amazing he looked in his tux.

“Still can’t believe you took Clem to this place before me,” You quip, and Jungkook is taken out of his trance, a smile falling on his lips once his eyes meet yours, “I think that’s a little unfair, don’t you?”

A miniscule portion of the tension in his body is gone while he’s thinking of what to say, not willing to miss any chance of responding to your jokes with something of equal (if not more) wittiness.

“First come, first serve, princess,” He chuckles, and you roll your eyes at him, punching his chest lightly. Once you’re quiet, he’s back to overthinking.

“Y’know, the fact that you’re more nervous than I am is saying something,” You hum, reaching up to poke his cheek so that he returns to Earth.

“I can’t help it…”

You smirk, planting a soft kiss on his cheek. His face flashes up, and he shakes his head at you.

“You’re crazy, y’know that?” He sighs, staring at you dreamily. Even now, he becomes head over heels when you kiss him out of the blue. The sight of him having literal heart eyes for you makes you giggle.

“So are you,” You respond, “But, hey, it’ll be okay, I promise. Nothing bad could possibly happen.”

“...Really?”

“Of course, Kook,” You place your hand on his thigh, giving it an affirmative squeeze, “Everything will be fine.”

“And if it’s not?”

“Well,” You click your tongue, “We’ll get there when we get there.”

He nods, most of the stress leaving his head. You take a sigh of relief, seeing how relaxed he’s become. Now he’s cracking jokes about anything and everything, and you feel a flutter in your chest. Jungkook was back to his normal self.

Well, he was until he suddenly froze in his seat while he was in the middle of telling you a funny story during practice. Your focus is turned away from him and you follow his line of vision. You’re met with a waitress leading a middle-aged man and a boy into the seating area. She scans the room and once she sees your table, she gestures over to you two, a bright, pleasant smile on her face.

Jungkook immediately stands up to greet the two of them, thanking the waitress for her assistance. He guides them to the table, and it’s only then where you get a good look at them.

You suppress a laugh. Jungkook definitely had his father’s nose.

So did his little brother, Yeonjin, who was the spitting image of Jungkook when Jungkook was 13. He even has the infamous bowl cut that Jungkook had when he was younger. The boy takes out the earbuds in his ears, unplugs them from his phone, rolls them up in his hand, and places the coiled up earbuds into his pocket of his trousers.

He stares up at you, almost in awe, and so does his dad, who’s looking you up and down. Jungkook’s father acts as if he’s dissecting a subject, taking you apart piece by piece and rearranging you in his mind so as to get a better understanding of your character. It’s times like these where you wish that mind reading was a skill.

Jungkook takes another deep breath. He then gestures to you, and you flash a polite smile to them, reaching out your hand.

“Um, Yeonie,” He clears his throat, “Dad, this is Y/N.”

There’s a beat of silence before he speaks again.

“She’s my girlfriend.”

“Nice to meet you, Y/N,” His father says, a soft smile appearing finally. He shakes your hand. Yeonjin follows his actions, shaking your hand with an obviously lesser amount of strength, but with the same eagerness all the more. You hide the uneasiness in your chest, knowing all that you know about Jungkook’s dad and his brother. And knowing that his dad doesn’t know that you know about him.

Nevertheless, though, you sit down with his other side of the family and make easy conversation with them while all of you look through the menu. Yeonjin points to one dish on the menu to his dad, and then whips out his phone and starts scrolling through social media. He doesn’t say anything, save for a soft chuckle or snicker when he sees a funny post on his phone.

You take a glance at Jungkook, who has become more composed than earlier. You take a few more glances, and Jungkook does the same. When you make eye contact, you give him a bright smile, and he mirrors you. You feel the back of his hand on your thigh, and you put your hand in his. He lets out a sigh, squeezing you and massaging your skin with his thumb. The action brings both of you at peace.

“So, Y/N,” His dad takes a sip of the ice cold water in his glass, “How did you get to know Jungkook?”

This time, Yeonjin actually looks up from his phone to stare at you with curiosity.

You smile at them sheepishly, wondering what exactly to tell them of your wild ride of a story with Jungkook. Maybe you could omit some parts here and there, especially the part about him getting expelled because of you. You’re not even sure if his dad knew that happened to him.

You gulp, and Jungkook squeezes your hand once more. Now it’s him making sure that you return to Earth. Your nerves are still set on fire, though, and you stammer out a few incoherent sounds while you try to find the right things to say.

This was definitely going to be significantly harder than having dinner with his mom.

a/n: hope you guys enjoyed!!! it had quite a bunch of cliches but i loved writing them nonetheless. i love you all :)

[wizkiddx]

a father and daughter

I don't normally hop on the whole dad!tom thing, but this idea kinda popped up and wouldn't leave me alone. Hope everyone is having a lovely festive period and wish you all well in the new year x x x

Summary: Tom really struggles to get into the parenting thing, and finds it tricky balancing work and his relationship with baby daughter

Tom loved being a Dad. It had only been a couple of months, meaning your baby girl was still very much a baby - yet still he had no doubt, this was the best job one could ever ever do. To be honest he was quite regretting agree to the few work commitments he had started to ease back into too. It wasn’t like he couldn’t afford to go these months without work, which not many had the luxury of saying - but in this industry work agreements were lined up years before and he was never one to disappoint. 

Of course, as soon as you both had found out you were expecting, he’d withdrawn from the big filming project across the world but that didn’t mean he avoided the odd week of press, or a couple days flying abroad for fittings and meetings. By absolutely no means would you ever class him as a slightly ‘absent’ dad, you completely understood and when he was home did way more than his fair share with Amelie.

But Tom felt guilty and he felt like he was inferior to you in parenting ability. And you knew that was for one reason and one reason only. He did not have boobs. 

You were well aware that as much as you loved Amelie needing you so much and so often - sometimes being the only person able to soother her - was because all she wanted was to drain you of milk. She was clearly going to be a Daddy’s girl, and who could blame her when her Dad was Tom. But for right now, a mere 5 months old - she loved you because she loved your tit. 

The first time you had noticed Tom’s growing frustration was right after his first evening work commitment since her arrivel, he’d been on a UK chat show earlier in the evening and as encouraged by you, had taken the opportunity to have a few drinks after with his brothers and friends. By no means did he return late, barely midnight, but he did return just a little tipsy. You were still up choosing to have a little movie night to yourself, whilst Amelie slept in the Moses basket next to the couch. Just before Tom got back though, she had woken up and for no reason was the smiliest little girl. So when Tom let himself into the front door, he was greeted with the sound of Amelie’s little bubbles of laughter, while you spoke in baby language - pulling ridiculous faces and laughing with her. 

“Someones smiley” Tom laughed as he plopped down on the sofa next to you, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head and wrapping his arm round your shoulder as he smiled at Amelie. 

“Aren’t you Meelie? How was the show love?” You asked, as you held Amelie in a sitting position on your thighs so she was staring at you both. 

“Hmm it was nice, couldn’t make myself stay for too long though… just missed my girls.” His voice was a little rough, something that happens after talk show and then almost shouting over the obnoxiously loud music in the pub after. Amelie, laughed again at his words, almost taunting her Dad’s attachment to her, making both of you burst out laughing. She already had you both wrapped round her very little finger. 

Shaking your head, you passed her over to Tom muttering needing a wee and made a quick escape. Ever since you had her, you couldn’t bring yourself to leave her unattended - meaning you had almost made your kidneys explode holding in a wee waiting for Tom to get back. Yet as soon as you made it out the door, the bubbling innocent laughter turned into screams - but at that point you’d already made it out the doorframe - marking that as Tom’s issue to handle. Unfortunately the wails continued, very very loud and proud, and when you returned Tom was pacing slowly around the lounge with a grimace on his face as Amelie screamed into his shoulder. 

“I’ll stay up with her if you want.” You offered, knowing Tom without sleep and having to listen to her racket all night would have an impressively worse hangover tomorrow. 

“No I got it, think she needs a change.” Tom countered, even though you were pretty sure she wanted a feed, since it had been a good couple of hours from the last. He noticed your hesitance and shooed you out the room “I got it love, you’ve had her all evening.” 

“You know where I’ll be” You smiled lightly, leaving them downstairs as you got ready for bed.

It was after about 10 minutes of thrashing about guiltily in your otherwise empty bed, you gave in to the still continuous screaming. Amelie clearly was just hungry, even if Tom refused to admit it and bring her to you. So with a deep sigh you gave in, swinging your legs over the side of the bed and trudged downstairs. Tom was still stood up, taking gentle bouncing steps as Amelie apparently tried to deafen him. Once he saw you, with a defeated look, Tom offered her to you. Instantly, as if you just had the ability to turn the crying switch on her off- Amelie stopped crying and blinked away the tears in her eyes, whilst waiting patiently for you to offer her your nipple. While you were busy trying to get her to latch on, you just caught Tom muttering something as he trudged up to bed without so much as a good night. 

Then a couple months later a similar thing occurred. Tom had been away in New York for 5 days, a little press stint that he had under no circumstances been able to get off. At first all had been well but two days since he returned, Tom insisted you finally had an evening out with the girls - to be honest, after spending the best part of a week alone with Meelie you graciously took it. Oh, and also of importance for context, Amelie spoke her first word while he was away… Mama. 

You’d left that morning, your best friend taking you on a spa day before - so by the time Tom called you at 11 in the evening, he’d spent a good portion of the day with Amelie vehemently denying to do anything at all apart from yell- yelling “NO MAMA.” So fair to say he was pissed. You answered the phone with a soft smile, honestly finding spending this much time apart from Amelie really hard and guilt-inducing. 

“Hey Tom everything okay?”

“Um when do you think you’ll be back?” He spoke straight and to the point, clearly not in the mood for small talk. 

“I don’t think too long, is everything alright?” His tone made you so much more concerned,  now worrying that something had happened. 

“No no everything’s fine. Just… just been a long day.”

“Okay well I’ll be back soon I promise. I love you.”

“Yeh yeh um you too” He didn’t mean to be short. Nor to make you worried. He didn’t hate you - far the opposite, he hated how much Amelie loved you. 

If he was being honest, he just felt like a bit of a failure of a father. As a child himself, Tom had always been incredibly close to his mum and thought the typical rule was mummy’s boys and daddy’s girls stood. So why then, did his child appear to absolutely detest him with every look. Especially because, given the nature of his job, once Tom went back to actually shooting films again he’d be around much less - and that the relationship between him and Amelie would at least be geographically strained. Unrequited love is always the worst and ultimately most painful, especially when it involves your own child. 

This underlying and unspoken tension fizzled away for a decent amount of months and Tom went on his first job. At this point you were no longer breastfeeding, but still you knew that purely instinctively if Amelie was ever scared, upset or unhappy she would seek you first. It was bloody obvious to you that she did love Tom, she chuckled away like no tommorrow when he played with her and spun her round the room. And yet, you could still tell Tom wasn’t completely convinced and still seemed , just a bit aware and hesitant. 

In there ever needed to be any proof though, it must’ve been how stroppy Amelie got once Tom left. In short, for you, it was hell. You ended up constantly wearing Tom’s t-shirts, not for you but because the mild but lingering scent of him seemed to soothe Amelie when she was fussing. She would never giggle like she did when her silly Daddy was here to be her personal comedian. She had, however, finally learnt how to say Dada - which now she was shouting impressively at every point apart from when you tried to film it. She was a little devil, its like she knew exactly what to do to make you life as hard as possible - keeping you dealing with an unhappy Tom. You tried to tell him, when you were on FaceTime each evening - but no matter how many times you promised, it seemed that Tom had a hard time believing you. 

He was filming in Germany, which meant it wasn’t actually ‘that’ far from your London home and after two weeks he flew back for a weekend. You were incredibly excited- not just to seeing Tom, which of course you where; but also ,hopefully, for him to feel some sort of assurance in his ability as a parent. He needed to see her, Amelie needed her Daddy and you… you needed a rest. 

That evening, you had had her balanced on your hip as you rushed to make the house look somewhat presentable (because single parenting was not easy) but Amelie had thrown a fit so with a slightly immature passive aggressive comment to your 11 month old daughter you put her on her play mat and carried on. It was a bit of a risk if you were quite honest, she was more than just a crawler - she perfected the art of bum shuffling and was starting to on occasion try to stand up. But you were in the same room so surely little harm could come to her in the ‘over-the-top-ly’ baby proofed living room - Tom’s doing of course. 

So keeping one eye on Amelie and the other on the almost terrifyingly big stack of discarded toys you set about tidying up. It was all going swimmingly until your thoughts about how on earth you were going to hide all the crap were abruptly interrupted with a garbled screech of “DADA!”

You instantly whipped your head round to watch Amelie stumble and basically throw herself the couple of steps to the doorway where Tom stood. You had absolutely no clue how long he’d been standing there but that was all insignificant watching him sweep you little girl into his arms, before she could career to the floor (headfirst of course). His eyes were bugging out of his head, as she giggled and laughed in his strong grasp before astutely throwing her head into the crook of his neck, demanding to be cuddled by him. 

It was almost hilarious, how utterly shocked Tom looked at the real life proof that his baby girl had missed him. Once he met your eyes he used the hand supporting Amelies back to point at her in a questioning manner, making you roll your eyes at just how oblivious and stubborn he is. 

“She’s missed her Dad!” You smiled, as you walked toward him and pecked his lips. “You got this down here if I finally get some peace upstairs?” 

Because yes, you’d missed your husband and wanted to spend all night wrapped in his arms. But really? There was a more important way the evening should pass, finally Tom getting his moment with Amelie. So without so much as even a ‘how was your flight’ you left the two in the living room - you making a beeline to the bath, for just a moment to yourself. 

It was perhaps even a little shocking to yourself that you were so confident you could leave them alone for the evening. Because really, if Amelie started acting up suddenly again, this could be where Tom’s confidence as a dad goes from ‘ropey at best’ to ‘non-existent’. Except you were so certain in the fact that just wouldn’t happen. If she was hungry she’d take the bottle from Tom (which she never did from you without arguement ). 

And so you had possible the most relaxing time in the bath - actually alone for the first time in two weeks. 

It wasn’t until you quietly walked down the stairs two hours later that you got a bit suspicious of the silence downstairs. Cautiously you peered your head round the doorframe and you didn’t even try to stifle the beaming smile spread across your face. Because there was your husband, lying semi-reclined on the arm of the sofa, his arms wrapped protectively round Amelie who looked incredibly content snuggled up to her dad at last. They were both fast asleep and the sight was just so sweet it actually hurt your  heart, meaning only naturally you had sneak a picture of them both. It was infuriating how you knew you had to wake him up - it is a little irresponsible to leave her lying on top of him on the couch and you kinda wanted to cuddle up to Tom this evening too. 

So with a gentle touch rubbing and down his right arm it only took a moment or two till he suddenly blinked his eyes open, eyes looking quickly between your eyes and Amelie - his grasp on her had instinctively tightened a little.

“Hey” You whispered softly, watching him notice how calm Amelie looked on his chest.

“Mhmm hey.” His voice was slightly croaky, probably from the exhaustion of two weeks of hard work. 

“You guys friends then?” You whispered while combing your ginger nails though Amelies little curls at the base of her neck - she was most deifnetly a Holland. 

“She did really miss me?” Tom asked, still half not believing as he shuffled up on the sofa so he was sitting more upright. 

“To the point she had me wrapping the pillows in your unwashed t-shirts.” You giggled as his bottom lip pouted into a visible ‘awh’. 

“Come on lets get you both to bed.” 

Without much complaint, but keeping her in his arms, Tom nodded and followed you up to bed. But that night instead of getting your way and having Tom cuddling you, he pouted until you let him lie Amelie down in the middle of the bed between you two . 

But seeing the way he grinned at her in the dark, almost fighting to stay awake as he looked at her, the prospect seemed a lot more attractive. 

And that was more than fine by you.  

[supercorp-hosie]

My thoughts for Legacies 315:

1) for the Star Wars, I have no knowledge about it, I saw some parallels of characters after the episode, it seems accurate, but I still have no idea why Hope’s characters in it didn’t even have a backstory or name lmao. I’m just overall unfazed;

2) the background of the trio and Alaric! There are like so much to address and I don’t know how to fully share my thoughts in-depth organisedly. I’ll try;

3) facts first: so it’s canon that Lizzie’s mental problem is diagnosed at earliest 11, but specific time unknown;

4) Jed activated his curse earliest at 11, since Lizzie had a crush on him for two weeks. I mean who would’ve thought that, common headcannons seem to incline on Josie x Jed tho😂. That just doesn’t randomly cross my mind🤣. Anyway, it doesn’t deny that Jed and Josie could be a thing too, since the twins often have the tendency to crush on the same person? I’m feeling like 60% of the time? I mean they obviously have the same preferences for LI, bad girl or bad boy type, anyone? Rafael, Sebastian, Jed, Jade, Penelope, Hope, Finch. They kind of have this thing with new people to their lives, for Josie, Rafael, Finch, Jade(it’s arguable but I think people tend to have a whole new lens when reconnecting with a disappeared person in your life for years when you’re very young. The perspectives are not the same, like you’re meeting a new person especially you don’t really know them before);

5) especially Lizzie, she definitely has a thing for new people that seems like bad boy/girl. I emphasised on the new people here bc I don’t think ethan is exactly that type, it’s just how Lizzie imagine him to be in that AU. Raf, Sebastian, Ethan....(maybe Jed was new when she crushed on him too, who knows), more specifically, it’s Strangers to Lovers trope for her romance department, so she can imagine as much as she wants and have the wildest dreams (bgm intended). Maybe Josie’s it’s not as much like this considering we don’t know how Posie happened, and with Hope her crush is canon when she was 12, but we don’t know how long exactly the crush was and when did it started, I just have to count that not being new person into her life. But I do get that why Josie said Lizzie always get the boy/girl Josie crushed on too, mostly they have the same type and preferences. Though they can randomly blurt out characters that we all don’t even know as more solid examples.;

6) Alaric and the fact of him being quite an absent father since the twins were 11 is solid canon. I understand the need to care for Hope because the world can’t afford a tribrid went uncared for and went around killing people, but still, the different perspectives of Hope and Lizzie to Alaric are very sad. To think that your father would betray you for another child, is very sad, even for Lizzie, the more dramatic one. So I understand that Caroline wasn’t there for the twins either, another absent parent. About the mother figure being diminished here, I’ll address it in another point. What’s left for Lizzie? Josie.

7) So basically Josie had to handle herself and Lizzie’s all by her own? That’s very hard! My BFF is bipolar, we are not living together, but before, my whole situation [for being in love with her + her situation] had really been hard for me too. I couldn’t imagine what’s it’s really like for Josie. (Another point that I need to address is the real mental problem that Lizzie has) Sure Alaric might not always be absent, but the intensity of Lizzie’s perspective begs to differ. Josie had to understand what is Bipolar at a very young age; had to be there for Lizzie when she had her outburst; had to be the one constantly check on Lizzie whether she had taken her meds; had to digest the emotion impacts from Lizzie after the outburst; had to understand how Lizzie functioned when she was down. None of that are easy, and there’s no one there to ask of what Josie really feels. How Josie pent out? What does she need? Josie might feel the need to be not wanting things and always be good so that she can get the love from Alaric (I remember in season 1, Josie felt the need to lose the game to get on Alaric good side) . So she just started to suppress her voice and her needs, because Lizzie need them the most. Over time or years of suppressing in front of her dearest family, she most likely felt unneeded by her parents, and forgettable to her parents(the girl that’s so quiet that her parents forget about her, the girl that Penelope won’t fight for anymore). She needed to feel needed, so she just let Lizzie take all of her, from whom she felt needed the most. So all of these from Josie’s perspectives, it started a vicious cycle for the twins. And leads to how the twins dynamics and how Josie are in present days. But her problem was never solved, they just accumulated day by day, year by year, leaving the good and dark side from Josie being so separated and unbalanced. The inner turmoil is always there. These lead to the extreme polarity of Josie’s good and bad side. When she’s doing bad, Josie would be especially aggressive than she needed to be because that’s an instinct to compensate the lack of action before. After long suppression, once being released, the instinct would be stronger than usual and harder to get it under control. Under the influence of dark magic, Dark Josie felt like another personality inside Josie here to take over the whole Josie and protect their interests that true Josie are neglecting. Kind of like dissociative identity disorder but not really it?? It’s just an understanding that I’ve been wanting to express, but so hard to organise it, because it’s so complex. By this understanding, I do still think that Josie should still be held accountable for her actions, even when dark magic was influencing her, like even people with mental health illness should be instituted and lost their freedom. I just think that it’s not fair to think she’s straight up very evil and do nothing good for people. It’s not like she’s being dark for no reason at all. This just mean that the dog that doesn’t bark can be more harmful than people think. These doesn’t mean that when Josie goes dark, she doesn’t deserve any leniency at all while holding her accountable. (And it’s not like she’s not beating herself up for most of the things she had done) Oh and sure, Josie should do the healthy way of voicing out these needs and all, to encourage a healthy dynamics between them like she’s the only healthy one between them, but still the problem is, they both lack the environment and guidance to make a healthy working relationship between themselves. How could they know what is healthy when the environment was already lack thereof.

