#she grew up in a society and went to school and met lots of other people

[delightfuldevin]

People in the comments of the new splatfest song are kinda annoying ngl,,

Marina is very smart y’all. Even if she was sheltered by growing up in the Octarian domes, I’m preeetty sure everyone wasn’t super kind and genuine to each other all the time. There’s no way Marina doesn’t know what being passive aggressive looks like. She’s not too uwu pure to tell that Shiver was insulting her. She’s just a genuine fan of Deep Cut and she ain’t about that petty insults stuff.

[emilythedog661-tf2]

My TF2 Morden AU

Here is another instalment of my TF2 Alternate Universes, todays AU is about if the mercenaries lived in the 21st century in todays society, info is under the cut snd i hope you like it 😋

First we have the Mercenaries who aren't Mercenaries -

Scout - Scout who is named Jeremy Fast was born in 1996 making his 28 and he is a high school PE teacher for the boys, he is a good PE teacher but he been in trouble with the school a few times after parents complain that he's been flirting with the high school girl all between 13 - 16, he grew up with his single mom and his 8 half brothers and he is the youngest of the brothers, he's not sure who his dad was when he was younger but then he found out when he was 18 from his mom that his dad was a guy from france who met Jeremy's mom at the bar she works at while on a buisness trip, they then hit it off, had a one night stand then scout's mom had Jeremy, Jeremy's dad then disappeared after Jeremy was born but he still kept in contact with Jeremy's mom for child support, the only issue Jeremy has is that he can't seem to get a girlfriend, he went though dating apps, went out public areas like bars and concerts and even ask woman if they were single but nothing worked making him feel depressed that he can't get anyone to love him, another issue is that he has ADHD so he struggles to socialise full time and gets easily distracted, lastly, he's uses TikTok a lot to make random videos and he is a little popular on the platform but still can't get a girl to like him.

Soldier - Soldier who is named John Dow was born in 1979 making him 45 years old, he is a ex-military man who got let go from the military after being mentally unstable to be in the military, he found out from the military after being in it for 15 years that he has undiagnosed asperger's which was the reason the military had to let him go, John didn't want to be let go as he was used to being in the military for so long and he had nobody to go to as he was a orphan since he was 2 but he now on his own for a while with a single apartment that he bought with his veteran pension, he was also accepted to have a service dog for his asperger's and he ends up having a yorkshire terrier named Squibbs (This is based on my late yorkie with the same name and i just think it's funny seeing Soldier having a small dog like a yorkie as a service dog), the apartment he lives in also introduced him to his opposite neighbour named Dell and John is now having a sexual crisis as he has romantic feeling for Dell.

Pyro - Pyro who forgot his name was a firefighter but then he got into a accident where his body got completely burnt, he also gained severe memory loss after banging his head on a falling wooden board trying to get out the fire and now he stays in a care home as he started to act childish and unstable, he is not dangerous or unpredictable, he is just a lost and severely burnt human with mental issues that the doctor and nurses are trying their best to help him, he loves to draw, make balloon animals, is easily entertained and he has a big imagination but he can't seem to get his old memories back as he can't remember anything or anyone from his past life.

Demoman - Demoman who is named Travish Degroot was born in 1989 making him 35 years old, he is a workaholic who works many different jobs in his birth country of scotland and he is very well known in his hometown form all the jobs he has, his mother use to be a workaholic like Travish until she retired at 65, Travish's family now has loads of money that demoman got from all the jobs he done and he with his mother now have a nice house together, the jobs the Travish have is a cashier, a waiter, a carer for animals at shelters and rescues, a computer tech, a cameraman for some tv shows, a boom mic operator and other things, Travish is happy with his life and he doesn't seem to want to stop doing jobs.

Heavy - Heavy who is named Mikhail or Misha for short was born in 1968 making him 56 years old and is popular wrestler in russia, he has multiple awards and is a celebrity in russia, the reason he became a wrestler was to help his single mother and 3 sisters as they grew up poor and their dad died a few months after the youngest sister was born, Misha's baby sisters are now 34, 32 and 30 and they are happily living their lives thanks to Misha supporting them when they left home, the 3 sisters are now living happily with their husband with their kids and Misha loves his nieces and nephews like they were his kids, Misha is now living happily still being a celebrity and he also has a girlfriend named sylvia, the pair have been dating for 5 years now and they act like a married couple even if they aren't married yet.

Engineer - Engie who is named Dell Conagher was born in 1980 making him 44 years old and he was born in beehive, texas, he was raised by both his dad and grandad with no mother as she left after giving birth to Dell and his grandmother died of cancer a year before Dell was born so he had no mother figure, both Dell's dad and grandad did a good job raising Dell and he helped around his dad and grandad's family buisness which was a mechanical buisness, the buisness helped fix cars, machines and recently as of 2010, technology too, Dell learn everything about mechanics getting a few PhDs for it and when he turned 18, he moved out of texas saying bye to his dad as he grandad sadly died when he was 13 and he started a mechanical buisness in america, he was doing well with his buisness and he had help fixed loads of things over the years but he decided to keep living in a apartment when he has enough to buy a house, he then met his new neighbour, John and the pair hit it off really well with even Dell adoring John's Service Yorkie, after a while though, Dell realised that he was starting to get feeling for John and he was having sexual crisis as he didn't even know he was gay until he met John, sure he didn't have a girlfriend but he just thought he was too busy to think about having one but now he was have gay thought about John and he didn't know what to do with them.

Medic - Medic who is named Wilhelm Ludwig or Will for short was born in 1984 making him 40 years old and he was born in stuttgart, germany, Wilhelm was raised by doctor parents so Will wanted to be one too but he ended up becoming a pathologist instead, Will was very good at his job with examining the dead body and finding out the cause of death to the body during investigation for detectives and the police, he was so good at his pathologist job that he was called a pathologist sherlock as he would always get it right, he was soon hired by investigators in different countries to help them with examining dead bodies and he ended up helping to solve many cases, one of these trips he went to was australia and during a day off before going back to germany, he ends up meeting a animal photographer named Mike, the pair hit off talking about animals mainly birds and they decided to keep in contact with each other, the pair soon met up often with Will visiting Mike in australia and soon, the pair started to get romantic feelings for each other, Mike would also sometime go to germany to visit Will and the pair went to places where Will knew Mike would like.

Sniper - Sniper who is named Mike Mundy was born in 1994 making him 30 years old and he born to his bio parents in new zealand but then dumped Mike off at a orphanage when he was 6 months old, he was then soon adopted by his adopted parents when he was 12 months old and his new parents were elderly parents both being in their early 40s, Mike adored his adopted mother becoming a mama's bot but he has a love-hate relationship with his dad as his dad was grumpy, always wanted to argue and never showed affection but still loved Mike as a son in his own way, Mike growing up was always picked on by the other boys for being skinny and having elderly parents but he ended up being quite handsome when he got to his teen years, he soon moved out when he was 20 and lived in a small apartment a few mintues druve away from his parents, he got a job as a photographer for special occasions like weddings, baby showers, birthdays and other things and he ended up getting a lot of money for it, he then became a animal photographer from magazines and the pictures became popular making him more money, he did ask his parents if he could use some of his money to fix up the home but his dad rejected the offer saying the house was fine so Mike put half of his money to the side for his future while using the rest to buy a RV, he then sold his apartment and then traveled around australia to take pictures of animals and irs how he met Wilhelm, Mike liked Wilhelm as they both have a big love of bird and he never had anyone who shared his interests before so he was happy to have a friend, he soon realised though that he was getting feelings for Will and he hoped Will liked him back.

Spy - Spy who is named Jacque Voclain was born in 1976 making him 48 years old and he was born in france, Jacque is a very busy businessman and he works for a very popular french company, he's worked at the company for years going from a rookie to the CEO of the company, he has also traveled around a lot and it's how he met Jeremy's mom and accidentally had Jeremy with her, Jacque payed Child support to Jeremy's mom until Jeremy was 18 and he doesn't hear for Jeremy himself but his mom fills Jacque in on what he's done and what he's been doing over the almost 3 decades Jeremy being around, Jacque had never really met anyone else after Jeremy's mom and he did try to find someone similar to her but it never worked, Jacque hopes to meet up with Jeremy's mom again as he still loved her after all of these years but he wished she didn't have all those kids with different men.

That's all for now and i'll add more if i think of anything else, see you all next time! 😋

[serialadoptersbracket]

Round 2, Match 58: Eda Clawthorne vs. Gavroche

Submitted kids:

Eda Clawthorne: Luz Noceda, King Clawthorne, Hunter, Edric Blight, and debatably, Amity Blight, Willow Park, and Gus Porter

Gavroche: Gavroche's unnamed brothers, but Gavroche was abandoned when very young and he doesn't know they're related to him

Propaganda under the cut!

Eda Clawthorne:

1. “First of all, Eda wasn't granted a lot of good things: She was cursed (by someone she loved) with an ever worsening illness, she was outcasted and prosecuted from society for not blindly following the rules and conforming. Lots of baggage and trauma. Still when Luz stumbled into human world, she took her in. She taught her magic and how to navigate this world.

She gave her advice and hugged her and reprimanded her. She wasn't an adoptive mom from the start, she grew into the role. She made mistakes, but she was willing to listen to Luz and overthink her behavior. Think of the beginning, when Luz wanted to go to school and Eda didn't want her. In the end she let her go and gave her her full support. She genuinely cared for her even when she was new in her life, and rescued her out of a lot of sticky situations, never left her behind, always ready to risk her life for those she loved.

Also King- She adopted him out of a cave and cared for him like a child even before Luz came. And the cared A LOT. For example, when his crown was took from him, she went on a dangerous mission (plus luz she just met and ""used"" for that) to retrieve it. Turns out, it was a ""burger king"" crown, but she did all that because see knew that was important to him. And even though she fears loosing him so much, she still helps him in his search for his real sad.

In conclusion: Outcast who still uses all her resources to give their kids a happy life, an education and a future. She fully supports them (but like a mother also draws a line here and there). She visits school meetings and does paperwork for Luz, she reads stories for them to fall asleep, she goes to Luz' prom, she hides her pain to be strong for them.”

2. “Eda Clawthorne always said she was a terrible influence and took the word “maternal” as an insult. She then proceeded to accidently adopt a sentient demon beast thing, raise him, adopt some human that tripped into her dimension, mentor her, all while being on the run from the tyrannical government. She canonically adopts King in the second season and King and Luz call each other siblings. She also calls them “her kids.” Eda attempts to sacrifice herself for them at many times and tries her best to keep them safe, and is really sad about the fact that they��ll one day leave her to go back to their own families. She puts away her own biases against the school system so that Luz can lead magic. The maternal instincts basically kick her out of nowhere and she goes from a badass, absolute menace to society to badass, absolute menace to society who happens to have two chaos gremlins.”

3. “Her being an adoptive parent wasn't even on her plan, she just likes to defy the government. Oops, now we're a family. Fuck you Emperor Belos!”

4. “This champion of a woman, this legend of a lady, continuously and effortlessly picks up children to care for as if her own. Before the events of the main storyline, she has already adopted the *King of Demons* himself. She takes Luz under her wing (ha), much like she takes in numerous other children with the intent of letting them prosper and grow away from responsibilities and duties placed on them by their previous parental figures. She is thirty and flirty and DANG she is a good mother. She casually picks up three more children whilst aiding in a rebellion with the (NON-BINARY) love of her life. Upon meeting the wonderful biological mother of Luz (Camila Noceda), you can see her VISIBLY SWEATING with the insurmountable pressure she feels to make a good first impression after a whopping three seasons of having raised Camila's kid herself. She cares very deeply for these kids and the people they love, and thus I argue she is one of the best serial adopters in history, if not THE best ever. boom mic drop the crowd goes wild”

(Mod note: Full propaganda list coming soon!)

Gavroche:

“Gavroche's a child himself but cares about the other two like a parent is supposed to : "I'm off to the elephant with my kids. On the supposition that you should need me some night, you'll find me there. I live on the second floor. There is no doorman. You should ask for Monsieur Gavroche." (The elephant is a hollow sculpture where they sleep)”

[hollandbrights]

[cis woman and she/her] Welcome to Aurora Bay,[HOLLAND BRIGHT]! I couldn’t help but notice you look an awful lot like [ELLIE BAMBER]. You must be the[TWENTY-SIX] year old [ATTENDANT AT HIDDEN GEMS THRIFT SHOP]. Word is you’re [HONEST] but can also be a bit [GUARDED] and your favorite song is [PAIN IS COLD WATER BY NOAH KAHAN]. I also heard you’ll be staying in [OCEAN CREST APARTMENTS]. I’m sure you’ll love it! 

BIOGRAPHY INCLUDES: child abuse, neglect, evangelical religion, & internalized homophobia

@aurorabayaesthetic

BASIC INFORMATION !

FULL NAME: Holland May Bryant Bright NICKNAME(S): Hols, Little Bird AGE: Twenty-Six GENDER & PRONOUNS: Cis Woman & She/Her SEXUAL & ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: Bisexual & Biromantic BIRTH PLACE: Atlanta, Georgia BIRTHDAY: 15 June ZODIAC: Gemini RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Single HEIGHT: 5'6" OCCUPATION: Attendant at Hidden Gems Thrift Shop NEIGHBORHOOD: Ocean Crest Apartments LENGTH OF TIME IN TOWN: Seven Weeks PARENTS: Daniel Bryant (Father) — Living, Morgan Bryant (Mother) SIBLINGS: Cassidy Bryant (Older Sister) — Living, Daniel Junior Bryant (Older Brother) — Living  PETS: None

BIOGRAPHY !

There was nothing assuming about Daniel Bright and Morgan Lee. From the outside they were nothing more than two young adults that met, fell in love, and decided to start a family. Sure, all their friends and people close to them said they had a good work ethic and it was no wonder the two fell in love. Everyone who knew them sang praises about them. But they were, for all intents and purposes, two people who no one would think twice about, who no one would expect cruelty from. Both of them landed jobs in their respective fields. When their first child, Cassidy was born, the two went right back to work, not even bothering to take the time to truly bond with their child, busy with their projects. Their son followed Cassidy three years later and was given the same cold and distant treatment. But it was Holland, the accident, that brought the changes.

While Holland's childhood was particularly boring and not very interesting, things changed when she turned five. The Bryant family did their best to shelter their children from everything that went on in the world. Although Holland was young enough not to know what was going on, her sister and brother were both fifteen and sixteen years older than her. Their parents began pulling away from society, moved from Atlanta to Trenton, Georgia. She and her siblings were forced to give up on the freedom they once had. Instead of going to school, their parents began homeschooling them. Their parents became wary of all their neighbors. So from a young age, the only constant in Holland's life was that her parents were always around and she was barely allowed to leave the house.

Most media was banned from their house, so she learned to draw, learned to entertain herself with whatever her parents did allow in the house. Holland grew up hearing arguments between her older brother and her parents about how they were prisoners in their own home, yet her older siblings had more freedom than Holland ever did. But it was the only thing she knew, so how could she complain? Her parents got more involved with the church and there were other kids her own age and suddenly everything got easier, no matter if she was forced to go to church multiple times a week. Her parents promised her that this was what was best for her. How could she complain. Even if her siblings weren't exactly enthused by the idea.

By the time Holland was ten, both her siblings had moved out. It was only her and her parents, who over the years only got worse. They controlled everything about their daughter's life, from what she wore to who she went out with. When a member left, there was always someone new to replace them, but people rarely left. Holland's brother eventually came back when she was seventeen. Holland remembers the shouting match between her brother and parents. He wanted to take her with him. They couldn't keep Holland locked up forever. She couldn't forget the way her mother screamed, "We're doing everything we can to protect her from everything." And her father who yelled, "So you're becoming a monster just like them." She was scared and would never forget the way her brother left, shaking his head and telling them they were going to ruin Holland, just like they'd ruined themselves.

At eighteen, Holland decided that she was not going to college, like her sister and brother. She had an active role in the church and she enjoyed small town life. Holland had a job at one of the restaurants in town. She didn't understand what her brother was on about. Life was simple for her and she didn't really mind it. At least until she met another woman who was from a big city and hated small town life. She started spending time with her and they became friends. And slowly, after a years and years, Holland found herself falling in love. Feelings that she didn't think were right, according to her church. But she let them happen, thinking that if her church really loved her, they'd accept her. Yet when she felt brave enough to tell them, she just left instead. Holland packed a suitcase and bought a train ticket. She left a letter for her friend, then left. Years ago, when her brother came to visit, he'd given her a post card from Aurora Bay.

While she travelled, she found herself visiting cities all over the country before actually settling down in Aurora Bay. Holland travelled with the intention that she was going to find her brother, but it's been more difficult than she expected. After all, she didn't look the way she did when she was ten and she imagined her brother was the same way. She got a job in town and has started making friends.

HEADCANONS !

To be written

CONNECTION IDEAS !

To be determined

[proxylynn]

Lucy doesn't just have daddy issues. But she also have mommy issues

[Yep. Her family life wasn't very good.]

Lucy grew up in a hippy family, always growing tired of the constant hatred towards the government, development of living, and just general organic foods. She was picked on a lot at school because of this, her parents always packed her nothing but veggies or fruits they grew themselves. "Can't trust the industrial food in markets". Lucy's parents' mental state began to decline, taking her and running away into the woods so they could live off the grid and homeschool her. She was miserable, trying multiple times to convince her folks to go back to their own home. She was accused of being brainwashed and they thought more severe disciplinary measures would keep her in line. This only made her more rebellious, sneaking out every night to a roadside bar where she enjoyed society once more. There she took up drinking, smoking, and abusing other substances. After 3 years of this, Lucy stopped going home altogether and started to prostitute herself with the hopes to move back to the city. Sure enough, she made plenty and was able to move back into her old home. It was easy to afford since it was abandoned. She went back to school and passed with flying colors, showing she was able to move on to college. With this, she was able to move out of the old home and into a nicer apartment where she met you...

[dorminchu]

Between Heaven & Earth: Prologue: Part One

a/n: *busts down door* HELLO BOYS, I'M BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!

Annie grew up in Nemus, a small hunting town populated by an Eldian majority. Most kids were content to throw horseshoes or play war games in the street than attend school at the mercy of Marleyan kids and tutors. Their elders held no ambitions of becoming more than an honest farmer, hunter, or fisherman; the generation old enough to recall how life was before Tybur's impact on Marleyan wartime politics were happy to change the subject, if it ever came up.

Whenever Annie and her father had cause to pass through town, she would watch for the mothers and their children. The mothers would notice her yellow armband and pointed stare, and offer a tight-lipped smile or a hello for Mr. Leonhardt. Kids spared a second glance to her indifferent posture, her mottled legs. Some would ask if her father was too strict. Annie just shrugged and said, I'm going to be a Warrior. It's nothing I can't handle.

Mostly, they asked a lot of stupid questions. Can you turn into a Titan whenever you want, or was your mother a Titan too, or do you think those Eldians in Paradis missed their families after they ate them?

No.

I don't know.

Why should it matter? They're just devils.

Her father used to work for Marley's Public Security, which was how he met the Warrior Unit's Commander Magrath in the first place. As soon as Annie could walk, he was pushing a knife into her hands. The best path for an Eldian, her father said, was to join the military or get a government job. Ethnic Marleyans often took priority over the latter, despite the reform in 1879, when an Eldian could first sign a series of documents renouncing his bloodline and become an honorary Marleyan. That was just to appease the humanitarians. It didn't change unfair labor standards, verbal and physical attacks outside interment zones.

At six years old, she could perform trips and submissions and clinches. The Titan Research Society took an interest in her. They sent recruiters to the house who asked a lot of questions about her life in Nemus; all right. Her sympathy for Eldians; nonexistent. Her knowledge of Tybur's impact on wartime politics; a hero who bridged the gap between the warring countries, but as interesting to her as a game of jacks in the street. The bloodwork was half of her ticket into Marley's Warrior Unit. The other half was discipline.

Her first test; a spar against one of their soldiers. Colt Grice, blonde and violet-eyed, his face still soft enough to be an adolescent's. Red armband just below his shoulder; already a Warrior. Annie held his gaze, assuming the proper stance; arms up, on the backfoot. The color of his irises seemed to change the longer she paid attention—blue in direct sunlight, then closer to indigo as the sun dipped behind the clouds—at this distance, just a trick of the light.

He blocked her kicks with the flat of his palms. He was too tall for her to reasonably get her arms around his neck without crippling him first, and she couldn't get in close without expending her energy on the offensive. She shifted her weight, the dry grass beneath her heel, and kicked it into his eyes. Grice moved away, shielding his face. She took out his ankle with a sweep and he went down faster than she anticipated.

Grounded, a ditch of faded scars from his temples to eyelids. She'd never seen a Warrior up close. Brushing the dirt off himself, he said, "You've practised a lot." Annie didn't offer her hand. He was powerful enough to disarm her if he'd really had to. Why should be hold back? Grice got to his feet and smiled. "I'm sure Magrath will consider you."

Annie nodded. It wasn't a miracle, just muscle memory and discipline.

"Not one for conversation?" Grice shrugged. "I used to be like that, too."

The doctor was still talking with her father.

"What happened to your face?"

Grice paused. "Injured, on the front lines. Happens to most Warriors once they get out of basic training." Annie watched his eyes, violet eyes, go a little darker. "I don't think you should have any problems."

…

The Titan Research Society said it would be a month until their decision. To be considered by the Warrior Unit was a great achievement for the child's family. A source of prestige for the derelict hunting town, now the birthplace of a future Warrior. The calluses on her palms, the exhaustion, just proof of her devotion.

Besides herself, her father was the only one who seemed indifferent to her selection as a Warrior candidate. As far as he was concerned, they were just training as usual. He put a lot of emphasis on kicks and clinches, towards the end. A Muay Thai boxer, her father said, would toughen his shins with repetitive strikes. Over time, this created microfractures in the bone, enabling the boxer to deal and receive blows more effectively.

She did it so often, she kept jarring herself awake at night. Eyes on the empty space where she'd struck an imagined foe—the side of the cabin wall. Throbbing in her muscles compounded by the frustration of seemingly little progress. Curling into herself, massaging her shin. It did no good to cry. She was not going to be like the other children, cowed and useless when conscripted.

Each time he had to correct her, they'd start from the beginning. Now he would say, "You won't end up as food for a Titan if an enemy solider is able to run his bayonet through you. Start again." Annie's shins were sore. She screwed her eyes shut and concentrated on centering her weight. The sandbag slouched, inanimate. Blow upon blow, her father looked on and smoked. She stood, waiting for him to say, that's enough, Leonhardt. Her father discarded his cigarette, crushed it beneath his boot. "Wait here."

Annie wiped her face, sheened in sweat. Where the sun met the horizon, the sky was turning pink and orange. When her father came back, he brought a gas-lamp with him. "I didn't tell you to stop," said her father. It was all she could do just to stay upright. She ground her teeth and kicked, hitting the edge of the sandbag. "Properly," her father said, drawing a fresh cigarette. "At this rate you're going to end up like your mother."

When he went to light his next cigarette, she pivoted on her heel. A well-timed kick sent him to the ground. He caught himself on his arm, belly-up. Getting in close wasn't advisable. He could knock out her feet or catch her ankle and twist. If she were larger, she could brace herself against the sandbag and put all of her weight into stomping his throat. Or just bring the sandbag down on his head.

He didn't try to stop her while she drove her foot into his knee, his nose, just laid there, coughing. Annie, staggering back, out of breath as he kept wheezing and pushed himself upright to wheeze some more, spitting up blood. Annie corrected her stance, as if it would make any difference now.

Locking eyes with her, for the first time in her life, his mouth curled through the spit and blood and made her hackles rise. "Very good," he said. "Now, you can kill a man."

…

Next morning, the sun was high overhead. Her whole body felt like one big bruise. There was a bowl of stew for her, and bread. She sat up carefully, ate in silence. If she was able to hobble past the threshold, she ought to treat her injuries. Setting the bowl aside, she tested her feet.

"You're awake." His limp was pronounced. He smelled like smoke. "They'll be sending out for the candidates all across Marley," he said curtly. "They should arrive in Nemus in a week. You've been selected. So you'll be living in Liberio while you go through basic training. Most likely they'll deploy you within the same year."

Annie, working her jaw, stared at her hands. "When do we resume training?"

Her father looked at her. "Are you in any shape to continue?"

"No, sir."

"You've done enough," her father said. "Let yourself rest."

His tone not quite impassive, just indomitable. Her father's eyes were hazel; hers were blue. He smoked a lot of De Reszke cigarettes when he was agitated, but never inside the house. Annie shared his penchant for sweets and dry, acerbic humor, but otherwise he could have been a stranger. Annie had never seen a picture of her mother, just ascertained the information on the records. Blue eyes, blonde hair. Annie had little imagination outside of what was tangible.

At the end of the week, her father roused her an hour before sunrise. "They'll be here soon," he said, his expression obfuscated in shadow. "Get dressed."

The lines in his face were clearer in the early morning light. The hunch in his gait, from putting his weight on his good leg, hadn't improved since their last spar.

Annie could see the carriage through the window. Her father stopped her, closing his hand over hers, an object passed between them. Annie's eyes lowered to the small, iron ring. "There should be a switch," her father said. "Put it on." It fit on her index finger. She pressed her thumb along the depression, and a small blade clicked open. "With this," her father said, "you can cut out a man's throat." A catch to his voice, like something was stuck in his throat. "Useful in certain situations. Not something you should rely on."

Thumbing the groove twice clicked it shut. Annie stared at the ring. Her father's leg gave out, and he caught her by the back of her jacket. Instead of pulling her down, he wrapped his arms around her. "This world has been your enemy," he said, "from the day you were born. But I'll always be on your side." Annie kept her arms down. This stranger with her father's voice and clothes and smell of tobacco, he whispered through the tremble in his throat, "Promise me you'll come home."

Annie stared at him. "I promise."

When he pulled away, her collar was damp. He avoided her gaze, adjusting his cap. She walked past him, out the door and toward the carriage, already open for her. She took a seat. On the ride over, she removed the ring, turning it over in her palm.

…

Ten weeks' basic training in Liberio, followed by a year of mandatory service. She could go home after that, if she chose to, but it was seen as a negative for your patriotism to Marley.

During unarmed combat, Annie became the yardstick with which their Commander judged the rest, many of whom did not know a clinch from a grapple. Commander Magrath, a short, powerfully-built Marleyan with sunken eyes and cropped hair, told them how it was common for Warrior cadets to fail basic training. They ended up in workhouses or mining iron ore off the coast of Paradis for Hizuru. Some of them grew up only to be conscripted into Marley's ground forces.

The Galliard brothers—Marcel and Porco—Reiner Braun were willing to scrap with each other as well as Annie. Back home, the kids wouldn't try picking a fight with her more than once. Twice her size, Braun's idea of strategy was charging into a headlock. Disarming him was easier than Colt Grice, because he always lowered his head to charge. If he'd had better instruction, no doubt she would be outclassed. Instead, she won by fighting dirty while the other cadets looked on in faux-sympathy. A clean fight wouldn't save you when the enemy had you at gunpoint. You won, or didn't.

Later, in the mess hall, Braun clapped her on the back with a hand that spanned her shoulders and said that she was all set to inherit a Titan. "Which one?" she said coolly.

Braun didn't notice the change in tone. "Something small." Annie elbowed him in the rib where she'd kicked him. "Agile," he muttered, rubbing the wound. "You didn't let me finish. Probably the Attacker, you'd be better-off for combat than the Jaw."

Annie pushed past him to have a seat at the bench next to Bertholdt Hoover, who rarely said much. He glanced over at her with a start.

"Annie and I were discussing the possibilities of Titan inheritance. Which one do you see yourself as?" Braun asked.

Hoover was hesitating. "I don't really know yet. What about you, Reiner?"

Braun's smile flickered. "Probably I'll just end up working like everyone else who doesn't cut it."

He plopped down next to Annie. Hoover looked across her to say, "If you could be any Titan, what would you be?"

Braun was staring at his stew, a malleable desperation in his eyes bordering on despair. "Armoured."

Hoover nodded. "A Colossus wouldn't be so bad." Annie glanced at him. "Everyone here wants to go to the front-lines," Hoover muttered, shoulders slouching. "I'd rather just keep the Walls intact." He caught Annie's eye, then averted with a dry chuckle. "Like those conscientious objectors, right?"

Braun scowled. "Paradis already has walls, it doesn't need any more."

Of the graduates, only the top of their class went on to assume a Titan's power. They were part of a special unit called the Subjects of Ymir—an ironic holdover from the days of Eldian Restorationists. A Subject of Ymir would never tire or become ill, and could heal from any wound, even regenerate limbs. Unlike their Paradisian cousins, it was possible to retain one's humanity before and after transforming into a sentient Titan. For an Eldian, there was no greater act of atonement.

The Jaw; the fastest of all the Titans, but also the smallest, most frail. One shot from a cannon or anti-aircraft artillery and it was finished.

The Armoured; an offensive tank, slow-moving, but nearly impossible to damage with anti-aircraft fire when it crystallized its skin.

The Colossus; Slow moving and difficult to destroy through conventional weaponry, the best way to stop a Colossus was to allow it to burn itself out. Thousands of crystallized Colossi, standing shoulder to shoulder, made up the three Walls surrounding Paradis.