8) Reading Lizzie’s diaries is bad, I understand, because you literally need to understand what leads to what, to gain control when your life is a chaos, but still. It’s even worse when you have that need to confide in another person to get things out wrongly. (I was having a phone call during the diary sharing review, but this is what I vaguely get) a) Josie is confiding the contents very specifically to another person that Hope can somehow reconstruct a sequel to it? b) Josie chose the wrong place to confide it since when she gets emotional, people can probably hear what was shared. At least from what I guess I got, it isn’t stated that she spread it to the whole school nor it was spread to the whole, even if that’s the case, it may not be on purpose, and she chose the wrong person to confide in. Like about the reveal in 112, she made up that Hope talking bad about Lizzie to the whole school, but it doesn’t mean that she spread it nor the whole school actually knows. Another case is, even if the school knows, it could easily be known by any passerby to Lizzie outburst and spread in the school. From what we saw from 101, the kitchen is a public space, the utensils and cutleries breaking should be very alarming, and there are students with intensified senses in the school. By that fact itself, it doesn’t really help Lizzie in being discreet of her illness. Still, sharing your sister’s diaries after reading it is really bad. But I do get that, sometimes you really need to talk to someone that know some of the situation but don’t really know the person in question to recalibrate yourself. But that person have to be like the dead end of all school gossip but not close to Lizzie, so it can do no harm (because he/she/they literally have no use to talk to someone with all these, usually there’s this no name policy, but with Lizzie being her sister, it’s useless hiding, maybe) when you disclose something related to her pertaining your own issues. Josie should apologise for sharing Lizzie diaries, even if Hope was not meant to know that, despite her werewolf hearing. For the reading part, did we get the apology tho? I guess we had? If negative, apologies needed.;

9) From Lizzie perspective, we can see her does Josie wrong but didn’t apologise either. Like Lizzie being princess but Josie being her android, personalised valet? It just showed that during that period of time(specifically from when until when tho, that’s a question), after what Josie had been enduring, taking care of her, Lizzie thought of herself being princess but didn’t actually think Josie as her equal? Like how the Android was programmed to bow to Lizzie? That’s just the habit of the twins dynamic showing, also partly Josie mistake, but Josie does deserves to be perceived as more than that, even when she’s derogatory to herself, Lizzie should uphold that for her. Their dynamics is just sad because it’s not entirely the twins fault, it’s also due to the absent parents in the household, they didn’t know better, they can only depend on each other. They’re orphaned like Hope in a way when their parents are still present. Even though they have privileges as Alaric’s daughters, but that doesn’t help with their real situation. This is just a perfect example of how your family shaped you, but we can still fight to shape ourselves after the power that our parents have over us gradually diminished, like how they’re starting to shape themselves more now as they’re coming to age.

10) What really warms me from the Android situation, despite Josie feeling like she’s being degraded the whole time, a subject to Lizzie, is that from how Josie is the combination of two Androids, also shows that how Lizzie actually looked up to Josie. Maybe it’s not addressed, but I see that. For Lizzie, Josie can really do so much things for her, take care of her so closely that Lizzie can count Josie as her personal valet. Derogatory, yes, but that place is also very important to prince and princess, bc they can literally do nothing to take care of their daily lives themselves well, like Merlin for Arthur (I mean the actions, not the presumably romantic relationship). Without Merlin, Arthur life is a mess! And the knowledge for Android part, it means that in Lizzie’s mind, Josie actually is like the person who knows everything😂 usually that figure should be our parents😭, but for Lizzie, it’s Josie, like she knows the answer to all. It’s sad and warming at the same time. Just more appreciation will do! And the fact that the special sword that they’re finding the whole time was in Josie’s thigh, just show how the trust that Lizzie had in Josie, not even their parents can triumph it, because Josie was the one being there the whole time. So they really deserves each other despite all the shitty things they have done to each other.

11) about Lizzie mental illness, I was recommended a post informing people about how Legacies fucked up Lizzie’s illness. After my own research, I do agree with the OP, I think that Lizzie situation is more like borderline personality disorder rather than bipolar, but that doesn’t make the whole situation easy. I can provide the table I made the next time regarding that.

12) Hope being Lizzie’s villain is really fitting, lmao, the intensity of Alaric care for Hope is so much that even Lizzie thought that Alaric would betray the twins for Hope.

13) I like Hope’s look. Josie being the Android that malfunction sometimes is funny too, especially when Josie is angry the whole time, cuz it’s infuriating too🤣🤣

14) Hope and Josie during Lethan kiss is me. How they’re totally in the same team when Lizzie being like that? Hosie are both wary of their characters and backstory? Hosie rights. Hhhhhh, oh Hope might be jealous of Ethan😂 Hizzie rights.

15) Another Hizzie rights, Hope wrote a sequel to Lizzie fanfic. And..... is Hope officially a nerd too???? I can’t! Hhhhh but maybe not, or else Hope would have known who she was.

16) Lizzie says, maybe deep down I still feel that you’re the chosen one (IN HER OWN STORY)

17) Younger Hope kind of break my heart more. It’s so sad😭😭 how she’s in denial of their parents death, and blame it on herself.....no baby. How Hope just have to tell herself all that again. And about Hope being scavenger, I think it’s fitting too. Her life, like the twins, is in pieces too. She had to pick them up herself, and build a world where her heart and hope can rest safely, and that just make her not mad at Josie burning down her room gayer. She was so closed up to herself that her room is like another world for her. So forgiving Josie just because of her crush, is like Josie and her crush on Hope meant the world to her???? Hosie rights! Anyway, Josie still messed up with that.

18) Having Younger Hope saying those things to Josie, oh my heart! Josie is a protector for Hope! Hosie rights! And Hope knowing the truth to stop Lord Marshall! Malivore, and Josie just stop talking because she doesn’t want to encourage Hope to die😍😍 Younger Hope actually wants to be best friends with the twins!!!!

19) Hope literally just stop growing taller after 12/13 like I did, is fact! And I’m comforted by that, sorry not sorry, lmao!

20) For real I don’t understand why Hope is suddenly full tribrid at the end. When she fights with Malivore.

21) The gun fight and sword fight is so weird! It’s like the gunners don’t know how to shoot at all, like they’re in slow motion, difficultly level easy to the audience, it’s so fake. I’m for Hope being badass, but it seems like the show doesn’t know how to portray a good fight scene. The sword fight is like in slow motion. And if Hope is to combine magic with sword fighting, she should combine them more. I don’t feel she’s badass at all, cuz it’s literally level easy😑

22) Star Wars AU have brought up so many childhood unresolved for the trio to understand each other more and be a better team. I love them ended up being all supportive and the panda promise🤣🤣 I love that the twins just agree not to let Hope die like that. But they’re like promise that a little later than Cleo and Landon? My team Sowanby! Applause to Handon, but please don’t be together again! Strike three, no is no!

23) for MG, Jed, Kaleb, they really need to make up with each other, I’m glad that they finally made it. And Kaleb being jealous of Methan? Lmao! And MG didn’t even say Ethan name? I love Maleb bonding, and MG never left his man behind!! Another things is, what’s wrong with those boys fighting scenes? We saw them throwing valuables to distract the monster again?! What if the keys are damaged? How are you going to go home? Oh and Jed being useful!

24) Jed last name is Tien, 田/填 in Chinese, I’ve shared enough in my other post. But still WE DONT ACTUALLY HAVE JED FIRST NAME! Give us that!

25) Still, I don’t understand how the wendigo is not dead yet. And how come it’s defeated by fire this time??

26) I don’t quite actually know what’s happening with Dorian. Is he okay? I bet he is, so Emma is coming back, right? Based off what the conversation is? We need Emma, really.

27) regarding Emma, is the lack of mother figure that I want to address when stating the twins dynamic. I don’t actually know a lot from TVD or TO, I just happen to know some general things and snippets from edits. But I know Hayley’s words before she dies, like “I’m not going to teach my daughter it’s okay to let people she loves die” and paint art, have at least one epic love? But for real, in legacies, all I get for Hayley is 103, Josie paying her respects, but none other than that. It’s all Klaus. I believe that Hayley is an important figure to Hope too. But she’s not mentioned enough, it’s kind of erasing her impact on Hope?? Like Caroline too, we get her phone calls, the twins trip to Europe to treat their problems off-screen, the letter for Lizzie in 302, the recommendation for Lizzie to go to the witch retreat, but not vetted by Alaric.....yes she get all these and Jo Laughlin being there in 106 (I cried so hard). But still the mother figure is still being minimised. Like in Lizzie’s fanfic there’s never a place for Caroline? How surreal? It doesn’t make sense. (I understand the actress is just not returning). But still these doesn’t change the fact that the show is lacking a mother figure as a whole. Emma should be that.

28) Clarke!!! Like it’s predictable! But what’s unpredictable is that he went straight to shower🤣🤣🤣 I love his snarkiness! Clarke meeting Hope half naked! Holarke! Hhhhhh

I’m too tired, sharing this episodes thoughts is exhausting me. There must be something I left out, please feel free to remind me!

[mcheang]

The girl squad overhear Adrien and Marinette talking/arguing about Lila; they learn that Adrien knew Lila was lying and told Marinette to take the high road. When Adrien again says that the lies aren't hurting anyone, the girls confront him and explain just how the lies could hurt them. They also learn about Lila harassing Adrien and threatening Marinette. Bonus: Chloe redemption and having her care about Adrien as a friend.

Friends stand up for each other

Post Ikari Gozen. This is a draft.

While bonding with each other, Kagami and Marinette relate about their familial akumatizations. Marinette told about Weredad, Befana and Bakerix. Kagami talked about her mother and her own experiences.

Marinette: did I mention I’m sorry.

Kagami: do not be upset. You were nervous. Besides, you didn’t mean to, unlike that Lila girl.

Marinette: you know Lila?

Kagami: not exactly. I was busy practising one afternoon, then all of a sudden a random number sends me a picture of a stranger kissing Adrien.

Marinette startled. “Wait, if you never met Lila, how did she get your number?”

Kagami: Adrien thinks she must have copied off his contacts list.

Marinette: that is so wrong

Kagami: indeed

Marinette: lying is one thing, but this is downright harassment and invasion of privacy.

Kagami: lying?

Marinette: Lila likes to make herself sound grander than she really is. Apparently she’s Ladybug’s best friend.

Having met Ladybug, Kagami raised her brows skeptically. “With how Ladybug values her privacy, I’m surprised anyone believes that claim.”

Marinette sighed. “My friend Alya runs the Ladyblog. She gets very excited over any rumor about Ladybug.”

Kagami: like thinking Chloé was Ladybug despite being saved by her from Stoneheart?

Marinette: it is so nice to finally meet someone who does their research.

Kagami: I developed an interest after my own akumatization. But back to this liar, why haven’t you exposed her?

Marinette: I tried to. But she puts on this sweet front and people think I’m just jealous about Adrien.

Kagami: if they could see us now, they might change their minds.

Marinette: I doubt it. Things have gone too far. And the only other witness who believes me is Adrien, and he wants to take the high road and let Lila’s lies crumble on their own.

Kagami frowned. “He told me as much when I asked him what he was going to do about her.”

Marinette: be honest with me, do you wish we didn’t have to take the high road.

Kagami: the question is, would we be taking it if it didn’t involve Adrien.

Marinette snorted. “Alya would scramble to bring the truth to light asap. Rose would want to warn everyone so nobody gets their hopes crushed. And Alix already has her brother coming up with fantastical ideas, she doesn’t need someone else to do it in school too.”

Kagami: then we have our answer.

Marinette stopped. Kagami followed suit.

Marinette: we do, don’t we.

Kagami: It’s a shame that, based on what you’ve said, people would say we’re jealous.

Marinette: so how do we prove we’re not?

Kagami: I need a chance to improve my planning skills (especially since she ruined Ladybug’s first plan) and this is an excellent way to bond.

Marinette grinned.

The next day, the girls in class were astonished to see Marinette and Adrien arguing in the distance.

Lila hasn’t arrived yet. (Tikki may have locked her in her bedroom.)

Curious, Alya led the group to spy on their endgame. They were just around the corner, out of sight, but able to hear everything.

“...too long and her influence is only growing stronger.”

“She’s done nothing serious yet.”

“Are we supposed to wait until something bad really happens before Lila’s exposed?“ This again? The girls barely hid their groans. On a side note, how did Marinette convince Adrien to join her team?

“We’ll stop her before she goes too far,” Adrien assured Marinette.

“Really? Like how you stopped her from taking Kagami’s phone number? Lila’s already convinced Mylene to let her join in on her fundraiser. What if she steals the funds?”

“Relax. Lila’s not going to do anything that daring. She’ll probably just flake as usual.” Wow. Adrien really thinks bad of Lila now. What did Marinette say to him?

“Adrien, we’re talking about a girl who loves to get what she wants. Do you honestly think Lila will be satisfied with a simple no show. She’ll insist she handle the funds to make up for her absence.”

“We don’t have any proof she’s a thief. Ok, she’s a liar. But who doesn’t lie?”

“Adrien…I saw her steal your dad’s book.”

“What?!” Adrien’s outcry expressed what the girls were thinking.

“How do you think I know she’s a liar. I saw Ladybug confront her right after I saw her dump a book in the bin.“

Pause.

“Do you honestly think she won’t stoop so low as to steal Mylene’s funds if she didn’t even care that you were under house arrest?”

Silence before Adrien struggled to say, “She didn’t mean for me to get pulled out of school.”

“Oh come on!” This time the outburst came from Alix, one of the first to recover.

Adrien and Marinette turned around. Adrien paled. “Were you girls eavesdropping?”

Alya glared at him, “Why so upset? It’s not like we’re hurting anybody.”

Adrien cringed from the mocking tone.

Rose looked tearfully at Marinette. “All this time, you were trying to protect us, weren’t you? And we only accused you of being jealous.”

“You’ve finally seen the light. Hallelujah!”

Adrien: you girls aren’t going to tell anybody else, right?

They stared at him in disbelief. “Of course we are. Duh.”

“But then Lila won’t have any friends in our class!”

Alya scoffed. “Like I’m letting Nino listen to anymore of her garbage.”

Mylene nodded furiously. “Ivan and I trusted her!”

Alix: I have to tell Nathaniel. It’s what friends do. Oh, and Kim, too I suppose.

Rose: And Kim will tell Max, who will tell Markov.

Juleka: That leaves Chloe and Sabrina…but they don’t like anyone else but you, Adrien.

Adrien stammered. “It’s mean of you to do that.”

Alix laughed. “Oh, we’re mean? How about you? Did you care to tell Alya her blog credibility is being ruined?”

Mylene: Did you think to warn us that Lila might always be absent at our volunteer parties.

Marinette: Did you consider Kagami’s feelings when you told her you would do nothing to scold Lila for upsetting her.

Adrien looked down, unable to find an answer.

A sharp voice barked out. “Get back, you peasants!”

Chloe had arrived. “Need I remind you Adrikins is still new to having more than one friend. His only real teachers are cartoons with their happily ever afters. While I don’t really care if Lila steals and brags about falsehoods, I care if she does that to you, Adrikins. Dupain-Cheng told me about the photo and asked me to talk sense into you!”

Chloe was plan B. Marinette had asked Kagami to share the photo. Chloe was outraged. She saw that it was a forced kiss, and learned from Kagami how Lila was basically a snoop.

Adrien: Chloe, what do you mean exactly?

Chloe: I don’t care about exposing that liar…much…let’s wait for a slow day before we bring out the popcorn. What I care is that she’s sexually harassing you. i see her constantly moving into your personal space as you lean back. i saw her force that kiss on you so can have a souvenir you never agreed to. Now I hear she’s been snooping around your room, instead of actually studying. Adrikins, I love you, I know what our parents can be like, but that doesn’t mean you should let everybody walk all over you like that.

The girls pause as they take in what Chloe has been saying. Lila has been sexually harassing Adrien.

Adrien croaked out, “What should I do?” He wasn’t asking Chloe. He was asking everybody.

Marinette softened. “If you can’t say no yet, then ask for help. Tell Nino and the guys how Lila’s been bothering you. They’re your friends. If you can’t tell any of us your troubles, then who? Friends are here for each other, no matter what.”

Adrien nodded slowly. While he didn’t like being a tattletale, he also admitted he wanted Lila as far from him as possible. And if Lila was wrong, then he should tattle then? Right?

Alya: as for exposing Lila…

Chloe: we are not doing any exposing until we get a slow day.

Alix: When is a school day not a slow day?

Sabrina: When we learn to expect an akuma at least once a week.

Alya: There was an akuma 4 days ago.

Juleka: There should be one soon, then.

Mylene: How about 2 days after the next akuma attack? That gives us enough time to research, time for the akuma excitement to die down, and time before the next akuma shows up.

Chloe scowled: fine.

Alya: I’ll get right on it!

After that, Lila was irritated that whenever she tried to approach Adrien, someone would block her path, asking for help or stories or whatever. And Mylene had kicked her out of her charity after deciding that Lila was so busy, she didn’t want to interfere with her work with Ali. Ugh. Maybe Lila could convince Mylene to let her handle the cheques later. And the girls didn’t seem to want to hang out with her anymore. Before they always invited her out, but now they claim they’ve accepted her busy schedule. When Lila claimed to be free, someone asked her to help them with some chore.

After the debut of Monsieur Rat, Lila was called to the Principal’s Office. When she came back, she was accompanied by Mrs Rossi and Damocles.

Damocles: Class, I believe Miss Rossi here has something she would like to say.

Lila gritted her teeth as she forced out the words: “Ladybug is not my Best Friend. I don’t know Prince Ali. Jagged never had a kitten….”

The list went on, so many were her lies. While Ms Bustier gasped in betrayal, the girls were secretly munching on candy. Except for Chloe who was openly savouring her honeyed popcorn. Lila glared at her, suspicious of her involvement. Damocles coughed but said nothing. The boys were shocked and angry. It was one thing to unknowingly sexually harass Adrien, it was another to take advantage of their trust.

Mrs Rossi: As of now, my daughter will be heading to a convent school. The nuns there are known for being alert to their students’ activities, and are used to liars. It will also be far enough away that Hawkmoth can’t akumatize my daughter, who apparently thinks I would not be interested to know she has been akumatized who knows how many times!”

Lila: I told you it was only 2 times!

Mrs Rossi: akumas are newsworthy information! (Ok, how she missed out on the heroes defeating the villains is beyond me. For a diplomat, she is ridiculously oblivious about Paris.)

Alya: then who cast that illusion of Ladybug on Heroes Day? Lila was certainly around to be akumatized.

Lila gaped at Alya, who showed no surprise at her exposure. was she behind this?

Chloe gave a wave. “Bye bye, Lie-la”

After this, the girls were insistent Adrien learn to expose any wrongdoings or he is only enabling the bully. Chloé was more of the opinion he should learn to stand up to his father. Nino was on Chloé’s side for once.

[whitesparrows97]

Head In The Clouds

Pairing: Jung Hoseok x Reader

Genre: Strangers to Lovers AU

Summary: When things get too much at home, you book a flight to the other end of the world to escape your thoughts for a few days. The fact that you meet a handsome stranger on this flight, who distracts you from the intrusive thoughts of your ex-boyfriend, is more than convenient. So far off the ground, it’s only a matter of time before feelings and desires run high and one thing leads to another.

Warnings: Explicit sexual content including fingering in public, risk of discovery, protected vaginal sex, light choking, being insecure after sex

Word Count: 9.1K

Author’s note: Hi! After getting your positive feedback to post this, I’m doing just that. I get that at times like right now, getting away as easily as in this story is not possible and being stuck at home can be difficult. But I hope that this story helps at least a little bit to take your minds off things for a little while! 

You had to get away. You hadn’t cared about where, as long as you brought as much distance between you and your boyfriend as possible. Ex-boyfriend, you corrected yourself in your thoughts. This addition still felt strange to even think. The last five years had been a waste of time. In retrospect, all the energy and time you had put into the relationship would have been better spent on something else, something better. Something better, that’s what he had said to you as well when you caught him with another woman doing it on the kitchen counter. You had to suppress the gag reflex that was building up inside you when the image of the two of them came back to your mind. 

Maybe it had been the first shock, but maybe you were just too naive, too gullible and that was why you hadn’t turned 180 degrees at that sight and left your ex-boyfriend behind without any further explanation. Because did it even need that? An explanation? It had been more than clear what had happened and actually you should have be above it all. Actually, you should have rolled your eyes and left after the first desperate attempts of your ex-boyfriend to explain what happened. But you just weren’t like that. Unlike him, you wanted to give both of you another chance. 

She is simply better than you. 

This sentence echoed in your head for weeks now and it was almost comforting. Had you made a mistake at work? Well, others were just better than you. Did you argue with your parents again because you were supposedly not helping enough in the household? So what, you just couldn’t keep up with your siblings’ diligence. Another reason why you had to go away for a few days. You had shared the apartment with your ex-boyfriend and finally found some of your pride again. So two days later, when you knew he was at work, you had packed your stuff together and moved back in with your parents for a while. You hadn’t been aware of how difficult it was to live at home again after living alone for so long. As grateful as you were to them for taking you back in this situation of need, you just wanted to have your peace and quiet after work.

You sighed with exhaustion as you dropped into the waiting area of the terminal and put your backpack on the seat next to you. Getting here at all had been almost impossible. Your mother had tried for hours to convince you that such hasty decisions would never end well and that you would be homesick by the time the flight started. But to get homesick, you needed a place you could call home. Your ex-boyfriend had taken all that from you when he threw away your five years of relationship. He had taken that feeling of familiarity with him. Since then, everything seemed dull, somehow strange. You even watched your own reflection, wondering if that was really you. If you were the mistake, the reason why your ex-boyfriend had cheated on you. 

You are not spontaneous enough. I feel like we’re already eighty and have been married for sixty years. The relationship is in a rut. 

Whether that was the reason why you were now bouncing your leg up and down in excitement and nervously looking at the screen of your phone to see what time it was, you didn’t know. You were doing exactly what your ex-boyfriend had criticized you for and you had the feeling that you were still being controlled by him. He had determined the last five years of your life, it had to end now. After all, he had put an end to it months ago. 

You listened to the announcements of the staff echoing through the airport while you waited for the boarding to begin. You had arrived at the airport too early as usual, which was a miracle when you thought back to all the discussions with your mother, who had tried to persuade you to stay. But a few days somewhere else would probably not only do you good, but also your parents. It must have been difficult for them too to share the house with you again. But it was almost destiny when you saw the post on Facebook of a friend of your family who was subletting his apartment. He had bought a vacation apartment in Sweden years, if not more than a decade ago. Maybe that was why your mother had given in at some point because she knew the friend well and knew that you were in good hands there. And it was only for a few days. A few days in which you hopefully would find yourself again and were able to organize your thoughts. 

You stared into the distance as countless thoughts flashed through your head and you watched the many planes landing and taking off, which you could observe through the countless windows. That was why you missed the glances of a young man who had sat down in a seat opposite you. You crossed your legs so that you wouldn’t bounce your leg up and down anymore and tried to relax a bit. It was the first time you flew alone. In the past your parents were always there, later either your ex-boyfriend or your friends. During the last hours you hadn’t had time to think about what could go wrong. But now that you were alone in the terminal waiting for your flight and had nothing to do but exactly that, waiting, you had time to think. You had forgotten in your hurry that flying meant mainly waiting. You arrived hours earlier, only to either queue up in rows, waiting for the plane to be ready to take off or for you to finally arrive at your destination. Oh, how nice it would be if you could teleport. 

Again, a soft sigh escaped you as you watched the people around you to see with whom you would spend the next hours. It was strange, you didn’t know each other and spent hours with them in the most confined space. You shared the toilet with strangers and even fell asleep next to each other. That was more than you could say about your first boyfriend back then. Your gaze lingered on a young man, about your age, who was sitting directly opposite you. He wore a face mask, so that half of his face was covered. His gaze was on his phone, which he held in one hand, and he seemed to be listening to music through the headphones that were in his ears as he gently bobbed his head up and down. 

Your eyes wandered further down over the dark green hoodie and the torn jeans, which gave you an excellent view of his naturally tanned skin on his knees. You looked up again and your heart almost stopped as you looked straight into the eyes of the stranger. Quickly you looked to the side and you felt your cheeks getting hot with embarrassment as you realized that he had caught you checking him out more than obviously. You felt his gaze on you and tried to ignore the urge to look back at him and see if you were right with your feelings or just imagined it. It was worth a try, it was unlikely that he was still looking at you. Right? He probably had a short laugh and then turned back to his music. 

You risked it and your gaze quickly slipped to the stranger and back again. Nope, he still stared at you and if you had seen it right in the hurry, he grinned. At least if you interpreted it correctly, how his eyes had formed into small crescents, the rest was still hidden under the mask. You cleared your throat because you had the feeling that a lump had formed in your throat. With numb fingers you fished your phone out of your pocket again and tried to distract yourself with social media while you still could. Once you were in the air, you had to rely on your book, which you had packed especially for the flight. 

You could feel how you relaxed a bit when you turned your focus and concentration away from the man’s stare. For the next few minutes, you continued absent-mindedly scrolling through your Instagram feed, which felt like it was repeating every day before your flight was finally announced and boarding began. When you looked up and tried to grab your backpack, you unconsciously took a quick glance at the seat opposite you. Your heart sank when you realized that it was empty.

And that was exactly the reason why you could never meet new people. You have had the perfect opportunity to talk to him. After all, you already had his attention, and a quick chat before the flight would probably not have been a bad idea. Just to calm down your thoughts, which just shot through the ceiling again at the upcoming flight.

You were a little angry at yourself for blowing this chance when you lined up to get on the plane. You forced a smile when you held your phone on the scanner and shuffled after the other passengers as the employee wished you a good flight and you thankfully put your phone back in your pocket. Although you had booked the flight so spontaneously, you were even able to get a seat by the window. You couldn’t imagine sitting for hours in the aisle or worse, in the middle. You needed the comfort you felt that at least on one side you had no one sitting next to you or constantly passing you. 

As you walked through the narrow corridor looking for your seat, you noticed that the plane in general, fortunately, did not seem to be too crowded. But what did you expect for one of the last flights of the day and in the middle of the week? Maybe you were lucky and the two seats next to you would be free so you had a little more room to perhaps even lie down. You had a busy day, which was very beneficial to you because you would probably fall asleep soon and sleep through most of the flight. This was the only good way to spend such a long flight. 

Almost at the end of the plane you finally spotted your seat number. As you lowered your eyes, you could see familiar brown, slightly tousled hair looking over the seat of the row in front of you. Your breath faltered when you realized who was sitting directly in the seat next to yours. Before you could think too much, he had looked up from his phone when he noticed you standing hesitantly in the aisle in front of the row of seats. 

“Oh, are you sitting here?” he asked and gestured to the seat next to him, which he was currently blocking. 

You smiled apologetically and nodded. “Sorry, if I had known that someone was sitting next to me, I would have gotten in line earlier.” You watched him stand up and duck his head so he wouldn’t bump his head. 

But he waved his hand in reassurance. “No problem, I could have got on later as well.” He threw you a smile again, which you at least interpreted as one. You wondered if you would ever see his face without a mask. You took a step back to give him enough room and tried not to let your surprise show when you noticed how much he towered over you. But maybe it just seemed that way in the small space when you looked up to him intimidated when he was standing right in front of you. “There you go,” he said, and made a broad arm movement into the row of seats and you had to laugh softly as he bowed to you. You almost felt as if you were getting into a luxury limousine and not letting yourself fall on the sat through seat in economy class of an airplane. 

He also sat down again on the seat next to you while you tried to make the very limited space you had available for the next hours as comfortable as possible. You felt his eyes on you again and looked up with curiosity. It seemed as if he had been caught before he regained his composure and his gaze glided to the backpack that you were still holding between your legs. “Do you need help with that?” he asked with a nod in that direction, “I can put it in the top storage for you. You don’t need to be afraid to ask if you need it again,” he explained to you immediately when he noticed your hesitation. 

You thought briefly about his offer. It would certainly be more comfortable if you had a bit more legroom and could stretch your legs a bit every now and then. And if he already offered that you could always ask him if you needed something from your backpack, he really didn’t seem to mind. So you accepted his offer with a smile. When you handed your backpack to him, your fingers brushed against each other and you had to suppress a pleasant shiver. 

Quickly you leaned back in your seat and stared intently out the oval window, hoping that he didn’t notice your awkwardness too much. 

What was the probability that your seat was next to his? Even though you had never been very good at math in school, even you knew that the probability was very low. Either fate was particularly fond of you and gave you a second chance after you screwed up the first one. Or it laughed at you and wanted to see you suffer, because you were probably thinking of nothing else but the attractive man next to you for the next few hours. You watched out of the corner of your eye as he pulled down the table in front of him and put his laptop on it. Okay, good. He seemed to be busy and had no intention of keeping the conversation going. That was convenient for you and you were by no means disappointed because you wanted to know more about him. No, that would be strange. He had just been friendly, that was all. 

In order to stop sitting oddly next to him, you reached for your book and turned to the page where you had stopped. You still had a good two-thirds to go and, even if you couldn’t get a wink of sleep, you definitely wouldn’t be able to finish it. The reading did you good, it distracted you from the turbulent start and the warmth radiated from the man next to you. Every line more you read, pulled you further and further into the spell of the story. You did not know how much time had passed, but when you looked up, your neck hurt, which had been bent down all the time. You groaned softly and rubbed your neck to release the tension. Then you heard a soft laugh next to you that made you look to the side. 

“Murakami, huh?” he asked without taking his eyes off his laptop screen. “I understand why you were so absorbed in the book.”

Surprised, you stared at him and unconsciously stroked the cover of the book. “Have you read any of his books?” Your gaze slipped further down and only now did you realize that he had taken off his mask. It was almost unfair how good-looking he was. How his dark red lips curled up into a little laugh or his jaw, over which you would love to let your finger slide. You didn’t even want to begin with his delicate nose, on which sat round glasses with a filigree frame.

He nodded and turned his gaze from the monitor to you. “A few?” he asked almost shocked, “Almost all of them, and let me tell you, there are not exactly a few,” he laughed and you couldn’t hold back your smile. “Is this your first book by him?”

You nodded, somewhat embarrassed. He seemed to know so much about the author while you were still stuck on page 250 of the first book. “That obvious?”

He shrugged his shoulders and let himself fall into the seat where he had previously leaned forward to see the screen better. “1Q84 is probably the first book of many by Murakami. Do you like his writing style?” You hesitated a bit, you didn’t want to spoil it by criticizing his possibly favorite author. But he seemed to notice your hesitation and had to laugh. “You can be honest, I think he’s written better books than this series.”

“Oh, really? Which one do you recommend?”

“Definitely Kafka on the shore,” he said without batting an eyelid. “A friend of mine is also enthusiastic about Hard-Boiled Wonderland, but to be honest I never really enjoyed it much.” His eyes fell on the book you were still holding tightly on your lap. “But read the other two books from the series first.”

Slightly surprised, you raised your eyebrows. “What, there are more parts to the story?”

He laughed softly and you watched him as his slim, long fingers reached for the laptop and slowly closed it. “People are always surprised because they only know the first book,” he said more to himself than to you, before he turned towards you and smiled at you. “I am Hoseok.” He held out his hand to you and you gladly took it. 

“Y/N,” you introduced yourself and his smile grew a bit wider. 

„Nice to meet you, Y/N,“ he said and his brown eyes almost burned into you as he looked at you. His hand held yours for a moment longer before he let go and looked to the side. Only now could you breathe again. You didn’t know what it was about him, but you felt your own heartbeat rushing in your ears, which even drowned out the roar of the turbines. “Are you staying in Sweden, or is this a stopover for you?”

You were taken aback for a moment that he was still seeking the conversation. “Oh, I’m staying in Sweden. An acquaintance has a vacation apartment there and I just wanted to get out for a while.”

“Ah, how nice,” he sighed, “And I completely understand, sometimes you get a little stir-crazy, right?”

You hummed in agreement. “Especially when you moved back in with your parents. How did you put up with them as a teenager?”

Hoseok laughed. “As much as you love them, but what’s the saying? Everything in moderation.” You felt his gaze on you and sensed that he was assessing whether he could ask the next question or should keep it to himself. He decided on the former. “May I ask how you ended up living at home again?”

You sighed, did you really want to tell a stranger your worries and problems? You decided on a short version, you did not want to bore him right after a few minutes of conversation. “Long story, actually. In short, I shared an apartment with my boyfriend, sorry, ex-boyfriend. He cheated on me and I didn’t find a new apartment in a hurry. That’s why I have to live with my parents again. But probably better than living on the street.”

“Okay, wow,” he said after your monologue and you already regretted having opened your mouth at all. “You moved out even though he cheated on you?”

Oh, that was not the reaction you were expecting. “Yeah, I couldn’t kick him out of the apartment and I didn’t want to live with him anymore.”

“Understandably,” Hoseok added, “but if I had been in your place, I would have put his things on the street and changed the locks. Oh, what am I saying? I would have thrown his belongings right out of the window, so he would have had to pick them up himself from the sidewalk.”

You laughed at his statement. “You’re right, but I just wanted to get away at that moment.” Your smile disappeared as quickly as it had come. All that remained was a frown. 

“Cheating sucks, I hate people who do this to their partner,” Hoseok continued the conversation, which had briefly drifted into an oppressive silence. 

“Me too,” you agreed with a sigh. But then you were seized with courage. You had told him something intimate that you had hardly told anyone before, except your closest friends and your parents. And that was the only reason you asked the next question. “What about you? Do you have a girlfriend?”

He smiled, almost embarrassed and briefly avoided your gaze. “I work a lot, to be honest,” he began to explain and pointed to his laptop, “My last girlfriend didn’t handle it so well that I didn’t have that much time. Instead of making her a priority, I mistakenly thought she had to accept that work comes first.” He glanced around briefly as if he remembered a moment from the past that was hidden from you. Then he pulled himself together again and gave you a warm, sincere smile. “Now I know better.”

“Relationships are complicated,” you said, putting your book aside. On the one hand, to suggest to Hoseok that you wanted to keep talking to him, and on the other hand, to stop your fingers from continuing to play nervously with the cover, which was already beginning to peel off. 

“Not with the right person,” Hoseok contradicted you and winked at you. He winked at you. Your jaw almost dropped at the sight of it, and you pulled yourself together to keep your facial features in place as best you could while you frantically searched for an answer. 

“It’s just not so easy to find the right person,” you admitted shyly, playing with your fingers because the book was out of reach.

“Well, maybe they’re closer than you think,” you heard Hoseok say next to you, and as the words left his mouth, your gaze shot back to him, which you had previously fixed on your thigh. He grinned at you before he opened his laptop without another word and continued working on his project. 

Should you say something? You didn’t want to interrupt him at work, but you didn’t want your conversation to end either. As you wrestled with yourself further whether you should speak to him or not, the grin grew on Hoseok’s face, which you didn’t even notice, so much you were absorbed in thought. So you flinched slightly when you suddenly felt a hand on your chin that gently turned your head in his direction. You looked at Hoseok with big eyes, completely taken aback by the sudden touch. 

“Your ex-boyfriend was a complete idiot for cheating on someone like you. I wonder how he could think that he could find someone better like you. Don’t let an idiot like him fuck up your confidence. I’ve only known you for a short time, but you seem like an incredible woman who deserves so much more in life than that.” He threw a sad smile at you, and you wondered if he had experienced something similar. “I see how insecure you are, and of course I don’t know if this is related to that or maybe it’s because of me. But let me tell you one thing quite openly from man to woman: You are incredibly attractive, smart, have a good sense for books,” you laughed softly at this comment, “and you’re an excellent partner in conversation. I’m glad I’m sitting next to you and not next to Elizabeth, who had been telling me non-stop about her terrific son Jasper on my last flight.”

You couldn’t hold back your laughter and Hoseok let go of your chin before he joined in your laughter. “Well, then, Hoseok, your standards are very low.” You remembered a sentence that almost got lost in his short monologue. “Besides, it’s not because of you that I’m so insecure. I mean, a little bit. Have you looked at yourself in the mirror? Who wouldn’t get nervous? But I’m not uncomfortable with you, if that’s what you meant.”

Hoseok grinned at your words and only now did you realize what you had just said. “So you find me attractive?”

Confused, you pulled your eyebrows together. “Are you serious?” You didn’t know whether he was just playing with you and trying to get you to come out of your shell, or whether he was really a little insecure. So you decided not to tease him, but to be honest. You had nothing to lose anyway. “If it makes you happy, you’re just my type.”

“I see,” Hoseok said, and you watched him as his gaze flitted across your face and finally caught on your lips for a moment. You took a deep breath as you looked back at Hoseok, the unspoken question hanging between you. The passenger compartment had calmed down a bit, most people were focused on their books, magazines or laptops and some had already prepared for sleep. When you looked past Hoseok for a moment, you noticed that it had become almost dark outside. Dark blue changed to black and there was hardly anything else but darkness. 

Hoseok embraced your face and immediately your attention was back on him. He slowly and gently stroked your cheek with his thumb and you wanted to melt into the seat right there and then. No one had touched you so tenderly for months, if not years. Nervously you bit your lip as you weighed the pros and cons. What happened if the kiss was weird and you had to sit next to each other for hours afterwards? Was it inappropriate to kiss someone else so soon after the breakup with your ex-boyfriend? Why did you even bother about what others, especially your ex-boyfriend, thought of you?

Hoseok exhaled with amusement and shook his head. “I see you thinking, you know that?”

“Sorry,” you muttered and lowered your head in shame. But Hoseok also raised his other hand and now embraced your face from both sides, so you had to look at him. 

“I won’t do anything that you are not one hundred percent comfortable with. Deal?” You nodded in agreement. “So, baby, tell me what I can do to make you feel good.”

You were taken aback by his question and your heart leapt at the pet name he had addressed you by. You no longer knew how words and language worked. But Hoseok noticed your hesitation and you held your breath as he moved a little closer. You felt his hot breath on your face and instinctively closed your eyes. Light as a feather, you felt his lips as they gently brushed against yours, but not yet touching yours completely. “Is a kiss a good start?” he whispered and you nodded eagerly.

Without wasting another second he pressed his soft lips on yours. You sighed as he took a hand off your cheek and buried it in your hair. He pressed himself closer against you as far as the armrest between you allowed and you pulled him a little closer to you by his hoodie. He could barely be close enough to you. The warmth he radiated immersed you in an indefinable veil of lust and desire. It wasn’t long before he opened his mouth and you felt his tongue on your lips. With a smile you opened your mouth more than willingly and immediately he pushed into you. You had to suppress a moan as he explored your mouth extensively and savored your taste. 

“Shh,” Hoseok whispered against your lips and the vibration of the words on your lips sent a shiver through your whole body. His thumb gently stroked your lips as if to emphasize his words, and an almost desperate whimper escaped you. “We don’t want to wake up the other passengers, do we?” he exhaled and his hot breath grazed your face. 

With your eyes still closed you shook your head and your lips found his again. His lips were soft and your mouths moved together in an almost familiar rhythm. Willingly you buried your fingers in his hair to draw him even closer to you and feel his body against yours. Hoseok grunted dissatisfied and reluctantly separated from you. He reached between your two bodies and a moment later he pushed the armrest between your two seats upwards.

“Better,” he murmured and pressed his mouth firmly back onto yours again. A soft sigh escaped you when you could finally turn to the side on your seat and he pressed you tightly against him. Your fingers curiously explored the muscles that were hidden under his t-shirt and he sighed into the kiss as you slid your fingers under it to let your fingers dance right over his skin. He exhaled trembling when you touched him and you had to stifle a grin. 