The Attacker; A prototype, made by combining the Armoured and original Attacker formula. Couldn't take as much physical damage, but could crystallize and command Titans over a very short distance. Usually given to female Warriors, granting it an informal epithet.

The Cart; required high stamina from its holder. Second fastest, next to the Jaw. Used primarily for support and reconnaissance missions.

The original Attacker; a prototype, used in the early years of the Titan Research Society. Tested on Eldian POWs and volunteers. Deemed to be unstable after repeated use and discontinued.

The Beast variant; classified, only afforded to elite Warriors.

The last two were special cases; Warhammer, inherited by the Tybur family inherited after agreeing to be Fritz's enforcers. The strongest of all variants, aside from the Progenitor. Progenitor; capable of erasing memories and commanding all Titans to the holder's will, at the cost of immense psychological and physical strain. The Marleyans claimed this was how Fritz erected the three walls. Only a descendant of Fritz's bloodline could use the Progenitor effectively.

For all Subjects of Ymir, regeneration put a massive strain on their body. This one time, during breakfast, Finger was quick to mention all the men in their twenties and late teens who kept cropping up Marley's psychiatric hospitals with irreparable nerve damage and second-degree burns. An uptick in front-line casualties, the official reports claimed. Chemical attacks at Fort Slava became a publicly acceptable euphemism. "Any doctor," she said, "would tell you the quickest way to euthanize a Warrior is to sever the brain's connection to the spinal column."

"What about lethal injections?" Braun asked.

"Death by firing squad?" said P. Galliard.

"Decapitation," Annie suggested.

Finger shook her head. "Injections won't work reliably, once the serum is in the body for long enough. In a lot of cases, rifles, hangings and beheadings only prolong their suffering."

Hoover looked pointedly down at his half-eaten bowl of oatmeal. His hands were trembling.

"Like breaking a bone until it's set in-place," Annie said.

Finger looked up. "Yes, precisely." She paused. "I can't think of a more terrible thing to do to someone, can you?"

The other cadets stared at Finger. Annie. "It makes no difference to me," she added. "We'll die sooner or later."

Finger said, "That's true."

…

By the end of the eighth week, the pool of potential candidates was down to ten. Braun was physically the strongest, but a mediocre shot with a rifle. In a classroom setting, he was excellent at regurgitating Marley's propaganda—the instructors suggested he consider a career in politics, and Braun always said thank you with his eyes on the floor, glassy.

When Braun was up to his knees in the mud, the only cadet who stopped to lend a hand up was Bertholdt Hoover. Commander Magrath commended Hoover for noticing Braun's distress, then lowered every cadet's score except Braun's for putting Hoover in jeopardy. On the front lines, they'd have been shot to pieces by then.

"Eighty six percent drop out rate," jeered P. Galliard when Magrath was out of earshot, prodding Braun in the chest, "so you'd better start trying harder unless you want to be Titan food in six years."

The Galliard brothers came from a military background, like Annie. M. Galliard was on pace to be the best in the class. Finger, despite being the weakest physically, managed to stay out of trouble with everyone, even P. Galliard.

Colt Grice mainly operated as a classroom instructor. He was more open to fielding questions than the Marleyan officers, as well as the Mid-Eastern Conflict.

Fifty years ago, the countries of Marley and Hizuru were caught in a territorial dispute with the Mid-Eastern Alliance over how to divide Paradis Island. When an Eldian named Karl Fritz gained control of the Progenitor, he used this power to turn all the Eldians on Paradis into mindless Titans. They eradicated Marley's naval forces in Lago and Liberio while Fritz seized control of Paradis, ready to claim dominion over those who would oppose him, until the Mid-Eastern Alliance suggested a treaty.

In return for political immunity, the Tybur family became Karl Fritz's enforcers, and behind closed doors, Marley inherited the power of the Titans. Marley's Public Security started rounding up Eldians and their sympathizers across the continent, and sending them back to Paradis to live with their brethren. Resources that should have gone to aiding civilians and their ravaged naval bases were funneled into the Titan Research Society. Under the guidance of Fritz, these Eldians would rebuild and repopulate what was lost in the initial conflict. By 1889, the walls around Paradis were erected. The Warrior program officially opened in Liberio to all healthy Eldian boys or girls, aged five to seven. The Public Security Authorities changed their statement. Eldian citizens willing to renounce their heritage were christened honorary Marleyans. The rest were sentenced to Heaven, set loose upon Paradis's beaches.

Today, it was estimated that one million men and women were still living in Paradis. The remnants of traditional Eldian civilization. "During the Mid-Eastern Conflict," Grice explained, "there were many reports of Titan sightings off the coast of Paradis. While we were on neutral terms, the Mid-Eastern Allies would send airplanes over, but those stopped after a few years after the ceasefire."

"They were making the Titans nervous, probably," Finger offered.

Galliard scoffed. No one else said anything.

"In order for the Eldians to accept their new life," Grice continued, "Fritz used the Progenitor's power to alter their memories. As far as anyone in Paradis knows, they have always lived within the three walls, safe from the Titans who devoured the rest of humanity. If they saw an airplane without any prior understanding," Grice said, "they might begin to formulate theories of their own. Best to negate that chance altogether."

"What does it matter?" snapped P. Galliard. "We should have sent more planes over and finished the job. Maybe then we'd have stopped the war."

"But Fritz could just wake all the Titans up and kill everyone," said Annie. "So there wouldn't be a home to return to."

Grice nodded. "Well said."

"Isn't that worse?" Hoover said. "Than killing them, I mean."

"They're lower than dogs," Braun said hotly. "Don't sympathize with them. As soon as they were able to, they were happy to slaughter their non-Eldian compatriots."

Hoover flinched slightly. "That's not what I meant," he mumbled, but Braun wasn't paying attention.

"It's a specialized unit of soldiers," Annie suggested. "For unique operations that a normal soldier can't accomplish."

Braun looked over sharply. "Warriors. Not soldiers."

Annie scowled. "It's a branch of Marley's ground forces. Subject of Ymir is what the Marleyans call you when they're dragging your family out into the street to be beaten. You might as well say you're no better than the Eldians in Paradis."

Braun stared at her as though she had just declared all of this about his mother. "It has nothing to do with Paradisians," he said tightly. "It's a sign of prestige. We use that power in ways they'll never be able to. I can't believe you'd make such a thoughtless comparison."

"She's from Nemus," Hoover piped up. Annie twisted around to get a look at his face. The way he blenched, he wasn't going to be any help.

"Of coure," said P. Galliard, turning around in his seat to face them, "I don't know how things are over in that part of the country. Maybe she's just ignorant. I'm sure she didn't mean anything by it."

Braun's jaw twitched. The other cadets were watching. Annie said, "You're never going to get promoted if you keep sucking up to Marley. Even Braun knows that."

P. Galliard blinked. Forced a laugh. "Go to hell."

"You think I'm stupid, Leonhardt?"

"That's enough," said M. Galliard curtly. He looked at Annie. "Don't you two start."

"You all think I'm stupid," Braun snapped. "That I don't take this as seriously, well, maybe I'm the only one who sees these devils for what they are—"

"No one gives a damn," said P. Galliard.

Braun snapped to his feet, catching his knees on the edge of the desk. "You're always a goddam thorn in my side," he hissed, but his tone was uneven. "Marcel thinks it too. You ain't even got the aptitude for—"

P. Galliard's whole body poised as if a second from launching himself across the desk. Braun, twice his size, stared at Annie.

"The instructor's coming over," said Finger plaintively. No one was looking at her.

Grice was asking what the problem was.

Braun clenched, unclenched his fists. "Discussing the proper terminology of a Warrior, sir."

Was it true, Leonhardt, the instructor asked.

"Yes, sir."

They all had to do laps and write an additional essay on the historical difference between semantics for soldier and Warrior.

"Why'd he get so angry?" Annie muttered, leafing through the textbook.

"It's not a matter of justifying a title," Hoover said. "As Warrior candidates, we differentiate ourselves from the rest of Marley's military." He lowered his eyes to the page, as though deep in thought. "The Marleyans and Eldians have been fighting for a long time. It's not our concern who started the war, only continuing the ceasefire."

"You needn't worry about Braun," said Finger. "He and Pock are just competing for placement. We're all fighting against Eldia in the end."

Annie scowled at her notes. "Once you're on the front lines, it doesn't matter who proves himself the best loyalist."

Finger nudged her arm. "Don't take Pock too seriously. He's noisy, but he means well." Annie side-eyed Finger, who was gesturing to her notes. "There, you wrote down Marleyan Warrior when you meant soldier."

Annie checked. "Right." She crossed it out, hesitating. "Thanks."

[euterpe-of-hesiod]

Class of '24 Yearbook Page: Linnet and the Thespian Society Creature Coven

*

From Ballad of the Linnet Bird:

Parts of high school were alright and parts of it were terrible, but the best part of high school quickly became Mr. Hornick and the theater department– Linnet’s true home and family. Turns out that in a big public high school like Linnet’s, people needed to find their people or you’d get eaten up. Most wanted to be in sports, because sports were cool– or in student government, because then you had power, even as a kid. Not many kids wanted to go into theater or the arts though. Those who did were considered strange.

Linnet quickly realized that was because– strange was code for magic. Not every theater kid was a magick, but most magicks in their high school ended up involved in some way or other, whether in tech, band, or the art classes, which helped with sets and costumes. 

In Linnet’s year, there was Ridge, a sparrow boy by half (his maw was fair) who was a maker like Linnet’s paw, and so he joined set crew.

 Then Delilah, another sorcerer who studied light as her element. She was on the tech crew, and also loved to paint in art class. 

Austin was the first medium Linnet ever met. When she first met him, he was quiet as church. But that was before she saw him on stage. You let him loose during improv exercises and he went nuts, letting his “freak flag wave” as he called it. He found a lot of inspiration from spirits he had met, so he said, and made a few set characters after his favorites. 

And of course, Samira and Linnet. No two were closer than them. If Linnet were the rushing river, then Samira was the sweet honeysuckle that grew on her banks. If Linnet were the busy bee, then Samira was the beautiful butterfly.  Linnet was bolder and brasher, but Samira was bubbly and funny, a chatterbox in her own way. When they got together, no one could stop them from jabbering like a pair of squirrels discussing the state of acorns. They talked over each other but never got mad because of it. In fact, ask Linnet and she would tell you they had a harmony together that only the two of them could hear. 

*

“We’re a coven,” Delilah had declared when she renamed their group chat, even though Ridge, Austin, and Linnet were not sorcerers. 

“The Weird Coven,” joked Austin. 

“Ooo, I kinda like that!” said Delilah.

“No, no, we’re the Cool Coven. Alliteration, people!” fussed Samira. 

“Creative Coven?” tried Delilah.

“Creepy Coven,” said Austin.

“Miss Spelling Bee can give us a good name,” Samira pointed at Linnet. 

Linnet popped her lips. “Creature Coven,” she said. “Cuz we ain’t all witches. We’re other things. Wild things, like in that one book.”

“Creature Coven. Alright, I like it,” Delilah said approvingly. “That’s us, y’all. You’re all my lil creatures.” She put an arm around Ridge and an arm around Samira and she gave them a squeeze. 

[raycalhoun]

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐒

Full Name: Raymond Dean Calhoun

Nickname(s): Ray

Age: 54

Birthday: July 16, 1970

Hometown: Rivershore, WV

Length of Time in town: Born here, left for college and some years later

Gender: Male

Pronouns: he/him

Orientation: Heterosexual

Relationship Status: Divorced and weird

Occupation: Apiarist and Advice Columnist

Accent: Very southern accent

𝐁𝐈𝐎𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐇𝐘

tw divorce

Raymond, affectionately known as Ray, grew up in a two bedroom dirt shack off the grid of Rivershore. His family were a small, mining family. They never really had much, and Ray remembers when his father was injured and couldn’t work. He remembers being hungry.

Being poor meant you had to have a work ethic. So, Ray studied hard and developed his skills. He was accepted into college and then medical school to be a psychiatrist. His mother wanted him to be a doctor, but the on call hours didn’t really call to him, so a doctor of the mind was something that could interest him.

In all honesty, Ray considered school a chore. He loves to learn, he loved to research and study, but the act of classrooms and other students was a chore. He met his wife to be in undergraduate, their romance was a whirlwind and before a year was up they were married. Their family went from two to three before Ray graduated his undergraduate. 

Medical school was a whirlwind of long hours and a toddler and many sleepless nights. He was poor again, and god he hated it. There were a lot of nights that he claimed he wasn’t hungry so that his wife and child were full. A quiet desperation set in, only the light at the end of the tunnel was graduation and his own practice.

Finally, he made it. He was able to open his own practice. His clinical practice was mindnumbingly boring — however, the money was excellent. His claim to fame and money was notonly his clinical prowess but also the series of teen fiction that he wrote and became a popular novel series in the early 2000s. The series went on to become a famous multi-movie franchise that he helped produce. 

As their influence grew with their wealth, Ray could only see more and more loss of what he valued: privacy. His wife, however, loved the parties, loved the influence, loved the culture. And in Lexington, Kentucky, there was plenty of it. Soon they were invited to all the old money parties, and derby parties. Ray, however, couldn’t stand it. He stopped attending too much of the society parties much to the chagrin of his wife.

When the divorce was served, Ray was almost relieved. Granted, she got half of his wealth and his practice. However, that gave him license to sell the practice. He moved back to Rivershore where he bought in a very modest home in the Valley that he still lives in today.

The obsession with bees was always there. He something of jumped into the idea of being an apiarist with both feet. It was full of trial and error, but he loved having something new. From there, he built a small honey and bee business where he rescues bee colonies and relocates them to his hives and then sells the honey at local markets. It makes just enough to sustain him.

About five years ago, the franchise of books that he built into an empire has come under fire from critics. Around the same time, the internet did what they did best and dug up dirt on him. Since then, he’s moved to being something of a recluse outside Rivershore. He has no online presence, but given his love for the written word, he writes an advice column where the townies of Rivershore send him letters, and he selects one letter a week to respond to and give advice. This column is, of course, written under a pen name. 

He’s something of a menace to the people of Rivershore - Ray has gotten his license taken away three times, and doesn’t have one, but he still drives. On Friday nights you can find him either hustling a game of pool or betting on the local high school game.

𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄

1970: Born

1988: Graduated High School

1992: Graduated College (likely met wife in college, they got married and had a kid in these 4 years)

1996: Graduated medical school

1998: Opened his own clinical practice / started writing book series

2001: First book went best seller

2009: Books into movies

2011: Divorce / moved back to Rivershore / started bees

2020: Started the advice column which is well known in the town

[qyxzun]

𝟏 ┆𝕬𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝕯𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐀𝐓 𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐋𝐘𝐍 𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐀𝐂𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐘 almost caused an impossible amount of property damage. Numerous had minor injuries, while some were severely wounded, but overall, no deaths occurred. News reporters were at the scene, interviewing policemen, detectives, victims, and the public to inform others through television. Countless ambulances were parked nearby to help the wounded. People were divided, with numerous supporting your actions for saving them while others blamed you for the damages. Yet what made your head spin from confusion was how no one was talking about the other Spider-Man, Miguel. You knew he was there and that you weren’t imagining anything else. His ignored presence made it seem like the public never saw him, almost like a ninja undercover but a spider-man! The event covered each newspaper and channel and even started to gain more attention on online platforms. The raging public against you was making up crazy allegations in hopes you could be sued, making petitions in hopes of finding out your identity. Thankfully, it was just a small amount of them, mostly the politicians who wanted to give credit to the police. They’ve been nothing but a thorn in your side anyway, like those detectives who always tried to find any evidence on you but unfortunately found nothing.

It had been almost a full two months, and they still hadn’t gotten over it. Brooklyn Visions Academy has been closed since the incident to let students and faculty recover and rebuild the school. You, on the other hand, enjoyed the free vacation. There was no need to worry about exams or studies with the extra months off. The green creature caused a lot of damage, and the fire could’ve burned down the entire school. It was by chance that you got to save the victims, and you were thankful that Miguel showed up to help you, even if it was for a different cause.

It had been a full blast since the Spider-Man of Earth 928 invited you to join his spider-society. You learned a lot about it, as a rookie, when you started following him with the multiversal gizmo, the name of the watch. He founded it as an elite crew and began by recruiting other spider-people from other dimensions to assist him in removing anomalies, or people or things that were not intended to be in another universe.

You were shocked to see how many spider-variants he recruited before you. You believed it was already around twenty. But ever since you joined, the number of spider-men started to grow larger and larger. You met so many new friends, learning new techniques from them as well as forming new friendships. It was something you enjoyed; all of them—except for Miguel, were so much identical to you, even by personality. It created such beautiful diversity in his society, and you never felt more at home.

And for the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel so alone anymore, knowing you weren’t the only one, the only one to carry the great power and responsibility as a spider-variant.

Miguel became your inspiration. He was strong, yet he remained the very sarcastic and aloof person he was. He was a man of few words, but you wanted to learn more from him and become stronger like him. His efforts to recruit more spider-variants from various universes piqued your interest, and you wanted to help him. He occasionally allowed you to assist his multiversal policing mission as a co-leader. The multiversal gizmo he gave you would occasionally beep, as it was his only means of communicating with you from another dimension. To keep it short, you were getting the hang of this spider society and often went on missions with other spider-men.

A few of them were your age, and you grew to like them. One of them was Gwen Stacy. You found her cool for having an eyebrow piercing and for playing drums while in a band. She had pretty blonde hair with a hint of pink, but a portion of it was buzzed off, which she joked about because it happened when a spider-man from another dimension accidentally forced her to cut it. She always mentioned that Spider-Man was sweet, friendly, selfless, and such to you. Gwen was likeable and friendly as well, but at times.. seemed more tense when she talked about her problems with her dad and her best friend, Peter. She would frequently make light of it while you were concerned for her.

“But hey.. stuff happens right? Canon events and all that stuff…” Gwen would say, with an aloof yet recognizable anxious tone.

Canon events. It was the only thing you hated about the rules of the multiverse. You never had it stored in your mind, as it caused your head to hurt, your spider-senses to go haywire, and, overall, it hurt you on the inside. Every spider-man had to go through it. Even you. Every time the words canon event were spoken out of someone’s mouth, your stomach would drop slowly as you remembered your canon event.

You were in the rain, fighting your nemesis, who claimed to be the Venom of your universe. He was an extremely difficult opponent ever to beat and you often came back home limping with blood stains dripping off your shirt while you tried to hide it from your parents. You could feel their worried expressions often behind you, resulting in you feeling guilty. You just wanted to pour out your problems to a person who could understand you. You already knew friends and family weren’t the answer. In this line of work as a hero, you always act alone. Always by yourself. Aside from your worries, you could’ve sworn.. every time you could manage to escape your nemesis, it was like you were on your last days on Earth.

After hours of fighting under a monsoon in a large, dark alleyway, you could remember vividly that the rain was pouring down on both of you while you were breathing heavily, exhausted, and injured. Your wrists started to bleed out of your spider suit while you continued to shoot webs the entire time you were fighting Venom. He was tossing you around, gripping your head and smashing it through walls. You often spat out so much blood through your mask that you could remember drinking a litre full of it. Your eyes were wide and bloodshot, while your heart beat faster than a runner in a race. You clenched your fists as you felt the adrenaline in you, preventing you from giving up.

And in a fit of rage, you lost it. You remembered grabbing Venom’s forearm, gripping it so hard that you heard the host inside the creature’s bones shatter into pieces. You were silent during the entire fight; it wasn’t like any spider-variant. Usually, they’d make a sarcastic or humorous remark, but you weren’t playing around. You wanted him gone.

Venom’s limbs were tied individually to each wall of the alleyway’s buildings, as well as a tight noose formed by your webs on his neck supported by a billboard on top. He was weak for the first time in front of you. You couldn’t even take his presence anymore. You wanted him dead and gone, dismembered to the point where no one could ever find his body. You first pulled on all the webs to tighten their grip on him. They were thin enough to cut like a knife through his skin. His blood dropped down alongside the rain. After, you cut off all of them except for the one on his neck, leaving him to choke while you watched him suffer—the same criminal who killed one of your friends.

You remember him muttering your name, making you perplexed, but you were still heartless. You carelessly pulled his leg down as the venom’s skin started to melt. The gross substance ran down, staining you in the process before your eyes went wide. You quickly realized and as quick as you could, you cut the noose before his body collapsed onto yours.

“No.. no.. no… Peter, no,” you whimpered, cupping his beat-up face with your bloody glove. You quickly took off your spider mask. Tears built up in your eyes while you sniffled, and the blood from your nose dried. You caressed his cheek, moving any hair from his face in hopes of making him feel better. In his injured state, he slowly rested a hand on your soft-gloved fingers. When he saw your face, he couldn’t be more shocked. He winced as he tried to smile at you reassuringly, blood dripping from his mouth while his left bruised-up eye pulsed.

“I'm so sorry, Y/N… I.. I didn’t know you were spider-woman...” Peter blubbered, gripping your hand tighter. His hand slowly moved from your fingers to your face, cupping it as well while he wiped your fresh tears away before they could fall from your cheeks. “You’re so beautiful...” He admired you, smiling. He coughed out more blood, choking on the irony substance. He wanted to close his eyes but he hated the thought of leaving you. He tried to pull your face closer but most of his fingers were bent and broken. His consciousness drifted closer to leaving him. At least he could die in the arms of the one he truly loved.

“Parker, shut the hell up I’m getting you help, okay?! Don’t die on me!” You fussed, crying more as you wiped away the rain that poured down on his face. You brought his injured body into your arms. "No, no, no, please, Peter,” your sobs were muffled on his neck, your chest heaving as well. Your hand went to his wrist to quickly check his pulse, noticing it was already gone.

That night, a part of you died, knowing that your best friend, Peter Parker, was your nemesis and best friend all along. It was one of your canon events.

In the early hours of Earth 926-Z’s New York, you were dozing off in one of your dorm’s couches with a blanket over your chest. You were too drowsy to pay attention to your gizmo which beeped again. The gadget vibrated on your wrist before its screen automatically flipped open as it activated the portal’s access. Some of your objects started to float before the familiar colourful hexagons were summoned as they started to circle. You put a hand over your eyes, groaning when the brightness annoyed you. You tried to get more sleep until you heard footsteps. When your spider-senses buzzed, you peeked through your fingers with your exhausted eyes.

“Heeey Y/N, just thought I’d drop by,” the familiar voice said. It was Jessica Drew, one of the spider-women of the spider-society. She looked down at you, who slept on one of your dorm’s couches, tired. She chuckled at how drowsy you were; it was understandable since you were out fighting and catching anomalies with Hobie last night.

“Told ya not to get overboard,” Another familiar voice said. Your tired eyes looked up and saw the mini Lyla, Miguel’s sassy but highly intelligent AI. She flashed a smirk with her small virtual body in the air next to Jessica’s head by a few inches. She adjusted her pink, heart-shaped glasses and glitched to get closer to your eyes. She tried to lift your eyelids open with her tiny hands. Jessica took small steps around the living room, seeing how messy but organized the room was.

You grumbled and tried to shoo her hologram away. “Ughhh.. what do you want…” you groaned, turning over the couch as Lyla glitched back next to Jessica. With a flick from her fingertips, the spider-woman shot her web and pulled you up effortlessly, making you sit up on the couch.

“Y’know the girl I recruited— and your friend, Gwen?” Jessica asked, looking down on you while you hummed in agreement shortly.

“Anyway, Miguel and I assigned her for a mission in Earth 1610B to catch another anomaly—well, technically just a villain from that dimension,” Jessica explained but paused, looking back to Lyla. With a clap of her tiny hands, your room went dark as she presented an orange virtual screen that was twice as big as the coffee table. It flickered, presented someone, and then began to play as Lyla carried on.

“This guy calls himself the Spot, and he recently just caused some havoc in Earth 1610B’s Brooklyn,” the small AI said as the video continued. The villain was faceless, with a black spot in the center of his face and numerous spots all over his body. Almost like a human...faceless cow? The screen was then flipped sideways, creating a three-dimensional hologram of the strange entity. You rubbed your chin, and even though you were really tired, you couldn’t help but become curious.

The hologram flashed brighter with a slight change of colour as it became bigger. The figure collapsed from the screen as all three of you watched how the scenery changed into the broken collider from Earth 1610B that Miguel told you about. The Spot’s holographic figure flickered out of nowhere again before you heard him speak.

“Look at me— you did this to me!!” The Spot yelled, his voice becoming more and more distorted as he began to charge into the spider-man and the officer beside him. You watched as the two of them were in a fighting stance until the Spot summoned a hole by accident, getting himself kicked by, well, himself. He made a slight oof sound, knowing it would’ve hurt a lot. He took a pretty big tumble as he slid in front of the two with his jaw on the floor before another hole was created, pulling him into the black abyss. The hologram then ended, going back to being a screen.

You rubbed your eye after you finished watching, bewildered but still drained. You looked back at Jessica and Lyla; the frizzy, curly-haired woman had a serious expression on her face, watching with an austere look on the Spot. It made you slightly tense like a kid seeing their mother angry. She looked back at you before her face softened as she sighed. You cleared your throat before speaking.

"So, uh, what does this have to do with me?” You asked, scratching your head out of curiosity.

"Well, Gwen knows her way 'round that world since she got pulled into that dimension before,” Jessica explained while she started to walk around your living room, viewing the decorations with an aloof stare.

"I know 'bout her lil' friend.. Miles, right? 'm pretty sure she told you 'bout him before.” she continued, looking back at you to see what you had to say. You just nodded while you watched her slowly move around the room, running her hand gently on the surface of your tables.

“The girl’s good at combat like any other spider-variant in the spider-society. I mean, I could’ve sent her hours ago, but, y'know, Miguel.” Jessica spoke before her eyes wandered back to you. “It honestly ain’t a surprise that he doubts her but this Spot dude is starting to concern Miguel. I’ve faith in Gwen, but Miguel still insisted on bringing another spider; he recommended you.” Your eyebrows rose as the pregnant lady turned back to you She cleared her throat, and she became more serious.

“So— an order from Miguel; you accompany Gwen to Earth 1610B and the two of you make sure the operation is a success.” She rummaged through her spider-suit’s pocket and tossed you something very small. You easily caught it and saw a tiny mechanical spider, its legs tucked into its body, with a funky logo on the iron skin, You assumed Lyla fabricated it. Jessica continued to speak. “Aaaand put that device near the Spot. Just put it somewhere he can’t find it,” she explained.

You looked down on the very tiny machine. “What does it do?” You asked. “It can track the person's whereabouts through the multiverse and scan their data; pretty cool, huh?” Lyla smiled, floating around in the air. You looked back at Jess, who had a serious look, but you could tell she wanted you to join. You sighed.

“Fineeee, I’ll do it,” you responded before standing up from the couch, opening your closet nearby to get your spider-suit. Lyla easily opened up another portal, causing a ruckus as some of your furniture started to fly around again. Jessica was about to step into the large floating and orange hexagons before she looked back at you, giving you a thumbs up and fully entering the portal. It closed on you as well as Lyla, who disappeared out of thin air.

You travelled through space and time, bending the laws of physics as you travelled through the multiverse with speed faster than light. It was all blurry with only space and stars passing through you as well as the hexagons that led the way. It all started to clear when the matter itself tore apart, creating a hole. You blinked once before you finally saw yourself on Earth 928. You were spawned in the middle of the lobby as you easily used your webs to maneuver around and reach the cafeteria, where you'd meet Gwen. The familiar ginormous building would make a normal person pass out of confusion but it had what every spider-variant liked; a big space to swing freely, overpasses to walk on even when upside down, training programs, and even a therapy section for the spider-people who recently got their canon event.

You landed on the floor and looked around the large space, you spotted her sitting down next to a plant with her favourite pink cardigan and her watch flipped open. You snuck behind her while she looked down on the gizmo, scaring her in the process. She suddenly yelped.

“Jesus Christ—Y/N, that scared me.” Gwen sighed, while you laughed.

“My bad— your spider-senses didn’t go off?” you asked before she shook her head. Her expression then changed into a bright one.

“Can’t believe I’ll go back again!” Gwen smiled and giggled while you gave her a smug look. She slightly blushed before coughing. “T-To catch the Spot, duh,” she responded and looked away. You playfully rolled your eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, sure,” you giggled. Your eyes wandered back to her flipped watch before they grew wide. “You serious? You got the two of you as your wallpaper too?” You teased before Gwen quickly flipped it closed, looking around frantically. It was the picture she showed you a long time ago when Gwen and her friend took a picture together while she ended up in the wrong dimension.

“Huh? Me? don’t know what you’re talking about.” She said, playing dumb before she quickly opened up another portal using the gizmo. The bright orange hexagons grew bigger and rotated very slowly. The blonde-haired girl looked back at you excitedly. "C'mon, let’s go!” She smiled before stepping in, not giving you a chance to speak.

"Geez, I guess she really misses him,” you shrugged before jumping in as well.

The afro-haired teen had his headphones on, trying to relax after a small argument with his parents. Now, he’s grounded but who do they think he was? He was spider-man for God’s sake. He can’t be grounded. Miles was lying down on his bed with his arms behind his head. His eyes were closed and his head occasionally but slowly moved to the rhythm of his music, it was his comfort after all.