Meanwhile, one of his hands moved down your side and hip before finally resting on your thigh, where his thumb made circling movements. You drew in the air sharply as his thumb stroked the inside of your leg, sending a wave of excitement through you. The feeling took you by surprise so much that you didn’t even realize how you had stopped to respond to the kiss. Only when Hoseok’s head moved away from you and looked at you waiting, did you open your eyes and notice your slight freeze.

“Is that going too far?” he asked with concern and your eyes widened at his assumption.

Immediately you shook your head. “Not at all,” you said quietly, so that none of the passengers sitting around you would know anything about your conversation. Then you had to laugh softly and briefly dodged his questioning look. “On the contrary. If you continue like this, I just don’t know if I can hold myself back.”

At these words, Hoseok had to smile before it turned into a dirty grin. “Then I guess I’d better stop, right?” Contrary to his words, he started circling his thumb on the inside of your thigh again. Your eyes fluttered closed at the touch and millimeter by millimeter Hoseok worked his way up between your legs. “On the other hand,” Hoseok began and paused, sliding his thumb right between your legs and slowly stroking the fabric of your jeans. You had to bite your lower lip hard to keep from moaning. “What should the crew do? Throw us out?”

You had to giggle, even though you knew there would be other ways to punish you for your inappropriate behavior.

“I would take my chances,” you whispered and smiled honestly at him. That was the last confirmation Hoseok had been waiting for. He released the grip around your thigh and unbuttoned your jeans. His gaze almost pierced you as he slowly, almost teasingly, pulled the zipper down before he let his hand slide in. 

He pressed his lips to yours just at the moment when a surprised moan left your lips as you felt his fingers right against your naked skin. You straightened up to give him better access to your pants and immediately his long, narrow fingers slid deeper. He had to feel how wet you were as he slid one of his fingers along the length of your labia and then circled your opening. Slowly he began to penetrate you with the tip of his finger before pulling back again. He repeated this movement a few times until you were sure that your panties would be completely soaked. You could not remember ever having been so wet. Your ex-boyfriend and you had mostly used lube to make it more comfortable. But now you were sure that Hoseok would be able to penetrate you just like that.

At the thought of Hoseok cock you inevitably clenched around nothing. You managed a soft whimper and Hoseok felt pity for you as he pushed his finger completely inside you. You held your breath and had to squeeze your eyes together when he immediately started to curl his finger to find the slightly rough spot inside you that made you see black spots behind your eyes. You were more than happy about the loud turbine noise of the plane, because otherwise you were sure that the other passengers would hear how wet you were. 

“Hoseok,” you brought out between wet kisses and grabbed his forearm. “Can we go somewhere else?”

“Bathroom?” he asked straight away and you nodded. He pressed a short kiss on your lips before he slowly pulled his finger out of you. With a mixture of fascination and pure lust, he looked at his glistening finger, which had been buried deep inside you just a few moments before. “Fuck, baby,” he said softly, and you almost didn’t hear him over the sounds of your surroundings. He moved closer to you and breathed into your ear, “You turn me on so much, you have no idea. God, I’m so hard, it almost hurts.”

You whimpered as your abdomen contracted painfully around nothing at his words. Without a second thought, you broke away from him and feverishly searched your purse for the small box you always carried with you. Just in case. You would never have expected that you would use it today. You rustled and rummaged and almost let out a cry of relief when your fingers closed around the little box.

“Shhh,” someone in front of you suddenly hissed, and when you looked up, you looked directly into the annoyed eyes of the man in front of you, who had turned around during your rummaging and glared at you from between the seats.

“Sorry,” you hissed back as well, although you felt the heat spreading to your cheeks. You didn’t even want to know what you looked like right now – reddened cheeks, tangled hair and bloody kissed lips. But your tone of voice seemed to surprise him a bit, so he turned around without another word. 

“Wow, you can be really scary,” Hoseok laughed in your ear, and his breath tickled as the gust of air released one of your strands of hair. 

“Shut up,” you mumbled and nodded towards the end of the plane where the nearest toilets were at. 

He just shook his head laughing as he slipped into the seat next to him and then straightened up. You waited a moment, which you used to button your pants again, even though you were sure that nobody was paying attention to you two anyway. As you bridged the last meters with wobbly legs, you noticed in relief that the row behind you, and thus the last row in the plane, had remained empty on both sides. You took a quick look over your shoulder backwards before you followed Hoseok into the narrow bathroom where he held the door open for you.

“Fuck, this is smaller than I thought,” you said in surprise as you let your gaze slide through the small room.

But Hoseok just shrugged his shoulders and leaned close to you to lower the cover of the toilet. “We���ll work it out,” he reassured you and winked at you. Your stomach did somersaults again and you cursed Hoseok for the effect he had on you without much effort.

“Do you have any preferences or anything you don’t like at all?”

You thought about it for a moment, but then you shook your head. “Except anal. Not a fan of that.”

With a smile on his face, Hoseok grabbed the small box you were still holding tightly and had almost forgotten about. “Okay, good to know,” he said with a quick glance into your eyes before opening the box and taking out a condom. He put both on the shelf of the sink behind him and turned back to you.

You already noticed how much the small room was heating up and without further ado you pulled your sweater over your head, which was already sticking to you. Carefully you put it on the toilet lid and made sure that it didn’t touch anything else. 

“You’re so hot, do you know that?” Hoseok muttered and firmly grabbed your hips. He pulled you against him and willingly you pressed your hips against his, where you immediately felt more than clearly his hard erection between your legs. You rubbed your hips against his a couple of times, causing Hoseok to grunt roughly. Without hesitation, he had turned you around so he could push you backwards against the sink and let his pelvis snap hard against yours. 

You moaned loudly before you could restrain yourself and immediately Hoseok’s index finger was on your lips. Almost disapprovingly he looked at you, but his eyes were sparkling treacherously with a grin. “We have to be careful, baby. Otherwise someone might catch and interrupt us. You don’t want that, do you?”

You shook your head. The thought that someone would stop you almost brought tears of frustration to your eyes. 

“Good,” Hoseok said softly and his gaze slipped back to your lips. “Then you’d better be a good girl and be careful not to make a sound.” He moved closer and added in a whisper, “Unless you want me to punish you.”

You moaned into the kiss that Hoseok pressed on your lips and at the sound, Hoseok grabbed your butt and kneaded it hard. He pressed his hips firmly against yours again and a wave of excitement flooded through you. Soon your fingers found their way to the buttons of his jeans and a second later you unbuttoned them and pulled them down over Hoseok’s butt. 

“Do you like it from behind?” Hoseok asked and he didn’t even have to finish the sentence, you had already turned 180 degrees.

“Fuck, yes,” you replied breathlessly and opened your jeans with skillful movements. You watched in the mirror hanging directly above the sink as Hoseok fixed his gaze on your butt and massaged it with both hands. To have a little more support, you leaned forward and placed your forearms on the sink. This inevitably pushed your butt and pelvis backwards, which pressed directly against Hoseok’s cock. Hoseok cursed at the contact and you had to suppress your grin.

“God, baby, I can’t wait to be inside you,” he said and you watched him in the mirror as he reached into his boxers and pulled out his cock. Your mouth watered as he wrapped his hand tightly around himself and stroked it up and down a few times. Then he grabbed the condom with one hand and returned your gaze firmly as he ripped open the package with his teeth. He grinned at you over your shoulder before he pushed your panties to the side and let his cock slide between your legs. You exhaled trembling as you felt the tip pressing against your opening and slowly penetrating you. Then Hoseok suddenly let his hips snap forward so that his cock pushed completely inside of you. Your mouth fell open to a silent scream as your inner walls were stretched by his thick cock. 

“Shhh,” Hoseok whispered and put his flat hand on your mouth so that no more sound came out of your mouth. You felt his cock slowly slide out of you before Hoseok pushed back into you with one quick movement. “Fuck, you’re so… argh, tight,” he managed to say through clenched teeth between his powerful thrusts. The obscene sound of clapping skin on skin filled the small space and you felt Hoseok squeeze your arousal out of you with each thrust, where it dripped down your thighs. 

Hoseok released his hand from your mouth, and you pulled yourself together not to moan loudly with each of his thrusts. He let his hand go under your shirt and grabbed one of your breasts after he pushed your bra down. When he rolled your nipple between two of his fingers and pinched it hard, you had to bite your lips. He released his hand from your hip, which he had previously gripped tightly, and wrapped it around your upper body to straighten you up a moment later. Your back came into contact with his upper body and you felt his muscles and hard chest in your back.

“Hoseok-ah,” you moaned as you watched in the mirror as his cock slipped between your legs and disappeared deep inside you with each thrust. It was mesmerizing to watch and with each stroke you felt his cock rubbing against your g-spot, bringing you closer and closer to the edge of your orgasm. 

He also struggled to hold back with his sounds as he put his head on your shoulder and grunted in your ear. “You are fucking amazing,” he said, and focused on long, hard thrusts that pressed you firmly against the sink each time. “I can’t – fuck–” He picked up his pace and you too felt the knot in your abdomen tighten more and more. You trembled with excitement as you felt his fingers on your throat and your eyes flickered upwards to return his passionate gaze with which he was fixing you. Once he lightly squeezed with his fingers, your eyes fluttered shut with the sensation and you pulled yourself tight around his cock, which was still pumping in and out of you rigorously. “Oh baby, do you like to be choked?” His fingers closed tightly around your neck again and with an especially hard movement of his hips against your ass you came. 

Hoseok released his grip around your upper body and you used your elbows to support yourself on the sink. You covered your mouth when your orgasm came powerfully over you and Hoseok grabbed your hips with both hands to push hard into you a few more times before he also came and emptied himself into the condom. 

At the edge of your blurred perception, you heard him curse continuously before he finally came to a halt buried deep inside you. You both gasped for breath and you had to lay your heated forehead on the edge of the sink, so exhausted and spent you were. The coolness of the ceramic felt good and you closed your eyes for a moment. Only when Hoseok slowly pulled out of you and you heard him open the trash can next to the toilet to dispose the used condom, did you straighten up again. 

“Oh God,” you said breathlessly and heard Hoseok laugh behind you. When your gaze found his in the mirror, a bright smile spread across his face.

“I hope a good ‘Oh God’?” His fingers found your panties, which he put back in place and which you hadn’t even noticed. You were too focused on getting your breathing back under control and holding yourself upright on your shaky legs. He also helped you to pull your jeans back up.

You nodded and a little smile came over your face as you buttoned your pants and reached for your sweater. When you pulled it over your head and there was nothing but darkness around you for a brief moment, you felt your heart beating up to your neck. And you knew that it wasn’t just because of the physical effort and your orgasm. 

You were afraid if you were completely honest with yourself. 

What was that between you now? Were you just a quick fuck to him? And what was he to you? What did you want from him?

When your head came through the opening of your sweater, your eyes found Hoseok, who looked at you with a little smile on his lips.

“What?” you asked, laughing softly, but he shook his head briefly and took a step towards you, so that he stood right in front of you. 

He lifted his hand and his fingers stroked your hair gently, almost lovingly, “You are incredible, I just wanted to tell you that.”

His sentence hung in the air like a half spoken confession and you were frantically searching for an answer. You managed nothing more than a little laugh, though, and you felt the blood rush to your cheeks. His thumb stroked over them while he watched you. God, you couldn’t stop smiling. Especially not when he looked back at you with that grin. 

It was quiet between the two of you, only the loud engine noises of the airplane could be heard and for a short moment you had forgotten that you were several kilometers above the ground. This realization literally brought you back to earth and Hoseok seemed to realize this as well.

“We should go back,” you noticed after another moment when none of you moved from the spot.

Hoseok cleared his throat before nodding and letting his hand fall. “You’re probably right. Do you want to go first?”

“Okay,” you agreed with him and grabbed the small box that you put in the pocket of your hoodie. The two of you changed positions before you bent forward and pressed your ear against the door to check if someone was in the hallway. Except for the loud engines, you couldn’t hear anything. Your fingers found the latch of the door and pushed it aside. You turned to him again and said a quiet “See you in a moment,” before quickly squeezing out of the small room and closing the door behind you. 

You were more than happy when you dropped down to your seat, exhausted, and had not met anyone. It seemed as if most of the passengers had gone to sleep in the meantime, since the lights in the passenger compartment were also turned off for the most part. But you knew that at least for the next hour you wouldn’t be able to get any sleep. At least not if your heartbeat didn’t calm down soon and continued to throb in your ears.

But you were wrong. You noticed how Hoseok came back as well, but your eyelids had already become heavy. It seemed as if the stress of the past weeks was finally catching up with you and your body was getting what it desperately needed and why you had gone away in the first place: rest. And sleep.

The last thing you noticed that night was your head falling to the side and landing on something hard and a soft touch on your cheek.

The next time you opened your eyes, you had no idea how much time had passed. You blinked the sleep out of your eyes and straightened yourself up with a soft groan when you realized how your whole body hurt. Confused, you squinted as the sun and sudden brightness blinded you. You could swear that it had been pitch black a moment before. Astonished, you turned your head and winced when you noticed how stiff your neck was. 

“Good morning,” said a soft voice and blinking, you looked up at the person sitting next to you. Hoseok had a warm smile on his lips as you tried to understand where you were and what had happened.

Then everything hit you full speed. Your ex-boyfriend, your spontaneous decision to travel for a few days, the handsome stranger at the airport who turned out to be Hoseok, and finally… “Hi,” you croaked and cleared your throat to release the lump in your dry throat.

Hoseok laughed. “You were completely out of it. You just slept through six hours. I’ve never seen that on a flight before.”

“Six hours, huh?” you asked and leaned back in your seat. When realization hit you, your eyes widened in shock. “Six hours?” you asked stunned and looked at Hoseok, who just nodded. “That means we’re almost there, doesn’t it?”

“We’re already on the approach,” Hoseok explained and your heart sank as he said. 

Great, so you slept through the entire time you would have had with Hoseok. You beat yourself up on the inside as you thought about what he must think of you now. Falling asleep just like that, without another word after your… act. He probably thought that you found him boring or not good. Fuck, what if he thought you were just pretending to sleep so you wouldn’t have to talk to him? Oh no, oh no, oh no, that wasn’t good at all. 

You noticed your heartbeat quickening and pure panic gripped you. You had to set it right, right now. “Hoseok,” you started and he looked up from his laptop. “I–” you started, but then you were interrupted by a stewardess who told you to fold up your tables and fasten your seat belts. You complied and you watched from the corner of your eye as Hoseok neatly stowed his laptop in his bag. When he straightened up, you were already looking at him. “I’m sorry.”

He looked at you in surprise. Then he tilted his head. “What exactly are you apologizing for? If it’s for last night,” the corners of his mouth twitched upwards as he remembered, “then you don’t need to apologize for anything. Not at all.”

The heat rose to your cheeks as your thoughts drifted to the previous night. You nervously intertwined your fingers as you searched for the right words. But Hoseok interrupted your flood of thoughts when you suddenly felt his fingers under your chin and he lifted your head slightly so you looked at him. “Are you okay?”

Fuck, it was definitely not normal for your stomach to somersault at the way he was looking at you. Too nervous to speak, you just nodded, “Well then,” Hoseok replied, and his eyes flickered briefly to your lips before he dropped his hand and turned his attention forward. A moment later, you felt the wheels of the plane touch the ground and the plane slowed down. As you looked out the window and saw the buildings of the airport just a few meters away from you, you realized that you really had already landed. That it was not a dream. And that you would part ways with Hoseok in a few minutes. You didn’t even want to think about the possibility that you might – presumably – probably – never see him again. 

By the time the plane had stopped, connected to the bridge to the building, and the stewardesses told you that you could get up, you had already convinced yourself that it had been nothing more than something quick and easy for him. A one-off. You flinched at the word. You picked up your things like all the other passengers and walked one after the other down the narrow corridor to the exit. Your gaze fell on the back of Hoseok’s head, from which his hair stood out in all directions, probably from sleeping. You would love to run your fingers through his soft hair and straighten it. But you didn’t know how he would react and if he would welcome your touch. 

You said goodbye to the crew and you shivered slightly as you experienced the first touch of cooler weather. Hoseok took rapid strides and you had trouble keeping up with him. Did he want to outrun you? Was he hoping you would disappear into the crowd and he could steal away just like that?

Just as those self-destructive thoughts came to your mind, Hoseok looked over his shoulder and slowed down his steps. He reached out his hand to you, which you gratefully took. 

“Sorry,” he said and you had trouble understanding him over the bustle at the airport. “I have an important appointment in an hour and I have to hurry a little.” You had arrived at the baggage claim and Hoseok pointed with his thumb over his shoulder towards the exit. “I’m only traveling with hand luggage because I’m only staying a few days and normally I’m a gentleman and would help you with your suitcase, but–”

“It’s okay, Hoseok,” you placated him when you noticed how he drifted more and more into a monologue. You did the same thing when you were nervous and had to smile when you noticed this similarity. “Good luck at the meeting.” 

Ask him for his phone number.

“Thanks, Y/N,” Hoseok replied and a moment later pulled you into a firm hug. You took a deep breath and his masculine, soothing scent enveloped you. You were certain that he was giving you a kiss on your hair, but you weren’t absolutely sure about the soft touch. Before you could say anything, he had detached himself from you again and had taken a few steps back. 

Ask him before it is too late.

He gave you another smile before he turned 180 degrees and walked towards the exit. Your lips were sealed as you watched him move meter by meter away from you. 

His name was on the tip of your tongue when he suddenly turned and shouted over the distance: “Let me know what you think of the end of 1Q84!” Confused, you frowned. How would you do that? Hoseok seemed to notice your hesitation, but he just grinned and pointed to your backpack, which was hanging from one of your shoulders. 

As quickly as you could, you pulled it off your shoulder, struggled to open the zipper with your trembling fingers and then rummaged for your book. Unlike the small box, you found it immediately and turned to your bookmark. When a small piece of paper fell towards you, you looked up smiling and relieved. You just saw Hoseok waving to you and you thought you could hear his laugh even from a distance before he disappeared around the corner. 

I really hope you liked this short oneshot and I’m more than happy about any feedback! Please stay safe and healthy! See you soon! 💜

[delphinidin4]

“Abominable neglect and unkindness”: Fanny Price and Trauma

I have C-PTSD, and it’s really been on my mind as I’ve been rereading Mansfield Park by Jane Austen: her heroine of Fanny Price is so OBVIOUSLY traumatized that I started making notes upon notes upon notes in my kindle copy on her symptoms and their causes. A couple of my followers said they’d be interested to read my analysis if I wrote it up, and it doesn’t take much to encourage me to put a few thousand words on the page screen! So below is my (probably WAY too long) analysis of Fanny Price’s emotional trauma and complex PTSD (a form of PTSD often caused by long-term emotional abuse/neglect). It’s hella long. sorrynotsorry lol

*unleashes inner academic*

Part 1: How Fanny Price Was Traumatized

Trauma 1: She is taken from family and home. 

Okay, imagine this: You’re ten years old. You grew up in a noisy, lower-middle-class family with multiple little siblings and both your parents. You are the oldest girl, and are important to all the members of your family because you act as “playfellow, instructress, and nurse” to your younger siblings. You are also “exceedingly timid and shy”. And suddenly you find out that your mother is SENDING YOU AWAY--far, far away--to aunts and uncle and cousins you’ve never met before, to be raised by THEM instead of your parents. Leaving everything else out of the equation for a second, that by itself would be ABSOLUTELY DEVASTATING.  You would feel like your parents didn’t love you and didn’t want you. You weren’t important to them. You might wonder what you did wrong to be sent away. And THEN it turns out you’re NEVER COMING BACK. EVER. Fanny doesn’t see her family again until she is, I think nineteen years old. At first, she doesn’t even have the means to write to her brother William, which was to be her ONLY connection to her family: it seems her parents don’t write to her at all over the course of the novel.

All of this would be bad enough. But to come to a place that was entirely alien to everything you had known... I mean, think about it. This is Mansfield Park, an ENORMOUS house with MANY servants, a completely different way of doing things. There’s MONEY. Even the items around you are of a totally different quality than you’re used to: Austen says of Fanny’s initial impression of Mansfield, “The grandeur of the house astonished, but could not console her. The rooms were too large for her to move in with ease: whatever she touched she expected to injure, and she crept about in constant terror of something or other; often retreating towards her own chamber to cry.” The accent people speak with is probably different. The vocabulary is probably different. And everybody DEFINITELY thought she was under-educated (more about this in a bit) because she didn’t have the education of a gentleman’s daughter--because she ISN’T a gentleman’s daughter. It must have caused her intense culture shock.

Trauma 2: William’s absence

It’s clear that in her childhood in Portsmouth, William is the dearest member of Fanny’s family (see below for a discussion of her parents). When Fanny first arrives at Mansfield, Edmund discovers that, 

dear as all these brothers and sisters generally were, there was one among them who ran more in her thoughts than the rest. It was William whom she talked of most, and wanted most to see. William, the eldest, a year older than herself, her constant companion and friend; her advocate with her mother (of whom he was the darling) in every distress. ‘William did not like she should come away; he had told her he should miss her very much indeed.’ 

Fanny’s one really warm and loving connection seems to be with William, and she is parted from him, first by her move to Mansfield, and then by his going to sea:

Once, and once only, in the course of many years, had she the happiness of being with William. Of the rest [of her Portsmouth family] she saw nothing: nobody seemed to think of her ever going amongst them again, even for a visit, nobody at home seemed to want her; but William determining, soon after her removal, to be a sailor, was invited to spend a week with his sister in Northamptonshire before he went to sea. Their eager affection in meeting, their exquisite delight in being together, their hours of happy mirth, and moments of serious conference, may be imagined; as well as ...the misery of the girl when he left her. Luckily the visit happened in the Christmas holidays, when she could directly look for comfort to her cousin Edmund.

Fanny continues a correspondence with William when he is at sea, but it’s clear that his long absence from her life is very difficult for her.

One final note on her being parted from her family for long intervals: I think we might actually see a sign of this trauma in an emotional flashback later in the book.

For those unfamiliar with complex PTSD, flashbacks don’t always mean that you have a sort of hallucination of a traumatic experience. In the case of complex PTSD and PTSD from early childhood trauma, flashbacks often occur in the form of “emotional flashbacks”: instead of re-experiencing the sensory  input of the traumatic experience (seeing and hearing the experience all over again when triggered), emotional flashbacks consist ONLY of the emotional content of the trauma. They result in sudden rushes of negative emotions such as fear, shame, sorrow, despair, embarrassment, anger, etc. This may be partly because the trigger is acting on so many different traumatic memories at once (the brain can’t just pick out one to show to you) and partly because the traumatic memory being triggered is from so early in your childhood that you don’t have a direct memory of it anymore, just the trauma memory. Emotional flashbacks can be identified by comparing the emotional response to the stimulus: If the emotion is inappropriate for the situation or inappropriately intense, it may well be a flashback.

In this scene, Miss Crawford--whom Fanny does not care for at all--is taking her leave of Fanny: I find it to be illuminating.

And embracing her very affectionately, “Good, gentle Fanny! when I think of this being the last time of seeing you for I do not know how long, I feel it quite impossible to do anything but love you.”

Fanny was affected. She had not foreseen anything of this, and her feelings could seldom withstand the melancholy influence of the word “last.” She cried as if she had loved Miss Crawford more than she possibly could.

It sounds to me as if Fanny is having a negative reaction that is out of proportion for and inappropriate to the situation. Miss Crawford is leaving, and Fanny is GLAD that she is leaving. Nonetheless, she is involuntarily emotionally “affected” by Miss Crawford’s goodbye, and cries far more than is actually in keeping with her feelings. It seems like Fanny is triggered by the leave-taking and “the melancholy influence of the word ‘last’.”  Fanny has had traumatic leave-takings from her family and her beloved William; and things like “This is the last time I’ll see you for who knows how long” must have been said to her before in intensely traumatic situations. So it’s no wonder she gets triggered by this situation’s similarity to those and has an out-sized emotional response. Separations from her family and from William were definitely traumatic to her and reminders of them now trigger trauma responses.

Trauma 3: Emotional neglect by parental figures

Fanny might not have been so badly traumatized by leaving her family and being separated from William if she had had emotional support from adult caregivers. Research has shown that if a child has even ONE adult to whom they can talk openly about their feelings, that can insulate them against the effects of trauma.

Fanny doesn’t have this. Both Sir Thomas and Lady Bertram are emotionally neglectful and distant.* Lady Bertram is pleasant, but is entirely self-centered and doesn’t really GAF about anybody or anything that doesn’t directly affect her. While she never abuses or hurts Fanny with unkindness, she also never comforts her, listens to her, or seems to do anything but get Fanny to fetch and carry for her and do half her sewing for her. There is a total lack of emotional  connection between them until considerably later in the story. 

[*Footnote: Miss Lee is surprisingly absent from the narrative and seems to be of no emotional support to Fanny whatsoever.]

Sir Thomas is worse. While he intends to take good care of Fanny--and to his credit, he does make sure she has her material needs met, is well educated, gets exercise, etc--he cannot be said to be NICE to her. Even when she first arrives, when he is trying his hardest to be kind, Austen says, “Sir Thomas, seeing how much she needed encouragement, tried to be all that was conciliating: but he had to work against a most untoward gravity of deportment.” He’s not good with kids, and he seems to be highly critical of Fanny, especially before his return from Antigua. Apparently he used to terrify her in childhood by catechizing her on her lessons in French in English, which implies he constantly found her wanting. His parting words to her on the beginning of his voyage to Antigua are downright scalding:  “If William does come to Mansfield, I hope you may be able to convince him that the many years which have passed since you parted have not been spent on your side entirely without improvement; though, I fear, he must find his sister at sixteen in some respects too much like his sister at ten.”

JFC, Tommy-boy. Throttle back a little, can’t you?

He’s not popular even with his own daughters: Austen says of Maria and Julia, “Their father was no object of love to them; he had never seemed the friend of their pleasures, and his absence was unhappily most welcome. They were relieved by it from all restraint”. Sir Thomas comes across as a bit of a martinet, always finding fault and always saying no. At best, he doesn’t seem to be at all warm and encouraging, and appears to be almost entirely ignorant, not only of what Fanny’s character is like, but also about his own daughters’ characters.

There’s also the problem of his lack of understanding and compassion for Fanny. She describes him as “all that was clever and good,” but both his cleverness and goodness frequently seem to be lacking. He doesn’t understand Fanny’s feelings any more than he understands those of Maria, sending Edmund to sound Fanny out on the subject of Mr. Crawford because he CANNOT understand how a woman might not love a man that was clever, pleasant and rich. While he provided the money to raise Fanny, his disregard of her is clear when he sends her on a long visit to Portsmouth, where her health suffers. Even Crawford recognizes Sir Thomas’s likeliness to neglect her:

I know Mansfield, I know its way, I know its faults towards you. I know the danger of your being so far forgotten, as to have your comforts give way to the imaginary convenience of any single being in the family. I am aware that you may be left here week after week, if Sir Thomas cannot settle everything ... without involving the slightest alteration of the arrangements which he may have laid down for the next quarter of a year.

Sir Thomas, while priding himself (and being praised by others) as being so kind and clever, has low emotional intelligence and too little care for Fanny. Despite his occasional kindnesses, and her claim on his care as his direct dependent, she is not one of his priorities.

Of course, Fanny’s own parents would have had the strongest effects on her earliest years (especially considering the Prices didn’t seem to have a nanny or governess, so Mrs. Price would have been responsible for all her education, as well).  It’s clear that Fanny’s mother didn’t show her much love in her early childhood: Mrs. Price is described as 

“the ‘mama’ who had certainly shewn no remarkable fondness for her formerly; but this [Fanny] could easily suppose to have been her own fault or her own fancy. She had probably alienated love by the helplessness and fretfulness of a fearful temper, or been unreasonable in wanting a larger share than any one among so many could deserve.” 

We can see Fanny here doing what so many emotionally neglected children do, making excuses for their parents and assuming that the emotional neglect and abuse they suffer are somehow THEIR fault. Many emotionally abused or neglected children believe that they’re too loud, too needy, too much, and even ugly, blaming themselves for their parents’ rejecting and disgusted behavior toward them.

It’s proven, however, when Fanny goes home, that her parents are just as neglectful of her as she felt them to be formerly. Her father is “negligent of his family”, and her mother clearly does not really love her:

Mrs. Price was not unkind; but, instead of gaining on her affection and confidence, and becoming more and more dear, her daughter never met with greater kindness from her than on the first day of her arrival. The instinct of nature was soon satisfied, and Mrs. Price’s attachment had no other source. Her heart and her time were already quite full; she had neither leisure nor affection to bestow on Fanny. Her daughters never had been much to her.* She was fond of her sons, especially of William, but Betsey was the first of her girls whom she had ever much regarded. To her she was most injudiciously indulgent. William was her pride; Betsey her darling; and John, Richard, Sam, Tom, and Charles occupied all the rest of her maternal solicitude, alternately her worries and her comforts. These shared her heart: her time was given chiefly to her house and her servants.

[*Footnote: I have to stop here for a moment and mention poor Susan, whom I like better at every reading. With Mrs. Price only loving her sons and Betsy, with Mary dead and Fanny gone, Susan was for years THE ONLY completely unloved child in the house, which must have been pretty awful. It’s clear that Fanny and Susan have suffered rather similar fates in being raised without love, and Susan only responds more with irritation and Fanny more with tears:  “Susan was only acting on the same truths, and pursuing the same system, which [Fanny’s] own judgment acknowledged, but which her more supine and yielding temper would have shrunk from asserting. Susan tried to be useful, where she could only have gone away and cried”. Please tell me somebody’s written a sequel about Susan?]

Again, while Mr. and Mrs. Price are not CRUEL, they’re not KIND, either. They are deeply emotionally neglectful toward Susan and Fanny, and Mrs. Price shows favoritism for the rest of her children, thus hurting her daughters further. Fanny’s probable surmise when she was sent away that she was not loved or wanted by her parents unfortunately appears to be very true. While an adult like Fanny can rationalize such behavior by her parents (even if it pains her), a child cannot do so, and the Prices’ lack of love for their own daughter must have been traumatizing and contributed to her belief that she can never matter to anybody (more on this in a bit).

Trauma 4: Lack of Companionship: Maria and Julia (and Miss Lee)

Fanny’s education when she arrives at Mansfield is not that of a gentlewoman--hardly surprising, given both her family’s socioeconomic position and her mother’s busy-ness with her family and general indolence. Maria and Julia’s education on scholarly subjects is clearly much stronger (they’re also 2-3 years older than her), and we know that their moral education was neglected, so that they only care about whether Fanny is rich and well-educated like themselves:

They could not but hold her cheap on finding that she had but two sashes, and had never learned French; and when they perceived her to be little struck with the duet they were so good as to play, they could do no more than make her a generous present of some of their least valued toys, and leave her to herself, while they adjourned to whatever might be the favourite holiday sport of the moment, making artificial flowers or wasting gold paper.

They’re generous enough to give her presents (though their least-valued belongings), but not generous enough to actually spend time with her, and it appears that this pattern holds throughout Fanny’s time at Mansfield.

At first, Mrs. Norris, Sir Thomas, and Miss Lee all think her actually stupid instead of just ill-educated: we are told that not only did Miss Lee “[wonder] at her ignorance,” but

A mean opinion of her abilities was not confined to [Sir Thomas and Mrs. Norris]. Fanny could read, work [that means “sew”], and write, but she had been taught nothing more; and as her cousins found her ignorant of many things with which they had been long familiar, they thought her prodigiously stupid, and for the first two or three weeks were continually bringing some fresh report of it into the drawing-room.

You would think that the adults at least would realize that Fanny hadn’t had the opportunity of a gentlewoman’s education, but no, they attribute it to natural stupidity instead of opportunity:

“My dear,” their considerate aunt would reply, “it is very bad, but you must not expect everybody to be as forward and quick at learning as yourself.”

It is only Edmund who perceives that Fanny is not only NOT stupid, she’s actually clever:

He knew her to be clever, to have a quick apprehension as well as good sense, and a fondness for reading, which, properly directed, must be an education in itself. Miss Lee taught her French, and heard her read the daily portion of history; but he recommended the books which charmed her leisure hours, he encouraged her taste, and corrected her judgment: he made reading useful by talking to her of what she read, and heightened its attraction by judicious praise.

One wonders, if a sixteen-year-old boy hadn’t decided to undertake part of Fanny’s education himself, how much worse off would she have been?

That Fanny’s companionship fell almost entirely to a teenage boy six years her senior who spends most of the year away at boarding school/university, is a ringing indictment of the behavior of Maria and Julia, and of those who should have been encouraging them to make a friend of their cousin.

Trauma 5: Mrs Norris (who gets a fucking section all her own)

Here we are. We’ve finally come to it. The other four traumas would certainly have been sufficient to cause C-PTSD, but JFC, Mrs. Norris could have caused it all by her lonesome. While she comes across as amusing in Austen’s sardonic style, she is absolutely toxic for Fanny’s mental health.

Mrs. Norris seems to have had an out-sized effect on the three Mansfield girls. Generally, mothers were in charge of the education of their daughters (even if indirectly, through a governess), so while Sir Thomas did examine them on their lessons, it was really supposed to be Lady Bertram’s job to see to their practical and moral education. But Lady Bertram is an absolute zero, a completely passive character, and Austen says directly that, “To the education of her daughters Lady Bertram paid not the smallest attention.” So it seems like the much more active Mrs. Norris stepped in, and her influence was extremely strong with all three of them, despite her being married and having her own house and her own concerns for the first seven or so years of Fanny’s time at Mansfield.

We can see her influence with all three in the fact that all three of the Mansfield girls end up evaluating themselves in almost perfect accordance to how Mrs. Norris evaluated them. Maria, the golden child*, became very spoiled and proud and thought she could do almost whatever she wanted. Fanny, the scapegoat, came to believe that her only worth was in being “useful” (Mrs. Norris’s hobby-horse) and that she could never be of any importance to anybody. And Julia, while closer to Maria’s level of treatment than Fanny’s, also suffers from comparisons to the golden child:

That Julia escaped better than Maria was owing, in some measure, to a favourable difference of disposition and circumstance, but in a greater to her having been less the darling of that very aunt, less flattered and less spoilt. Her beauty and acquirements had held but a second place. She had been always used to think herself a little inferior to Maria.

[*footnote: Treating one child as the golden child and one as the scapegoat is a very common tactic of abusive caregivers. The scapegoat becomes entirely worn down in self-esteem so that she is powerless to fight back against the abuse. The golden child and other children see how the scapegoat is treated and try hard not to rock the boat because they don’t want to end up like that.]

Mrs. Norris teaches Fanny from the beginning to judge and reject her own natural emotions. On her first traumatic separation from her family, Mrs. Norris lectures her incessantly on how she ought to be HAPPY, not sad:

  Mrs. Norris had been talking to her the whole way from Northampton of her wonderful good fortune, and the extraordinary degree of gratitude and good behaviour which it ought to produce, and her consciousness of misery was therefore increased by the idea of its being a wicked thing for her not to be happy.

Fanny is taught to regard her own natural feelings as “wicked”, especially when they are a negative reaction to how the Bertram/Norris family treats her. While she can see some of her own feelings as just--when they have been sanctioned by Edmund���s judgment--any feeling that tends away from perfect gratitude toward the Bertram/Norris family she immediately rejects as an immoral response. She frequently takes herself to task at these moments. Anger and resentment are natural responses meant to help us protect ourselves against mistreatment from others, and this self-defending response is entirely squelched by Mrs. Norris’s behavior to her.

Mrs. Norris’s behavior toward Fanny is not only emotionally abusive; it is also at least physically neglectful, if not physically abusive. Despite the fact that everyone agrees that Fanny “is not strong”, Mrs. Norris makes a lot of difficulties in Edmund’s attempts to make sure Fanny has a horse to ride, and also refuses to allow Fanny a fire in the East Room, even in the middle of winter, a privation that ever Sir Thomas thinks bad enough that he countermands it--though doing so with a little explanatory disclaimer to Fanny explaining why Mrs. Norris MEANS well and why Fanny shouldn’t dare to be angry, or indeed anything but immensely and forever grateful for their neglectful treatment of her:

Your aunt Norris has always been an advocate, and very judiciously, for young people’s being brought up without unnecessary indulgences; but there should be moderation in everything. She is also very hardy herself, which of course will influence her in her opinion of the wants of others. And on another account, too, I can perfectly comprehend. I know what her sentiments have always been. The principle was good in itself, but it may have been, and I believe has been, carried too far in your case. I am aware that there has been sometimes, in some points, a misplaced distinction; but I think too well of you, Fanny, to suppose you will ever harbour resentment on that account. You have an understanding which will prevent you from receiving things only in part, and judging partially by the event. You will take in the whole of the past, you will consider times, persons, and probabilities, and you will feel that they were not least your friends who were educating and preparing you for that mediocrity of condition which seemed to be your lot. Though their caution may prove eventually unnecessary, it was kindly meant; and of this you may be assured, that every advantage of affluence will be doubled by the little privations and restrictions that may have been imposed. I am sure you will not disappoint my opinion of you, by failing at any time to treat your aunt Norris with the respect and attention that are due to her.

~*GAAASSSSS-LIGHTINNNNGGGGGGG*~  

“Oh, shit, you’ve been freezing to death here for years because your aunt’s an abusive asshole. Oh, but there are three million excuses for her, and also you’re SO GOOD AND GRATEFUL that I KNOW you’ll never allow yourself to see it for the abuse it was, and aren’t you so GRATEFUL to us all for everything we’ve done for you? We MEANT well. And being abused was good for you anyway. If you ever get mad at your abusers I’ll treat you with withering criticism.” 

*gagggg* I could write an entire essay explicating the gaslighting in that passage ALONE.

I could go on and on about Mrs. Norris’s abusive behavior toward Fanny, but I think most of it’s perfectly obvious to the reader. I think a very interesting argument might be made on whether Mrs. Norris would count as having a form of narcissistic personality disorder--always worried about her own importance, living through her golden child Maria, taking everything out on her scapegoat, insisting always on associating her own value with that of Sir Thomas and Lady Bertram and insisting on Fanny’s status being lower because her own self-esteem is dependent on being as good as her sister Bertram and better than her sister Price. Might be interesting.

Part 2: Fanny Price’s Trauma Responses

Complex emotional trauma expresses itself in a number of symptoms and behaviors. We’ve already talked about emotional flashbacks, and I’m going to look at four more major aspects of Fanny’s trauma responses.

Anxiety and Hypervigilance

People with PTSD often suffer from hypervigilance, where their body is constantly on high alert for threats in their environment. These threats are not only physical threats (resulting in things like jumping really hard at sudden noises) but also interpersonal threats. For instance, whenever I hear people talking really quietly in my house, I stop whatever I’m doing and listen REALLY HARD because I’m worried they’re talking about me and it’s gonna be bad.

Fanny exhibits this same behavior when she has retreated to the East Room when Crawford is in the house to propose to her:

She sat some time in a good deal of agitation, listening, trembling, and fearing to be sent for every moment; but as no footsteps approached the East room, she grew gradually composed, could sit down, and be able to employ herself, and able to hope that Mr. Crawford had come and would go without her being obliged to know anything of the matter.

Nearly half an hour had passed, and she was growing very comfortable, when suddenly the sound of a step in regular approach was heard; a heavy step, an unusual step in that part of the house: it was her uncle’s; she knew it as well as his voice; she had trembled at it as often, and began to tremble again, at the idea of his coming up to speak to her, whatever might be the subject. It was indeed Sir Thomas who opened the door and asked if she were there, and if he might come in. The terror of his former occasional visits to that room seemed all renewed, and she felt as if he were going to examine her again in French and English.

Her trembling at the sound of her uncle’s footsteps looks like hypervigilance, and the fact of her childhood “terror” being “renewed” sounds like she’s having another flashback, since she so strongly associates the presence of her uncle in the East Room with those painful childhood visits. She reacts with physical symptoms of stress, trembling at his approach.

Fanny’s anxiety and hypervigilance also demonstrates itself in her being constantly convinced that people are going to be angry with her. When she turns Mr. Crawford down, for instance, she is CONVINCED that Miss Crawford is going to be furious with her, and fears to meet with her. Edmund tells her Miss Crawford isn’t REALLY angry with her, but cannot convince her:

The promised visit from “her friend,” as Edmund called Miss Crawford, was a formidable threat to Fanny, and she lived in continual terror of it. As a sister, so partial and so angry, and so little scrupulous of what she said... she was in every way an object of painful alarm. ...The dependence of having others present when they met was Fanny’s only support in looking forward to it. She absented herself as little as possible from Lady Bertram, kept away from the East room, and took no solitary walk in the shrubbery, in her caution to avoid any sudden attack.