Yet he didn’t seem to notice some of his things started to float mid-air. They circled around his room before black bubbles and colourful light started to form just above him. The portal opened as it revealed you and Gwen. She had an excited look after seeing her friend near after two years. You, on the other hand, were just looking down, wondering when he’ll notice the two of you.

”Miles! Miles!” Gwen called out, trying to get his attention. In confusion, Miles slowly opened his eyes to the familiar voice. He thought he was seeing things until he did see Gwen. He quickly took off his headphones and sat up. “Gwen! H-How—” He stuttered, perplexed to see her after such a long time. She then dropped down next to him on his bed, her legs crossed.

“How’d you get here— oof-!” Miles tried to speak again until the blonde-haired girl quickly hugged him. He hugged her back as well, still bewildered. He then noticed you dropped down the portal as well. It closed before you landed on his floor easily, not making so much noise.

You took off your mask, revealing your face to him. You flashed him a small smile. Even though you knew why Miguel was infuriated when the name Miles would leave someone’s mouth, mostly Gwen, he was still another spider-man that you had respect for since he was Gwen’s friend. His mouth slightly gaped when he saw you.

“My bad, my bad, didn’t mean to appear all of a sudden,” you said before Gwen pulled away from the hug and introduced the two of you. “Y/N, Miles, Miles, Y/N,” She quickly said while you just nodded, His expression slightly softened as he just nervously smiled at you.

"Yeah, hi, nice to meet you,” you smiled.

“Nice to meet you too?” Miles nervously responded. Before it could get awkward between you three, you looked behind you, noticing his open bedroom window. You looked back at Gwen. “You can stay here, Gwen; I’ll handle things while you catch up with your friend,” you suggested while she stood up from the bed, puzzled.

“Wait— you sure? You know we can do that later.” Gwen said, referring to the mission, while you nodded your head, reassuring her by patting her shoulder. “Yeah, I’m sure it’s alright,” you grinned, looking back at Miles and then at her. “Don’t want to miss this opportunity, no?” You teased, your hand slowly retracting from her shoulder while she slightly blushed. You turned back to his window, jumping off his bedroom window. You shot a web from your fingertips and quickly swung yourself away. Gwen watched while Miles looked out the window, his gaze finding you as he admired how quick and talented you were at moving swiftly through the air.

“Dang, she’s good,” Miles pointed out while Gwen nodded, looking back at Miles as the two of them smiled. They were happy to see each other again after so long.

Meanwhile, you continued to swing away until you were out of sight of any civilians as you climbed up a high building. You were standing by the edge of the building’s roof, walking around as you looked over to your watch to see where this Spot could be. You sighed and took off your mask, slightly frustrated to not find anything before Lyla’s hologram appeared out of sight.

"Heeeey, Y/N, how’s the mission?” She asked with a grin, spinning on her virtual chair, which was the same size as hers. You grumbled.

“I can’t find the Spot’s location,” you admitted, sighing from how annoyed you were. “Got any idea where he could be?” You asked the AI before she hummed, thinking about it with her tiny finger tapping on her chin. Her hologram flickered before she summoned a 3D model of the entire map of Earth 1610’s Brooklyn with all of its avenues, streets and even shop names. She zoomed into the new hologram, revealing a building made out of bricks under a few overpasses. A few other shops surrounded it, as well as a small highway. Some of its windows were oddly broken and covered with a partially dirty cloth as a barrier.

The small AI manipulated the three-dimensional screen easily, zooming into the broken glass as the screen changed again. Inside the building was a messy room, with wires, confusing machines, and more technical equipment around the shelves and floor. The room was completely unorganized and clearly dimly lit.

“Looks like he worked for Alchemax before,” Lyla pointed out, taking a look at the equipment. "Even one of them has a logo," she observed as she leaned down to inspect the equipment components.

“Is this the Spot’s place?” You asked, then returned your gaze to the floating AI. She nodded her head in response.

“Scanned the area earlier when I zoomed in and saw his driver’s license on the table. It’s expired, but got his information,” she explained, her tone playful as if she found it all too easy. She then displayed a screen of an image of the Spot’s driver's license it had his name, age, address and more information. With two of your fingers, you zoomed out of that screen as you looked back at the hologram of the building, which you concluded to be his apartment. “Plus— the area’s full of dark matter,”

“I’ll get going,” you responded once you had your information, sliding your mask back onto your face before the hologram flickered to a close.

“Bu-byeeee~” Lyla grinned before her figure also disappeared. You flipped the watch back to a close before you swiftly jumped down the building and shot a web mid-air, propelling yourself to the Spot’s location.

You jumped from the tall skyscraper while shooting webs into the air to propel you into the sky without attracting any attention. The cool air hit your masked face until you descended, turning gracefully but quickly onto the roof of the building. You walked to the edge and stuck to the wall to get inside through the broken glass.

You slipped in easily as you observed the area. It was an apartment room. Though it was dimly lit, you noticed papers scattered on the table, some of them close to falling down. You lifted your mask up to your head to get a clear view of your surroundings, some of your bangs escaping to the sides of your face and forehead. With your gloved hands, you picked up the papers, skimming through them.

Reports, hypotheses, notes, and more... one thing they all had in common was a connection to multiverse matter or the concept of bringing back different entities from other universes. They weren’t all from Johnathon, aka Spot necessarily, most of them were reported by different scientists, especially from the well-known Olivia who was the head of the whole collider project back then, which caused a misbalance in the entire multiverse. You threw the papers back onto the table's surface before looking around again. You noticed some mechanics in the corner, concealed by a metallic closet. You leaned down and picked one up, noting that it also had the Alchemax logo until you noticed a small post it attached to the back. You ripped it off the mechanic, reading it.

“This isn’t the villain of the week—maybe five months, but still…” you mumbled, pulling your mask back on before you rummaged through your pockets, taking out the small spider Jessica gave you earlier. It automatically opened and summoned out its miniature legs after you tossed it against the wall. It then dug its legs into the brick and camouflaged really well.

“Gotta alert Gwen about this..” you mumbled. You quickly flicked a web out of your fingertips as it shot through the window. You flew out once again, swinging away faster and faster. You were again back in the metropolitan area, gliding through the air while your eyes wandered around trying to find Gwen. You assumed she was still at Miles’ apartment.

You swung down when you saw his apartment complex, noticing on the building’s rooftop there was loud music and lots of parked cars outside next to the road. You guessed that his family had a house party; the familiar smell of Puerto Rican food may sound good, but you knew you had to find Gwen quickly. When you landed back on the wall, you peeked through Miles’ bedroom window only to find no one inside, only Gwen left her cardigan on his bed.

“Fuck— where is that girl?” You sighed, shooting out another web atop the building beside his apartment. You gracefully landed on its rooftop before you flipped your watch open, trying to contact her. Unfortunately, it showed a hologram that said contact is on; do not disturb.

You grew more frustrated before turning the hologram to a close. You sighed and paced around on the rooftop. You wondered where she could be. Confused, you opened your gizmo back up again, speaking through Lyla.

“Hey Lyla- sorry to interrupt, got any idea where Gwen is? If so just send the coordinates, I can handle it,” you spoke as the AI’s hologram flickered again. She tried to find her location via watch but then she sighed.

“Sorry Y/N, she’s on do not disturb apparently,” the brunette replied before you grunted. “Can you turn it off?” You asked until she shook her head no. “Nah, I can’t get deactivate anything during a mission, just the policy aaand, you know, Mig’s rules,” She explained while you got more frustrated.

“How is that even a thing— what the hell..” you groaned. “Can you ask Miguel to let this be an exception?” you questioned Lyla again. “Miguel’s not in right now, busy with another mission,” she responded.

“Knew you’d say that.. always the busy guy.. whatever, thanks Lyla,” you sighed before she disappeared once more, leaving you alone once more on the rooftop. You were so frustrated by Gwen’s absence; where the hell could she be? If not with Miles then where was she? Your thoughts came to a halt when your spider-senses made you turn around. You noticed someone dressed as spider-man with a black and red coloured suit. You raised an eyebrow as you walked over to them discreetly.

They noticed you as their spider-suit’s goggles slightly widened. “Woah- you got fast spider-senses,” the recognizable voice said, staring at you.

“Wait— Miles?” You asked before he nervously chuckled and took off his mask in front of you, his Afro popping out as he looked more buff with the black spider-suit on. It matched him a lot. “What’re you doing here?” You curiously asked, also taking off your mask to see him clearly.

“Me and Gwen was swingin’ around the city and just wanted to let you join,” he responded, looking down at you since he was taller. “We didn’t get a proper chance to talk right? Just wanted to make ya feel included..” he continued, noticing how he was getting nervous when he noticed you didn’t respond.

“Sorry— kinda busy..” you mumbled, looking back down to your watch to see if Gwen finally put that stupid do not disturb function off. She unfortunately didn’t. You were always the chatty type but now wasn’t the time now that you were dealing with a soon-to-be anomaly who knows how to travel through other dimensions. Miles’ eyes softened, he just really wanted to be accepted as another spider-man or as a friend.. but you had other priorities. He was disappointed but hid it well enough, not wanting to worry you. He was silent until he had an idea in mind.

“With what? I mean I can help ya. I know Brooklyn like the back of my hand,” Miles stayed optimistic, wanting to be of assistance. You already knew about Brooklyn's map thanks to Lyla, but you could see that despite not knowing anything about you, he merely wanted to help. You could see yourself in him, as you would always strive to help Miguel in any way you could, even though he was the epitome of independence. Miles also wanted to prove his usefulness in this society Gwen just recently talked about while the two of them were swinging through the city… so he could see her more often... but oh how difficult would it be for him? He spotted the gadget on your wrist and then pointed to it.

“Yeah- uh.. pretty crazy phenomenon right? Travelling to a different universe without your atoms glitching like crazy..” you responded, showing him your wrist as he came closer.

“How’d you get this?” He asked, his hands slowly inching closer to yours to hold the watch with his fingers. You almost flinched and he noticed. Ever since your canon event, you could never rest easy with physical touch.

“You good Y/N?” He inquired, a little worried as his fingers almost retracted. You shook your head.

“Sorry, sorry— my bad, but I’m okay don’t worry bout it,” you reassured as you moved your wrist closer to him, letting him hold your hand to inspect the watch. “As for how I got it.. from where we’re from, we earn them,” you answered truthfully. His hand moved from your forearm to your hand, gently holding it up. You also couldn’t help but notice how his thumb slowly caressed your knuckles, was he trying to be nice or was it just out of habit? You definitely had no clue.

“Who gave it to you?” Miles replied, still holding your hand delicately. He seemed so interested in its design and advanced technology on the orange screen. It resembled to nothing from his dimension nor has he seen anything like it. So small yet intriguing.

“My mentor, Miguel O’hara,” you answered. “He’s like the leader of the entire spider-society Gwen and I are in. It’s pretty cool if you ask me,” you rambled, sharing more than enough.

“Gwen never told me about it..” He muttered, carefully tapping a few buttons to see its functions. You couldn’t see his expression since his head was down, still looking at the screen, before he faced you with a small smile. “What’s it gonna take for the Miguel O’hara to meet Miles Morales?” The tall black teen joked but genuinely asked. You on the other hand didn’t know what to say. There was an explanation for why he couldn’t join but you didn’t want to cause any trouble between the two of them. You gulped down the built-up saliva in your mouth out of nervousness.

“I mean.. if you tryna join… how about we try to catch some criminals on the way while we try to find Gwen? I’m not like- fully certain but maybe after I can put in a good word?” You suggested to try and change the topic as you put your forearm down once he was done inspecting the gizmo. Miles’ smile grew, he wasn’t opposed to the idea and wanted to get to know you better. “Sure, why not? Watch me put ‘em in place,” He replied with a confident smirk before you chuckled.

Your watch then beeped. Your back faced him as you turned around to check what news it had for you. The spider that camouflaged into the wall was recording the Spot’s messy apartment and analyzing his figure. You turned it into a mini hologram, watching in full effect what was happening in that room.

The Spot was walking around in his room, moving box from box to a specific area with mechanics and more collider parts you recognized.

“Oh shit..” you cursed under your breath when you saw how close he was to building the mini-collider.

“Everything okay?” Miles asked, about to peek over your shoulder before you quickly moved away. He slowly retracted, noticing how you flinched as if you were uncomfortable, but you weren’t focused on him anymore.

“Gotta go for now Miles, we can fight those criminals later alright? Sorry ‘bout the trouble,” you apologized quickly as you then put your mask back on. You approached the ledge of the rooftop and were about to jump off the building to swing to the Spot’s location immediately. A frustrated and concerned look was on Miles’ face. The young spider-man just wanted to help yet you continued to push him away. With an annoyed expression, he watched you leave so quickly with your webs. You were so quick, agile and so elegant in the air that he could tell you were much more experienced than him despite being the same age.

Once he was far enough for you to notice, he shot webs and swung himself in your direction almost immediately. It started to get dark as his black spider-suit blended in well with the atmosphere. The black lenses on his mask narrowed as he was more focused on catching up on you. Miles wasn’t dumb enough to believe that Gwen didn’t come back just to visit him, there was at least something else you and her had to worry about.

He saw you shooting out multiple webs under a metro railway from your fingertips as you pulled yourself up with the almost transparent strong strings. Like a flash of light, he saw you dash through in between a train’s cabins. Miles almost thought you got run over until he swung over the railway, you weren’t there like you disappeared. “Damn this girl’s fast…” Miles grumbled, trying to retrace his steps while looking around to try and find you. His stomach dropped at the thought of you finding out he was following you so he turned invisible quite easily just to make sure.

Even when invisible, it seemed like you didn’t let your guard down at all as he still couldn’t find you. He kept asking himself where you could possibly be or why you were here in the first place. There was something wrong but he had no clue of what it could be. He tried to retrace your steps by finding your webbing but they all disintegrated too fast. They’d all fall on the ground and slowly disintegrate since you were in the wrong universe. Frustrated, he almost thought of turning back and going back home until he noticed someone swing through the air as well. He saw the familiar spider-suit, it was Gwen.

Her mask concealed her face as she landed near a pillar supporting the overpass close to the Spot’s apartment. A few meters away, Miles landed on top of a street lamp, discreetly looking at the situation beforehand. There were corps surrounding the apartment with lights flashing to the holes in the walls.

“Shoot..” Gwen mumbled under her breath, in worry she was too late. She rapidly shot a web into the police officer's car, causing it to reverse before swinging inside the building with ease. Miles, on the other hand, quickly followed.

Inside the apartment was a whole mess, messier than before like a tornado merely broke down the building. Gwen stepped inside, looking around to find out what happened with a concerned look behind her mask. She then proceeded to scan the area using the multiversal gizmo while Miles hid behind the air ducts, making sure he wasn’t under the orange light that could point him out.

She looked around, noticing the Spot’s personal belongings like a portrait with Olivia, the spiders he brought from different dimensions, and such. When the scanning was finally complete, the spider-woman then started to replay the entire scenario. The orange light orbs turned back in her direction as they flickered a display of holograms in front of her to show what just happened. “Oh no no no..” She mumbled under her breath as she watched the scene play out visually while Miles carefully eavesdropped.

“Just need to get somewhere with a full-sized giant collider..” The Spot talked to himself as he continued to assemble his small micro-collider. It started to power up, creating dark energy from its sources. “Alriiiight, this’ll work, it’ll be good!” The faceless human optimistically said as he prepared to put his index finger into the dark matter the mini-collider was forming. He whistled as he was about to put it in until he stopped. “Or- I don’t know, might vaporize me and this entire building, which would not be good” He carelessly shrugged.

“Oh shoot..” Gwen muttered while Miles continued to watch as well, witnessing how far his villain of the week was going just to defeat him. They saw how he was getting so close to inserting his finger through the dark hole until multiple webs were wrapped around him, quickly taking him down.

You swung through the mess as you appeared just in time before the Spot could ruin himself with the dark energy. With a quick tug of your webs, you pulled him up from the floor and threw him at the other side of the room with only your hand. The Spot was launched back, breaking multiple walls in the process before he groaned in pain and looked up at you. “Wait— huh? Spider-man? But a woman?” he asked, perplexed as he thought you were his original nemesis. You had your back turned, paying attention to the collider more than him.

“Fuck this is dangerous..” Your eyes narrowed at the sight of the dark matter almost consuming the entire mini-collider, making it impossible to turn it off or break. You were about to inspect it until a sudden punch to the stomach made you nearly spit out saliva out of your mask. It just came out of nowhere through the black hole in front of you. You grunted when you realized it was all Spot’s doing.

“Yeah— sorry, can’t turn it off now huh?” the Spot laughed before it teleported so quickly behind you. His arm then made its way to your neck before he lifted you off the ground, making you choke. “Let go of me weirdo!” you yelled and rapidly kicked him off of you, causing him to almost lose balance. He growled under his breath, sick and tired of being tossed around like a weakling.

Creating a portal, he aggressively punched you through it before you stepped back once it hit your stomach again. He teleported back in front of you when you knelt down and held your stomach in pain. You tried crawling away until he grabbed your neck and shoved you down the floor repeatedly. “I’m tired of being treated like a fucking joke.” He spat as his voice turned deep, distorted and twisted. You winced, trying to push him off with your hands until he gripped your wrists as well. He saw how you had a weird watch on your wrist until his attention turned to the small gadget.

“Ohhh.. what’s that? Pretty interesting..” He sarcastically pointed out before he punched its screen. “Oops,”

“N-No!” You screamed when you saw its screen broken. The gadget started to malfunction, making distorted sounds as well.

“N-nnggh.!” You yelped when he choked you while lifting you up again. He threw you to the wall as you landed on top of the table full of collider parts that pierced through your skin. The Spot then turned back to the mini collider, shoving his hand into the dark energy. It started to absorb him as it generated more spots on his body. You tried to shoot webs to pull him back from the dark power until he was completely absorbed, pulling you into the void as well.

“Shoot..!” Gwen widened his eyes in fear as Miles continued to watch your hologram get sucked in by the dark matter. Once you were pulled in, the replay was complete.

“Oh shoot, shoot, shoot, shoot, shoot!” The spider-woman panicked, realizing how bad the situation was. You were in another universe, with no gizmo to help you call for backup nor any help. It was only a matter of time until you would suffer from glitching.

‘Y/N..’ Miles thought of your name, concerned and puzzled of why Gwen was panicking like crazy. She was shaking her head, trying to deny that wasn’t what happened until she took off her mask, breathing heavily out of panic.

With a problem like this, she definitely didn’t know how to solve it..

You blinked in and out of consciousness before you tried to get up only to collapse back to the floor when your back ached. You looked behind you and saw what you were crashed into, a truck. You looked up as you saw it was raining steadily. That was weird, you don’t remember it already raining when you just collapsed for a minute.

Once you managed to sit up, you realized this place wasn’t familiar at all. You shot a web as you landed on top of a building where you could see everything. But in the end, you didn’t understand.. why was the billboard Japanese.? Or why were there so many Japanese commercials on the skyscraper screens?

“Where am I?”

𝕾𝐏𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄.

———

author’s note: this is so goddamn tiring to make Jesus Christ 💀💀 reblogs r very helpful since they keep me motivated to keep going alrr hope y’all enjoyed the first chapter. Second one will probably be a bit rocky idk.

[lcngliive]

Was that [SADIE SINK]? Oh no no, that was just [ANNIE JAMES], a [CANON CHARACTER] from [THE PARENT TRAP]. They are [EIGHTEEN] years old, use [SHE/HER], and [ARE] aware that they are not actually from Washington DC. Too bad they can’t stray from this city for long.

how long has your character been here

just a little over three years now. 

what is your character’s job

she’s currently working part time at a small fashion boutique where she sells some of her designs while she’s finishing up university. has also started a tiktok where she sells some stuff and takes commissions.

where has your character been pulled from in their fandom

just after her eighteenth birthday.

has any magic affected your character

nope! she still remembers everything.

and any other information you might find useful for us and the other members to know!!

okay this is annie! she’s pulled from a few years after the events of the parent trap, so she’s a bit older now than what she was in the films, but boy is she still a menace to society!! 

annie grew up separated from her twin sister, due to their parents breaking up and each taking one twin with them.

this all changed when she went to a summer camp in america, and she met hallie aka the devil incarnate, not knowing that they were twins lmao.

 they eventually figured it out and hatched a plan to fool their parents into thinking that annie was hallie and hallie was annie so they could both meet the other parent. 

but that eventually fell through when their parents, or annie’s grandfather in hallie’s case figured out that they had switched. 

all things ended up happily ever after tho bc her parents got back together and annie and hallie didn’t have to separate again! 

annie decided to follow in her mothers footsteps and pursue a career in the fashion industry. 

she’s just in the middle of finishing her degree at university and now currently works in a small boutique in the city where she sells some of her designs, she also has a website set up that she sells things on as well.

in her spare time, annie helps out at local theatres and fashion shows that need extra seamstresses, just to hopefully get her name out there. 

she also donates a lot of her fancier dresses to local schools around prom time just so that people who need dresses can get some nice things and also offers to do alterations or make specific requests.

she’s started her own tiktok, with the help of her sister and is now promoting her designs on there and also on instagram - she was reluctant at first, but now she loves it lmao.

potential plots

some close friends - annie only really has her sister here in the city, so some close friends would be a good thing for her!

ex boyfriend/girlfriend - this could be something that was left on good terms or it could have been messy??? down to plot something out

friends from university - can be from the same course as she was doing or it could be people she would have befriended in the library or the campus

a potential relationship - this would probs be a slowburn type of thing, but she’s open to anything bc she’s bisexual ??

[kobiiioo]

lihan's mj and his lore (spidersona, spiderverse related)

what do i even say. where do i even start. *sobbing violently*

it's crazy because after designing MJ i've been more obsessed with him and lihan than my hobie x lihan ship. however that doesn't mean imma GIVE UP ON HOBIE X LIHAN BECAUSE THEY ARE MY HAPPINESS !!!!! and MJ already has his ending soooo haha (Imfao bye ✌️😘) (actually no it's sad). anw so first INTRODUCTIONNNNN

here's a character sheet i made especially for MJ because he's a precious baby who just need to hear comforting words and a tight hug 🫂 i have so much to talk about this character that only exists in my head but him, just his existence, he is such a tragic and sad character and it genuinely makes me ill and sick because i feel so much pity for him (I CREATED YOU F*CK.)

character introduction:

Minjun aka MJ was well known at school for his looks and his extroverted personality but also worldwidely. He's after all a national team player in korea's biggest basketball team and his sweet demeanor and charming smile was simply a "+" making him even more attractive than he already is. He was basically the popular boy in the whole school that everyone knows when his name was mentionned. Anybody would fall for him; so did Lihan.

He was her first love, her first boyfriend, her endgame.

That's what she thought; her endgame. But she was wrong. Things went differently than expected. If she knew the consequences of what was coming next, maybe she would've never made the same choice. But as Lihan says to herself, even though meeting MJ was maybe a mistake, she would make that same mistake in every universe, fall in love with him and lose him, all over again. Because that's their destiny and they were never meant to be.

MJ's lore:

MJ was raised in a rich and strict family that had too much expectations for him. He tried his best to reach their expectations, following the future they had already planned for him, listening to their wishes and simply obeying, without complaining. Nobody knew that he put a mask to hide his flaws, his background, his true-self, how vulnerable he actually was. And since he cared so much about how people saw him and his image in the society was too important, he had no choice but to always put an act. He needed stability, he needed security, and he did had those. He went to a good school, he had lot of "friends", his family was wealthy, he was good at school, he was popular/a celebrity, everyone loved him; he had a successful life. His life was "perfect".

But that's only what others saw in him. Everything was superficial.

The so what called "stability" and "security" he had was only objective but not subjective. He was fighting alone his internal conflict, not daring to ask for help and simply numbing all the pain and suffering he was going through. No one knew that everything was pushing him over the edge. Keeping that persona to please people by showing them a fake side of him that everyone admired and loved was simply getting to him. He thought no one would ever love him for who he is. He was done. He wanted to end things at this point. Everything seemed meaningless. He had no dreams, no will, everything was planned since the day he was born. So what is the point ? He thought to himself.

That's when he met Lihan.

And everything changed. She was the last spark of light from a dying fire that was about to put out but only grew bigger and bigger. It was a simple question that he had asked her.

“Hey, sorry. Can you pass the ball ?”

Who would have thought that one simple question will lead him to actually gain interest in her (will write more context of this specific dialogue and their first meeting on another post). She was so simple, quiet, unoriginal with a bland personality. There was nothing about her that made her special or out standing. She was nothing and far from exceptional. That’s what everyone thought. But she was definitely something else in MJ’s eyes. He saw something in her that nobody saw. Her indifference was what was making her different. That’s what made her more special. That’s what made her stand out more than others. She was unusual. It was such an unexpected meeting. Everything about her was so interesting to MJ. He had never felt such joy or take genuine interest getting to know someone. She was his last light of hope he had. She had become the reason he could keep going with his life. It felt like things were just going to be fine if they stayed together, forever.

But as time flew by, things were changing. Not in the good way. It was going the opposite way. It was only getting worse. The relationship was becoming more and more unbalanced. He was too dependent. He was selfish and lost. And she was as lost as he was. And he had totally destroyed her.

here’s a doddle of mj x lihan and how their relationship looked when they used to date (because WELL I THINK YALL GUESSED WHAT HAPPENS NEXT).

i have sooo much more to talk about him and his relationship with lihan AUHAGSUAG he’s probably one of the most interesting character i’ve created until now (jk lwe love lihan),(but still mj is such an interesting character in her universe) but i will talk about this on another post since this is simply an introduction of mj and i want to bring him more often on my posts (including tiktok). anw.. thanks for reading this silly writing of my ocs 🫶🫶

[infcinity]

was that [LUCA HOLLESTELLE]? oh no no, that was just [ANNIE JAMES], a [CANON CHARACTER] from [THE PARENT TRAP]. they are [EIGHTEEN] years old, use [SHE/HER], and [ARE] aware that they are not actually from washington dc. too bad they can’t stray from this city for long.

how long has your character been here

just a little over three years now. 

what is your character’s job

she’s currently working part time at a small fashion boutique where she sells some of her designs while she’s finishing up university. has also started a tiktok where she sells some stuff and takes commissions.

where has your character been pulled from in their fandom

just after her eighteenth birthday.

has any magic affected your character

nope! she still remembers everything.

and any other information you might find useful for us and the other members to know!!

okay this is annie! she’s pulled from a few years after the events of the parent trap, so she’s a bit older now than what she was in the films, but boy is she still a menace to society!! 

annie grew up separated from her twin sister, due to their parents breaking up and each taking one twin with them.

this all changed when she went to a summer camp in america, and she met hallie aka the devil incarnate, not knowing that they were twins lmao.

 they eventually figured it out and hatched a plan to fool their parents into thinking that annie was hallie and hallie was annie so they could both meet the other parent. 

but that eventually fell through when their parents, or annie’s grandfather in hallie’s case figured out that they had switched. 

all things ended up happily ever after tho bc her parents got back together and annie and hallie didn’t have to separate again! 

annie decided to follow in her mothers footsteps and pursue a career in the fashion industry. 

she’s just in the middle of finishing her degree at university and now currently works in a small boutique in the city where she sells some of her designs, she also has a website set up that she sells things on as well.

in her spare time, annie helps out at local theatres and fashion shows that need extra seamstresses, just to hopefully get her name out there. 

she also donates a lot of her fancier dresses to local schools around prom time just so that people who need dresses can get some nice things and also offers to do alterations or make specific requests.

she’s started her own tiktok, with the help of her sister and is now promoting her designs on there and also on instagram - she was reluctant at first, but now she loves it lmao.

POTENTIAL PLOTS

some close friends - annie only really has her sister here in the city, so some close friends would be a good thing for her!

ex boyfriend/girlfriend - this could be something that was left on good terms or it could have been messy??? down to plot something out

friends from university - can be from the same course as she was doing or it could be people she would have befriended in the library or the campus

a potential relationship - this would probs be a slowburn type of thing, but she’s open to anything bc she’s bisexual ??

[avayarising]

– @fantastic-nonsense

@lynzine germane to a conversation we were having recently.

The options for Martha very closely match what I was thinking, particularly the idea that she kind of goes stealth after her marriage. Though I also wondered whether it might have to do with a falling-out with Jacob.

(Alfred is so Anglican it hurts, and accepts Episcopalian as the nearest equivalent. He might at least initially be more comfortable going to a different church from his employers though. I imagine the Waynes going to the big grand one and Alfred going to a smaller Episcopalian church elsewhere in Gotham.)

I love the idea that the Batfam as a whole is a multifaith family. All of the above for Bruce is good, and personally I rather like the thought that he starts out a vague and indifferent Episcopalian but after he connects/reconnects with Kate he begins to take more of an interest in his Jewish heritage and finds all sorts of ideas he resonates with.

Plus:

Vaguely Catholic-heritage Dick: his parents had their own thing going on, in the caravan a kind of Orthodox/Catholic hybrid but attending whatever the nearby church was on any given week, and he was baptised Catholic because that’s what the religion was in the area they were in at the time. He doesn’t practice and if you ask him what his faith is he’ll laugh it off, but deep down he grieves because he doesn’t remember or never knew a lot of the details of his parents’ faith and culture and all he has of it now are remnants.

Quaker Babs: Her dad’s a Methodist, but after she was shot she got a lot of help, therapy, and practical support from an organisation run by the Society of Friends.

Extremely Catholic Jason: before Bruce, he grew up with the Italian (or possibly Hispanic) flavour of Catholicism that’s local to the Crime Alley area, but he only really started taking it seriously a while after he came back from the dead and returned to Gotham, as a way of coming to terms with what happened to him, helping him to heal and giving himself a path forward.

Jewish Tim: both his parents were Jewish, but not particularly religious ones, and the boarding schools Tim went to didn’t particularly cater for Jews either. So he is rather estranged from his heritage. They never got round to arranging his Bar Mitzvah before his mother died and his father got put in a coma, and by the time he woke up Tim didn’t want to bring it up. But there’s a part of him that would like to be more observant, would like it to mean more to him, though he’s hesitant to admit it. (Maybe at some point he’ll bring it up with Aunt Kate.)

Culturally Christian but unchurched Steph: none of her family has had much to do with any faith for a long time, and she enjoys the secular versions of the holidays and leaves it at that. You can’t exactly see what the Batfam has seen and not believe in the existence of powerful spiritual entities, but she doesn’t think there’s much point in actually trying to worship anything.

Doing her own thing Cass: she wasn’t brought up to any faith, obviously, but she likes the idea of spirituality, and after she joins the family she sometimes likes to accompany other members of the family to their celebrations or places of worship, and sometimes explores on her own.

Pentecostalist Duke: Not just because Pentecostalist churches are traditionally Black, but I also can imagine that Duke’s mother Elaine, fleeing a powerful immortal entity, might turn (or return) to a church with a focus on the power of the Holy Spirit and an emphasis on fighting the spirits of evil, in hopes of God’s protection. Perhaps she met her husband there. Does Duke feel God failed his parents?

Questioning Damian: Damian was brought up in a cult that probably originally derived from a heretical Islamic sect. He has rejected that cult but feels guilty about the fact that there were practices of prayer and worship that he valued and still misses. He will probably develop his own spirituality in secret, despite wanting a community, because he has a fear of religion being used to control him. It would be nice to think that he would eventually find comfort in a more mainstream Islam.

If that seems an unlikely proportion of people engaged with a religious faith, remember that in their world there is a lot more empirical evidence of otherworldly goings-on, and I’d expect people in general to be a lot more religious because of that.

Bruce Wayne: any religion you want, really

So for Reasons, I had to figure out Bruce Wayne’s religious affiliations or lack thereof. The resulting tangle was impressive, and mostly left me going, “Comics authors sure fail to think through the implications of their backstory decisions a lot!” I meant to do a full fancy post with a dozen citations. I have misplaced all of those citations and the hour has come, so I’m going to wing it and tell you what I’ve got with no evidence whatsoever. Anyone who wants to throw them on in replies (either “here’s the issue where” or “here’s a good clearinghouse article”) is obviously welcome.

1) The Waynes (historically) are definitely Episcopalian, both by the general religious affiliations of their location/race/class and the crosses in most depictions of his parents’ graves.

2) Frank Miller made him Catholic. But Frank Miller makes a lot of people Catholic. Most people who make him Catholic do so via his mother, and let Thomas Wayne stay Episcopalian.

3) Kate Kane is Jewish. Kate Kane, his cousin via his mother’s brother, is practicing Jewish with Jewish parents and had a Bat Mitzvah and everything. Kate Kane is almost definitely Jewish via a family tree that makes Bruce Wayne matrilineally Jewish, and the nature of that inheritance is he doesn’t have to claim it if he doesn’t want to, but yeah, he is as Jewish as he says he is. Even if he wakes up tomorrow feeling Jewish and has never said it before in his life.

4) Bruce Wayne claimed in a 2018 comic to have ditched faith when his parents died, so he can also be as atheist as you want him to be.

5) Bruce Wayne did the whole world-tour weeks-of-silent-meditation thing, so if you want him to have latched onto Zen philosophy, it’s entirely defensible; it doesn’t require belief in any new gods and the principle of Right Action is very large in his life whether or not he formally subscribes to it.

—

None of these things have to conflict except possibly “which one he subscribes to at this exact moment,” and even then several of them can stack. The stickiest possible point is his mother’s faith, and this is the very easy path that makes all of these things true, courtesy of my nerdy Canadian first reader, Maribou:

In Montreal in particular, and many other cities in general, there are both large Catholic and large Jewish populations, which were crammed close together by societal prejudice for a long time and which had multiple wealthy and powerful families of their own even under that stress, such as the Bronfmans. There were a lot of intermarriages, and a common result was children being encouraged to choose a religious path after a thorough education in their parents’ options. (Basically, “It’s time to schedule either your Confirmation or your Bat Mitzvah, which venue should we book?”)

So a Bronfman woman and a Kane man could easily have married and had a bunch of kids including Martha Kane and Jacob Kane. Martha may (or may not!) have picked a Confirmation. Jacob definitely picked a Bar Mitzvah. All of these things can be true.

When I was discussing this with a Jewish person, she said she knew of a relative of exactly Martha Wayne’s (original) generation who was practicing Jewish until her marriage to a Protestant and then just… never talked about it again. If she practiced, she practiced privately. It disappeared utterly from her public life. That was a not-uncommon occurrence in that era.

The odds are that Bruce was raised moderately-disinterested Episcopalian, by the matching crosses. But he is arguably an Episcopally baptized, matrilineally Jewish atheist who subscribes to Zen and has inherited a bone-deep taste for Catholic passion plays. All of these things can be true without even cancelling each other out.

In the words of Frank Miller (who I agree with for once), “He’s kind of like a diamond. You can throw him against the wall and you can pound him with a hammer, but you can’t break him. Every interpretation seems to work. […] You can do it badly, but you can’t really do it wrong.”

[lyreleafblog]

The Legacy

A (very long) History of Lyre Leaf

Well, it’s come time to do some real talking. I previously introduced myself on a more baseline level, but today I would like to go into some more depth about what this blog is, why it is what it is, and how I’m going to move forward with it. Let’s get into it.

I grew up on the internet—and I think that’s one of the most important talking points to start out with on this blog. A lot of people in my generation grew up on the internet. We were the children of an era with divorce rates higher than ever seen before or since. We became latch-key kids with social anxiety and developmental giftedness that wore off in middle school. Many of us were incredibly poor because of our familial division, what with un-met child support and undocumented hereditary gambling running rampantly outside of the sanitary family courts that determined our custody agreement. We weren’t going out because we couldn’t afford to. Breaks from school were spent at home, most often alone, if not left to mingle with a sibling or two, with nothing to do besides satisfy our curiosities. Of course, when we look at history, it all seems so simple and crisp; Of course children are curious little things, even the older fifteen-ers who think the three long years separating their consciousness from a voting ballot are mostly pointless. Without present guardians to answer our trivial curiosities—without a voice waiting to answer the utterly predictable “why is the sky blue?” banter—we defaulted, simultaneously, to a different authority. We grew up on Google.

As I typed that, just then, this reality manifested in the between-the-lines crevices of societies’ infrastructure. Allow me to clarify: Sally googles all her questions. Did you see that? The word “google” is a verb now. It no longer requires the elegant capitalization of a typical proper noun, such as Bing. Nobody “bings” a question—and Microsoft Word knows so. Google raised a generation. Just like how the heaviness and context of the word “Mother” as a formal, brand-name account of an individual becomes the given expectation of “mothering” as we age into our theory of mind, with our awareness that our parents are not “God” but “gods” with a noteworthy little “g,” and so “Google” becomes “googling.” It starts at the first sign of a book report for which one has never read the book in question.

I didn’t have the chance nor the sense to consider actually asking a parent what the hell had gone wrong with me. I had grown up googling, with a little “g,” every time I had a question. At six years old, my mother gifted me her dinosaur; a Windows 98 PC. I was diagnosed with asthma after a bout of pneumonia around six years old and I’d been prescribed daily breathing treatments. Those treatments went down with a lot less fidgeting when they occurred in front of a computer, so my mother was sold. Little would she know that I would soon take over her brand-new Windows XP computer to live vicariously though The Sims. My own googling started out gingerly: Diva Stars, Barbie, My Scene, Polly Pocket, Cartoon Network, Disney Channel, Winx…  I am bating you for nostalgia without shame. It escalated alongside my (perhaps unfortunate) rapidly evolving preference for the written word. My search history evolved into how-to-add-hexed-files-to-Babyz and how-to-add-custom-Catz3. By the time I was 8 or so, I was fully enthralled in The Sims and almost all my time on the internet was spent learning about how to make objects for the game. Somehow, I actually achieved this, which shocks now-adult-me.

Google helped me discover things all on my own, too, such as the landscape of online friendship. My first account in what I guess one could call the online-social realm was none other than the massively underrated Barbie Girls franchise. (For anyone wondering, I am still most certainly obsessed with Barbie and closely follow Barbie content—please feel free to send me pics of any cool dolls or other Barbie things you might have.) I realized right away that this early MMO-esque digital universe model suited me much more than socializing in real life. Canned chat (pre-written dialogue options used in place of traditional instant messaging in online multiplayer worlds) generally prevented me from being bullied, which had been a significant problem for me at school. I especially appreciated creative elements in these kinds of online environments. Google helped me find more of them.

Eventually, I got into the world of MMORPGs. It’s all my mother’s fault. Before a custody agreement changed, I grew up with her and her unbelievable addiction to Adventure Quest. She was on the leaderboards (The Feline Fatale, if you’re wondering, way, way back in the late 00’s). While living separately, we played Mabinogi together (Long live Elrinnia, elven savior of the goddess!). As I got even older, we became more and more distant for a number of reasons, and google persisted as my primary authority on information. I found more communities in which to practice my social skills.

I got into sharing my writing online and even went on to make a few YouTube videos with my stepsiblings and friends. I won a few writing awards back in the hay-day of the Young Writers Society. I experimented with art communities and game groups.  I eventually found my way to Tumblr, which, at the time, I had only even seen before while peeking over the backcombed mane of our middle school scene-queen in typing class.

I had a few friends who had made pages on the site. I decided to make one, too! It serves to share that, like any teenager, I was, at that age, desperately trying to fit in with my peers and would quickly involve myself in their activities in any way I could find possible. I was utterly unaware of the scope of my disability at that age and couldn’t understand why I struggled to maintain fulfilling friendships in real life, so the idea of virtually-fitting-in using a digital avatar was especially appealing to me. Unfortunately, because of my age and autism, I was also exceedingly impressionable, and would find that this borderline underground social media / blog platform was mostly unregulated. That’s when it all started getting serious.

I had always been sick, I just didn’t know it. As an infant, I was born with an ongoing infection and couldn’t go home after birth. I had several serious allergies and intolerances. At age six, like I mentioned, my breathing problems began. Soon after I would be diagnosed with migraines and chronic morning sickness (from stomach problems). I was six or seven years old when I was first diagnosed with childhood depression by Christian counselors. My mother told me that I had nothing to be depressed about because I had never known suffering (she was, quite literally, violently incorrect). When I was about seven years old, I would have a three month-long bout with strep throat which was eventually culled by surgery removing my infected tonsils and lymph nodes. Every year I would spend a minimum of six months dysfunctional and sick from various colds and viruses, occasionally requiring hospitalization to get my breathing problems under control.  I missed more than two combined years of school, but still graduated on time despite never getting a chance to make up my lost education. Around ten, I got my first endometriosis period. My so-called period cramps would last for one week before, the week of, and one week following my menstrual period. By this point, I was disabled for 75% of my entire waking life at least—but my predisposition to develop very severe, very long-lasting viral infections would most often cancel out whatever pain-free-days I might otherwise have. I was a completely hopeless human being and my mental health showed this.

The older I got, the worse my health became. My incredibly vicious periods became less predictable in my early teens, and longer. My digestive issues were so pronounced that my stomach was regularly distended and painful. I threw up most mornings before school, so my step mother gave me unrestricted access to PeptoBismol, explaining my dangerous symptoms away as school-anxiety. Around this age, I developed severe skin and sinus allergies to a massive host of proteins, including seemingly all animal proteins. I had a shampoo with egg protein that caused my scalp to flake and itch painfully. I would develop massive welts all across my skin when washing the family dogs. My parents supplemented me with Zyrtec and other baby-problem allergy mediations at which my immune system cathartically laughed and howled. On top of everything else, my walking problem (a usually unnoticeable limp) became apparent when I was about fourteen, and somehow, my family members were allowed to decide for me that corrective shoes would be too unflattering to be worth saving older-me from chronic hip pain. My suffering was genuinely unthinkable, even to the me of today who some would argue is only remotely better than the me of then. I had nothing and nobody in my corner—nobody cared about the fact that I was constantly in pain, constantly suffocating, always covered in hives with raw, itchy skin. I remember feeling as if they were applying a band aid over a burst jugular.

I had to smile and nod. Any time I expressed my medical needs, they were not only invalidated, but I was often criticized for expressing them at all. In my real life, I was a theatrical, dramatic liar who would rather fake her own death than even sit in a room with family members. I was evil—so very, truly evil—the production of a voodoo curse or a gnarly past life—and all I did was pretend to be sick, all to use it for my tiny mastermind plan of laying in bed and doing nothing all day long—the true pinnacle satisfaction of the human boredom that birthed stone tools (this is sarcasm). In my real life, I had absolutely no control over anything that was happening—but I did have one thing; I had google, with a little “g.”

I’m an American woman, and it’s no secret that one of the leading health problems in the USA is obesity. In reality, it’s a hell of a lot more complicated than “obesity,” which itself is a symptom and not the actual problem, in my personal and utterly unqualified opinion, but that’s how the media portrays this phenomenon. So, naturally, when I angrily googled “why the fuck am I always in agony” as a fourteen-and-a-half-year-old, the GPS-localized Google Search feature on my laptop’s browser pointed me to the answer that most locals wanted and expected to hear.

[why the fuck am i always in agony]

“you’re overweight.”

Me? Not possible, I had thought. All of my life, everyone had told me I was too skinny. I remember my weight being a constant conversation in the pediatrician’s office. I googled deeper.

BMI. Hip to waist ratio.

 You  ex-anorexics know how the story goes.

Standing in front of the archaic Victorian-mansion-darkwood-vanity with a construction-grade measuring tape stolen from the garage, I lifted my shirt up and took my measurements. I don’t remember what they were, not that the internet would need to know about a minors waist-to-hip-ratio, but I was satisfied enough to loosen to grips of my rapidly developing eating disorder upon the realization that society had determined the proportion of my stomach to be acceptable. That couldn’t be it, I thought. Whatever was wrong with me was not my weight.

Well, a not even another year would pass of my daily melt-on-the-tongue-allergy meds, my stupid chalky bismuth tablets, and my period cramps that had me sobbing through French class, before I would again refocus my blame for my suffering on the enemy that society said was behind it. The next time I went to evaluate my stomach was right before one of those lovely endometriosis periods, and immediately after eating half a bag of lays potato chips on my couch, with a step brother, as soon as we got home from school. This time, my belly was totally massive, and I didn’t need to measure it to see that.

I thought I knew what to do. I thought I had gained belly fat. I was fourteen, freshly out of a situation legally described as neglect, and I had grown up hating and blaming myself for serious physical ailments that I happened to endure. Every resource I could google said that belly inches are belly fat. I probably never even heard the word “bloat” until a year later. I had no idea that one of the very most common symptoms of endometriosis, or gastroparesis, or hernias, or any one of the number of the things wrong with my abdomen, was abdominal distention. I was fat. The billboards said I was fat. Magazines said I was fat. Posters in the doctor’s office said I was fat. Commercials said I was fat. The news said I was fat. Every single possible resource I was exposed to universally agreed that the cause of misery was being fat and that the solution to every perceivable problem a person might face, from poverty to extortion, might be weight loss. I became determined to get un-fat-- to take my health into my own hands, once and for all.

Google with a little “g” wasn’t doing enough. I would drink extra water, choose whole grains, eat fruits and vegetables and ride my bike as often as I could get away with.  No matter what I did, about 75% of the time, I had some degree of abdominal distention. It changed dramatically throughout the day, leading very-dumb-bless-your-heart-me to believe that I was rapidly gaining and losing weight and fat. Since seemingly nobody ever cared about my unending medical symptoms before, I never even considered bringing this up to my care-givers as a problem, though I was open about my desire to lose belly fat and feel better. One day, I decided to explore the weight loss realm of Tumblr to see if I could find more personal experiences to study, hoping to apply others strategies for weight loss and health to myself. That’s how I fell down the rabbit hole.

Now, I was never one of those pro-ana types with the weight loss groups and the ana-buddies or any of that crap. I was already extremely hard on myself all the time, and I didn’t want or need motivation to lose weight. What piqued my interest were the “tips and tricks” they shared around for how to avoid food and suspicion. Those spheres utterly discredited the conventional weight-loss advice, the food pyramid and any medical knowledge about weight or metabolism. They believed in fairytales—that eating only chocolate would make your body “reject absorbing the chocolate” and that you could throw up enough food to cancel out whatever energy your saliva sent straight to your blood stream.  I was desperate, young, and whole grains weren’t making my endo-belly stay small, so I opted to give these wild ideas a chance. More importantly, I took to the philosophy of self-proclaimed pro-bulimics, and decided to stop using anti-nausea medication. The result of that was that it became unnaturally easy for me to vomit up virtually anything that made it past my esophagus in the first place, and so I did.

Things rapidly got out of control. I lost weight so quickly that everyone around me noticed and cared very suddenly. I lost my period right away, which became the single greatest incentive behind my disordered eating as my chronic pain was dramatically reduced. I was eventually slammed into eating disorder treatment. Minnie Maud, Renfrew—I’ve seen some shit. When you’re diagnosed with an eating disorder as a minor, there are some prerequisite appointments that must occur to assess damage from the disorder. I was diagnosed with my mitral valve prolapse, the supposed explanation to a lifetime of ignored heart palpitations until then, and gastroparesis, which I was told was a temporary side effect from my history of multi-day fasts and vomiting. I also had a host of dental problems and to this day have extremely fragile teeth.

Eventually I found my way into a real-life support group with a bunch of other Tumblr teens. I started a recovery blog and so did most of them. That’s where the story starts to get good. My recovery friends nursed me into my eighteenth birthday. By this point, I had become one of the token-teen-anorexics at my high school and had the disturbing experience of being asked for weight loss advice by my academic peers. I hated this with all of my soul and eventually, so much so, that I wanted to publicly open up about why I had been skinny, why it was bad, and why nobody else should want what I had. I made myself public. I looked up to Amalie Lee and Sarah Frances Young who had similarly bridged the communities in their real lives with the online recovery communities, producing an incredible amount of positive support for themselves whilst also serving to show struggling individuals what’s possible, so I opted to do the same and “put a face to the name.” My plan worked.

The same therapist who supervised my real life support group had been helping me plan a very big move. She’d determined that the problem with my mental health wasn’t that I had been neglected, but that I still actively was being neglected. I needed to be able to be fully responsible for tending to my own needs, or those needs would go on being unmet. I was seventeen when I signed my first lease and was eighteen when I moved 500 miles away from home to a town I’d never been to, in the single greatest escape of my life. My public openness with this experience attracted many people to me, who finally, rather than asking me for weight loss advice, were benefiting from my knowledge on moving out young, finding work, finding shelter and food, and best of all, recovering from disordered eating.

Everything was going great. People would message me for support or resources, I would share it. I bullied a few pro-ana people and launched secret campaigns against various pro-ana spaces on the internet. Somehow, me and all of my friends were those new-age 2015 hippies that don’t mind being broke as long as they’re, like, California-broke, and still eating vegan avocado toast every morning. We were a little subculture of our own, finding our healing through the extremely culturally appropriated words of white male authors who were profiting off our spiritual vulnerability—but it was mutualistic enough that everyone kind of turned out okay, mostly.

I was one of the first flies to drop. My moms death coincided with the terrible worsening of the my endometriosis and PCOS symptoms, long after I had weight-restored. I first shared about it online because I had grown desperate and felt lonely in my circumstance. At the time, I only knew I had endometriosis. My partner immediately became my full time care-taker.

Thanks yet again to the internet, namely Facebook support groups, eventually I got health insurance and got my excision surgery. I was sent off from Dr. Fox with a warning that I probably had more problems going on, and not to blame endometriosis for any ongoing pain, but to seek out other answers until I’ve found them and not be misled. Around the same time, I noticed Amalie posting about her own PCOS—with photos of the same distended belly that I had, that had started it all, maybe for both of us, even. No fucking way.

 Yes, fucking way, indeed. Dr. Fox had already alluded so himself, but seeing it happen in real life was a very unexpected experience for me. I still remember him inferring to me that PCOS correlates with bulimia, so casually that it was almost mean, as to bundle up someone’s complex, perceived-to-be-psychological struggle into a little blood-sugar package. It all went against the accepted modality for eating disorder recovery, which insisted that the phenomenon was purely psychological. I then noticed my other hero, Sarah, sharing about CFS. As it turns out, an abundance of research exists linking chronic illness to disordered eating.  I already had been diagnosed with my endometriosis and the issues I had in childhood, but I had no idea that the experience of chronic illness and disordered eating might be so common.

I became vocal about the observation of the overlap in patient demographics. It still seems like nobody cares much, but I continue to try to raise awareness of the subject because I know one day people will care. People only care about endometriosis excision thanks to anecdote-advocates like myself, but now, they care a hell of a lot more than they did before anecdote-advocates existed.

In 2020, I moved again, back down to the metropolitan area I was born in, but not close to where I grew up. In December of 2020, I first dislocated my shoulder. After a couple of days of walking around in horrible pain, I hesitantly made my way into an urgent care where my x-ray was questioned. I had a dislocation, but absolutely nothing else was wrong, not even bruising, which was extremely unusual. The Urgent Care doctors told me to tell my normal doctor about everything.

My normal doctor then referred me to rheumatology and cardiology.  It all happened faster than anyone could have seen coming—and so fast, specifically, because while I was tangled up in my endometriosis treatment back in 2017, the entire diagnostic criteria for my underlying condition, Ehlers Danlos Syndrome, was professionally altered to make it exquisitely better at locating and diagnosing individuals like myself. I have almost every single known feature associated with the condition. I passed the Beighton score with a 9/9, had been diagnosed with my hernias during endometriosis surgery, had the heart stuff and the skin stuff and even the startling scar stuff that made my doctors demand I see a specialist in my condition before I ever try to conceive.

“You’re so soft!” Was something my friends had been saying to me all my life. I thought they were trying to compliment my choice of moisturizer—I didn’t realize they meant that I literally felt like velvet to them.  

Ehlers Danlos turned out to be responsible for a lot of my experiences with poor body image and food—pretty much whatever endometriosis and PCOS didn’t inspire. As I discovered, things like “walking funny” affect one’s posture, which can cause us to carry ourselves in a way that slouches our guts forward and makes us appear to have a rounder middle than we would if postured correctly. I remember standing in a bathroom with a bunch of girls as a teenager once, and all of us, being toxic south Florida suburb kids, were comparing our bellies. Everyone was stretching and pulling their bellies out and talking about how big they were. Of course, as EDSers know, the belly is upon the stretchiest of our portions, so I shocked even myself when I saw my belly kept going and going as I pulled it away from my waist. Humiliated, I was apparently visibly distraught, because the other little girls immediately began comforting me. “You’re not fat! It’s just skin!” “Yeah, you’re definitely not fat, but you are really stretchy."

(A primary feature of Ehlers Danlos is soft, stretchy skin)

Finally aware of the terms for my innumerable ailments, and many more appointments and diagnoses later, I decided to seek out a more specialized kind of therapy. Back in 2018, I had been diagnosed with OCD whilst grieving the loss of my mother. OCD is commonly considered a neurodiverse condition, meaning that while it most certainly can be mentally debilitating, aspects of it are more neurological than specifically psychological. Rather than working against thoughts and feelings, neurodiverse individuals are working against immutable developmental traits to fit in to a conventional world. I eventually found myself under the care of a doctor who was well informed and established with neurodiverse clients, who explained the state of affairs with neurodiverse psychology and insurance in the United States, with adult diagnosis, and most importantly, with what specifically is wrong with me.

This doctor helped me overcome lifelong learning difficulties and discover my actual identity. Slowly but surely, I have been coming around to opening up about the uniqueness of that entire experience online but sharing about being neurodivergent is a hell of a lot harder than sharing about physical ailments. The longer I endured through my new format of therapy, the easier it was to have conversations about the actual logistics of my conditions and how they work in my head. Why can't I do math? It's too noisy.

Understandably, it can feel very dehumanizing as a patient to have conversations like that with a new therapist or mental healthcare team early on. I eventually learned that, yet again, chronic illness tells a story about our so-called “mental health” but in a way much more important than I had ever dreamed possible in my old ED-recovery-days.

Not only is there a well-established co-occurrence between these “neurodiverse” conditions and the form of chronic illness that I have, but many of the psychological symptoms of said neurodiverse disorders specifically co-occur with relative physical features, such as in the case of TMJ (TMD) and hearing or even attention problems.  It’s all just fascinating. With this knowledge, every detail of my life started to make sense. Why had I been neglected? Hereditary-neurodivergent mothering, firstly, compiled with my own inability to recognize or speak about my physical state or needs with enough detail to mean anything—combined with just the perfect amount of white coat syndrome to make me lie, cheat and fake my own wellness or do anything else to avoid cancelling my plans for a doctors visit. Why was I so good at all of school besides math? A learning disability, attention problems, a total inability to interpret mathematical data when it’s spoken directly to me or drawn at me, an inability to properly decipher the symbolism that has come to be known as numbers. Why did nobody notice? I have been intimidatingly pedantic nearly since birth—reading early, writing early, despite never developing hand coordination superior to that of a four-year-old, and practicing the one and only communication skill I was born with an inclination towards being good at. I would write them all clear out of bounds, with a nerdy, pompous level of self confidence that offended and tickled my instructors and fortunately satisfied those meant to judge my writing. It had been that way for me all along, but somehow, it slipped away from my memory. My ability to sound smart is what got me through elementary and middle school.

I am pedantic and intimidating and usually seem much, much smarter and more in control than I actually am. Whether or not I’m a compulsively-faking antisocial psychopath is still up for debate in my own psyche, but my healthcare team has assured me that, what I am, in fact, is a stereotypically neurodivergent person with some trauma around my previously unmet healthcare needs, and also, having lots of healthcare problems that I very much haven't made peace with having.

I also don't want to have these conditions-- not that anyone ever truly wants something like that—I know that would be very unusual—but the diagnosis and treatment of everything besides endometriosis was somehow even more traumatic to me. My mother, the parent I inherited my wonky body from, of course also had my condition and arguably my neurotype, too. I grew up watching the healthcare system fail her and addict her to needless anxiety medications while ignoring her impending early death. I had no interest in reliving another second of that experience. A big part of my disordered eating had stemmed from that fear—the fear that being fat was the cause of sickness and misery.

Finally, I had gotten all of the answers that have for so long plagued my mind.

Now it’s been well over a year, almost a year and a half since I got diagnosed with the last thing I’ve been diagnosed with that wasn’t a random emergency. I’m still adjusting to life with this newfound understanding of my body and my brain. While some of my conditions have significantly improved, like my endometriosis and the joint-injury involved in my Ehlers Danlos, other aspects, like my ongoing mast cell problems and frequently flaring stomach problems, persist and occasionally worsen.

At the point where all of the diagnoses piled up, I felt extremely vulnerable, especially with sharing on my most public, this-is-my-face platform. This isn’t solely of my own, accord, either, as my still impressionable brain is sensitive to the rising criticism against people who talk about their disabilities or chronic illnesses online. At the same time, I too am able to step back from my pedestal and analyze the real implications behind individuals who might be identified as chronic illness influencers. While most individuals in this demographic are viewed positively, a dangerous amount of controversy surrounds their community. Individuals point out the frequency of grifters and scammers.

In my own time among the environments of Facebook support groups, and in the micro-communities I found by publicizing my own experience with mental and physical illness, I too had noticed a highly disturbing trend. It’s one that brought me all the way back to my beginnings, and one that hopefully will justify this absolutely gargantuan transcript of a post. People were competing. These environments, those focused around various chronic illnesses, fostered a competitiveness between patients. One image specifically struck me; a young, emaciated woman, with a feeding tube, posting a selfie from her hospital bed took me all the way back to Wintergirls. I’m not that sick, I told myself the moment I saw her. What is that sick? What is sick enough?

I never want to be part of that atmosphere. I never want to be viewed as competing or be caught belittling someone else’s anguish to better highlight my own. I am utterly petrified of accusations of hypochondria as I’ve lost some family to that very insistence. At the same time, I am perfectly ordinary— blending in well enough to have an ear or two on me at least, compared to the rural, disfigured Appalachians on the other side of my genetic lottery number. Especially when the common conversation focuses more on grifting and scamming than awareness—who is going to practice blatant, blunt, ugly and unwarranted honesty, besides someone who can’t help themselves?