Fanny is so terrified of a polite confrontation with Miss Crawford, whom she has never seen angry before, that she spends DAYS trying to never be alone so that she’ll feel protected by the presence of company! Of course, when Miss Crawford DOES visit, she’s nothing but friendly. But Fanny’s PTSD couldn’t allow her to believe that until it happened. Her anxiety is intense, and this sort of thing happens repeatedly over the course of the novel.

Over-accommodation of others / people-pleasing

Childhood emotional trauma frequently leads to people-pleasing behavior: doing what you do not want to do simply because someone else wants you to.  To understand this, you have to put yourself into the point of view of a very young child or an infant. Children depend entirely on their caregivers for survival: they are aware of this on an instinctive level. If the caregiver shows them very conditional love, only appearing pleased with them when the child does things they like and displeased when the child does things that inconvenience them, the child quickly learns that they need to please their caregivers in order to survive. “Mom gets angry when I cry--Mom doesn’t like me to cry--if Mom gets angry at me, I could starve to death--I need to not cry.” Obviously this line of thinking happens on a subconscious rather than a conscious level, but it’s incredibly powerful nonetheless. I have found myself in situations where a person with some kind of power over me--a doctor, for instance--shows displeasure with something I say to them, and I INSTANTLY find myself backing off, making light of it, taking back everything I said, etc, even though I very much meant it and it needed to be said. The people-pleasing instinct is very strong and difficult to overcome.

In Fanny’s case, it isn’t just a matter of her caregivers showing her inconsistent love in early childhood. Even as an adult, she is fully aware that she needs to please the Bertrams, or she--and her family!--are SCREWED. She is entirely financially dependent on the Bertrams. If she displeases them, not only can they make her life at Mansfield even MORE uncomfortable than it already is, but they can send her back to Portsmouth. Even worse, they could stop their financial support of William and the financial support they are periodically sending to the rest of her family. Huge things hang on Fanny’s pleasing the Bertrams, and it’s small wonder she has developed the habit of trying to please everybody constantly (even her un-pleasable Aunt Norris).

Fanny repeatedly does things she doesn’t want to do, simply because someone asks or tells her to, even if there’s likely to be no major consequences if she doesn’t. One example is on Miss Crawford’s last visit to Mansfield, when Fanny is trying her darnedest to avoid speaking with her alone:

[Miss Crawford] was determined to see Fanny alone, and therefore said to her tolerably soon, in a low voice, “I must speak to you for a few minutes somewhere”; words that Fanny felt all over her, in all her pulses and all her nerves. Denial was impossible. Her habits of ready submission, on the contrary, made her almost instantly rise and lead the way out of the room. She did it with wretched feelings, but it was inevitable.

Fanny doesn’t want to talk to Miss Crawford alone. Fanny doesn’t NEED to talk to Miss Crawford alone. Fanny could stall, perhaps until Miss Crawford left. Nonetheless, the MOMENT Miss Crawford asks it of her, Fanny does it--even though she’s clearly terrified, feeling it “in all her pulses and all her nerves” (more on this physical reaction later). She acts almost like Ella Enchanted: she literally can’t say no.

Likewise, she doesn’t take opportunities she is offered to do things that she DOES wish to do. After a very long description of how much she wants to dance one evening, when her only chance of a partner is Tom, the following exchange occurs:

When he had told of his horse, [Tom] took a newspaper from the table, and looking over it, said in a languid way, “If you want to dance, Fanny, I will stand up with you.” With more than equal civility the offer was declined; she did not wish to dance. “I am glad of it,” said he, in a much brisker tone, and throwing down the newspaper again, “for I am tired to death.”

Fanny DOES want to dance, and the way that he worded the question, she could very well have said, “Yes, please,” and gotten up to dance with him. He has made it obvious that he doesn’t want to dance, and she has picked up on this and said--not only that they don’t have to dance, but the LIE that she doesn’t WANT to dance--in order to please him. Later Austen points Tom out as a hypocrite when he complains, “It raises my spleen more than anything, to have the pretence of being asked, of being given a choice, and at the same time addressed in such a way as to oblige one to do the very thing, whatever it be!” But while it is true that Tom left Fanny LITTLE choice in the matter, it is also true that a stronger character, like Miss Crawford, could probably have found a way to say that she DID want to dance, even with such an unencouraging questioner. Fanny cannot do this: she has been conditioned all her life to give in to people--because her very SURVIVAL has depended on it.

In particular, Mrs. Norris has squelched Fanny’s independence of spirit very firmly. At one point she observes, very unfairly,

There is a something about Fanny, I have often observed it before—she likes to go her own way to work; she does not like to be dictated to; she takes her own independent walk whenever she can; she certainly has a little spirit of secrecy, and independence, and nonsense, about her, which I would advise her to get the better of.”

As a general reflection on Fanny, Sir Thomas thought nothing could be more unjust.

Obviously, Mrs. Norris is completely wrong about this. But as long as she can project* the fault of independence on Fanny, and punish Fanny for this false fault, she can prevent her from ever developing it. By picking on the least little supposed sign of independence and harping on it for ages, Mrs. Norris can prevent Fanny from ever developing a will of her own.

[*Footnote: this is another thing narcissists do: they project their own bad behavior on to others. Mrs. Norris is definitely not secretive, but she is very “independent” and has a lot of “nonsense”--instead of consulting with others about what they actually need in any given situation, she TELLS them. She has no spirit of cooperation, and all her “services” to others tend to be officious and useless.]

Low self-esteem

I thought about putting this together with the section on Mrs. Norris, because Fanny’s self-esteem has been so much shaped by her aunt. This is the kind of message Mrs. Norris is constantly drilling into her about the lowness of her importance:

The nonsense and folly of people’s stepping out of their rank and trying to appear above themselves, makes me think it right to give you a hint, Fanny, now that you are going into company without any of us; and I do beseech and entreat you not to be putting yourself forward, and talking and giving your opinion as if you were one of your cousins—as if you were dear Mrs. Rushworth or Julia. That will never do, believe me. Remember, wherever you are, you must be the lowest and last.

This message is so entirely in keeping with the messages Mrs. Norris has been indoctrinating Fanny with over the years that she has fully internalized it. When a primary caregiver tells you over and over again that you do not matter to anyone, you come to believe it:

[Fanny:] “I can never be important to any one.”

[Edmund:] “What is to prevent you?”

“Everything. My situation, my foolishness and awkwardness.”

“As to your foolishness and awkwardness, my dear Fanny, believe me, you never have a shadow of either, but in using the words so improperly. There is no reason in the world why you should not be important where you are known. You have good sense, and a sweet temper, and I am sure you have a grateful heart, that could never receive kindness without wishing to return it. I do not know any better qualifications for a friend and companion.”

“You are too kind,” said Fanny, colouring at such praise; “how shall I ever thank you as I ought, for thinking so well of me.”

Fanny’s “I can never be important to any one” sounds very much like a triggered teenager sobbing, “Nobody will ever love me!” even while friends next to her are demonstrating that they DO love her. The survivor of this kind of abuse comes to a place where their beliefs do not reflect reality because their beliefs instead reflect the intense emotional rejection they have received from their main caregivers*. Fanny is important to Edmund, William, and Lady Bertram, but is convinced that she not only is NOT important to ANYONE, but never CAN be. She also convinced that she is foolish and awkward, probably by the early experiences at Mansfield when she didn’t know all the intricate rules of high society and was far behind Maria and Julia in her education. Fanny, though she is extremely shy, manages to carry off most things with surprising grace, and she is clever and has a wisdom and common sense in some things far beyond her years. Yet she is CERTAIN that she is “foolish and awkward”, because she has been repeatedly called so by authority figures in her life and almost all of her family at Mansfield.

[*Footnote: these extreme beliefs are often couched in “black-and-white” language: “EVERYBODY hates me, NOBODY loves me, I’ll NEVER be able to do it right, I’ll be alone FOREVER”. We can hear this in Fanny’s “I can NEVER be of importance to ANY ONE”.]

Fanny not only thinks very lowly of herself, she also is afraid of being praised or of anything that could possibly raise her self-esteem. For instance, in a discussion with Edmund, she explains why she never wants anybody to notice her:

[Edmund:] “Your uncle is disposed to be pleased with you in every respect; and I only wish you would talk to him more. You are one of those who are too silent in the evening circle.”

[Fanny:] “But I do talk to him more than I used. I am sure I do. Did not you hear me ask him about the slave-trade last night?”

“I did—and was in hopes the question would be followed up by others. It would have pleased your uncle to be inquired of farther.”

“And I longed to do it—but there was such a dead silence! And while my cousins were sitting by without speaking a word, or seeming at all interested in the subject, I did not like—I thought it would appear as if I wanted to set myself off at their expense, by shewing a curiosity and pleasure in his information which he must wish his own daughters to feel.”

“Miss Crawford was very right in what she said of you the other day: that you seemed almost as fearful of notice and praise as other women were of neglect.”

She is literally fearful of notice and praise--because Mrs. Norris has told her repeatedly throughout her life that she must NEVER shine more than Maria or Julia, must NEVER take attention away from them--a sort of vicarious narcissism. And Fanny feels that to receive a compliment, to state her own opinions, or even to TALK much in company is “stepping out of her place”, the high crime and misdemeanor of Mrs. Norris’s upbringing.

I was raised by a narcissistic caretaker, and I am sometimes suddenly overwhelmed with terror that I’m taking too much attention to myself and that I’m therefore BAD somehow. Because a narcissist (or their proxy, the golden child) must always be the center of attention, the scapegoat is emotionally punished for ever taking the spotlight. Mrs. Norris is disposed to be upset when Sir Thomas holds a dance in Fanny’s honor, and is only reconciled to it because SHE will be able to make herself the center of attention in the preparations.*

[*Footnote: I think another argument can be made for Mrs. Norris’s narcissism in her response to Crawford’s proposal to Fanny:

Angry she was: bitterly angry; but she was more angry with Fanny for having received such an offer than for refusing it. It was an injury and affront to Julia, who ought to have been Mr. Crawford’s choice; and, independently of that, she disliked Fanny, because she had neglected her; and she would have grudged such an elevation to one whom she had been always trying to depress.

Mrs. Norris is DETERMINED to put Fanny down, as the scapegoat, and is offended that one of her golden children (her emotional stand-in) is shown less honor in this situation than the scapegoat. For the scapegoat to be elevated and her narcissistic stand-in to be neglected induces a narcissistic rage.] 

“Sensibility” and High Sensitivity

In the 18th century, a theory and “culture of sensibility” grew up in places like Britain, France, Holland, and the British colonies. Encyclopedia.com’s article on sensibility states, “Sensibility (and ‘sensible’ and ‘sentiment’) connoted the operation of the nervous system, the material basis for consciousness.” But the workings of the nervous system, they believed, affected more than just the physical body. Some people, it was held, had greater sensibility than others: their nerves were more easily affected by not only physical but also emotional and moral input, and they responded accordingly--not just in word and in deed, but in tears, blushes, trembling, fainting, etc. It was believed that people’s emotional responses AND physical responses could tell you something about their physical AND moral makeup. A truly modest woman, for instance, would blush and look confused when confronted with something that offended her maidenly modesty. A woman--or indeed, man--who was truly moral and “sensible” would be emotionally affected by something sad, such as a tale of oppression, to the point of openly weeping. A heroine of sensibility would most likely faint if threatened with something she found, not only physically frightening, but morally abhorrent (such as a forced marriage). This is part of the reason for what seems to use like excessive emotional reactions in some 18th-century novels: the writer is demonstrating her characters’ moral superiority through their physical sensibility.*

[*Footnote: Encyclopedia.com adds, “The coexistence of reason and feeling was assumed, but the proportion of each was endlessly debated, above all because of what many saw as the dangers of unleashed feelings... [After the French Revolution,]  The debate over the proportions of reason and feeling in persons of sensibility was politicized, and the need for women to channel their feelings toward moral and domestic goals was reemphasized. The word ‘sentimental,’ which had been used positively, became a label for ‘excessive sensibility’ and self-indulgence.” We can see this conflict clearly in Austen’s Sense and Sensibility!]

There is, in fact, a modern equivalent to the 18th century idea of sensibility: the concept of the Highly Sensitive Person (HSP) or Sensory Processing Sensitivity (SPS). First proposed by Elaine Aron's book The Highly Sensitive Person (1996), the theory suggests that SPS 

is a temperamental or personality trait involving "an increased sensitivity of the central nervous system and a deeper cognitive processing of physical, social and emotional stimuli". The trait is characterized by "a tendency to 'pause to check' in novel situations, greater sensitivity to subtle stimuli, and the engagement of deeper cognitive processing strategies for employing coping actions, all of which is driven by heightened emotional reactivity, both positive and negative". (wikipedia)

While some people have mocked this theory as pseudoscience, Aron is by no means the only researcher to have studied it, and a great many people who suffered from people telling them “You’re too sensitive” when they were hurt have taken comfort in the positive affirmation that high sensitivity is a natural phenomenon and can even at times be regarded as a strength rather than a character flaw.

It seems to me that there is a good deal of overlap between those who self-identify or may be identified as HSPs and those who have C-PTSD. Whether this is because greater emotional sensitivity leads to a greater incidence of traumatic responses to negative experiences, or whether high sensitivity is itself a product of repeated childhood trauma, I can’t say. (Heck, it could even be that the HSP’s belief that they’re over-sensitive comes from childhood gaslighting!)

What I can say is that Fanny Price exhibits, not only hypervigilance, but also what Austen would call “great sensibility” and I would call “SPS”. Fanny has the greatest sensibility of any character in the entire novel, even Edmund: she judges more clearly on moral matters than Edmund or Sir Thomas, and has the strongest physical and emotional reactions to stimuli. She seems to be constantly blushing, trembling, or tearing up. This is not only painful to modern readers (who, if they’re not pained by sympathizing with her, may well be pained by what seems to them a lack of proper 21st-century backbone in a main character) but is clearly highly uncomfortable at times to Fanny herself. She might be able to pride herself on her moral discernment (not that Fanny would EVER pride herself on ANYTHING), and she may be in transports of happiness when something good, like William’s arrival or promotion, occur, but she is often “cast down” as well by things that seem to others like trifles. We see this not only in her hypervigilance but also in the depression and the black-and-white thinking which are often the products of trauma. Edmund observes to her, “It is your disposition to be easily dejected and to fancy difficulties greater than they are.” Fanny’s apparent high sensitivity may be just a natural trait (made worse by trauma) or may itself be a product of trauma.

Conclusions

At the end of all this, I’m really not sure what I think about Fanny’s “happy ending”. On one hand, she gets what she’s always wanted in life: companionate marriage with Edmund, valued by Sir Thomas and Lady Bertram, with Mrs. Norris (and Maria) gone forever, and Julia and Tom chastened and better behaved. It seems perfect for her. But a little voice inside of me keeps saying how very unlikely it is. People rarely change as much as Sir Thomas does in the book--and in fact, we are only assured by Austen that Sir Thomas comes to value Fanny more: we don’t actually SEE it. I can’t help but feel that Fanny must still have been subject to ongoing gaslighting about how she was brought up and about respect toward Mrs. Norris and himself. Fanny got what she thought she wanted, but at the same time, she didn’t get free. Especially considering that Austen goes out of her way to say that things COULD have turned out differently and that Fanny and Crawford COULD have been happy together, I can’t help but wonder what would have happened if Fanny had ended up with the ONLY person in the entire book who truly recognizes how badly she has been treated at Mansfield Park:

[Crawford]: And they will now see their cousin treated as she ought to be, and I wish they may be heartily ashamed of their own abominable neglect and unkindness.

[skyblue-ringpops]

A Deep Dive Into Blaine Anderson

I wrote a six page essay analyzing Blaine Anderson.

Click to read it, I would really appreciate if you did. Keep in mind - it’s long. 

I hope you enjoy, and feel free to share your thoughts!

Warning: There will be discussion of neglect, abuse, homophobia, suicide, self harm, eating disorders, and sexual assault.

When we were first introduced to Blaine Anderson, he was made out to seem like Kurt’s mentor, very confident and open to being himself. It wasn’t long before he changed, and many would say that change was for the worse. As many people say, he became whiny, clingy, and, according to many of his critics, annoying. However, it isn’t hard to see that Blaine was struggling mentally, and these issues were never explored further. This essay will not only determine what he was going through, but explain possible causes and effects. 

We first meet Blaine at Dalton Academy, confident, accepting of himself, someone for Kurt to look up to and be guided by. But why does he suddenly change after season two? He isn’t being himself at Dalton, he’s being the way he’s expected to be. The Warblers all seem to have a similar presence that captures the spirit of the academy - formal, wise, confident. That fits the personality of season two Blaine. Why is he acting this way, though? There’s a few possibilities. One, he’s trying to fit in. Everyone else in the academy acts that way, and Blaine doesn’t want to stand out, he wants to fit in, something he wasn’t able to do at his old school. Two, he could have a mentor at the academy that he’s trying to act more like. Blaine is the head Warbler, but he isn’t the authority in the group. That role would likely belong to Wes or David, one of the members of the council. It’s possible that Blaine admired them or was inspired in some way, and tried replicating their behavior. Three, he could have been ashamed of his actual personality or feared nobody would like his true self, and tried hiding it either to fit in, as I said before, or to make Kurt like him. I personally don’t think this is the case since he took off his mask once arriving at McKinley. I think he was likely trying to fit the image of the academy, hoping it would prevent the bullying he faced at his old school. Although Dalton had a zero tolerance policy, he likely faced some trauma, and a simple policy wouldn’t be enough for him.

So, what happened at his old school? Blaine said that he and his openly gay friend were jumped at a Sadie Hawkins dance at their school, leading Blaine to transfer to Dalton. This affected him quite a bit, and it was shown multiple times. While at the prom with Kurt, Blaine seems protective of him at times and isn’t too sure they’ll be safe. The chance of this being his first dance since the Sadie Hawkins is very high, it’s no surprise that he’d be afraid, especially knowing that Kurt had been bullied in the past. After Tina very awkwardly asks Blaine to the Sadie Hawkins dance and gets rejected, she apologizes, thinking he said no because of his past experience. We know he said no because of his crush on Sam, however, I don’t believe that’s the only reason. He knew Sam wouldn’t feel the same way, and he knew Tina would have been willing to go as friends. Even if it wasn’t the main reason for him rejecting her, his trauma likely played a role in it. 

alton Academy was a place of refuge for Blaine. He went there after the bullying, he made friends, he met Kurt, the Warblers were probably the closest thing he had to a family, he almost went back after his very hard breakup in season four. It wouldn’t be hard to believe that Dalton saved his life, which I’ll get more into later. When the academy burns down in season six, it’s clear that he was very affected by it. He’s brought into the auditorium clearly upset, crying, quiet. When explaining what happened, he seems distant, sort of zoned out. Chances are, he watched the academy burn - many agree it is a boarding school so even if it wasn’t during the school day, it’s very likely he was there. But the fire probably happened during the day, it makes sense since there would be something that could have caused it. Even if he didn’t witness the academy burn, he would have seen the results of the fire, even if it was just in pictures. The academy was clearly important to every student, they did what they could to respect it. Blaine has an extra reason to hold it so close, That would almost definitely add to his trauma, especially since it was a place that meant so much to him.