Fortunately, life has backed me up against the wall yet again. Everything will be okay, this time, for real, and I’ve just convinced myself otherwise out of anxiety that’s real enough to be acknowledgeable.  I am afraid of the impending changes and transitions that my state of being require. I am hesitant to do this, to sit at home and write and write and write, despite knowing there’s not much else I can do to be heard. I realized through my work and college that my experience has permanently defined my perception, and that perception is an inherently wonderful thing. I’ve learned from the experts that diversity is what strengthens a population and is a tremendous part of what makes us human. I don’t have to look or be normal to be meaningful; in fact, just like the back-of-cereal-boxes love to remind children, being unique is a good thing.

Now, I’m focusing on that; I’m exploring the things that make me different. One of them is that I’m sure many of you do not spend the entirety of your pain-stricken day off writing a 5,000+ word article for an insignificantly tiny audience. I’m sure many people haven’t needed to source out sliding-scale healthcare institutions. Plenty of people don’t currently think maybe there’s a cyst on my right ovary again.

Nevertheless, my story is unthinkably common. The only issue is that a lot of people like never get the pen in their hands, literally and figuratively. Genetic and developmental conditions will seriously damage individuals’ prospects without proper early intervention.  I got diagnosed with what I’m hoping is pretty-much-everything by 24.  A lot of people won’t be so lucky, and whenever they go through a major life change, and their bodies and brains fail to bounce back, it’s a total, life-ruining surprise. If not for my own “great escape” and my very much updated family, I probably wouldn’t even be here writing right now. 

One thing that people like me all have in common is that we will spend as much time in front of a computer screen or cellphone screen as we are able to do so, because the low-activity stimulation involved with today’s technology is a dopamine-godsend to a kin like ours. So I know that by sharing, I am able to touch the lives of individuals who may have no idea just how much they have in common with me, or the rest of people like me out here in the world.

The internet is a giant library of information, and the more we engage with it, the more accurate it becomes in meeting our needs (specifically in terms of web crawlers). If someone googling joint pain, with a little “g,” happens upon my story, maybe they’ll be more inclined to make that first appointment or take a leap of faith and make a move or escape their unhealthy home environment. I can’t do anything meaningful to really raise us up for the revolution we deserve-- I mean, I try to donate where I can and I'm a big believer in mutual aid, and I struggle, too-- but I can play my part in practicing honesty and vulnerability, in sharing my information by word of mouth, or in this case, by word-of-eyes.

My life isn’t meant to be an advertisement, and neither is yours. Besides, the best kind of revenge against people who have wronged you is to unashamedly own and love yourself and your story—and you need to discover who you really are to do that.

I’ve been blessed to be able to aid a few people in their personal struggles. I’m by no means some kind of mentor, but simply a fellow ally in our fight together, extending whatever resources and support I am able to offer to those who ask for it (and occasionally to those who don’t!). This realization of my ability to contribute to other peoples self-discovery and growth, simply by sharing my own, has made me realize that sharing might be the single most important thing I can do. Honesty is powerful and openness is not weakness, but a way to build strength. I believe in a world where we should not censor our suffering for the convenience of those around us, nor should we withhold immaterial or literal nourishment from those in need if we can spare it.

I found my truths out thanks to "the community" being honest, open and vulnerable-- and I feel endlessly inclined to do my part in paying it forward.

So that’s that! That’s the history of my oversharing on the internet, which I find fully necessary to explain myself and the subjects I cover because of my own unique brain. If you're anything like me, in just about any way, feel free to reach out as I love connecting with people and learning about the diverse range of experiences people with my conditions have.

[oureuphoria]

Not Like You || JJK Oneshot

⟿ Synopsis: God had favourites. Jungkook figured that out early in his childhood, when every waking moment was spent trying to impress his parents at the expense of you. He ran away at 19 to escape the immeasurable pressure to succeed but he couldn't escape you. Six years and a daughter later, Jungkook met his childhood enemy again, except this time he didn't want to run.

⟿ Genre: fluff & angst & slow-burn so slow you question if there is even a burn.

⟿ Pairing: dilf!jungkook x boxer!jungkook x childhood enemy!reader

⟿ Word count: 28K whoops, I went a little overboard

⟿ Warnings: Mentions of depression and brief mentions of suicidal thoughts, mentions of death (very brief, very minor character) some profanity.

⟿ Note: Oh boy okay so I merged boxer JK with father JK with enemies 2 lovers with friends 2 lovers so it's just a MESS okay bare with me. I'm sorry she's so chonky, also the ending was spontaneous so um sorry <3.

God had favourites. Jungkook figured that out early in his childhood, when every waking moment was spent trying to impress his parents at the expense of your effortless flaunting. Your parents had known each other from high school, they built their businesses together from the ground up and while the story is outdated and tacky, there was no other way to explain it. Their friendship was admirable, truly one of the strongest you’d ever witnessed. You yearned for a friendship like theirs, everyone did, but you weren’t quite as lucky.

Jungkook, who was older than you by four years, was supposed to be your unconditional best friend. The person you could turn to at any given moment because you both practically grew up together. Sure it was a little too convenient to be true but you hadn’t expected him to hate you. In fact, Jungkook had grown a distaste for everything Y/N. At first, his hatred was irrational and petty. He felt like you were everyone’s new object of attention, people doted on you and your cute pig tails before they ever spared him a glance. And of course, as a 9 year old everything seemed to be dramatised ten-fold but soon enough, you had given him plenty of hate fuel.

Jungkook was a fan of music and sport. Those were pretty much the only subjects he paid attention to at school. He wasn’t the brightest kid but he had passion and humour. You, were his polar opposite. You had no musical talent, not a single athletic bone in your body but academics came easy to you, so did impressing adults. You even skipped two grades and Jungkook couldn’t even escape you. You were the textbook example of everything his parents wanted him to be and he hated you for it.

Jungkook’s parents were loving, kind and well-rounded people. They had a lot of compassion and empathy, they grew up in the lower-middle class and knew how intricate money was and how detrimental it was not to waste it. They also knew that wasted potential, was the worst disease that plagued society. They wanted Jungkook to reach his full potential even if, in their eyes, that meant academic success.

Tutoring wasn’t a necessarily bad thing, initially, Jungkook welcomed the extra help. However, hiring top class tutors for an 11 year old was not a smart decision. Jungkook wasn’t thick-skinned, he didn’t take criticism well, especially not when it was delivered harshly. He cried a lot, struggled even more with the newly established pressure to do well. He broke under the weight of unrealistic expectations just like any delicate glass would and when he put himself back together piece by piece, he was never quite the same.

Forced to grow thick skin, Jungkook had lost his compassion, his soft smile and his innocent eyes. Tainted by the burden of disappointment, Jungkook knew he couldn’t fail to meet expectations if there simply weren’t any. And just like that, a child no different to the countless others who enjoyed class and the safe haven it used to be, had become a nightmare.

Middle school wasn’t the worst. He created trouble but it was petty, small and usually harmless. This was also the time period where you grew to hate him too. Where his disdain towards you had become mutual. You tried to keep the bickering to a minimum. Mainly because you liked to avoid trouble but also because you didn’t want to disappoint your parents. Since, after all Jungkook had done, you were never allowed to reciprocate, you always had to be the bigger person.

It was ironic really, Jungkook was two grades above you and still managed to act half your age. Nonetheless, you tried to treat your negative emotions towards him like papers you could file away and come back to when it really mattered. Unsurprisingly, it didn’t work, no one could compartmentalise their feelings and surely not a 12-year-old but you tried anyway because anything was better than fighting with Jungkook.

High school was when it got personal. It wasn’t just petty arguments over coloured markers or throwing paint at each other. Suddenly, the hatred had deepened, seeped into your blood like poison. It consumed you, enough so to make you forget that you had no reason to hate each other in the first place. The fighting became planned and vindictive until eventually, tearing each other down had gone too far. You picked at each other’s insecurities because it was easy to destroy someone you knew well. In a way, behind the toxicity of your indescribable relationship, you had been the only constant in each others lives. You found comfort in that.

One day in your sophomore year, it went too far. You couldn’t recall the exact details if you tried but it had something to do with your parents divorce. Nevertheless, words were said, insults exchanged like daggers dragged through skin and if you could take it all back you would, because the very next day, Jungkook didn’t show up to school. He didn’t show up the following day, or the day after that until you had been informed that he’d run away.

You wondered where the missing person posters were, or his extravagant search party. You wondered why nobody seemed to care.

With a reputation that had been carefully constructed for years before Jungkook’s existence, it seemed unworthy to damage it all for him and as shallow as that sounded, the Jeons had been too hurt by his decision to see the error in their actions. And thus, no report was filed and Jungkook had disappeared from your life into thin air; his name had become forbidden in your house. Like a blemish wiped away from history, Jungkook ceased to exist and you couldn’t handle it, not when you saw him everywhere. They told his school he’d transferred, which was a blatant lie, Jungkook never finished high school but you were forced to play along.

Jungkook stayed with an older friend in Seoul where he refused to reply to any of your messages. With the burden of the heavy guilt on your shoulders, you trudged through junior year on your own, fearing that he was gone forever. Everyday for 2 years, you messaged him. It was initially just ‘please come home’ every morning but eventually, under the impression that he wasn’t receiving the messages, you vented. Sometimes it was about how depleted his house had become, how Jungkook’s older brother was spiralling into a pit of depression or how your classes didn’t feel the same. Sometimes it was about how much you hated him for leaving you to deal with two broken families.

Jungkook was nowhere for a while. No longer holding a monopoly over your mind although never completely gone. College was easier, the memory of him wasn’t there at every turn. You didn’t think much of trying to find him, not when he so clearly didn’t want to be found. You told yourself that he was alive, well and much happier than he ever was with his family. You begged that it was true every second of every day.

It wasn’t until your fourth year of college that you had confirmed your theory. You almost missed it, in a rush to make it to your morning lecture in time but your eyes unconsciously did a double take. And indeed, there he was, not-so-small Jungkook on a billboard with the title, ‘Season’s hottest contender’. A professional boxer. You were frozen in your place with your jaw slack for far too long to be normal but nobody really cared. Everyone far too busy with their own burdens.

This, you were not expecting.

Needless to say, you had gotten to your morning lecture around 15-minutes late. Why? Well, because after viewing that fleeting billboard, you spent 10 minutes googling your long-lost arch nemesis and the other 5 running to class after realising you were late. Your ethics professor didn’t mind, which you did not find the least bit ironic in the moment, and thankfully you didn’t draw too much attention. However, it probably would’ve been best if you didn’t attend at all because you had not retained a single word uttered during that 115 minute lecture.

When you had gotten back to your apartment, you began to spiral. It had been 6 years since you last saw Jungkook, 6 years since you last heard of him and your blood boiled at the fact that he was thriving. Of course you were happy for him but he had put your family and his through misery for evidently no reason. A simple text message would have sufficed.

In a spur of the moment decision, you haphazardly spent $120 on two tickets to his match that weekend, one that would take place around 40 minutes from your apartment. You just hoped that your roommate would agree to go with you because there was no other way for you to get there without spending a fortune of course.

“Please!! I promise all you have to do is come.” You pleaded for the umpteenth time that night. “Y/N, neither of us have ever given a shit about boxing, why would we go now?” You were rather close with your roommate, in fact you’d consider him your closest friend, however, you never really discussed your childhood with anyone, much less the petty feud that drove Jungkook out of his home. So, you told a small white lie to cover up the real reason behind your random spike of interest in the violent sport. “I told you, I won the tickets online and I don’t want to waste them.” “You can always sell them?” Seokjin had a valid point, there was no denying that but you weren’t one to back down easily. Jin knew that all too well. “Come on, it’ll be fun! I’ll treat you to dinner after?” “Panda Express?” You rolled your eyes at his evidently expensive taste, he was going to milk it for what it was worth. Despite being the child of a millionaire, you were trying to be financially independent and Jin was not making that easy. “I was thinking McDonalds but that works too I guess…” And with a final handshake you had sealed the deal. Jin would accompany you on your journey.

There were many details you hadn’t foreseen. Like, for example, the fact that opting for the cheapest tickets put you at a substantial distance from the ring and that Jungkook was practically untouchable. You never knew when boxing had gotten so popular but Jungkook had a large and diverse fanbase which ultimately meant tough security and no way to speak to him, not unless he noticed you first. You were sure that even with 20/20 vision, there was no way Jungkook could see you from that distance, not to mention the fact that he had to dodge and throw punches at his opponent who you had done absolutely no research on.

“Y/N, this sucks, lets bail and go to panda express.” You glared at your roommate beside you. It had been less than 10 minutes and he was already complaining. “Wait, they’re selling hot dogs I take back what I said. Go buy two.” “No! Stadium food is expensive and besides, I’m not even hungry.” “Who said they were for you? You said you’d buy me food, go, get me two hot dogs.” “Alright Jin, it’s the hot dogs or panda express.” “Nope, if you want me to sit through watching two sweaty men battle it out like medieval gladiators for an hour than you owe me two, two meals.” You rolled your eyes, shoving the money in his hand nonetheless.

The match wasn’t starting for another 15 minutes and you decided you’d take a shot in the dark. Jungkook had probably changed his number, but on the off chance he didn’t, you sent a message anyway. One that was ambiguous enough not to alarm anyone who was not in fact Jungkook but still contained enough information to ensure him that you were not a psycho stalker fan.

Hey, it’s me Y/N. I’m at your match tonight and I was wondering if we could talk?

You deleted your old messages to him, mostly because it hurt to recount what it was like back then but also partly because you wanted to move on. However, what you’d never forget was the fact that in your 2 years of messaging him, the messages had never, ever been read. So, when the read receipt had shown up onto the screen, you could feel your heart beat in your chest, the sensation becoming overpowering to the point where it left you nauseous. However, it didn’t take long for your heart to settle once again.

Sorry, wrong number.

You weren’t sure what you were expecting but you still felt the disappointment all the same. “So, I got a snow cone too but I’m not a complete monster so I got watermelon because I know it’s your favourite.” “Blueberry. Blueberry is my favourite, Jin.” You deadpanned in a monotonous tone, you were lying, watermelon was your favourite but Jin deserved the discomfort so you maintained the facade anyway. “Wow, who would’ve thought?”

Eventually, the 15-minutes had breezed through and Jin had obliterated the two hot dogs which thankfully gave you time to consume about 90% of the snow cone. “Here, you can have the rest.” Jin looked at you skeptical before realising you had already almost finished the snow cone. “You left me the flavourless, bottom part! I don’t want it.” “Well, that’s what you get for exploiting my kindness. Besides, I’m getting cold you take the rest.” You stretched out your hand towards him, holding the ice cone in place. “I don’t want it." “Just take it.” You taunted further, however, in an attempt to further dramatise his theatrics, Jin had wailed his arms around while complaining, accidentally hitting the snow cone out of your hands and onto your white top.

He winced silently, looking at you, infinitely colder with a large pink stain on your shirt. “I have no regrets.” He tried to hide his giggle but you took off your jacket, throwing at him while standing up to go to the bathroom. “You’re insufferable.” you muttered angrily but you failed at keeping a straight face, after all the situation was rather comical. However, on your way to the bathroom, you passed by the ring and while you were too invested in surveying the severity of the stain, Jungkook’s eyes had landed right on you.

Jungkook often looked back towards the exit because that was where his coach would stand, however, what was supposed to be a quick glance at his surroundings had completely thrown him off his game. Your face was one he could never forget, no matter how much he wanted to.

“Jungkook! Focus!” The command from his coach and a fist to his face had regained Jungkook’s consciousness and he hit back five times harder. In fact, seeing you had brewed a pot of hatred deep inside him, one that he had hoped to keep idle till the day he died. On your way back from the bathroom, your eyes locked with Jungkook’s and from the fury in his eyes and the ferocity of his expression, you knew he was well aware that you were there and evidently still wanted nothing to do with you.

“You look like you had a nose bleed.” You rolled your eyes at Jin who had almost forgotten about your entire existence in the 3 minutes you were gone. “You didn’t tell me the boxer was so fine. Now I know why you wanted to go.” Jin smirked at his comment, raising his eyebrows at you wickedly. However, instead of your comically irritated face, all Jin saw was uneasiness. “Hey are you okay? I’m sorry about the snow cone I didn’t mean to-” You snorted at his antics, your friendship with Jin was rarely sentimental which was why his heartfelt apology had felt so out of place. “I don’t care about the cone, moron and yes, I agree, he is very fine.” There was not a hint of insincerity in your statement but it did come out awkward, mainly because it was true but a part of you knew very well that you’d have to explain to Jin eventually. Especially if you were really planning on getting Jungkook to forgive you.

You spent the rest of the match seated watching quietly. You had to be honest, it left you uneasy. Every punch Jungkook took made you jump a little, every time he threw a punch you held your breath. To say that the entire experience was just pure discomfort would’ve been a severe understatement. You never wanted to attend one of these ever again.

“That wasn’t half bad, Y/N. Dare I say fun, even?” You elbowed him jokingly on your way out of the stadium. “Sure it was fun for you!! I am sticky and I smell like a watermelon starburst.” “You know what, that doesn’t sound half bad either.” You rolled your eyes at him. “Where did you even park the car Jin?” Jin dropped you off at the entrance promising to meet you once he found a place to park his precious car. “It’s a little far…” “Seriously? There are loads of perfectly good parking spots nearby!” “But, Y/N, Popo (yes, Jin named his car, its a Porsche) doesn’t appreciate being among commoners so I parked him at a restaurant nearby, just give me 5 minutes and I’ll bring him here, okay?” You nodded, still sporting a frown provoked by your best friend’s immature antics.

You leaned your shoulder against a wall on the side of the main building which had seemed like a good idea at the time. You were rather tired, even though you didn’t do much. Unfortunately, you hadn’t thought about why turning your back towards the dark abyss might have been problematic. To be frank, you never did think of potential risks in situations, so, when an arm touched your shoulder you were quick to assume the worst and elbow the person behind you.

“Ow! What the fuck, Y/N?” You winced at the familiar voice, of course this would be your first interaction with Jungkook in 6 years. “Oh shit. You shouldn’t sneak up on people like that!” You tried to defend yourself, tone still laced with guilt. There was a heavy pause that followed, one that allowed the tension to grow thicker. “What do you want?” A silence fell after his question to which you responded with a snicker. “What do I want? You approached me, Jeon.” It was a habit, calling him by his last name, one that seemed to only remind him of exactly why he hated you. “I know you’re only here for me so I’ll ask again, what do you want?” “That’s not very fair. What if I was actually a fan of boxing?” “Name one fighter from the season.” It was quiet, you used the awkward pause to properly focus on his face. He’d really grown into his features, arch nemesis or not, he still made you nervous. “Y-” “Don’t say me.” You sighed, defeated. “I said ‘what if’…” You trailed off into yet another awkward silence.

“I just wanted to see how you were doing,” you mumbled quietly, almost to the point where it was incoherent. It was true, though and you didn’t have any ill intentions. Jungkook didn’t buy it and you didn’t blame him. “Did you tell anyone?” “No, not yet at least. Jungkook your mother she-” “Not a word of this to anyone. It’s none of your business.” Your jaw dropped in astonishment, Jungkook was never nice to you but he had definitely changed. He was cold and harsh, things that you’d never associate with the sweet, Bambi-eyed boy from your childhood. “It’s not like you’re keeping a low profile. You’re on billboards, they’re going to find out.” “Yeah, well it won’t be from you.”

“Hey, Y/N!” You turned your neck around quickly at the sound of Jin’s voice, he was seated in his car waiting for you to join him. “I have to go but I’m telling your parents, they deserve to know that you’re alive.” He had his tongue poking through the inside of his cheek and looked at you with a burning ferocity. He cocked his head as if to tell you to go, and that you did. You began to walk away, his look of disappointment perpetually burned into your brain. The interaction left goosebumps on your skin and a look of discomfort that didn’t go unnoticed by Jin. “Who was that?” You mentally shook off all thoughts of Jungkook before shooting Jin a genuine smile. “Just some guy asking for directions, I am almost sure I led him the wrong way.”

The next time you saw Jungkook was unplanned, at least on your part. You were at work which was a more glamorous way of saying the campus library. It wasn’t fun but you needed the money and it paid well for a relatively low demand on labour. “Hey sexy.” You glared at the source of the irritating voice, Jensen, a guy from your ethics class who had an unruly goal to sleep with every girl in your cohort. “Jensen, lovely to see you.” You feigned a smile, sarcasm obvious in your tone but you didn’t care. He knew well enough that you weren’t his biggest fan.

You didn’t hate Jensen because of his promiscuous sex life, that was his business and you knew better than to make judgements on people based on something that superficial. No, you hated Jensen because of a group project during your first year where he had, unsurprisingly, done absolutely nothing. He went even further to harass your fellow group mate into doing his part for him.

A lot of people hated Jensen but he was disgustingly rich and therefore powerful. You were lucky you could afford to hate him, a lot of people weren’t allowed that luxury. So, you made it your life goal to ensure that Jensen would never, ever, get his way around you.

“I need a book.” “Thought so, you are at a library after all.” He rolled his eyes at your backhanded insults but didn’t move from his position on the bench. Leaning far too close for your comfort. “Picture books are over there.” You gestured when he hadn’t moved from the bench. “Funny, Y/N.” You gave him a sincere smile in response, his discomfort brought genuine joy to your heart. “Great Expectations, Dickens.” You cocked an eyebrow at him and his audacity. Your job was to scan library cards and shelve books, not help a grown ass man locate a book in a library. “It’s the book I need. Go get it.” You sighed in an attempt to calm the volcano of rage that was dangerously close to erupting. “It’s in the classics section, look for the letter D, you must be familiar with it considering your grades.” And with a swift middle finger to your face, Jensen had made his way to the classics section and away from you.

“He’s just so annoying! Who doesn’t know how to locate a book in a library? It’s not even that big.” Jin let out a hum in response which was a telltale sign that he was not listening whatsoever. You hit the back of his head lightly to which he gave you an offended look. “He’s pretty good looking you know.” You gave Jin a look of sheer disgust. There wasn’t much that could make you find someone truly disgusting but Jensen ticked all the boxes which therefore meant that no matter how conventionally attractive he may be, he was entirely hideous to you, inside and out.

“Anyways, while you were not so graciously ranting about your boring life, I got us both invited to the after party.” Jin’s proposal was met with a look of confusion. “What after party?” Your tone, now accusatory and skeptical had Jin feeling nervous. “Well, while you were trying to ring snow cone flavouring out of your shirt, I met this lovely guy named Namjoon who just so happens to be best friends with the boxer and he invited us both to the after party to celebrate Jungkook’s win.” You felt your heart jump to your throat. Suddenly feeling extremely nauseous. You excused yourself to the bathroom where you washed your face in a weak attempt to regain composure. Just the mention of his name was throwing you off. He had disappeared from your life for almost a third of it and it was difficult to accept that he was back.

Jin was perplexed, ever since the day you had asked him to attend the match with you, he would often catch you looking distracted at random times. You always played it off but he knew something was up, he just didn’t feel like forcing it out of you. “Sorry, I think there was something weird in that burrito.” You shivered at the thought of the food which had been tasty then but a genuine regret later. “It’s fine, anyways, I already RSVPd and these events are super hard to get into so we’re going, okay?” You nodded absentmindedly, as mentioned before, Jin was stubborn and there was no way to dig yourself out of this one unless you were willing to tell him the truth.

When in the comfort of your room, you spent an abnormal amount of time with your finger hovering above her contact awkwardly.

‘Mrs Jeon :D’

You couldn’t bring yourself to ring it and despite your better judgement, you decided not to. Something about Jungkook’s dejected expression told you that he needed his space and you owed him at least that much. However, in the solitude of your room, you were finally able to truly reflect on what had happened and what you were planning to do about it. You never admitted it out loud but you relied on Jungkook and despite the anger he’d put you through daily and his senseless pranks, you grew a soft spot for him, you grew fond of someone who hated you through and through under the premise that it was just a guise.

You’d deny it the moment it comes up but at one point, in fact during your sophomore year, before Jungkook ran away, you harboured stupid, pre-teen feelings for him. Sure they were menial and childish but he was your first real crush, dare you say your first love even. But this feeling which you had apprehensively allowed into your life had left you broken. It hurt that much more when he left. The feelings were forced to subside in his absence, although, in the comfort of your bed, it became harder to confirm whether they had ever subsided at all or just remained dormant in the corner of your heart, waiting for the chance to reignite again.

The next day Jin barged into your room at noon. “Get up loser, we’re going shopping.” You sat up from your starfish position on the bed to look at Jin as he leaned against your doorframe dramatically. “Why? We went shopping last week.” You groaned before flopping backwards onto your comfortable bed again. Jin wasn’t having it and therefore he yanked you out of bed and onto the floor. “I need a new outfit for the party and you do too. If I have to see you wear one of your outdated dresses or that stupid mini-skirt-” “That skirt has been through a lot with me, Jin! It holds sentimental value, not that you’d know anything about that, you sociopath.” You got up nonetheless and Jin knew he’d won the battle. You opened your closet, feeling a little insecure about your entire wardrobe thanks to Jin and decided you deserved some new clothes. Which was an entirely personal revelation, not in any way related to your brutally honest roommate.

You weren’t sure why Jin was so on edge about this party. You knew well enough that Jin liked to shop often but he had been nervously raking through his closet and trying different hair styles the entire week. “So, you like this Namjoon guy don’t you?” you teased with a quirk of your eyebrows. Jin scoffed in response letting out mumbles of astonishment. “You think I’m that easy?” “I think you’re a strong believer of love at first sight.” He shook his head instantly, opting not to say anything else. Ironically, the silence confirmed your suspicions; Jin was never speechless.

“Pinstripes or plain?” Jin was holding two ties up to his neck, alternating between the two. “I don’t think anyone wears ties to a house party, Jin.” He mocked you silently but put down the ties anyway. “How about this shirt?” You held up a white silk blouse that had a rather deep v-neck. “I’ll try it on.” You clapped giddily before continuing to peruse the racks of clothing. “So, what are you thinking of wearing?” You shrugged, a sound response which encapsulated the turmoil you were feeling inside, you had absolutely no idea what to wear. “Nothing? You always have opinions.” That was true, you’ve always liked clothing. Ever since you were a kid you always liked to experiment (which led to some rather horrendous family pictures) and you liked to think you grew into your hobby quite well. “Nope, I’ve got nothing.”

“What about this dress?” You glanced at the floral cocktail dress Jin was holding up, it was pretty but your severe allergy to flowers gave you shivers when you looked at it. “Maybe not…” After about 3 hours of inconspicuous shopping (trying to be financially responsible and all), you decided to head home. You ended up buying a rather simple black body con dress that you thought was appropriate, after all the last thing you needed was to attract attention. Jin went with the elegant silk blouse you picked out (you’re always right) and a pair of slacks. He looked great and if you were whoever the hell it was he was trying to impress, you’d be smitten.

On the night of the party, Jin screamed, “Y/N, you ready?” You scoffed at his shrill voice from your shared living room, where you had been (im)patiently waiting for him for the past 25 minutes. “I have been ready for the better part of an hour. Hurry up!” Jin rolled his eyes at your outburst because frankly, he didn’t care, he had a million other things to worry about like how he was going to keep up a conversation with Namjoon while knowing absolutely nothing about boxing. “Where’s the party anyway?” “Jungkook’s house, it’s huge by the way, I checked some places out in that neighbourhood last year.” You nodded absentmindedly, too occupied trying to calculate just how much being a boxer could possibly make you to pay attention to the fact that Jin was planning on moving out.

“That was the wrong turn, idiot! I said take the second left that was the third, no wonder you failed math.” Jin waved off your complaints, peaking at your phone which told him to make a U-turn. “I’m driving next time.” You were still on your learners but felt as though you could surely navigate better. “So you can drive 40 in a 60 zone and make us even later? No thanks.” You let out a huff of astonishment, maybe you were a little too careful sometimes but at least your driving record was clean. Jin couldn’t say the same. “Okay, where the hell do I park Popo? It’s packed!” You shrugged, unconcerned with Jin and his car. “I don’t know, there’s space down the street.” “Down the street?! Behind the Toyota are you insane?” “Whatever, I’m leaving.” You left the car with a shrug to which Jin groaned in annoyance.

“Name and ID.” Jungkook hired bouncers for his house party, bouncers, this man had to be insane. “Y/N L/N,” you replied with a smile that was not returned in any way whatsoever but you could guess that the man was tired so you tried not to take it to heart. You realised, when you had entered the extravagant house that you probably should’ve waited for Jin. You didn’t know a single person there and half of them looked like they bench pressed semi-trucks for a living. You weren’t sure how long you were standing near the entrance with a panicked gaze but it must’ve been a while because Jin had entered looking pissed. “Y/N, you will not believe how far I had to walk I- oh, there’s Namjoon, bye loser!”

Your mouth opened and closed like a fish for a bit, hand outstretched to in a failed attempt to stop him from abandoning you. “Asshat,” you cursed under your breath.

You spent the rest of the night alone, you grabbed a cup full of orange juice and a drop of alcohol because you wanted to pretend you could handle your alcohol by drinking a ‘mimosa’. You were bored out of your mind but you didn’t want to disturb Jin, by the looks of it, he had been hitting things off with that Namjoon guy he was interested in. You were genuinely happy for him.

Sipping 5 cups of orange juice for the better part of your night was not a good idea. You needed to pee.

Jungkook had made it very clear (not personally, you hadn’t seen him all night) that the second floor of his house was off limits. There were security standing at the entrance of the staircase. However, you never made it near the staircase until you felt an impending need to relieve your bladder which was unfortunately met with 4 occupied bathrooms. When you had reached the base of the stairs leading to the second floor, the security, who had been there for every second previous to your arrival, were busy helping an extremely drunk person to a seat and you had gone up in search of a bathroom.

All the doors were shut but that didn’t discourage you. You knocked and peered inside in desperation, careful because you knew what closed doors at a party meant. Eventually, after going past his study, (why did he even need a study?) his home gym and a bedroom, you found a children’s room. You were a major advocate for respect and privacy when in other people’s homes, however, this was Jungkook. Your extreme curiosity got the better of you. The room was empty, thankfully, that party was no environment for a child, however, it was the only room that was full of life. There were toys overflowing from a chest, a pink blanket on a messy bed (the one with the princess net at the top that every child wanted) and a picture framed on the wall with Jungkook and a little girl.

Your heart plummeted to your feet faster than the speed of light and suddenly, the need to evacuate your bladder was gone. The only urge you could register was the one to scream. Jungkook had a child. A child. Was he married? What else was he hiding? “What the fuck are you doing? second-floor’s off limits get- Y/N?” You turned around to see the man of the hour, both shocked and livid at his discovery. “You have a daughter?” Jungkook didn’t say anything in response, he grabbed your arm tightly and dragged you out of the room. His vice-like grip hurt, but you didn’t hold it against him. This was his kid, you’d be mad too.

“You need to stay the fuck away from me. Understood?” He seethed through gritted teeth but you could feel an anger of your own begin to simmer. “Jungkook, why are you pushing us away? Why are you pushing me away? I never did anything to you!” He scoffed, now letting go of your arm which was visibly red, he’d feel guilty about it later. “I don’t owe you shit, let alone an explanation so-” “You don’t know what it was like when you were gone. The least you could do is explain.” You cut him off and he was surprised at your confidence, you were definitely older.

“You really are clueless, huh?” The tension in the hallway had risen to an all time high but you weren’t budging. You crossed your hands across your chest and leaned against the wall to prove that you weren’t going anywhere. He was really about to unpack 9 years worth of emotional trauma. “Did you ever look at the family pictures, Y/N?” You nodded slowly, unsure what he was insinuating. “You were in the middle of all of them, hell even my family albums were full of you.” You didn’t really know what to say, Jungkook might have been right but you were a child, how could you have known better? “You can’t hold that against me I was like 10!”

“In middle school my parents never attended my football games but they were always at your orchestra recitals.” “I-” You tried to apologise but Jungkook wasn’t done. “In high school, I joined the dance team and won a state title, but that didn’t matter because you won a chess tournament. My entire childhood was spent trying to escape your shadow. Forgive me if I don’t want that kind of life for my kid.” You didn’t reply, there were tears in your eyes but you refused to let them fall. Jungkook always had a sharp tongue, the sarcasm dripped from his every word.

While the shock of the fact that Jungkook was a father began settling in, he took the opportunity to walk away but you were quick to stop him. Same grip on his arm, but much softer. “I’m sorry, Jungkook, I really am. It was never my intention to make you feel that way.” Jungkook heard the break in your voice and the quiet sniffles, he assumed you were crying but turning around could have risked the last of his self-control. “I’m trying to make this right, I promise.” Jungkook slipped out of your grasp and continued on his way, not sparing you a second glance.

The drive back home with Jin was silent.

To say you were shocked would have been a severe understatement and everyone around you noticed. Jin had picked up on your quietness around the apartment, Jensen had noticed your lack of snarky comebacks; even the lady who sells the most delicious cinnamon rolls across the street picked up on your absence. You weren’t necessarily doing a good job at hiding your inability to cope with the news and Jin had found your change in demeanour extremely concerning. He’d complained about it to Namjoon who, while completely aware about the situation, relayed the information onto an uncaring Jungkook. Namjoon felt bad lying to Jin, but it wasn’t his business.

You stayed true to your word and didn’t tell anyone about his, predicament, for lack of a better word. You did a lot of snooping but Jungkook had done an insanely great job of hiding his child from the media, you assumed that was for the best. The picture of her was engraved in your head, you could vividly recall her smile because it was so much like his. You hoped she was happy and that he was well, it wasn’t like he had much familial support.

After two weeks, when your mind was just starting to evict its unwanted resident, a phone call from an unsaved number had startled you. “Hello?” You questioned suspiciously, people rarely ever called you so your hesitance was justified. However, no matter how cautiously you approached the phone call, nothing could’ve prepared you for the question on the other side. “Are you serious about wanting to make things right?”

“She’s not allergic to anything but she’s not a fan of spicy food. Bedtime’s 7pm, 8pm latest otherwise she won’t sleep all night. Her bath time is usually around 6pm but I’ll hopefully be home by then. Oh and one more thing, if I’m back really late, feel free to take one of the guest rooms. All clear?” You nodded dutifully, after all you were literally taking notes.

Jungkook had called you in a spur of the moment decision to ask you to babysit his daughter. It went against all of his better judgement but his second qualifying match had been pushed forward due to a change in the semi-finals dates and his usual babysitter couldn’t help on such short notice. His closest friend was his manager (Namjoon) and everyone else he trusted had lives of their own to tend to. You seemed like the best viable option (not that there were many options to begin with, Jungkook kept his circle close) so Jungkook called you with a proposal of peace in exchange of a favour. You agreed a little too quickly over the phone with an excited tone that almost made Jungkook smile. Almost.

“You got it.” You added a playful salute for comedic relief but Jungkook didn’t seem impressed. He gave his daughter a long kiss on the cheek and a hug, falling to his knees to properly hold the toddler. For the first time in a long time, that old Jungkook with the Bambi eyes overflowing with compassion had made an appearance, it was fleeting, but it was nice to know that he was still in there. “Bye baby, I’ll be home soon, okay?” She smiled and waved at him, giving him a thumbs up for good measure. You could already tell she was extremely mature for a 4-year-old. “Bye bye, daddy! Be safe.” Hesitantly, Jungkook left his house, still apprehensive about his choice to leave his daughter with you.

But, you had been together longer than you had been apart, and while Jungkook hated you, you technically never did anything wrong (partially the reason why he couldn’t stand you). He wanted to genuinely give you a chance. Jungkook tried to physically shake away his thoughts, after all, this was the least prepared he ever was for a match and it was detrimental to his career. He needed to focus. “Don’t stress, Jeon. You’ve got this in the bag.” Namjoon reassured him at the sight of his visible discomfort. He wanted the best for his daughter and if that meant doing the only thing he was good at, he would do it.

“So, your name’s Kyomi, right? My name is Y/N.” You outstretched a hand to the toddler, she eyed it skeptically which you couldn’t help but find unusually adorable. Eventually, she took your comparatively giant hand in hers, shaking it with all her might. “My name means pure and beautiful, what does yours mean?” You looked at her with a blank gaze, blinking absently. Your name didn’t have a meaning. Were 4 year olds supposed to talk this much? “Oh um, I don’t think my name has a meaning…” You trailed off, weirdly embarrassed over something you had never even thought about. “That’s okay, I can give you one later!” She beamed and you could have sworn that your heart skipped a beat.

“Can we have McDonald’s?” She questioned sheepishly, stumbling over the franchise name. While you definitely wanted to agree with her and invest in some nuggets, you really needed this to go well so you raided Jungkook’s fridge for the leftovers he told you to feed her instead. “Sorry ��Mi, you’re having kimbap, father’s orders.” She shrugged, seemingly unfazed by the rejection. She seriously had more self-control than most of the adults you knew. You expected no less from Jungkook’s child. “Do you want some?” She questioned, holding out a piece to you. You shook your head declining her offer as politely as possible.

“Are you sure you want to watch Tangled, Spongebob movie’s right there-” She nodded confidently and you sighed in defeat. She was too adorable to disappoint, you could see why Jungkook had given her that name, it suited her well. “Why does the horse chase him?” “Because he stole the crown?” “Why did he steal the crown?” “Because he wanted money.” “So he won’t even wear it? What a waste.” You giggled, however the girl had been entirely serious so you stifled the laugh in hopes of not offending her.

Eventually, it had hit 7pm and while you had hoped Jungkook would’ve been home, he wasn’t. You helped her change into pyjamas and brush her teeth deciding that Jungkook could give her a bath the next day. “Kind and silly,” she whispered as she began drifting to sleep in her bed, you next to her. “Sorry?” you replied unsure what those words were supposed to mean. “That’s what your name means.” You couldn’t contain your smile and while you wanted her to humour your ego longer, she needed sleep and once she was finally deep in slumber, you left her room. You decided to wait downstairs for Jungkook, he had to be home soon and you desperately wanted to go home. You didn’t think you could handle an awkward morning with him.

When Jungkook had finally returned, it had been almost 11pm and he hadn’t expected to see you passed out on the couch, Peppa pig playing on the TV. He laughed at the scene quietly, so as not to wake you but his efforts were futile. You always were a light sleeper. “Oh, you’re home!” You said excitedly, well, as excitedly as someone could be while rubbing the sleepiness away from their eyes. “Yeah, sorry I was late. Interviews ran over schedule.” “I take it you won?” He nodded, making his way to the kitchen for a glass of water. “You want me to take you home?” The question was void of emotion which made it sound like a burden and it probably was, which was totally fine. You checked your phone for the time, it was far too late to catch the bus. “It’s fine, I’ll call a cab.” “Okay, goodnight.” And with that Jungkook made his ascent up the stairs.

You watched him for a bit before standing up, stretching for the laborious task of calling a cab. “Oh and Y/N?” “Hmm?” You turned back around to face him and he gave you a small but genuine smile. “Thank you.” You gave him a smile back that was far wider than his. “Anytime.” And you meant it, you genuinely enjoyed spending time with Kyomi.

Unfortunately, Jungkook had taken your offer at the worst possible time. About a week after your spontaneous babysitting, you had caught a cold. With the seasons changing and the weather getting colder, you knew it was probably inevitable but you still hated it all the same. While you did your best to complete your course work through the burden of sickness, eventually you realised it was a bottomless pit of assignments and you’d much rather fail than conform to the unrealistic goals of college professors. Jin offered to take care of you like any good friend would but you foolishly rejected thinking you could handle yourself. You couldn’t. Even making coffee was a struggle.

Your nap was rudely disrupted by a phone call. You awoke from your slumber sluggishly, patting around your bed for the phone. “Jensen, for the last time I can’t help you if you lost a library book just pay the damn fee!” You angrily exclaimed into the phone, almost positive that the man on the other side was the guy who had called at least 3 times in the last hour. “Uhhh, it’s Jungkook.” The line felt silent as you checked the contact to see a private number and not Jensen. “Well, that’s embarrassing.” He hummed in response.

“So, I need you to watch Kyomi again, please.” “Another match this fast?” “No, I’m meeting someone.” “Oh…” It was in that very moment that you had realised that your feelings for Jungkook never entirely dissipated because you felt the familiar sting of jealousy in your chest, the one you'd learned to grow accustomed to all those years ago. You weren’t even sure if he was meeting that kind of someone, but it affected you all the same. “I’m really sorry but I’m sick.” Jungkook could hear it in your voice before you admitted it and he would’ve been lying if he had said he wasn’t concerned. “You alright?” You nodded, before foolishly realising that he couldn’t see you, rookie mistake. “Yeah I’m fine, it’s just a cold.” “Is anyone home with you?” He asked and you scoffed, followed by a loud coughing fit which definitely didn’t assist you in proving your point. “Jungkook, I’m 20-years-old. I don’t need someone to take care of me.” “I’m coming over.” And before you could even protest, the line was dead and you were in a state of frenzy.

You did your best to clean whatever you could, thankfully, being meticulous about your living area was useful in the off chance of spontaneous visitors. You couldn’t say the same about Jin’s room but that was why doors existed. Just when you had finished folding the designated couch blanket, a knock had startled you. You’d assumed he’d gotten your address the same way he got your number; through Namjoon who often visited for his boyfriend, Jin. You opened the door, uncaring about your sickly appearance. This man had seen you at your worst (pre-puberty) and there was no coming back from that. “You look horrible.” You rolled your eyes at his bluntness but moved away to let him in nonetheless. “Well, hello to you too!” You sarcastically whispered under your breath, but he caught it anyway. Of course he had superhuman hearing. “What was that?” he quirked playfully, raising his eyebrow in response. You didn’t bother to repeat it.

“I brought soup and medicine, wasn’t sure if you had any.” To be completely frank, you weren’t even aware there were medicines for colds. Was the normal procedure not to just let them pass? “Thanks. Where’s Kyomi, is she okay?” Jungkook found your genuine concern for his daughter heart-warming, he had seen a lot of people pretend to care about her to get closer to him and it hurt to say the least. He was still learning how to filter out the insincerity but that was a step in the right direction. “She’s hanging out with Namjoon and your roommate, I crashed their date before coming here.” You nodded understandingly before reaching for the container of soup. Fuck modesty, you were starving.

“You know, Jungkook…this doesn’t taste that bad?” Jungkook gave you an all-knowing look, as if what you had told him was a fact written in stone. “Big improvement from when you set a chicken on fire in the microwave.” Jungkook’s jaw dropped in offence but he was quick to jump to his defence. “Alright, no one told me aluminium was flammable.” “It’s a metal, Jeon. What did you think it would do?” Jungkook flicked your forehead lightly over the counter and for a second, you felt as if you were 8 again, fighting over toy cars for the sake of it. “You should probably keep a distance, Namjoon might kill me if you get sick.” He nodded in agreement and you felt your heartbeat slow at that. If you could keep him at a distance, you’d be fine. That weird philosopher that muttered ‘distance makes the heart grow fonder’ would have to suck it because you needed to be right.

Falling for Jungkook all over again may be a fall you can’t recover from.

“Your fridge is filled with mineral water and flavoured milk. This can’t be sustainable.” You groaned, from your seat on the kitchen island, you just wanted to enjoy the soup guilt free. “If I wanted a nutritionist, I would’ve asked for one.” Jungkook didn’t reply, merely grabbed a bottle of mineral water and chugged half the thing in one gulp. “So, who were you meeting today?” You knew exactly how you sounded. Jealous, desperate, lonely. But you didn’t care, a huge part of who you were was being far too curious for your own good, you were infamous for that. “A woman.” You didn’t prod further. Getting Jungkook to let you into his home and meet his daughter (even if it was just as a makeshift babysitter) was more than enough for you and pushing your luck wouldn’t be a smart decision.

“What about you?” He questioned warily, tone apprehensive as if he was dipping his toes into icy water. “Hmm?” You were too invested in consuming the last of the soup to find an answer for his question. “You seeing anyone?” The spoon slipped from your hand onto the metal bowl with an uncomfortable clank. “No, I haven’t had the time and all the men I’ve met suck.” That was half true, you tried to date but something always went wrong before things could become official. You didn’t put out in a ‘reasonable’ time frame, you couldn’t allocate enough time to spend with them, you were too young, too inexperienced, too focused on school, not focused enough. There was always fault on your part and it encouraged you to simply give up. You’d have been a fool not to take the signs the universe was hurling at you.

“Even Jensen?” You laughed obnoxiously at the mention of the man you purchased an entire death note for. “Especially Jensen.”

When you were finally in the comfort of your bed again, you couldn’t sleep. Not when Jungkook was seated on a chair next to you with his hand on your head. “You have a bit of a fever.” He spoke softly, noticing the way your eyelids were heavy on your eyes. You made an effort to respond to him. “I’ll be fine. I ate, I took medicine, this is already more than I’ve ever done to treat a cold. My immune system’s probably throwing a party.” Jungkook chuckled but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He couldn’t help but worry. It might’ve been because Jungkook was used to being a worried caregiver, or maybe it was because he always felt responsible for you when you were younger. “I’ll stay till your fever goes down and then I’ll get out of your hair, I promise.” You hummed in approval, too tired to do much else and from that point forward things began to deescalate.

Your fever went down and your breathing was smoother, there was nothing more that Jungkook could wait for and yet he did. He stayed in the uncomfortable chair for far longer than he should’ve, as if your sickly pale, sleeping face was the most interesting thing in the cosmos. “I’m sorry.” He muttered under his breath to no-one in particular though unconsciously he knew it was for you. You grew into your features well and maybe it was just the sickness but you seemed so tired, too tired for your age.

Every time Jungkook purchased a new phone, he made sure to use the same sim card so that he could keep his number. He never told you but he read all of your tangents, even when you stopped thinking he received them. Jungkook’s guilt, that had accumulated with every message had been masked by his misplaced anger, began to subside the night after you watched his daughter. Eventually, it all came crashing down onto him like a roof no longer supported by the pillars of his poor judgement. Jungkook shattered his phone during practice a year ago and couldn’t recover the SIM card and the guilt which was now at the forefront of his mind had him feeling responsible for ruining your childhood, even though he deemed you the sole conspirator for the tragedy that was his.

“Jungkook?” Your groggy voice pulled him out of his misery and he was quick to react. “I’m here.” He took your hand in his and gave it a reassuring squeeze although he realised soon enough that it was not what you were hoping for. "Go home, loser! I can take care of myself.” You swatted him away with no real intention of harming him though in your weak state he doubted you could if you wanted to. Jungkook knew you didn't need him because you didn’t just take care of yourself, you took care of his brother when he was on the grim edge of suicide, you took care of his parents when his absence was too powerful for them to cope with and you took care of your broken home, shuffling between two estates like a care package. Jungkook knew you could take care of yourself, he just wanted to make up for making you take care of his mess too. “Okay, okay, I’m going.” And with that he stood, feeling a small ache in his muscles from being seated for so long.

“Wait!” He was barely outside of your room before you called him again. “If it’s not too much trouble, you should come back with more soup.” Jungkook continued on his way, shaking his head in disappointment but chuckling nonetheless. You sighed when he left, weirdly enough you felt like you were on eggshells with him, as if he was always one mistake away from disappearing again. Disturbing your 15-minutes of solitude, Jin had returned from his date which you had unintentionally crashed, you would never hear the end of it. “You bitch. I had to share my date with a four-year-old because of you. And I’m cute okay but not cute enough to top a child, Y/N. You’re such a fucking cock-blocker, I'm never forgetting this.” And just like that, your piercing headache was back.

“I don’t get it, Kyomi. You were fine with Y/N last week?” Jungkook felt like tearing his hair out of his scalp, despite his four years of experience, parenting wasn’t getting any easier. There were new hurdles hiding in the corner of every milestone, new triumphs came interlaced with new battles that hid behind the fleeting glory. “I miss Suzy!” Suzy was Kyomi’s old babysitter who Jungkook decided to forego because you offered to babysit his daughter for free and money didn't grown on trees. However, it felt like a mistake when he was on the receiving end of his daughter’s temper tantrum. She was normally level-headed but she was a child after all and it wasn’t her fault Jungkook barely knew what he was doing. “I know, baby, but she was going to have to leave eventually.” It was weird, trying to explain the issues with attachment to a four-year-old when he didn’t quite understand them himself. Jungkook had never been on the side of those left behind, after all he was a master at running away. “I. Want. Suzy!” Kyomi began to scream and stomp her feet they way four-year-olds do when they don't get their way and Jungkook needed to get to training so he caved, even though he knew he shouldn’t have. “Fine, I’ll call Suzy but this is your last day with her, understood?” She nodded with a tear-stained face and Jungkook knew very well he’d have to fix this mess later but he couldn’t afford not to humor her in that moment.

Thankfully, Suzy was free and understanding, despite being a college student, she tried her best to make time for Kyomi and Jungkook truly appreciated it which he thought he conveyed well through her hefty pay check. “I’ll be back before 8. Sorry, again.” Jungkook began to explain the second he opened the door but she was quick to wave him off. “It’s no biggie, I love watching her. She’s such an angel.” Jungkook scoffed at the irony but had no time to explain, hauling his ass out of the building with his gym bag hanging from his shoulder.

Something he’d forgotten to do in the midst of the chaos was call you and let you know that he’d no longer be needing your assistance which left you with quite a shock when a girl, barely older than you, had opened the door to his house. “Sorry I’m late I- Oh…is Jungkook here?” She shook her head, her beautifully styled curtain bangs framed her perfectly symmetrical face elegantly. “He said he’d be back around 8, I’m Suzy, his babysitter, would you like me to let him know you stopped by?” She gave you a warm, genuine smile which you found hard to reciprocate. Jungkook just had to find the most beautiful and seemingly kind babysitter there was to replace you without notice. “No, it’s fine but thanks for letting me know.” You left with whatever fraction of dignity you had left and a promise to have some words with Jungkook.

You did something wrong. You must have. Why else would Jungkook hire someone else when you were willing to watch his adorably sassy daughter for no charge? You kicked a stone on your way out of his driveway which was heavier than it looked. You winced, hopping to relieve the stress on the toe you had unintentionally stubbed. It only soured your mood even more, pushing you to send a strongly worded text message on your way to the bus stop because you had ordered an uber there and could not afford to splurge on one back. Being financially independent was harder when you didn’t have a car.

To: Jungkook

I don’t know why you felt the need to replace me but you could have at least said something instead of making me go all the way to your house only to humiliate myself because you already had someone watching Kyomi. That was a dick move. 😡 😡 😡 😡 😡

Delivered 17:43

You hoped the angry faces didn’t undermine your argument because immediately after sending, you realised they made your message look rather childish. But, there was no time to dwell on your texting mannerisms. You had dark brooding to do in the comfort of your home where you would rant Jin’s ears off.

Jungkook read your message during his water break and felt his levels of frustration reach an all-time high as he tried to inhale an entire litre of water in one gulp. “Jeon, get back here let’s work on your hooks!” His coach was also mad at him, but that he could deal with by following his rigid instructions, which meant putting down his phone without formulating a response to your angry proclamation which, to no surprise, only made you angrier.

Read 19:02

After checking your phone and realising he had read the message without responding you decided it was official. You hated him. After allowing the anger (and jealousy) to fester, you had officially decided you despised Jungkook. Not only did he read your message and not respond but Jin was not home to receive your venting, leaving you alone to handle your emotions alone without a figurative punching bag (or even a literal one, you weren't picky). While you had breezed through academics like a race car driver who’s rent was due, emotional intelligence was not something you could streamline but most of the time you could handle things maturely.

This was not one of those times.

Jungkook had called you around 8:30pm, but you didn’t bother answering. The silent treatment was both a petty and effective way to convey your discontentment. On the other hand, Jungkook was about one push away from a meltdown and really needed you to pick up. “Thanks for helping me get her into bed, Suzy. You’re an angel.” Jungkook may have been exaggerating but he meant every word, there was exhaustion seeping from every crevice in his body. “I don’t mind, I like her. You look really tired, let me make you some tea.” Suzy was a natural caretaker, when someone needed help she offered it and Jungkook was in no position to deny any help.

“She threw a tantrum for you, you know. I’m gonna need you to start sucking at your job a little before she forces me into making you my wife.” Jungkook was joking, he knew that, Suzy knew that and yet she still let her mind dwell, heat rushing to her cheeks at the comment. “Would that be so bad?” Jungkook didn’t answer. She’d be lying if she said she didn’t find him attractive, and if this really was the last time she’d be babysitting Kyomi, then making a move wouldn’t be unprofessional, right? “Here you go.” She set the mug on the coffee table in front of the couch where Jungkook was sitting, or slumping, more accurately. When she walked around to the back of the couch, Jungkook assumed she was getting ready to leave but he hadn't seen her walk towards the door. She stood behind Jungkook's couch, feet moving back and forth as she pondered whether or not she should confess. She decided against it in the very last minute, too afraid of being rejected. "Good luck, Mr Jeon. Thank you for everything." She left with a self-indulgent peck to his cheek and Jungkook had unknowingly upset yet another woman in his life.

“You should call him back.” Jin, being the ever-so wise man he was had been pestering you about the phone call you ignored. “What if he needs you?” You continued to focus on your paper for ethics, it was a bad idea to write about philosophy when angry but you needed it done and the hate fuel was pushing out 30 words per minute. “He has Suzy.” You mumbled under your breath in a spiteful tone, Jin held back the urge to roll his eyes. “You’re jealous of his babysitter? You’re down bad, Y/N. Real bad.” You scoffed in astonishment at his insinuation. “Am not.” “Are to.” “Am not.” “Are to.” “Am not.” “Then call him back.” You walked right into that one. “Fine.” You grabbed your phone with a brute force unparalleled by anything else on this earth. You were livid about being strong-armed into calling him back and even madder that Jin had been absolutely right. You were down bad.

You held the phone to your ear, essay long since forgotten and Jin out of the room in hopes that giving you privacy would calm you down. It did. “Hello, Y/N?” You were quiet on the other line. Every ounce of rage you had accumulated over the evening had evaporated at the sound of his soft, tired voice. You felt bad, even. “Hi.” Your voice was small, breathing even smaller but still audible and Jungkook could almost sense the hostility dissipate with every exhale. “I’m sorry for not calling you it just slipped my mind, honestly. Kyomi threw a tantrum about how she wanted to see her old babysitter again and I just couldn’t handle it. I’m really sorry, Y/N.” God, you felt like such an asshole for immediately assuming the worst. Jungkook was a grown man with genuine problems that you couldn’t even fathom having. You needed to be more considerate.

“I’m sorry too. I reacted immaturely, I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt next time.” Jungkook felt the corners of his mouth move into a smile at the sound of a ‘next time’. Weirdly enough, spending time with you didn’t seem like the worst possible thing anymore. “I’m free tomorrow, how about I take you out to lunch to make up for the strenuous journey from your place to mine.” He was mocking you, but with such a kind preposition you couldn’t bring yourself to care. With a radiant smile that you were so glad he couldn’t see, you responded as monotonously as you possibly could. “Yeah, sure I guess.” Macho, real smooth. “Oh! Please bring Kyomi!” And with that shrill request, your tough exterior came crumbling down faster than your brain could process it. “I’m sure she’d love that.”

Jungkook wasn’t sure if he could call that lunch a date but he was unconsciously treating it like one. He spent far too long picking out an outfit and even longer on his hair. He thought about tying it up but felt it was too intimidating and yet having it down felt too informal. In a true dilemma, he had entirely forgotten about getting his daughter ready too. In a rush, Jungkook haphazardly threw together a cohesive outfit and almost symmetrical pigtails but Kyomi was cute no matter what, she wasn’t the one with the problem. “Bub, do you think daddy looks better with his hair up or down?” Asking for advice from his 4-year-old daughter was about as low as Jungkook was willing to stoop, but if anyone knew him well, it was her. “Down. I can pull on it then!” She giggled, her advice entirely unhelpful in the long run, although the visual of you pulling his hair in an entirely different context had seemed enticing. Focus, Jeon. This is not a date. But it sure as hell felt like one.

And you weren’t doing much better, in fact, one could say that you were doing worse. “Jin, is this dress too much? I think it’s too much? Oh god, you think it's too much too!” A hot mess would be a severe understatement, Jin hadn’t seen you this rattled since your first ever mock trial and those were grim, grim, times. “Y/N, calm down. How about that cute white skirt you have? I think it’ll pair nicely with your pink crop top.” Jin did a good job at guiding you through the first crisis, but hair and makeup was an entirely different battlefield. “Go natural.” “What if I’m ugly natural?” Jin groaned, you weren’t even trying to be modest, this was a genuine concern. “You’re beautiful okay, stop overthinking you’re making us both stressed.” “You’re right, this probably isn’t even a date.” Jin sighed in frustration, he couldn’t win with you. “He asked you out to lunch. It would’ve been the perfect date if you didn’t drag his daughter along. Are you sabotaging this, do you still think you’re undeserving of love?” There was a lot to unpack in that sentence and Jin realised he went too far when you began to spiral. “Bad joke, I’m sorry. Look, you’ve spent time with him before without short-circuiting. You can do it again.” You just needed to remember that.

“I’m so sorry for being late!” You crashed into the booth Jungkook was in, barely missing the corner of the table as you tried to catch your breath. “It’s fine.” His lighthearted chuckle supported his statement but you still felt bad, even if it was just 10 minutes, it was not a very good impression. “Y/N!” Kyomi exclaimed from her seat next to her dad, she was cute and despite her betrayal (choosing Suzy over you </3 ), you couldn’t even hold it against her. “Hey cutie! I love your pigtails.” She giggled as you reached over to play with them. “Daddy did them for me.” Jungkook had a smug smile, shrugging to emphasise his apparent finesse. “I can tell.” Your sarcasm was met with an offended gasp but Jungkook couldn’t bring himself to feign offence when you were laughing so ecstatically. You always had a beautiful smile, he was glad he didn’t ruin that.