The Warblers were the closest thing Blaine had to a family. What about his parents, what about Cooper? We met Cooper and Pam, and his father was mentioned. However, in a deleted scene, it is confirmed that Blaine’s parents weren’t present in his life, they were too busy with work. Cooper and Blaine didn’t have much of a relationship, due to their age difference. Blaine’s father and Cooper aren’t even at the wedding, although it wasn’t originally his. There was a deleted explanation for Cooper’s absence, he had a callback for an audition. The only explanation for his father’s absence was also deleted - an implication that his parents got a divorce. It’s hard to say the effect this would have on Blaine, it was deleted so we never saw his reaction, and we don’t know if it even affected him much due to their absence. Also, it’s more than likely that Blaine raises himself. In flashbacks, it’s shown that he didn’t have the best childhood. We see Cooper teasing him and not letting him play, and we see him play Operation by himself. Chances are, he raised himself. He probably had nobody to raise him, no role models. We know Blaine didn’t have the best relationship with Cooper, we saw in the episode Big Brother that, although they seemed to make up at the end, Cooper never really supported Blaine and constantly criticized him, and Blaine seemed jealous of the attention Cooper received. These problems have probably always existed, and could even be traced back to their parents, if Cooper got more attention or praise. Their parents were absent for most of Blaine’s childhood, but due to the age difference, we can’t definitively say the same for Cooper. As for their father, he isn’t talked about much, but Blaine does tell Burt that his father used to fix cars with him in an effort to turn him straight. Now, this is only based on what Blaine says, it’s possible that he just assumed this and his father’s intention was simply spending time with his son. However, even if that is the case, there has to be some reason for Blaine to assume this. Whether his father made homophobic comments in the past, reacted badly to Blaine coming out, or explicitly said he had an issue with Blaine’s sexuality and/or wanted to “fix him”, or if his father never actually did anything, and he assumed the worst because of something done by someone else, there has to be some reason for him to think this. His mother does seem to be the better parent, at least she shows up once and he doesn’t have anything bad to say about her. But that doesn’t mean she was all good, and just observing her behaviors at the wedding shows this. First of all, she’s shown dancing with Puck, which must be weird for Blaine. Imagine seeing your recently divorced (although I’m not sure if we can consider the divorce canon since it was deleted, making this situation even worse) dancing with one of your classmates, who’s only a year older than you. This next point isn’t canon, it’s more of a possible scenario. His mother seems to be acting drunk at the wedding, and is one of the only ones to appear that way. Again, not confirmed. But if that is the case, imagine this scenario - Blaine’s mother hardly being present, and drinking when she is. First of all, this would make it much harder for the two to bond, since she probably wouldn’t be focused as much on him. Second, there isn’t much she would be able to do for him, so he wouldn’t have a responsible adult around if he needed one. And third - again, this is entirely speculation - it could potentially have a negative influence on him. While it definitely doesn’t seem Blaine has a dependence on alcohol (it actually seems to be more of the opposite, since he’s apparently drunk after one beer in The First Time), it could have a negative influence on his coping mechanisms, shown when he and Dave Karofsky are explaining their relationship to Kurt, saying they met at Scandals. This may not seem like an issue, but remember, during season six, Blaine was too depressed to do much of anything, to the point of getting kicked out of NYADA, but still chose to hang out in a bar.

Speaking of his relationship with Karofsky, almost everyone agrees that he shouldn’t have dated his ex’s former tormentor, and many criticize him for that. But what was his reason for choosing to date him? There are a few possibilities. First, he could have actually had feelings for him, which I doubt. It isn’t impossible, but he clearly wasn’t over Kurt, and he knew how Karofsky used to treat him, although he changed. It is possible that Blaine was just taking whatever he could get, like after the season four breakup when he was finally able to move on due to a crush on Sam, likely developed out of loneliness. Also, his feelings for Dave quickly disappear when he realizes he has a chance to get Kurt back. Another possibility is that he chose to date Dave to upset Kurt, out of spite possibly, but Blaine doesn’t seem like the type to intentionally hurt someone he loves. He usually tries to take on the role of a protector, so why would he try to hurt Kurt, even if he was upset with him, especially knowing what Dave did in the past? The third reason, which seems the most probable to me, is that Blaine dated Dave because he was seeking pain or abuse. There’s a few reasons why he could have done this. One, it isn’t uncommon for survivors of abuse, which with his father, Blaine might be, to seek out more pain after their abuser has stopped. It’s possible that, if his father was abusive, he did stop sometime around season 6, since Blaine likely doesn’t live at home anymore and if his parents did divorce around this time, he may not see his father anymore. Two, it could have been a form of punishment. If he blamed himself for the breakup, he may think he deserves pain for hurting Kurt. He also could have been seeking pain in order to feel something. He was extremely depressed after the breakup and likely felt numb, and in his mind, pain would be better than that. Finally, he could have been with Dave thinking he couldn’t do any better or didn’t deserve any better. This could be a result of the breakup or his previous insecurities shown in season 5.

Now, let’s take a closer look at his insecurities. Insecurity is something that has been covered quite a bit on the show, but is typically done poorly. In Blaine’s case, his insecurity makes him jealous and many criticize him for that. When Kurt begins a more healthy lifestyle and gets in better shape, rather than being happy for him, Blaine becomes jealous, tries to reverse his progress, and turns to the internet because he doesn’t feel comfortable around Kurt. There are some suggestions that Blaine may be going through something many characters in the show face - the eating disorder that only lasts one episode. There are many implications that he may be binge eating at the beginning of the episode, and even after deciding he wants to get into shape, continues consuming a large amount of calories, seemingly using it as a coping mechanism. However, this issue was completely overlooked, just like many others throughout the show. He also says to Kurt, “One day, you’re gonna wake up and realize that ‘I don’t love him anymore.’” He has the belief throughout the episode that Kurt is better than him, and could do better. However, this isn’t the first time he has a mindset like this. When Kurt texts Chandler, Blaine accuses him of cheating despite doing something similar with Sebastian and seeing no issue with it. When Kurt graduates, Blaine worries that the long-distance relationship won’t work for them, he worries that Kurt will leave him. When Blaine meets Elliot, he confronts him for trying to steal Kurt from him, despite both of them assuring him they are just friends. Kurt hasn’t done anything to make Blaine believe he isn’t loyal or wants to leave him. It seems that Blaine has abandonment issues, which could be traced back to his parents’ absence. This would also explain his clinginess and dependence on Kurt. Even when Kurt isn’t around, he always seems to have one person he latches onto. For example, in seasons four and five, he’s hardly seen without Sam, and even in season six, when he seems to go everywhere with Dave and moves in with him very quickly, and the only times he is without them are usually when he is with Kurt.

Blaine’s anxiety is shown in more ways than just his abandonment issues and clinginess. For example, when Blaine is reconsidering his choice to audition for NYADA and instead claims he wants to be a doctor despite having no prior interest, he is avoiding a cause of worry, a common symptom of anxiety. He also shows signs of an anxiety attack during the shooting. He’s shown sitting quietly, crying, and hugging his knees. He’s okay at first, but later panics after being shushed. He most likely thinks everyone is mad at him for making noise, and fears that if anything happens to them, he will be blamed. When Ryder calls “Katie” and the phone rings, everyone tells him to turn it off except for Blaine, who can be seen mouthing “Turn it off please” but doesn’t make a sound, likely because he’s too scared to speak. He doesn’t move and is the only one to not touch anyone during the lockdown. Even when Sam is trying to leave, Blaine doesn’t help, just covers his ears and tries to block it out. This could be signs of PTSD. Throughout the experience, he seems almost childlike, for example, curling up, audibly sobbing, clinging to Sam, and being the only person to call his parents and greeting his mother with “hey mommy”.

Along with his anxiety, Blaine is shown to have severe depression, which is especially notable during seasons four and six, but likely existed even before his transfer to Dalton. He talks about being unable to sleep and eat after he and Kurt broke up in season six, and was even kicked out of NYADA due to his lack of motivation. He nearly transfers back to Dalton after the season four breakup, a place of refuge for him, because everything at McKinley reminds him of Kurt and he can’t handle it. He even shows signs of being suicidal in seasons three and four. Season four has less to discuss, he says a few things that suggest he either is or is becoming suicidal, showing signs of severe depression and acting as if he has nothing left. In season three, though, there is more to look into, and if you aren’t paying close attention, it’s easy to miss. Both examples are from the episode On My Way. The theme for regionals is inspirational, and Blaine chooses to sing the song Cough Syrup. The song is viewed as a cry for help from the band when they were first starting out and unsure what to do. However, the song is not about suicide. It’s about the difficult decision to stray from the norm and do your own thing, or do what is expected of you. In fact, upon viewing the episode, the band said they never thought of the song in that way. However, many listeners do think of the song as being about suicide, and we don’t know what Blaine’s interpretation was. Later in the episode, the club discusses suicide. Everyone makes eye contact, and when they say what they are looking forward to, everyone laughs and smiles. However, Blaine doesn’t. Rather than looking at everyone else, he looks down, rubbing his wrists, suggesting possible self harm or suicidal ideation. He looks sad throughout the discussion, and his only smile, towards the end of the discussion, looks very forced and his eyes still look sad. Due to his past, it wouldn’t be hard to believe he had thoughts of suicide at some point, whether before Dalton, or during seasons three, four, and/or six.

My final point will be discussing this article. The article points out some inconsistencies about Blaine and sex, from his open discussion with Burt, casually bringing up masturbation, his sometimes sexual song choices, the car scene after he and Kurt go to Scandals, and his talk about sexy faces, to his argument with Sam when he says he’s “not for sale”. He shows no discomfort most of the time, until one suggestion makes him become angry and defensive. His character did go through quite a bit of changes, which could be an explanation for his inconsistencies, mixed with Glee’s notoriously bad writing, but there is another way to look at it: some kind of sexual trauma during his childhood. The ability to have a mature discussion about it can be explained by his exposure to it at a young age if this is the case, since, depending on his age, he would probably need an explanation and a discussion with adults, possibly strangers, if he came forward about his experience. He could, depending on the trauma, view sex as a way to gain approval. And if his dad actually is homophobic, this could be directly linked with Blaine’s experience, with his father possibly believing his sexuality is a result of the trauma. The presentation of his trauma could differentiate every day, being perfectly fine with talking about it one day and not wanting to the next. This could also provide a bit more of an explanation for the car scene during The First Time, if Blaine’s experience happened at a young age and that was his first exposure to and therefore the foundation of his understanding of sex, Blaine may not realize when he goes too far. We know that, whether this theory is true or not, Blaine experienced sexual assault when Tina “vaporaped” him. He doesn’t seem too bothered by her, and she even becomes one of his best friends after it happened. However, the response to trauma I discussed earlier seems to be present. Sam brings up the event later on, meaning he knows about it, and since the chances of Tina or Kurt (the only other ones who know) telling him aren’t high (Tina because she wouldn’t want to admit to it, unless she slipped up like she did with Kurt, and Kurt because he wouldn’t want to reveal Blaine’s trauma), and the fact that Sam brought it up in front of Blaine, shows that he was likely okay with talking about it. He wouldn’t tell Sam if he wasn’t okay discussing it, and if they never talked about it, Sam probably wouldn’t casually joke about it in front of him. If Sam thought the comment he made was okay, he probably didn’t think it affected Blaine too much. However, when Sam brings it up, Blaine clearly looks upset. It did have a negative effect on him, and it was more than likely traumatic. And there’s a possibility that it may not have been his first experience with sexual trauma.

There is no question that Blaine had a rough past, and many of those struggles continue to affect him. However, the show, for the most part, ignores them. I hope that through this essay, you were able to learn a bit more about Blaine, understand his inconsistencies and behaviors that seem out of character, to look past the surface level. Blaine is one of the strongest characters, but his issues are hardly ever brought to light. Keep in mind, a lot of this is speculation, headcanons, or analysis of background information that may not have been scripted. Respectful discussion is encouraged, and feel free to share any additional observations, theories, or headcanons, or suggest another character for me to look into.

[anxiouslyfred]

Time Increases and Falls

Summary: Virgil doesn’t want to meet his soulmate after the things his brother has said since finding his. He doesn’t try to avoid meeting them though, not even by making choices to deliberately increase the countdown to meeting on his wrist.

/\/\

Most people didn't check the timers on their wrists very often. Society thought that chasing the timers obviously was immoral, a sign of impatience and desperation.

Arguing against that, and giving Roman a chance to actually try and find his soulmate had originally started Remus checking his timer regularly, but now it had become a game. How would making decisions in his life change the time it would take to meet his soulmate? Also how many reasons could Remus imagine for unexpected jumps up in the time they had until meeting?

The actual time wasn't really motivating for Remus. He'd meet his soulmate eventually and the timer changed too often for him to try and predict when. It was fun occasionally to make a decision based purely over which had the shortest time to meeting his soulmate, but then again, it was also fun sometimes to change decisions over which would cause the most chaos.

He was certain that his soulmate did pay attention to it though, and often made sure to chose the option that increased how long they'd take to meet. Remus had an entire list of excuses for the commiserating glances people gave if they happened to see his timer jump up, which given timers were on the back of the wrist, rarely covered by sleeves, was quite often.

Virgil didn't want a soulmate. He'd witnessed Patton and Logan meeting and how they now treated each other and something about it made his skin crawl. They'd dote on each other and insist on constantly being together through any possibly difficult situation, to comfort, protect or help. His parents though it was sweet but Virgil just thought it sounded exhausting, like they'd decided to abandon being individual people after meeting despite how different they were.

No he didn't want to lose his identity or spend every waking moment glued to the side just because a timer reached zero when they met. He liked his own space, thank you very much. That didn't mean he was trying to avoid their meeting though, just that he didn't mind each time he learnt later the timer had once again had days added to it.

Honestly his anxiety did seem to be a primary cause of delays to their meeting and that was pretty much the only good thing Virgil could say about the condition. Someone would comment asking if he was excited about meeting them when the counter got to be within a few days, and the surge of fears about what that could mean for his identity would make him back out of some event or other. Even if the event was nowhere close to the time they should be meeting dodging it would increase the time.

Of course there were also times when he'd deliberately try to keep all his appointments, to concerned about Patton and Logan attempting another intervention that he would push himself to keep to the choices he'd made. The timer would still increase, and Virgil couldn't find any explanation for it other than he would have gotten distracted by something along the way that changed their chances of meeting.

His timer had once again gotten to a matter of days before he was meant to meet this soulmate and Virgil was wondering when it would change again, double checking whenever he was alone to see if he'd inadvertently messed up their future meeting again.

His life still needed to be lived though so Virgil was doing a weeks grocery shop and trying to ignore the nosey glances everyone shot to each others wrists. They should be able to cope without knowing if he had a soulmate yet or not, but everyone did it automatically now.

“Oh, are you going to be doing something special for your meeting?” The cashier asked, making no attempt to hide her staring as she scanned all the items.

Normally Virgil would brush comments like that off, except there was something big happening on the day the timer currently indicated. He had a big presentation coming up that would be in front of far too many important people for his career to progress. On top of that stress, the shop had been busier than usual and Patton had called up halfway round to ask if he could get something from right at the front of the store for them. Pushing through the people and making sure he had everything he needed had Virgil clinging onto calm by the thinnest final thread and that question was breaking point.

He'd shaken his head violently, paying by card as quickly as he could before running out of the store, bags in hand, with no glance spared for the timer on his wrist that he'd just felt change. Experience said it would just had extended anyway.

Virgil managed to get the bags shoved into his car before leaning against it, trying to remember any grounding exercise he could to calm down. Nothing was working and he started to turn and walk somewhere, anywhere, just get the excess energy out of his limbs enough that he could drive.

He made it two steps before finding himself on the ground under a complete stranger, a shopping cart rolling further through the car park as they watched. “Dude, what the bloody hell were you doing? Trying to go cart racing with a trolley or something?” Virgil glared up, but froze as the usually unnoticeable movement of his timer vanished.

The man must have felt the same thing as he scrambled back, pulling Virgil back to his feet quickly too. “No but that sounds like an awesome idea if you want to try it. I bet there's something in there I could use to rig up an engine for a trolley too. I'm Remus and you're my soulmate.”

“Virgil and if you're doing crazy shit like that I'm not getting involved.” There was none of the need Patton and Logan had claimed came from being soulmates to stick with Remus and Virgil couldn't be more relieved about that. It still wouldn't convince him to put his life at risk for the maniac.

“Setting boundaries straight off. How long do I have to know you before I can push them?” Remus didn't seem phased by the harsh tone, just nodding along and absently watching his shopping cart as it finally stopped against a curb.

The question was one nobody had asked before, and probably nobody else would ever think of asking, but it made Virgil relax. “At least a few months. If you pull the have to be around each other 24/7 thing my brother pulls with his soulmate make it a few years.”

“I get you, everyone needs their space to do insane stunts on their owns sometimes. Can I have your number to at least stay in touch?” Remus pulled his phone out, pouting as he saw a car swerve to avoid hitting the cart. “Come on! You should've hit it! Charged the supermarket for lack of places to return carts to or something!”

Taking the phone, Virgil snickered at the yell. “Couldn't they just turn that back on you? I mean your shopping is in there.”

“And I'm stood all the way over here where we fell ages ago. Either they shouldn't make their car parks slope enough for the trolley to roll that far or they should give them like auto breaks for when the carts roll to fast.” Remus nodded as though that was entirely logical. “Also so I can test just how good auto breaks would make trolleys at sending me flying. Ro always holds back when trying to make a cart stop.”

“Okay, I'll add that to the million questions this meeting has given me. I've already text myself from your phone so we've got each others number, but I've got frozen stuff to get home before it's dangerous to refreeze it again. And you better be getting that cart back because I am not helping to replace anything you lose in your idiocy.” Virgil decided, finding that somewhere in talking to Remus he'd calmed down properly again.

Remus was chasing through the car park as soon as he'd taken his phone back, promising to call later over his shoulder.

Virgil had never wanted a soulmate, but he could be happy with whatever kind of adventure just talking to Remus was going to be.

[lexpressobean]

Parent/Teacher Night: Ch 2, Remember When

In which Shino recalls some thens and compares them to the nows, and gets inspired to change some things with Kiba's encouragement.

*Modern AU, Swearing

**You can find this on AO3 now too, along with the first chapter. Let's gooooooooo!!!

•••

"He asked to trade numbers?" Kiba repeated, pausing all motion, chopsticks mid snatch for a gyoza.

"Yes. Is that... Weird?"

"Well, no."

Kiba reached over and chose his specimen, a plump piece just asking to be dipped. Shino continued eat his steamed rice. It was okay if Kiba wanted the last of the gyoza. Shino thought he might enjoy a serving of the restaurant's ice-cream after he finished his meat instead.

"But even I don't have Shikamaru's number. Least not his current one."

"You don't?"

"Nah," Kiba took in the gyoza whole and spoke as he chewed, "but ah neber bothered doo update it, I hab 'im on my socials anyway."

"Oh."

He swallowed, "But you didn't even have any kind of social media until later in college. You were late to the game!"

"I didn't see the point then..."

"And that's fine. He probably doesn't even know you have them now. But you know he's been pretty absent from social media too. Figures."

"According to Ino, he's been back in town since April."

"Well of course Ino would know, she's always been in everyone else's business. Especially Shikamaru's, and Choji's too!"

Shino silently made a face, distorting the corner of his mouth as if reluctant to agree, but Kiba barked out a laugh when he caught him.

"It's true though, isn't it!? You would know, Shino!"

Shino didn't plan to be seen, but oh well, "I think it's just her way of showing she cares. Those three are practically family, aren't they?"

Kiba sighed and rolled his eyes, "Listen, dude, just cause you 'dated' her for a couple of years back in college doesn't mean you have to be nice after the fact. It's okay! She has her manipulative bitchy side too. How else could she make it as a therapist."

"Psychiatrist."

"That."

Kiba emphasized the word "dated" in such a way that caused Shino to scowl. Geez, if Ino didn't insist on sharing pictures online...

"Don't invalidate my opinions just because you think they're biased, Kiba. Also, people grow from high school, don't be stuck in the past either."

"I'm not saying it's invalid, geez, but ever since you've always been soft on her..."

"Jealous?"

Kiba immediately threw a dirtied, crumpled up napkin at Shino's head as he blew raspberries in disbelief. Of course Shino dodged it.

"And that!" Kiba almost yelled, though he had a huge smile on his face, "You're sass meter has been off the charts since then!"

"I thought I was just asking a question," Shino simply replied, though he smiled too.

"Fucking jerk," he crossed his arms and closed his eyes, sighing dreamily, "Why would I be jealous when I'm with Tamaki now?"

Shino suppressed the urge to crinkle up his nose, "I remember back in high schoo-"

"THAT WAS HIGH SCHOOL!!" Kiba interrupted, not upset but voice almost breaking in both embarrassment and amusement simultaneously, "Now who's the one stuck in the past!"

"Well anyway, I was just curious if you had heard from him recently, because this was the first time I had seen him since he was an undergrad. That was a while ago."

"Same here, bud. But then here's a thought, if he's just working these days, and he's giving out his number to old friends, maybe we should all get together sometime! So why don't you also friend him on socials while you're at it?"

Shino paused and considered the suggestion.

Shino could do that. Actually, Shino could have done so a long time ago if he had wanted to. But for all the times he had seen Shikamaru's obvious username and cloud icon, he never sent friend request himself. He created his socials for the sole purpose of studygroup based messaging and had planned to delete his social media after school ended for good. But two months in and Kiba somehow found him, and then shortly after Hinata did too. Then Naruto also found Shino and from there he actually aquired a few more friend requests, including from Lee and Sai. Even Ino sent him a friend request, though Ino and Shino had actually attended the same University in the beginning. And then she called him out on it the next time she saw him in person, because how could Shino friend nearly all their mutuals and NOT Ino? He even friended Sakura before Ino! Though, Shino had a suspicion Sakura's request may had been a result of clumsy typing. Shino definately hadn't meant anything by it, but that started a series of... interesting talks between the two. But all and all, Shino suspected that's why he saw Shikamaru's icon so often, among others he didn't quite recognize himself.

Of course Shino knew he didn't have to accept the requests at all. He could've delete them even. But... it didn't seem right to ignore them either. And maybe it felt... kinda nice being reached out to...

"I mean, shit, maybe I should shoot him a message too..." Kiba mused.

"... I was under the impression it was for Mirai's sake."

Kiba perked up, "Huh?"

"That's because a cellphone number is a personal and direct line. If Mirai is currently under my care as a student, wouldn't it make sense to have multiple contacts in case of an emergency?"

Kiba sighed. Typical Shino, "Did Shikamaru say it was strictly for emergencies only?"

"... No."

"So, Dude, maybe... just maybe, Shikamaru simply isn't aware that you have socials? I know I know... social media is meant to be for socializing, but so are direct lines! Why does a direct line have to be so off limits? You're not a stranger to Shikamaru either, Shino. I mean, if anything, he probably trusts you a lot, knowing the kind of person you've ways been. It's a personal line after all, right?"

Not a stranger, but definitely not the person closest the Shikamaru either... It didn't quite make sense beyond Mirai's safety... but, maybe that was Shino's own opinion...

"... I'm over thinking it again."

"Yup."

"... Maybe I will. I'm already friends with Ino and Choji..."

"Yeah! Just complete the trio! Here let's see..." Kiba took out his phone and started to review something, "... I think the only people you're not friends with besides Shikamaru are... Sasuke, who simply deleted everything at one point, Neji, but he really only followed me because of Hinata," Kiba added wearily, "aaand a lot of... other people... but, like, you're better off that way. I have a lot of those assholes blocked or didn't bother. Even Sasuke had been more better of an option than them!"

"Like who?"

"Like I had to block Shikamaru's psycho ex-girlfriend Tayuya. Fucking nightmare that girl was..."

"Ah... the flute player," Shino wasn't all that to date back in the day either, but even he knew about Tayuya...

"Sure that was YEARS ago, and maybe she's different now? But she was... not okay then. To be fair, Shikamaru wasn't blameless, but cripes... After the break-up she was constantly stalking him online... I've just kept her blocked for good measure, I don't know if she's still even there."

Another reason Shino didn't want social media at the time... It made it too easy to let people in. In all honesty the idea had felt overwhelming, and sometimes still does...

"So you're good there."

"Sasuke, Shikamaru, Neji..."

"... Anyone else?"

"... I think those are the last few people from back then I'd actually tolerate. Shikamaru had been your friend, and Sasuke... wasn't always so aloof before he disappeared... And then Neji is Hinata's cousin..."

"Ha! Perfect! So then why not friend Neji too, just for the hell of it? You two had some kind of bro pact, I do remember that."

"He just worried about Hinata, Kiba. Between you and Naruto, I could see why."

"Sue me Shino, it's not my fault the school was full of cute girls!" Kiba nearly whined, but with a ridiculously dopey smile on his face.

It made Shino think. Shikamaru was one of the only people he more regularly saw who didn't reach out to him. But of course Shikamaru had a problem with a stalker at one point. That would make anyone weary of social media. Kiba had even stated he wasn't on much. Shino couldn't fault him for that.

Sasuke apparently deleted his, but it wasn't like they were the closet to begin with, despite humble beginnings. Shino had his fair share of complaints when it came to Sasuke, but when he transferred to a different school before senior year started, even Shino felt his absence.

And recalling high school, Neji did once ask for Shino's socials before. But it was obviously for the same reason of wanting to keep extra tabs on his little cousin and her "new friends" in Environmental Club. Shino had already explained he didn't have any, and he wasn't sure Neji believed him, but had agreed to be very careful with Hinata, who had started to hang out with he and Kiba more after they returned her book she had left in the club classroom. Shino kept it as Kiba was terribly tempted to take a peek, but once it had been returned, and Kiba expressed his curiosity, Hinata shyly presented them with page after page of pressed flowers, all marked with name, date, and little tidbits of info. She became even more bashful at Kiba's amazement and Shino's praise. It was just very well organized and aesthetically pleasing, something she and Ino would bond over later into their friendships.

So then, it was very surprising to know that such a timid girl had an incredible amount of skill in Martial Arts, but had opted to join Environment Club instead of Martial Arts Club. It was less of a shock to find out she and the school's Number One MAC member were related, first cousins even. They had a strong resemblance to each other.

As for Shino and Neji, their mutual fondness for Hinata became a source of camaraderie at some point. Despite expectations and Neji's sterness, all he really wanted was for Hinata to simply have fun during school, and he very much appreciated Shino looking out for her. So Kiba wasn't wrong. And in current time, Hinata had ultimately decided she was gonna live out of town due to... many reasons, but mainly because of her job as a pastry chef in a very successful and family owned cafe and bakery. Of course cinnamon rolls were her specialty, but Shino's feed always had some of the most delightful pictures of various decorated confections, most made by her too. He wasn't the biggest fan of sweets in general, but he was very fond of her handy work. You could tell she loved her job with every detail.

"Crap! Hey Shino, did you wanna order anything to go?"

"Uh, no. I think that was enough."

"Alright cause it's about time I go meet Tamaki," Kiba grinned, "Here's my part!"

Kiba slammed a twenty dollar bill down onto the table and hurriedly put his jacket back on. When Shino looked at the time it was nearly half past six. Oh, the reservation was made for seven. Maybe he talked too much.

"We might've pushed it, Kiba."

"No way, it's fine! I mean I don't mind going if that's where she wants to go, but you know how fancy places are! I need food Shino, actual food!"

Shino was glad that his friend was putting in so much effort for this girl. It seemed like he really liked her, and she was pretty cute, and also... nice. But when it came to things like this, Shino wasn't sure how long this was really gonna last. But it probably wasn't his place to comment.

"Make sure Akamaru takes his medicine, he'll definitely down it if you give him the peanut butter too."

"Sure, no problem."

"Also, Shino."

"Yes?"

"Seriously, don't be so shy! Just friend them!"

"Stop dawdling, you're gonna be late."

Kiba laughed as he waved and nearly jogged out of the restaurant. After paying and boxing the rest of Kibas plate for later (Shino was sure his idiot friend was gonna be hungry again) Shino headed out to Kiba's apartment. He already had a key, ever since he had come back to town. They had always been close like that, though with these new developments Shino always made it a point to give Kiba space and a heads up.

Akamaru was getting old. This medicine was supposed to help him in his old age, and just as Kiba said, Akamaru took the medication with no problem. Shino also made sure that the bowls were full of water and food. Because there was now also Akemaru, a younger dog of the same breed that Kiba had come across one day at the shelter. After only a few weeks and no adoptions, Kiba couldn't resist and ended up adopting him, and he and Akamaru became very close. As a favor to their otherwise absent owner, Shino got the younger and more energetic dog ready for a walk. When Shino offered to take Akamaru, the old boy wagged his tail and came to lick Shino's hand, but then retreated back to his bed and laid down. Looks like that was gonna be a pass, but he was thankful for the offer.

...

Shit.

Okay. Okay, that was it. Actually, this was perfect. Before Shino really started the walk, he pulled out his phone. He scrolled through he recommended friends list of his most commonly used social and easily found the cloud icon that belonged to Shikamaru. It was the same app he even had people like Kurenai and his father on. Just being able to keep anyone of relevance to his social circles on the same app was fine. It kept them close, but not too close either. Available, but at a distance. The only other people who had Shino's personal line were Kiba, Hinata, Kurenai, his father Shibi, Torune and Neji.

Shino hadn't mentioned that to Kiba, but in reality, they hadn't kept much contact anyway. So Shino hoped Kiba didn't snoop his friends list later, but he decidedly sent Shikamaru a friend request and put his phone away into a pocket. Then after switching out his glasses, as to see better in the evening, he left the apartment and began his walk with Akemaru. This would definitely keep him from getting too anxious about it. Shino didn't really know why he was like this, but it was done and now it was up the Shikamaru if he really wanted to catch up. Not that there was a whole lot to catch up on. He was more Kiba's friend after all, always had been, but Shino was sure Kiba didn't really think about that kind if thing too deeply.

Thankfully there was a park a couple blocks down, which even in the evening looked easy to navigate. The air was fresh and chilly, but tolerable with his coat on. Akemaru was good on a leash, and so Shino was able to keep a steady but not rushed pace. He followed a predetermined path, one Shino was actually familiar with too and so he was able to relax as his body went into coast mode.

...

It was nice. Just focusing on the walk. But Shino couldn't help thinking back to his high school days too. Seeing Shikamaru hadn't really been a shock so much as a surprise. He definitely... grew. His voice was deeper. His hair seemed more or less the same length, but maybe looked longer as now he styled it differently. Instead of the low and rather disheveled ponytail he used to wear, he now kept it only half up it looked like. Shino didn't think it looked bad at all, but with some loose strands in his face and the more casual clothes he had been wearing, Shino really wondered if Shikamaru wasn't more or less dragged last minute to PTN. But maybe he was thinking of the Shikamaru from before. Because this Shikamaru was actually... really approachable. And very kind with his words. Maybe that's what growing up some did to people.

Because the one from before was always annoyed, and grumpy, and quiet unless spoken to, yet Naruto and his shenanigans always put a mischievous smirk on his face. Shino had found him a little intimidating. But it wasn't until Kiba and Naruto decided to drag Shino AND Hinata out to a lunchtime hangout and pretty much threw them into the mix of different friends they shared that Shino met Shikamaru, as well as most everyone else. Shino had recognized Ino, and Ino did too after he mentioned Torune, seeing as Torune and Foo both graduated the year before.

"Torune? Like, short black hair, really thick glasses?"

"He has green eyes too."

"Hey, yeah! You're my cousin's boyfriend's cousin! What a small world!"

It was pretty lame introduction.

"And... you're Ino, right?"

"Wow, Ino, he remembered you!" a pink haired girl chastised.

"Oh, shut up, Forehead, it's not like we ever really hung out before. I think we met, like, once at one of Foo's birthdays?"

"That's true," Shino agreed, "I just went for the drive to drop off his present since that day he couldn't stay. You're mom insisted on giving us goodie bags anyway before we left."

"Ugh, good, our parents always go over the top with the decorations and stuff, believe me!"

"Ino, you are over the top."

"Shikamaru, no one was talking to you!"

"Wait, wait wait, your cousin Foo has a boyfriend?"

"Yeah, what of it," Ino immediately scowled at Kiba.

It made Kiba shut up immediately, but then he turned to Shino and whispered, "Hey, is your cousin gay?"

Shino shrugged, "I didn't ask, but it's none of my business." He was. Shino had known but Torune never outright told him they were officially dating. So as far as he was concerned it was a mystery.

"What about you, Hinata, I don't think we've met before. I'm Sakura."

"Um, hello-"

"Actually! We're in Home Ec together!" another boy munching on chips said, "She made the best cinnamon rolls in class the other day!"

Hinata blushed, "Ah, thank-you, Choji..."

"Cinnoman rolls!? I saw that that roll! Hinata, that was yours!?" Naruto asked, super impressed.

She only blushed even harder, "It might've been...!?"

"It was!" Choji confirmed.

"Naruto stop crowding already!" Sakura scolded, poking him against the side of his forehead, "You can be so loud!"

"Augh, alright, Sakura stop!"

It had actually been a relatively friction free integration. Hinata and the girls got along faster than he would've guessed, and later Shino and Sasuke would meet again, with Naruto giving Shino a suspicious stink-eye.

"We've been in the same classes since elementary school," Shino commented, "You have to really go out of your way to ignore someone for that long..."

"Hn..." As friendly as always...

...

From then on, Kiba always insisted on Shino and Hinata joining them at lunch, which Shino did. But Shino couldn't quite fathom the idea of sacrificing his after school time to go to out and do... well, who even knew? Back then, he had a routine, he had things to tend to back home. His terrariums that his father put him in charge of, his guitar practice because he wasn't about to let those lessons go to waste, his study time, and planning for EC activities as he was a more involved member, he was already a busy guy. At least that's what he used to think. But he would be a sad ass liar if he didn't appreciate the invitations. Towards the end he broke a few time at his father's insistence. He was mentally drained each time, but he did have fun, and Kiba always seemed excited to recall the events with Shino after.

Once he had attended collage, Shino really wished he would have taken more time to simply enjoy a more decent social life with the people he called friends at school outside of school. Was he too shy? Was he too selective? Was he socially inept? It didn't matter now. It wasn't until Shino's very first job that he felt like he got to a level he wished he could've reached sooner. Being a cashier at a fast food chain really taught you how to handle and tolerate people, and definitely brought Shino out if his shell more than he would've ever thought. College in general did a lot for him in that respect.

... Kiba was right. If old friends were reaching out, why couldn't Shino do the same?

Well, apparently the universe was glad he agreed, because the second he did, he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket.

Shino stopped in place and Akemaru whined. When he checked his phone, he saw not only a "Request Accepted" message but also a simple text message as well, also from Shikamaru.

-----

Hey, can you talk? Call me if you can.

-----

Oh what the fuck.

Shino felt his nerves stand at attention with the prospect of a sudden conversation. What... What did Shikamaru even want right now? Did he really want to talk now?

... No. No, dammit, no! Not this time. Shino took a deep breath and continued to walk, much to Akemaru's delight. And as he got a steady rhythm, Shino highlighted Shikamaru's number and pressed "Call".

It was settled. If he was gonna start making up for lost time, it was now or never, awkward interactions be damned!

[fuckingthefictional]

All I want- Part 3

Pairing: Michael Gray x reader

All I want: masterlist

Warnings: mentioned suicide (Graces first husband), possible spelling mistakes and errors.

A/N- Thank you, Thank you, Thank You for the overwhelming support on this book- I’m so glad that you’re all enjoying it! Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist. Hope you’re all staying safe! Xx

Y/N remembered the first time she ever met Henry. They must’ve both been about 4 years old- it was strange really, he just sort of turned up in their tiny town.

It wasn’t every day that a sleek black car pulled up outside of your neighbours house, especially when the passenger was a small boy.

He had no belongings from what Y/N could make out - and it appeared that he was living with the Johnsons.

They were a kind couple, they always offered to help others in any way that they could.

Mrs Johnson ran Sunday school at the local church and and Johnson ran the local grocery shop- Y/N liked the kind old man because he snook her sweets over the counter.

But it was obvious that they both had a sadness around them-they always longed for a child of their own, and this blonde haired boy had to of been their chance of becoming parents.

Y/N remembered the first words that he ever spoke to her- he was shy, he was almost constantly behind Mrs Johnson’s figure only peering out as he spoke.

“This is for you.” He’d said before he then handed Y/N a bunch of daisies.

It didn’t take long for the two to become friends. As the two grew closer together, flowers became a communication of sorts.

If they’re had an argument- flowers were the peace treaty.

One of them had a bad day at the school house- a bunch of flowers acted as the perfect pick me up and a silent exchange of support.

And although it only happened once- If Henry wanted to confess his feelings for Y/N- then the flowers just deepened the meaning between the pair.

What could Y/N say even at the young age of four- she was a sucker for blonde boys and flowers.

“Duck!” An excited cry sounded from inside Matthew’s side of the double pram.

Looking down Y/N watched as her baby boy clapped and squealed excitedly at the prospect of seeing the birds on the pond.

It was difficult to get over the fact that Matthew was beginning to talk and understand the world around him a little bit more.

A part of Y/N wanted her baby to stay just that- a baby, a sweet, cherub faced infant.

She didn’t want him to grow up, but that was how life was. Y/N would make the most of her time with Matthew- creating memories for both of them to look back onto.

“Duck! Duck!” The baby’s chubby fingers pointed towards the duck pond.

“That’s right my darling- there are ducks, what does the duck say?”

“Quack!”

She laughed at his enthusiasm, she turned to Charlie who was chewing on his fist and looking up at the autumn leaves.

Y/N had been working for Tommy and Grace for almost 6 months now. It was safe to say that she enjoyed it and had the passion for the work that she did.

New York also never seemed to get old either- despite being in the city for over half a year she could always rely on the bustling streets, towering buildings and the constant hum of cars and traffic to excite and inspire her.

Things were also way more relaxed in the states, it was the jazz age- the age of liberation and Freedom from stereotypes that once held people in shackles.

Y/N was in shock at the amount of people in her social class that were accepting and happy at the prospect that she had a child.

Some even went as far to give her tips and tricks they had heard or used.

But despite her more than welcoming and kind experiences with Americans- it made Y/N miss her life in London even more.

She missed having tea and gossip sessions with Ada. Reading James’ latest articles and poems, watching Karl and Matthew play together happily. Y/N was even missing her old bed.

She’d just missed having familiarity around her, something that was difficult to come by in New York.

The young woman pushed these thoughts out of her mind, deciding that if she continued thinking about London any more- then she was only setting herself up for feeling terribly homesick later on.

Instead she kept her focus on the two boys in the pram, watching as they took in the world around them.

It didn’t take long for Y/N to circle back through the park, and end up back at the temporary Shelby residence.

When she opened the door however, her good mood was dampened. As she saw several stacks of trunks and suitcases lying by the door.

“Y/N,” Tommy was stood in the entrance to his office, “I need to talk to you.” He gestured to his office.

“Can I have fifteen minutes- to sort the children and settle them down for their nap?” The girl waited for a response, which came in the form of a short nod from her employer.

Y/N continued to walk down the hall, pushing the pram ahead of her as she did so.

When she entered the nursery, she closed the curtains. Casting shade and dimness across the room. The young woman began the routine of putting the boys to bed.

She cranked up the music box, allowing a soft melody to flow through the room- it never failed to soothe both babies.

And as the music succumbed to their senses, it wasn’t mere minutes until soft snores filled the room and both boys were fast asleep in their cribs.

Y/N wasted no time as she swiftly exited the room, making sure to close the door softly on her way out.

Knocking on Tommy’s office door, she waited until she could hear the older man invite her in.

As she heard a hum of confirmation, Y/N entered. Tommy was sat at his desk, a cigarette in his mouth, furiously scribbling what it seemed was a letter.

Y/N coughed, letting her presence be known, “You asked to see me Sir?”

“What did I tell you about that?” He said in a deadpanned voice.

She repeated the urge to roll her eyes, “That I should call you Tommy.”

“And...” He beckoned her on

“That Mrs Shelby-“ Tommy looked up at Y/N, eye brow raised, “Grace, is comfortable and happy with me calling her by her first name.”

Tommy nodded, “now that that’s been cleared up- I need to discuss some matters with you.”

Y/N felt her stomach lurch in panic, had she done something wrong? Was she about to be dismissed as Charles’s nanny?

“You might’ve noticed that our trunks are by the door. That’s because we are planning on moving back to England next week.” Tommy licked his lips, “You may have also noticed that Grace has been absent today.”

Y/N nodded, it was strange without the blonde Irishwoman. She always provided the apartment with a certain joy. It was no wonder the apartment felt emptier.

“That is because she’s attending her late husbands funeral.”

“Pardon?”

“Let it be known Y/N that I’m only entrusting you with this information because I trust you. I trust you as an employee, as someone who cares for my son and I trust you as a friend.” Tommy’s cold blue eyes pierced into her, “Grace’s was married to another man when Charlie was conceived- the man in question committed suicide after finding out that Grace had a child with me.”

“So why are we running?” Y/N questioned.

The Brummy chuckled, “I am aware of some family that Grace’s husband had strong ties to. Said family is apart of a strong gang here in New York- I’m taking the precaution of moving us all back to England in case Grace becomes a suspect in the death of her late husband. I’m willing to miss out on some potential business if it means that those I care about are slightly safer.”

“Who would’ve known,” Y/N chuckled, “Thomas Shelby has a heart.”

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