It was quiet for a while until Jungkook spoke up. “So, um- how’s Junghyun?” You lowered the menu to look at Jungkook who was deflecting eye contact by keeping his eyes trained on the list of specials. This was the first time he ever brought his family up, you tried to make it seem like it wasn’t a big deal. “He’s doing well actually, trying to start his own graphic design business. He’s engaged too, I haven’t met her yet though.” Jungkook tried not to let his relief show, but there was a weight on his shoulders ever since you told him Junghyun wasn’t doing well emotionally 4 years ago. He felt 200 pounds lighter. “Has he- Uh, When’s the wedding?” It wasn’t hard to see that Jungkook was struggling, after all not seeing your family for 6 years only to hear about them thriving without you was a hard pill to swallow. He was happy for his older brother, truly, but he kind of wished you had said that he missed him miserably. It was selfish, but he couldn’t help it. “Hasn’t set a date yet but you’re on the guest list, you know?” Your voice was soft, you were testing the waters, afraid to say something wrong. Jungkook’s knuckles were turning white from his iron grip on the menu. Evidently, even Kyomi could sense the tension. “I want ice cream.”

After a substantial amount of convincing and a promise for ice cream in the near future, Kyomi caved into getting an actual lunch instead of dessert. She had settled on a kids meal which consisted of a mini burger, fries and a juice pop. Frankly, you were quite jealous, you wanted a juice pop too. “Schnitzel for the lady. Steak for dad. How’s the meal kiddo?” Your waiter had been quite perky, he was probably your age, maybe younger but had a contagious smile and a likeable personality. Kyomi responded with a cute smile and a thumbs up, she knew not to speak while she was eating. Jungkook should write a parenting book.

“So, how have you been?” You were two bites into your schnitzel when you choked. “Shit, Y/N, chew.” You glared at him while drinking the water he’d thrusted into your hand. “Bad word, daddy!” You watched as Kyomi gave Jungkook’s bicep a playful punch. Your attempt not to laugh was a feeble one. “Should I learn the heimlich before I ask the next question?” “Funny, Jeon. Actually, I’ve been okay. I’m trying to be financially independent so I got a job at the campus library but my parents still pay my rent so its kind of counterproductive.” Jungkook gave you a skeptical look, one that ensued judgement. “Okay before you judge!! Rent is expensive and with a blackhole of a roommate like Jin, groceries literally take up half my pay cheque.” He held his hands up in defeat as he chewed through a mouthful of his medium-rare steak.

“Trust me, I know how expensive living alone can cost.” Jungkook didn’t mean to bring up his past or make you feel guilty for relying on your parents but he had done just that in one mere sentence and the tension thickened to the point of borderline tangibility. “I really am sorry you had to do that, Jungkook. But look at how well you’re doing.” You took his hand into yours and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “You’re like carbon, you’re the strongest under pressure.” “You just had to slip a chemistry analogy in didn’t you? Nerd.” You snatched your hand away with an angry huff and Jungkook couldn’t say he didn’t miss your soft grip. “Way to ruin the moment.” You bitterly began to cut at your schnitzel again while Jungkook’s devious laughter filled the silence. It wasn’t until Kyomi innocently joined in that you felt true offence.

After you had finished your satisfying meals (although you did have to force Jungkook to help you finish your fries) Kyomi, who seemed immune to the exhaustion of eating, had demanded to be taken to the nearby park and who were you to deny her? Seated on a nice patch of grass under a tree, you watched as Kyomi played on the playground. Jungkook let you sit on his jacket because you were worried about your skirt getting dirty, perhaps chivalry wasn’t dead? “I regret wearing a skirt. I’m sorry about your jacket.” You were staring up at the sky through the breaks in the tree’s canopy as you spoke, Jungkook had his eyes trained on his daughter.

“Skirt’s cute.” When you turned to look at Jungkook, you weren’t surprised to see a stoic expression but you felt the blush creep up at his compliment anyway. “Thanks, I like your ripped jeans, they scream ‘millennial desperate to relate to the youngsters’” Jungkook’s scoff at your brutal backhanded compliment was loud and aggressive, he even broke concentration on his daughter for a split second to send a fierce glare your way. “Never complimenting you again.” You pouted jokingly, batting your eyelashes at him for comedic effect. “Oh, come on, I said I liked the jeans!” Jungkook’s hand moved to squeeze your face on impulse, by the time he thought to stop it, it was too late. “You’re trouble, Y/N, what happened to the good girl I knew 6 years ago?” The butterflies that had been dormant in your stomach for far too long had suddenly began flying with newly established speed. You stuck your tongue out at him after he let go of your cheeks to distract yourself from your newfound urge to jump him. Was he always that alluring?

“Daddy!” Kyomi had bombarded Jungkook’s lap with a force only a 4-year-old could possess. “Oof- what’s wrong, sweetheart?” She pointed to a small poodle who was walking through the park on a leash next to an old woman. “I want to pet it but I’m too scared to ask.” Jungkook groaned, head lulling backwards tiredly, the poodle was pretty far and he really didn’t want to get up. “I’ll take her?” Kyomi looked at you with hopeful eyes and Jungkook quickly nodded, the dog looked harmless anyway. “Come on, let’s go.” You held your hand out for Kyomi to take but she was far too excited to merely hold your hand, she dragged you forwards quickly, breaking out into a sprint towards the white fluff ball.

Jungkook watched you from a distance, glad he had someone to help when he was too prideful to ask. You had a weird intuition, some kind of radar for when Jungkook needed assistance. Like a spidey-sense, for a lack of better a word. Seeing Kyomi happy, genuinely happy, with you made his heart clench in his chest painfully. He knew whatever you both had was temporary, you’d eventually leave. At the end of the day it was just Kyomi and him. They only had each other and Jungkook couldn’t help but feel like he wasn’t enough. “Daddy, daddy! She was so soft and her name was Miri and she was 4 years old! Just like me!” Jungkook made room in-between his legs for his bubbling daughter, like this he was at eye-level with her and could see the way her dimples grew when she smiled up close. Jungkook never thought he could love someone as much as he loved her but then again there were a lot of things in Jungkook’s life that he never knew were possible. Like reconciling with you, for example, or the spontaneous urge to kiss you in that very moment.

When Kyomi had returned to the playground, Jungkook couldn’t help but look at you gratefully, conveying the ‘thank you’ on the tip of his tongue. He was surprised when you moved to lay down, head on his leg which had been stretched out as he leaned back against a tree. When Jungkook hadn’t pushed you away, you took it as a sign to alleviate the awkward tension. “You should trim your nose hairs.” He looked down at you, hand grazing against his nose. “I already do? You know what let me see yours.” In attempt at being playful, Jungkook unconsciously positioned his face far too close to yours and you felt your heart rate soar exponentially as you giggled, trying to hide your nose from his prying eyes. Eventually he stopped to look at you and it felt like time stopped too, but before he could even think about inching closer, you pushed him away. You had to keep him at a distance if you didn’t want to get attached. “My nose hairs have nothing to do with your’s old man.” Jungkook couldn’t fight the smile plastered on his face.

“You’re fucked.” Namjoon stated, holding up pads that Jungkook was punching into for warm-ups. “I’m not, it was probably just the fact that I haven’t gotten laid in a few months.” Jungkook regretted telling Namjoon about the weird feeling in his chest because the wise man had immediately assumed the worst. Love. “Then get laid, I assure you, you’ll still wanna kiss her.” Namjoon was joking, he knew that, but he couldn’t help but feel as if there was some truth to his words. All he needed was a one night stand to rid himself of the intrusive thoughts. But he wasn’t sure if he was ready. Every sexual experience after her had been hard, he had a constant fear in his mind that something would fail and he’d end up like he did 4 years ago; alone, confused and too young to be a father.

“Head in the game, Jeon. Your punches are distracted.” Jungkook didn’t even hear his coach come in which only solidified the man’s concerns. “You okay? You’ve been off lately and if something’s wrong we need to fix it before the semis.” In all honesty, a lot was wrong. Jungkook hated boxing, he liked the adrenalin but the fear that one day he may not come back to his daughter had him panicking every time he put the gloves on. Jungkook hated being alone too, but he grew accustomed to it and somehow the idea of you changing that made him sick to his stomach. Jungkook hated his family. Or at least that was what he told himself when he found himself thinking about his brother or his parents. So yeah, a lot was wrong but all Jungkook could fathom was a bleak ‘I’m fine’ as he stepped down to get ready for his actual training.

“You’re improving, and you have a real shot at winning this, Jungkook, I’d hate to see you throw it all away for whatever bullshit’s bothering you.” Jungkook couldn’t blame his coach for his word choice, the man was 38 and single and with Jungkook being 24, the idea of him having a kid had never slipped his mind. He couldn’t blame him for not considering things he didn’t know about but he sure as hell wanted to. “I don’t want to box anymore.” It was quiet, hushed and apprehensive. The words felt heavy on his tongue and for a second, he thought his coach didn’t hear them. “I know, I’ve known for a while actually, you’re not as happy when you win anymore and look, I get it, it’s scary, it’s hard and it’s demanding but if you win the title, you’ll be set for life. Then you can retire and never lift a finger again.”

Jungkook had put his blood, sweat and tears into giving Kyomi a good life. He bought a large house with more room then he could ever know what to do with, he set up a savings account that put more to her 4-year-old name than most adults he knew and he didn’t cheap out on insurance; property, car, contents, life, health, optical. You name it, he’s probably got it. But the thought of doing something better, having more to give her, was enough for Jungkook to push his doubts behind and accept another match. He would do anything for his daughter, and if that meant risking his life a few more times he could handle it.

“Okay, but after this season’s over I’m out. I mean it.” Jungkook’s coach merely smiled at him, gave him a strong pat on the back and muttered ‘good lad’ under his breath. Weirdly enough, he considered him the father figure he never had. After all, he gave him a job when no one else would and if it wasn’t for him, he’d still be grovelling for work on Namjoon’s couch.

After practice, Jungkook had decided to follow through on Namjoon’s premise, to test whether or not he really had feelings for you or was sexually constipated. It was dumb, and he had taken it way too literally but before he could even begin to stop himself he was messaging you.

Jungkook

You mind staying overnight? Have something I need to do.

Read 21:39

Jungkook wasn’t surprised to see you read the message instantly, you were always near your phone.

You

No biggie n are you sure it’s something and not someone? ;)

Read 21:40

You sent the message in hopes of getting a specific reply. ‘Nope, I’m just off to do some overnight yoga’ or something else that was equally as lame. You may have seemed uncaring in the message, but there was no way you were going to truly reveal the fact that you were jealous. That would mean you would have to acknowledge your feelings, and that could have been seriously damaging.

Jungkook

Thanks

Read 21:47

Jungkook’s late reply and the fact that he dodged your question like a predictable bullet had said more than he wanted to. You told yourself you didn’t care, but it was hard to lie to yourself when you were convinced you had no reason to. You tried not to dwell on it and tucked your phone away. Kyomi was excited to hear about a sleepover.

Jungkook felt out of place. The bar was loud and far too busy for a Thursday night but he persevered, sucked it up and took an open seat. His predetermined fears of losing his game were abruptly disproven when a girl had approached him before he could get his first drink. He didn’t really remember her name, doubted she remembered his but the night didn’t go as well as he would’ve planned, despite it’s almost perfect start. When Jungkook had prepared to leave the bar with her, he failed to feel that sense of luck or enthusiasm. Frankly, he didn’t feel much at all and even if it was just a one night stand, he knew she deserved better. Jungkook faked a phone call and told her he had to leave, she seemed a little disappointed, but it was nothing she wouldn’t get over.

Jungkook liked you, as more than just a friend and he needed to deal with those feelings before they’d metastasise in his chest and suffocate his heart.

It was almost midnight and Jungkook didn’t want to return home on the off chance that you were awake and ready to bombard him with questions. Your curiosity was simultaneously the worst and best quality you possessed. He walked around, the city a lot quieter in the middle of a weekday night, it was peaceful despite the harsh lights. He kept going, walking down the relatively empty street with very little direction. Everything was tranquil, for a little while at least.

A drunk middle-aged man had stumbled into Jungkook, grumbling something about how he should watch out. Even though it was in no way his fault, Jungkook didn’t humour him and continued on his way, a mistake evident in the fact that the grumbling didn’t stop there. “Oi! You’re not even gonna apologise, you ass?” The man grabbed Jungkook’s shoulder harshly and forced him to face him, he attempted to throw a punch but Jungkook moved faster. He yanked his arm off his shoulder and pushed him away. “Oh, you think you’re tough, huh?” Jungkook merely sighed in exasperation. In an attempt to diffuse the situation, he tried to walk again but it was not received well. With a newfound sense of anger and feigned sobriety, the man kicked Jungkook, causing him to fall forwards and scrape his cheek on the concrete path.

At his limit, Jungkook chuckled before dusting himself off, he stood up, face to face with the man a few inches shorter than him. “I’m going to give you one last chance to walk away.” Instead of taking Jungkook’s peace offering (and he really should’ve) he tried to throw another punch but this time Jungkook did more than just block. Losing the semblance of self-control he had left, he punched back, hard enough to send the man to the floor. Before he left, he called a cab for the clearly intoxicated man and continued on his way; he was angry, not a monster.

Frustrated and exhausted, he decided to go home. To hell with your questions, he wanted to take a shower and sleep. When he had made it back to his car, he took a moment to collect himself and clean the cut on his face. He really hoped it wouldn’t scar, he couldn’t imagine having to explain the story behind it.

When he had finally made it back to his home, Jungkook wasn’t surprised to see all the lights off. He didn’t expect to see you splayed out on the couch, though. Jungkook’s eyes panned over to the television, you were watching Ppongebob this time, he’d have to thank you for ensuring you were child-friendly at all times in his home later. Jungkook slowly made his way up the stairs so not to wake you and just when he thought he was out of the woods, he dropped his car keys and watched as they tumbled loudly down the glass staircase. There was no way you’d sleep through that.

You woke up panicked and sat up quickly in a haze. A bit like a meerkat but Jungkook could laugh about that later. Your eyes darted around to find the source of the noise and Jungkook could visibly see your shoulders slump in relief when you saw his figure at the top of the stairs. “Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you up.” He was apologising sheepishly, hand on his neck as he deflected eye contact. You were more concerned about the cut on his cheek. “What happened to your cheek? Why are you home so early? Wait what time is it?” Jungkook didn’t know which question to tackle first, in fact he had really hoped you’d skip out on the interrogation. “It’s 12:48am, just sleep here, it’s too late to go anywhere. I’m guessing you know where the guest room is?” You nodded in response as you rubbed the sleepiness from your eyes. Jungkook felt guilty for waking you up, especially when you looked up at him with glossy eyes and puffy cheeks.

You definitely knew where the guest room was but there was a reason you never used it. First and foremost, it had a really big window that just so happened to showcase the trees surrounding Jungkook’s property. It was terrifying at night and there was no lamp. You could deal with the dark, but not when there was a scary window and far too much empty space. That’s why you preferred to sleep on the couch but there was no denying that you would not survive overnight on the uncomfortable leather. Just a nap was enough to make your shoulders hurt. Why are expensive couches always so uncomfortable? You took a deep breath and made your way to the guest room. You could do this, you were a grown woman, it was just a room.

It took you approximately 45 minutes of laying so incredibly still you may have petrified yourself for you to realise that you could not, in fact, do this.

The quiet patter of your feet could be heard in the halls, amplified by the empty space. When you finally reached what you assumed to be Jungkook’s room, your hands stopped tentatively on the handle. “Jungkook…” You whispered quietly, peaking your head through the door you had opened slightly so not to wake him abruptly. “I’m awake, what’s up?” You let out a sound of relief. “Thank god, do you mind if I sleep here with you?” Jungkook choked on thin air. You were startled by his coughing fit but moved closer to pat him on the back nonetheless. “What’s wrong with the guest room?” He spoke through huffs as he regained his breath. You prepared yourself for the embarrassment of having to explain your irrational fear of the room. “It’s scary.”

Jungkook tried not to laugh at your turmoil it wasn't hard to notice that you weren't kidding. "Seriously? " he tried in hopes that it would somehow make you realise just how ridiculous you sounded. However, he did not compensate for your previously established stubbornness or the severity of your fears. "Just let me sleep here, I can sleep on the floor if you want?" Jungkook didn't want you to sleep on the floor, but the idea of sleeping next to you terrified him. You felt the same, in fact, this went against your significant rule to stay as far away from him as possible. But, sleep was a necessity you couldn't compromise no mater how many heart palpitations being close to him gave you.

“No, no, it’s fine. I’ll take the guest room.” That option also ran through your head, however, seeing Jungkook’s room and it’s parallel windows you realised it was not much better. “Why do you not have curtains?” The question caught Jungkook off-guard, he was half-sitting, ready to evacuate the bed so you could take over. “I wake up early and my house is surrounded by trees so no peeping neighbours. Never needed them.” He shrugged after his simple explanation and surveyed the way you bit your lip in concentration while staring at the two large windows in his room. “Not a fan of the windows?” You looked back at him and felt guilty. He looked tired and you were the one thing stopping him from rest. You could handle one sleepless night, or maybe you would take your chances with the couch. “You know what, I changed my mind I’m being ridiculous. I’ll sleep in the guest room, okay?” You scrambled out of the room before Jungkook could even protest but there was no way he would be able to rest easy knowing you were uncomfortable at his expense.

So, a good 15-minutes after you had sprinted out of Jungkook’s room like it was lit on fire, he had made his way to the guest room downstairs. “Still can’t sleep?” Jungkook’s house was so dark at night that you could barely even make out his silhouette which made his spontaneous voice all the more terrifying. Jungkook heard a small yelp, a crash and then a muffled groan of pain. He switched on the light only to see you cradling your elbow which had presumably collided with the bedside table. “I’ll be fine, I’m just dramatic.” Jungkook clearly wasn’t buying it and you felt your throat constrict, growing tighter with each step he took towards you. “Scoot over, I like sleeping on the side closest to the door.” Huh? Who would’ve thought Jungkook wanted to be the first dead in a house invasion? “Suit yourself.” You made room for him next to you because the fear of whatever the hell you felt for Jungkook was slightly smaller than your fear of those goddamn trees.

“Should we make a pillow wall?” Jungkook was glad he had switched off the lights so you couldn’t see the amused smile on his face. “I can keep my hands to myself, how about you?” You gulped, almost positive Jungkook could hear how fast your heart was hammering against your ribcage, or maybe he could feel the heat radiating off of you as if you were a piece of molten rock. “I’m good.” You tried to reply but it ended up sounding more like a squeak. Thankfully the words were coherent because all Jungkook did was turn over.

With his back towards you, a weight was lifted off your shoulders but you couldn’t quite sleep yet. You had a habit, a stupid, overgrown habit of cuddling your almost infinite supply of stuffed animals to sleep. It started when you were young, to fill the void that your broken family left you and stuck well into adulthood because you were just as lonely, if not even lonelier. You should really see a therapist. However, what truly troubled you was the possibly precarious fact that at any given moment, your need for something to hug would manifest itself into your subconscious and force you to hug Jungkook despite the inappropriateness of the action. The embarrassment of a situation that hadn’t even occurred yet was already beginning to daunt on you.

So you turned your back to face the windows (which didn’t seem all that scary anymore) in hopes of minimising your risk of unsolicited cuddling. Sleep came easy after you had focused on synchronising your breathing with Jungkook’s out of pure convenience and once you had slipped into unconsciousness, you could slowly feel your anxiety slip away.

When you had woken up the next morning to a body close to yours, you began to feel panic swallow you almost immediately but once you had finally blinked the blurriness away from your vision, you realised you were in the exact same position you had fallen asleep in, except this time a little bit closer to the centre of the bed. One look downwards made you aware of the fact that Jungkook was the one cuddling you and he had somehow pulled you closer to him throughout the night. ‘I can keep my hands to myself.’ He said. What a liar.

You couldn’t say it didn’t feel nice and you selfishly tried to fall back asleep in hopes of making the moment last just a bit longer. When you turned your head to face Jungkook, he had been deep in slumber and it was the most peaceful you had seen him since - well, did you ever really see him at peace? Jungkook must have somehow sensed your gaze because he was blinking the sleep away from his eyes moments later. “Morning.” His morning voice was warmer, less sharp and yet all the more comforting. You were too busy being stressed about being caught admiring his sleeping face to truly appreciate his voice. “Morning.” You replied apprehensively, as if you could somehow postpone your humiliation.

“You were about to fall off the bed so I pulled you away from the edge, guess I feel asleep like that, sorry.” Jungkook was pulling his arm away before you could beg him not to and suddenly, the sound of small feet and ragged sniffles had engulfed the room. “Daddy! Thank god!” Kyomi jumped onto the bed, in-between your bodies, with a brute force, no mercy for Jungkook’s organs which had definitely experienced some internal repositioning. “I thought you were dead. I woke up and you weren’t in your room. You’re always in your room, daddy!” You tried not to laugh at Jungkook’s glazed expression, his perception of reality was just beginning to form.

“Sorry, baby, won’t happen again.” Jungkook’s groggy, deep morning voice may have been the very reason you were having unnecessary intrusive thoughts at 8:49am on a Friday but you wouldn’t dare stop it. Wait, 8:49am?

“Shit, I’m gonna be late to class.” You rushed out of the bed, barely untangling yourself from the mess of limbs between Jungkook’s legs and yours. “That’s a bad word, Y/N!” “Sorry!” You screamed back from the living room as you searched frantically for your bag. Any other class you wouldn’t mind being late to but your torts professor was pure, unadulterated evil. Satan’s incarnate if there ever was one and you did not want to be stuck helping her grade first-year papers on Saturday. “You look like you could use a ride.” There it was again, that sexy, stupid voice that made you want to scream into the void without ever stopping. “Yes please.” Once you had finally found your bag, you were rushing to shove your feet into your sneakers. Thankfully you didn’t wear converse, that could’ve been a disaster.

Jungkook grabbed his wallet, keys and daughter before meeting you at the door. You were much too stressed to wait for him to put on a pair of shoes so you snatched the keys from his hand and ran down his driveway. “Wait, Y/N, you’re not driving!” There were many reasons you shouldn’t have been behind the wheel. One, you were still on your learner's permit. Two, there was a 4-year-old child in the vehicle. Three, you were very likely to end up speeding to get to class and finally, Jungkook’s Mercedes was far too expensive to risk third-party damage, even if he had every kind of insurance. “I know, I’m just turning the engine on so you can floor it the second you get in.”

He did not floor it.

Alternatively, Jungkook was just about the safest driver you had ever seen. His driving style in stark contrast to the tattoos that littered the hand he had on the wheel, stretching all the way up to his shoulder. You couldn’t help but wonder if he had any tattoos underneath his shirt. Snap out of it. “So, when’s your class?” Jungkook looked at you through the rear view mirror and could faintly see the top-half of your head as you combed through your hair and applied makeup. Jungkook could feel the corners of his lip upturn at the way your tongue peeked out the corner of your mouth while you concentrated on your mascara. You just woke up and you still found a way to make his heart stop.

“9:30, but my professors a real b- bad person.” You corrected yourself before Kyomi could in her booster seat next to you. You told Jungkook sitting at the back gave you more room to get ready, really you just wanted to see more of Kyomi before your inevitable death. “You’ll make it on time, don’t worry.” You hoped he was right, the university was a 15-minute drive at it’s fastest and Jungkook, in spite of his gorgeously intimidating looks, was not hurled out of a Fast and Furious movie.

Jungkook was right, you made it to class at 9:20, a little disheveled and in yesterday’s clothes (you really hoped that the sweatshirt you fished out of Jungkook’s trunk per his instruction would cover that up) but otherwise fine, and early. You would live to see another day. However, you could not say that you were able to stay awake for the entire duration of the lecture, thankfully, nobody seemed to notice and when the class was finally over, all you could think about was sleep.

Two days later, you had woken up early in the morning with a heavy groan. You had a shift at the campus library. 7-12. You stretched out the exhaustion in your bones but it did little to help, you were far too young to feel this much back pain. “Hey, I’m going grocery shopping today so make sure to update the list before you leave.” You threw a meagre thumbs up towards Jin in response, but your roommate didn’t care for your disgruntled demeanour. You were always like this before your shifts.

Not even 2 hours into your shift, you saw the devil’s incarnate before your very eyes. “Hey, cutie, whatcha doin’?” You ignored the urge to gag as he threw finger guns your way, Jensen definitely had it out for you. “Working but you already knew that. Why else would you be in a library? You don’t read.” It was true, Jensen rarely ever stepped into this place before you started working there. His commitment to annoying you was admirable even if he lived on campus. “I’m here to see your adorable face.” Jensen pinched your nose playfully and you flinched at the impact, he was so goddamn irritating you were very literally considering homicide.

“Look, I know we haven’t always gotten along, but I really want to try to make amends and you’re not helping.” If this had been anyone else, your harsh resolve may have faltered, you may have felt sympathy even. But Jensen was one stone cold mother fucker, making amends would not benefit him in anyway and was therefore not on his agenda. He wanted something from you. “What do you want? Did you really lose that Dickens book? Because I can’t help y-” “Hang out with me.” Flirtatious comments weren’t outside of his norm, he employed them often for extra annoying affect™ but Jensen never asked you to hang out or hinted that he may have been the slightest bit interested in you, even platonically. “No.” You deadpanned, you genuinely believed that he had some sort of ulterior motive, he must have if he was coming to you for friendship.

“Come on, just one time. One time, and if you don’t realise that I’m not the asshole you think I am I’ll never speak to you ever again, I promise.” The idea of a Jensen-free life was extremely intriguing, after all you were confident that you would still find Jensen an insufferable asshole after whatever kind of hell he’d put you through. He clearly thought he could use some of his outdated boyish charm and win you over. You were more than happy to crush his ego and get rid of him in one night. Two birds with one stone. “Why, you never found me interesting before?” “Wrong, I always found you interesting not my fault you hate my guts. Look, in all honesty I’m sick of sleeping around and partying with people who secretly hate me. I want to spend time with a genuine person for once and even though you despise me with every fibre of your being, you’ve been upfront and sincere with your feelings since day one. I need that.”

What was that? Were you feeling remorse? For Jensen? Really? This wasn’t going to end well.

“Fine, but how do I know you won’t just keep annoying me?” Jensen froze for a moment, almost as if he was in thought, too bad he was not capable of thinking. Suddenly, Jensen surged forward to place his mouth next to your year. He whispered something very despicable that he had done to his father’s car and pulled away. “If you want nothing to do with me and I don’t leave you alone then you can tell my father what I just told you.” Blackmail, bold of him to assume you wouldn’t hold this over his head for the rest of his life, if it was even true of course. In the case that he was lying, you’d just end up in the same position you were in and if he was telling the truth, then you would live a very peaceful life for the semester and a half you had left. It seemed like a worthy bargain. “Deal.” Before you and Jensen could shake on it, your phone rang.

You weren’t technically supposed to answer but the library was dead and the librarian was on her tea break so what was the harm in a quick phone call? “Hello?” You learnt from your mistakes and read the caller ID that time, after realising it was Jungkook who probably wanted you to babysit Kyomi again, you answered quickly. Jensen noticed the smile that immediately overtook your face. “Hey, Y/N.” “What’s up? Need me to watch Kyomi?” Jensen was trying to deduce from the snippets of the conversation, who could make you smile that brightly. On the other side of the phone, Jungkook was bitting his lip, cautiously questioning whether or not he was making the right decision; acting on his emotions had never ended well for him.

“No, I just dropped her off she’s at a playdate with a friend she met at the park a while back. Her mom’s amazing, helped me a lot with parenting tips.” Jungkook overshared and deflected, he did that often when he was nervous but there was no way to stop the word vomit from flowing out. “Oh, that’s so cute!” You were grinning and Jensen was appalled at the sight, he even mocked your tone ‘oh, that’s so cute!!!’ and you flicked his forehead with a scowl, mouthing ‘shut up’ in response.

“I was wondering if you wanted to join me for lunch today, we could watch a movie after too? If you’re not busy.” If Jungkook was nervous, you couldn’t tell. He spoke with a tone so confident you wondered if you had actually hung out like this a million times already. “I would love to, I get off work at 12!” You agreed on impulse, before your brain could catch up with your racing heart. Jensen spared you from the mocking, but he couldn’t deny the way his chest tightened at your beaming acceptance, if only you could respond to his proposals that way. After the words had left your mouth and Jungkook promised to pick you up after your shift, you were left with your thoughts which had to make room for a new revelation. You liked Jungkook, borderline loved him and no amount of physical distance could change that.

Deep in thought, you began to think that perhaps, you weren’t destined for solidarity. Perhaps, you were as deserving of love as everyone else. Perhaps, and this was merely hypothetical, there was hope. You were being dramatic, blowing things out of proportion but how could you not when Jungkook had suggested something that sounded a lot like a date. However, considering how the last almost-but-not-quite-there ‘date’ had gone, this could have very well been just another platonic invitation to do platonic things.

“Y/N, hello? Earth to Y/N?” You broke out of your trance after Jensen had started snapping at you like a puppy. “Oh my god, what do you want?” There it was, annoyed Y/N was back and Jensen felt a sense of accomplishment every time you glared at him “Who was that?” “No one.” Your defensiveness definitely alluded to something. “Is it a boy? Is he cute?” “I already agreed to your stupid scheme, you can go now.” “You like him, don’t you?” You whined at his incessant prodding and Jensen knew he struck gold. Was it upsetting that you were already interested in someone? Yes. That didn’t matter though, especially when Jensen promised you he was looking for nothing more than friendship. He could set his entirely unexpected feelings aside.

When you had gotten back to your apartment, you had 40 minutes before Jungkook would pick you up which was objectively enough time to get ready for a casual lunch. However, that justification would not stop you from stressing over what to wear, nothing on god’s green Earth could. Jin was busy grovelling through all of his achievements to apply for a TA position in hopes of easing the fees from his masters and you weren’t in the mood to deal with his wrath (which was inevitable every time you distracted him).

You settled on a white velvet white sweater and a pair of leggings. You looked comfortable and not quite like you had rolled out of bed on a bad day. You decided to forego any makeup because overdoing it would have been much more embarrassing than underdressing. Before you could decide to completely change everything about yourself for the umpteenth time that day, Jungkook had called your phone, letting you know he was outside your building.

With a final look in the mirror and a cliche ‘you’ve got this, Y/N’, you were on your way.

Jungkook made some sort of creamy pasta, you couldn’t remember the name for the life of you because your mind had been flooded with thoughts of how gorgeous Jungkook had looked. You’d seen him in workout attire, in a suit and yet his homely look was hands down your favourite. You clearly were not doing a good job at hiding that. “You okay? You look like you saw a ghost.” You might as well have because you were just as, if not more, afraid then you would’ve been in the case of a supernatural interaction. At least a ghost was clear with their intentions. You had no idea why Jungkook had invited you over looking like sex on legs and the curiosity was killing you.

“You want something to drink, wine? Or are you still adamant on keeping your liver intact?” You briefly remembered when you had found Jungkook 17 and drunk, you could vaguely recall the lecture you had given him, something about your liver evidently thrown in there. “Water’s fine- wait, do you have apple juice?” Jungkook surveyed the contents of his fridge and reached in only to grab a kids pop top. He looked at you sheepishly, almost disappointed that this was the only thing he had to offer. “I can pour it into a-”

“And prevent me from the joy of the satisfying pop? Hand it over, daddy.” You didn’t mean it that way, you definitely didn’t mean it that way and if it wasn’t obvious from your tone, than the way you had merely focused on opening the seal on the juice rather than panicking like Jungkook was had done the job of conveying your very innocent intentions. That didn’t stop Jungkook’s mind from going there and you had picked up on your mistake when the room had fallen into an awkward silence. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” You offered a genuine apology, cheeks flushed with the realisation of what your actions had insinuated. Jungkook waved you off, stuffing his mouth with pasta to justify his speechlessness.

“This is really good. Did you buy it?” You gave Jungkook a skeptical look that he countered with a pointed glare while taking a swig from his wine. You were being entirely serious, before Jungkook had run away he was an abomination in the kitchen. “How many times do I have to cook for you to realise that I just became a culinary god?” You took the rhetorical question too seriously and Jungkook braced for the snarky comment you were going to inevitably make. “If you can make macarons, then you will officially be a culinary god.” Jungkook wasn’t big on baking, he made cupcakes with Kyomi for her fourth birthday but cupcakes were significantly easier than macarons. He made no comment and lunch continued on peacefully.

“You done?” You looked down at the almost empty plate that you hadn’t touched in a good few minutes and nodded. When Jungkook moved to clear the table, you offered to help but he shut you down so confidently there was no room for protest. You watched his broad shoulders clear the plates and rinse them. He grew up to be such an incredible man, he defied every one of his parents stereotypes triumphantly. He was successful, happy and had a beautiful daughter. All of that without a single ‘A’ in his life. “What are you smiling about?” He joked, hand coming up to flick the bottom of your chin playfully. You snapped out of your trance with a timid smile that pushed Jungkook to wonder if he had done something wrong.

In all honesty, you were trying hard not to focus on the way your heart would expand three times its size every time his eyes met yours. You were trying to ignore the way your hands would get clammy when he was near you and you definitely didn’t want to think about the jealousy that consumed you every time he spoke about a girl that wasn’t you. But you did and the question slipped off of your lips before you could stop it, like an avalanche against the crisp winter wind, you didn’t stand a chance. “Remember when you told me you were meeting someone a while ago…what um- what happened with that?” There was no way to stage the question cooly, no way to protect your pride and quench your curiosity. “Oh! I was meeting a sponsor.”

You stared at him flabbergasted.

“A sponsor? But you- you even asked me if I was seeing anyone!” Jungkook had the audacity to chuckle, chuckle, at your turmoil. You had been thinking about who Jungkook was meant to meet that night for far too long for it to just be a sponsor. “Wanted you to think I had my shit together. I haven’t dated anyone in a while.” You tried not to let your ego inflate at the notion that Jungkook wanted to impress you and hyper-focused on the last sentence which brought you an embarrassing amount of relief. “And Thursday night?” You watched as his gaze hardened at the mention of that horrible night, the cut on his cheek was still healing from the altercation. “Thursday night was a bust. I tried but I just couldn’t. All I could think about was Kyomi.” And you, but Jungkook knew better than to say that part aloud. You took his hand in yours, you were both standing in his kitchen and it was possibly the least romantic place of all but that didn’t stop you from staring at him with the softest, most loving eyes you could possibly muster. “Someone will come, and they’ll love you and Kyomi with their entire heart.” And it could be me, but you didn’t say that aloud either. Before the tension could get thicken, Jungkook diffused. “Movie?” You let go of his hand and nodded.

Choosing a movie was harder than you thought it would be.

“What?! Are you insane? I cannot believe you just said that. I can’t believe I let you into my house!” If a bystander had been listening, they would’ve assumed that you insulted Jungkook’s entire lineage but no, all you did was suggest that ‘Fast & Furious’ had too many sequels. “I’m sorry, okay. I just think 9 movies is pushing it.” “How many Harry Potter movies are there, like 50? You used to be obsessed with that shit.” You tried not to be offended at his choice of words, you took a deep breath before attempting to reason with him. “8 films actually and I’m not obsessed anymore okay… Let’s just watch the avengers or something.” His irritated gaze had softened at the mention of the MCU which was something you could both agree was worth your time. “Which movie is your favourite?” “Infinity war.” “You’re wrong, it’s Age of Ultron.” “That’s subjective.” “Not if you have good taste.” Well, the mere 15 seconds of peace were great while they lasted. You didn’t want to argue anymore so you merely nodded in defeat and Jungkook moved quickly to find the film on Disney plus.

However, for Jungkook’s favourite Avenger’s film, he had paid little attention to the movie. His eyes barely diverted from you for most of the opening of the film, it wasn’t until you faced him to laugh about some comedic foreshadowing that you had noticed his hazed stare. “Hmm, what’s wrong? Do I have something on my face?” He shook his head quickly before retracting back into thought until he eventually decided to voice his concerns.

“Do you remember when I was 14 and you chased me all the way to the beach because I was upset and wouldn’t tell you why? And I told you some assholes were making fun of my name and you told me that only you could make fun of me so you waltzed over to them the next day, a good foot shorter and yelled at them in front of my entire grade.” How could you forget when Jungkook had so vividly explained it. It was an embarrassing memory you tried to suppress but Jungkook had singlehandedly destroyed your efforts. “Yeah?”

“I was mad at you because you made me look weak in front of everyone in my grade but those boys never bothered me ever again and I never said thanks… So, thank you.” You looked at Jungkook who was entirely serious, not a single part of his face wavered under your astonished expression. Your mouth dropped in disbelief. “You’re welcome, I guess? Where’s this coming from?” You tried to pry into Jungkook’s brain and weirdly enough, he was willing to let you which was a peculiar thing he had done that quite a bit that day. “There’s a lot of thanking I have to catch up on, felt right to start from the beginning, no?” Movie long forgotten, you and Jungkook peered into each other’s eyes as if something behind those orbs was the key to existence. As if the answers to every significant philosophical question were woven into the streaks of your eyes.

Jungkook rarely acted on his hedonistic urges, an unexpected kid taught him not to, but he couldn’t help the way his lips gravitated towards yours. He wondered if you felt the same way, if you were thinking of some weird chemical explanation like electromagnetic radiation, whatever the hell that was. On Jungkook’s slightly uncomfortable couch, under a fluffy blanket with Disney princesses on it and watching a movie neither of you had been paying full attention to, you felt the most at peace you had been ever since your parents divorce. It scared you to think that Jungkook could make you that happy, especially when he so plainly not yours.

“Can I kiss you?” Jungkook whispered and you didn’t notice how close you had gotten until you could feel his breath on your skin, your body answered for you as you pushed to close the distance between your lips. If you were magnets, you would definitely be oppositely charged because you never wanted to pull away. Eventually, because oxygen was an innate part of life, you pulled away. You, far too eager, quickly chased his lips and in spite of every temptation that was stacked against him, Jungkook pushed himself away, still close enough so that your noses were touching. “I need to know that we’re on the same page here. I like you, Y/N and I want to give this a shot.” You couldn’t even begin to explain the relief that rushed over you and the excitement that coursed through your veins, interlaced with misplaced adrenaline that made you agree a little too quickly. “We are definitely on the same page.” And this time, when you had moved to kiss him, he didn’t push you away. Instead, your lips found purchase against his and as cliche as it sounds, it felt like home, being in his arms again despite the fact that you failed to get along in the ancient beginning. You depended on Jungkook for a long time once upon a time and you were elated to have him by your side again.

Before things could escalate - although with Jungkook’s heavy distrust in protection you doubted they ever would - Jungkook’s phone rang. The default Apple ring tone resonated in his apartment and you let him answer begrudgingly, already missing his lips against yours which were definitely swollen from all the biting. Jungkook was a good kisser, that was a fact written in stone. “Hello, everything okay?” His fingers moved to answer the call quickly, it was Jen, the woman who’s daughter Kyomi was hanging out with. “Everything’s fine, Jeon.” She chuckled into the phone at his worried tone, he was always worried when it came to his daughter even more so than her but she never blamed him. He was running a two-person ship alone. “The girls are both pretty tired, you mind picking her up before they start a fight over legos?” Jungkook laughed and you perked up at the mellifluous sound, trying to figure out who Jungkook was on the phone with that was more important than you. >:c

“I’ll be there soon, thank you so much for having her over. I’ll have to invite Sam over sometime too.” A few empty promises about future playdates later and Jungkook was finally off the phone. “Are you going to pick Kyomi up?” You asked, having deducted that much from the snippets of the conversation you had heard, Jungkook made a sound of agreement in response, stretching in front of the couch. “Can I come?” Your question painted a smile on his face, one he couldn’t put away even when he leaned down to give you a peck. “Of course, want me to drop you off?” You shook your head quickly, response far too quick which Jungkook couldn’t help but find endearing. Your cheeks flushed as you tried to find an explanation that didn’t make you sound like an absolute perv. “We um, haven’t finished the movie…” You pointed to the screen that was undoubtedly still playing the movie you had stopped paying attention to. Jungkook quirked an eyebrow at your obvious lie but made no move to debunk it, he just grabbed his wallet and keys off of the counter and cocked his head towards the door, gesturing for you to get up.

Kyomi knocked out in her booster seat, much too exhausted from the fun she had at her friend’s house. Your head was pretty much permanently turned to the backseat to coo at her. Jungkook kept trying to stop you, afraid you’d wake her up and he’d end up with a grumpy Kyomi. “Calm down, I’m just looking at her. She’s so cute.” Jungkook pinched your side when the car had stopped at a red light. “You’ll have all the time in the world to stare at her when she’s awake, okay? Once she wakes up it’s impossible to get her to sleep again.” You listened to Jungkook’s pleading and returned your focus to the road, his hand slipped from where he had playfully pinched you to rest on your thigh. In an attempt to hide the blush on your cheeks, you complained that the car felt suffocating and opened the window. Jungkook didn’t question it, at least not out loud.

Once Kyomi was safe in her room, sleeping away in the comfort of her bed that was probably worth more than your kidney, Jungkook returned to find you on the couch playing a cat game on your phone. It was really simple, but it seemed to occupy all of your attention enough for you to miss Jungkook entirely until his head was next to yours. You smiled when his lips pecked your cheek, his hand coming up to turn your head to face him. You kissed him distractedly, eyes still pinned to your game. With an annoyed groan Jungkook snatched the phone from your hand, discarding it behind him onto the couch. You whined into the kiss but paid full attention to him nonetheless, when he pulled away you were frowning.

“I was about to unlock a new cat, you know?” And it was a genuine issue, those cats were hard to unlock! Jungkook feigned sympathy which only seemed to piss you off even more so Jungkook pulled away, raising his hands in defence as he mumbled an apology. Wanting to get up, you moved to raid his kitchen for a snack. And yes, you understood that the man was a boxer who needed to stay fit but was it necessary to be so painstakingly healthy? His pantry was filled with wholegrain cereals, oats, nature valley bars and what you assumed was some sort of protein shake container. Even Kyomi’s snacks were healthy; raisins, popcorn, corn chips. No wonder he judged your food supply so harshly, this man was a living health commercial. You returned to the couch empty handed, hungry and annoyed. Were you exaggerating about the cat game thing? Sure, but the hunger had certainly played a part in your annoyance.

“You hungry? You didn’t finish your pasta.” God, he sounded like a dad more and more every time he spoke. “I’m okay.” You lied and drew your knees up to your chest to support your brooding face. You were being a little dramatic but you both knew well enough that it was all in jest, at least for the most part, that cat really did matter to you. “Mmm, I don’t believe you. I can make you something?” You shook your head and moved to grab the remote to his TV so you could finish the damn movie that he fought so hard to watch but doesn’t even care about, but, Jungkook wasn’t convinced. The way you snatched the remote told him you were far from fine even though you were not trying to send any subliminal messaging. He left the couch but you paid little attention to where he went, you probably should’ve because then you could’ve prepared your poker face for when he had returned with a plate of your favourite fruit. Consequently, you felt your frown begin to alleviate, and were your eyes softening? Over watermelon? You’re so whipped it’s disgusting. You stared at the plate of cut up watermelon like it was a marriage proposal. He remembered. Or maybe it was just a lucky guess.

“Ah ha! I knew this would work.” Jungkook had a proud smile on his face, mirroring your small one as he handed you a fork. You barely mumbled out a ‘thank you’ before you raided the plate, careful not to drop anything because you did not want to be perceived as a slob and you’d had enough of watermelon stains (thank you, Jin) for a lifetime. Jungkook sat back and paid attention to the movie he initially suggested, but he still had no interest in the film, not when you were next to him with red lips and focused eyes.

Jungkook had a lot to ask you and he had a lot of issues he needed to sort through but those were difficult things to navigate and Jungkook was sick of difficulty. He was lucky you were so understanding about the radio silence from your family and his but he knew that he’d eventually have to speak to them again, it was inevitable and that alarmed him. To think that at any given moment, 6 years worth of baggage could tear you both apart. “You should get seedless watermelons.” Jungkook turned away from his TV to give you a quizzical look. “They make those?” You almost choked on the last piece with a laugh. “Genetic modification, they can make anything. You know there’s apples with red flesh? They’re red inside and out, Jungkook, it’s so cool!” You could almost sense the ‘nerd’ sitting on his tongue but he didn’t say it, he merely smiled at you in disbelief. “You know what, Y/N, entirely red apples are cool!” Jungkook wasn’t trying to be sarcastic but he couldn’t skilfully feign interest in whatever the hell you were talking about. “Don’t patronise me.”

When you got up to put the plate away and wash your hands, Jungkook had come up behind you and wrapped his hands around your waist. You heard him coming, he wasn’t necessarily the quietest person ever but you could deal with a little noise if it always came in such a cute package. “Jungkook you’ve watched like 2% of your favourite movie. I’m starting to think you’re a liar.” Before you could continue your mischievous criticism, Jungkook’s lips began making their way down your neck, starting at the crevice between your ear and neck, all the way down to your clavicle. You were going to protest, push him away and declare that you were moving too fast but his lips were addictive, like morphine if the opioid made you feel like you were on cloud nine.

However, your cloud was temporary because the second the soft patter of small feet resonated off of the kitchen counter Jungkook had flinched away from you like a hand on a burning stove.

“Daddy?” Kyomi, still rubbing her eyes and far too young to understand the tension she had created had gestured grabby hands at her father who quickly moved to pick her up. “Hey cupcake, you still tired?” She shook her head despite the way her eyelids heavily rested on her eyes or the way her head kept nuzzling into his neck. He knew better than let her sleep any longer though, she’d keep him up all night. Speaking of things that kept him up at night, where did you go? The kitchen was now void of any presence other than him and his daughter and he couldn’t see you on the couch.

“Y/N?” He yelled out, a little concerned but more perplexed at the way you disappeared into thin air. “I’m in the hallway!” Jungkook, daughter still perched on his hip, made his way to his hallway only to see you shoving your feet into your shoes. “You’re leaving already?” Jungkook had a feeling, a burning intuition that you were upset about the way he reacted when his daughter had run in but you had to understand that introducing a girlfriend to a child was difficult. Wait, were you even his girlfriend? Did he manage to screw that up too? “I realised I have homework due in like an hour and I haven’t even started. I’ll take the bus it’s coming soon, anyway. Thank you for dinner and the watermelon! Bye bye, Kyomi.” You waved exaggeratedly to the little girl who matched your energy despite her tired state, you gave her a quick peck on the cheek before leaving.

Jungkook believed you, your smile was genuine and you were mature enough to understand why he couldn’t exactly tell his daughter about you yet. Besides, it had been the very first time you had both perceived each other in a setting other than platonic friends. He wasn’t wrong, you were telling the truth but that didn’t change the fact that his actions left a bitter taste on your tongue.

“Daddy, I wanted to play with Y/N…” Kyomi was pouting, upset at the fact that you had to go right when she woke up and all Jungkook could muster was a sigh and a quiet, “me too.” And he was genuine, he wanted to spend more time with you but his daughter and increasingly tight schedule made that difficult. “Well, you’re stuck with daddy so I’m gonna count to twenty and if you’re not hiding, the tickle monster’s gonna get you!” Jungkook set his daughter down with intentions of distracting her (and himself) from your unexpected flight and she immediately began running away, loud giggles bursting through her cheery lips.

“Are you sure it wasn’t a homie kiss?” You looked at Jin from your side of the coach with a glare so ferocious it might have very well killed the man. “I hope you don’t kiss your homies with tongue, Jin.” Despite your venomous tone, Jin appeared unfazed, smirking at your comment and hollering as loudly as one could in an apartment complex with neighbours who sent noise complaints about heavy breathers. “Damn! I can’t believe your first real boyfriend is a dilf.” You furrowed your eyebrows at his comment. “What do you mean ‘first real boyfriend’, what about Jimin?” “Lasted 2 weeks and you barely even kissed so it doesn’t count.” “Mark? We dated for 2 months!” “You barely even talked to each other and he was seeing another girl, so it doesn’t count.” Ouch. But okay. “What about Zen?” “The kid you told me you ‘married’ in elementary? Really?” You were out of options and Jin was right, Jungkook would be the first man you actually had genuine intentions of staying with for longer than a few months and that horrified you because if you were being honest, you knew that firsts were always destined for failure.

“I’m doomed.” You said the words with a heavy weight, as if you were speaking your damnation into existence. Jin flicked your forehead harshly, no mercy for the poor skin. “Ouch. Screw you, first you give me an existential crisis and then a bruise?” He was about to flick your forehead again but you were quick to defend. Before a petty flicking battle could ensue, Jin spoke again. “You’re such a baby, you won’t get a bruise. And you are not doomed, this is going to work out just fine, I can feel it in my left kneecap.” Jin often said weird things and you had gotten quite used to his absurd comments. Taking his claim at face value, you replied with a sincere concern, “the same one you dislocated last Summer? I’m definitely doomed.”

And you were indeed doomed but not in the way you had initially assumed you would be. It had been well over a month since your spontaneous movie date at Jungkook’s house and yet you still felt like his dirty little secret. He asked to be his girlfriend a little after your first date and he still hadn’t mentioned you to any of his friends nor did he let you meet them, even Namjoon had to find out about his best friend’s relationship from Jin. And his daughter? Jungkook wouldn’t even hold your hand when she was within a 100 foot radius and you while you tried to be understanding, anyone would have felt horrible in your position. You felt like you were unworthy, as if you didn’t fit Jungkook’s pre-conceptualised image of a perfect family. As if he didn’t see a future with you.

He treated you as if you were something he was ashamed of and with your complicated past, the insecurities that had begun to erode away persevered, becoming stronger than ever. But you couldn’t bring yourself to talk him about them; you were afraid you’d push too hard, be too dramatic and end up hurting him in the process. Jungkook was kind and extremely empathetic but that didn’t stop the haunting thoughts of your self-worth or the prying eyes of unknown on-lookers (who knew well enough that he was way out of your league) from making you feel like he wouldn’t understand.

Every second you spent with him felt beatific, blissful, because he made you feel like the most important person in the world, right up until you weren’t anymore and he’d push you away you like you were nothing more than his daughter's babysitter, or on good days, a friend. It was frustrating because he was so insanely addicting, more than any narcotic and yet you couldn’t have him when you wanted to. He made you happy and yet in moments when you were upset, you couldn’t reach out to him, at least not with the expectation of a timely response. Your dates with him (which were few and far between) felt like they were on a constant timer. Eventually, whether it was Kyomi or his job, something impenetrable intruded your only alone time together.

And while these feelings continued to slowly fester inside of you, rearing their ugly heads as they occasionally made you unconsciously bitter, they reached an all time high when you were watching Kyomi at your apartment one eventful Friday night. Jungkook was having a party the weekend before his semi-finals on Wednesday, a party he didn’t invite you to. But you didn’t take it to heart, or at least you thought you didn’t.

It was almost 1 am when Jungkook returned and Kyomi was fast asleep in your room. Sleep didn’t come to you as effortlessly as you wanted it to, not when your mind was hyper-fixated on the party Jungkook was at. He told you earlier this day that he didn’t want to throw another party but it was a tradition for the contenders and breaking that tradition would be ‘sacrilegious’. You didn’t feel like interfering with a realm you were very unfamiliar with and so you took Kyomi with open arms. But his discontentment with the nature of the party didn’t change the fact that no one knew you existed and there were going to be girls much prettier than you who would probably be interested in your objectively handsome boyfriend. No one ever told you that a major con of dating a a man that sexy would be the constant feeling of insecurity.

It was selfish and something you needed to work on alone so you never thought to bring it up to Jungkook; your jealousy was something you would have to learn to handle. But before you could imagine yet another scenario that would crush your weak, feeble heart, keys rattled at your door. You knew it was most likely Jungkook since Jin had assured you he was probably going to spend the night at his boyfriend’s. You gave Jungkook your spare key so he wouldn’t accidentally wake Kyomi up with the knocking, or you on the off chance that you actually got a semblance of sleep.

“Oh, you’re awake?” Jungkook looked tired, and it was evident in the ways his eyes were drooping. He could have been asleep if he had simply trusted you, a person he had known for almost his entire life, to take care of his daughter for just one night but he couldn’t bring himself to sleep if he wasn’t near Kyomi. You understood because it was reasonable to want to be near your child at all times but that day, those ugly heads were rearing, amplifying your frustration about every little thing that peeved you that night exponentially.

Withholding his trust was another thing you told yourself you’d have to understand but it didn’t make it any easier for your overactive mind to wrap your head around. Why couldn’t he trust you? “Couldn’t sleep.” you said curtly, and Jungkook picked up on your annoyed tone but made no move to address it. That was a problem he could deal with later when his head didn’t weigh 100 pounds. You were on the floor, back against the couch as you messed around with your chess board, playing different openings. Jensen had come over earlier in the day and you played a few games. Believe it or not, you were kind-of friends now.

“I see you’re still into chess.” Jungkook tried to spark conversation and you nodded absentmindedly in response before remembering something that would probably cheer the both of you up. You sat up quickly and turned to him with an excited smile. “I taught Kyomi a bit, she already knows the Sicilian! I’m sure she’ll forget it tomorrow, though.” You joked but Jungkook didn’t laugh; he didn’t even smile. In fact, it seemed as if he was scowling? “You taught my 4-year-old daughter chess?” Jungkook made it sound like it was a crime, as if you had singlehandedly ruined her childhood by teaching her how a few wooden pieces moved across a 8x8 board. “Calm down, It’s no biggie, I started learning when I was 3.” “How did this even happen? She told you she was bored and you thought to bring out the most boring game in existence?” You weren’t sure where his hostility was coming from but you were beginning to grow even more annoyed. A hostility of your own forming.

“It was out already when you dropped her off, without notice by the way, and she was curious. What’s the issue? You may think it’s boring but I like chess a-” “Kyomi isn’t fucking like you!” Jungkook cut you off with a stern yell, not loud enough to cause a scene in your apartment building but loud enough to risk Kyomi waking up. You both hadn’t thought of that in the heat of the moment. All you could think about was how his words cut right through you; a familiar sting you hadn’t felt in six years began to develop in your chest. Before you could even begin to respond, Jungkook kept going and sunk his proverbial dagger deeper into your heart. “And I don’t want her to be.” The room feel silent, no more were the clattering pieces of wood against the chess board or the chime of Jungkook’s chain bracelets as he moved his hands around. You finally realised what a deafening silence felt like because despite the tranquility, your heart had never been so loud in your ears. Drumming like the bass in a loud parade except there was no joy or laughter, just migraines and heartache.

You didn’t even know you were crying until Kyomi had emerged from your room, startled by the noise and your solemn face. “Daddy?” She shuffled closer to her father’s figure and his eyes widened when he realised she was awake, he really hoped she hadn’t heard what he said. “Daddy, why is Y/N sad?” Jungkook knew the answer quite well; because I’m an asshole who says all the wrong things when he doesn’t even mean them, but he bit his tongue as the familiar beginnings of a profusion of guilt began to accumulate in his chest. He thought he was over his issues with the past, evidently not.

“She’s just tired sweetheart, let’s go home, hmm?” Jungkook held his hand out for his daughter to take but she stayed frozen near him. Her large eyes that Jungkook was convinced held the galaxy were fixated on you who had been trying to wipe the perpetual waterfall of tears that wouldn’t stop escaping your bloodshot eyes. Like a splintering water dam, Jungkook’s words had been the final push needed to collapse the walls you spent your entire life building. Essentially, he’d opened the floodgates to your insecurities.

Were you really that horrible to the point where Jungkook couldn’t stomach the idea of his daughter liking the same things as you? How on earth were you supposed to move past this, stay together for as long as your life would allow if he couldn’t even handle the idea of his daughter being anything like you. Children were impressionable.

“Kyomi, we need to go, now.” Kyomi was intuitive enough to know that Jungkook only ever called on her by her real name when he was mad or upset. She knew from his stern tone that she should have listened and in spite of that, she ran over to you and offered a hug. Kyomi was well aware her dad would never hurt her and that assurance was enough to conquer her fears of being berated so that she could blatantly disobey him. The sight threw him for a loop. For four years of his life Jungkook and Kyomi had been loyal to each other, had each others backs whenever times were tough because they were all they had and yet there she was, showing you that same loyalty because you needed it and it was all his fault. He told himself that hiding you from his daughter would stop her from getting attached in a way that meant more to her than just a babysitter. Clearly he was too late.

Jungkook stood there as if he had anchors attaching his feet to your tiled floors. The sight of you holding his daughter in your arms as you choked on your tears brought a different kind of hurt into his life despite the fact that Jungkook was well versed with pain. From the punches he received or the degrading looks from the people who were meant to love him unconditionally or even the painful fear of staring a newborn baby alone and afraid; Jungkook knew pain like the back of his hand and yet he’d never felt it quite like this. “Kyomi, we really need to go. Dad’s tired.” You pulled her out of your hold and ushered her to her father, assuring the worried girl that you were fine, only emotional because you watched a sad movie. She believed you, mostly because she saw the way you balled your eyes out when you, Jungkook and her had watched ‘Hachi’. Kyomi thought you were one of the strongest people she knew and would therefore be okay. So, she left with her father feeling a little less worried than she was before.

Kyomi was wrong. You were definitely not strong and you were far from okay.

The next morning your eyes were swollen and your mouth was dry from the incessant crying that had to have drained you of at least half of your water content. You didn’t sleep, not even for a second and even though the headache pounding against your head was begging for relief you couldn’t bring yourself to eat so you could take any medicine. Jeon Jungkook was a mean man and while you knew that lie was not even remotely true, you repeated it in your head to make yourself feel better. Blaming him meant that you wouldn’t have to think about where you went wrong even though you knew that you should’ve talked to him about how you felt, maybe then you would be in his arms and not your messy, cold bed.

Jungkook had been punching the boxing bag in his home gym since 3am and the sun had fully settled into the room by the time he finally stopped. He hoped the exertion would make the agony in his chest alleviate but it only made things worse. No matter how many punches he threw or how much his legs ached he still thought of you. The image of your beautiful, tear-stricken face and the sounds of your broken sniffles were all he could think about every time he blinked. Jungkook was willing to let his eyes dry out if it would guarantee him peace.

Kyomi slept in that day, tired from her late endeavour where she had to comfort two adults. Despite Jungkook’s assurance, she did not believe he was fine. And he definitely wasn’t, so, when she insisted on sleeping on his bed with him he couldn’t bring himself to disagree. Jungkook realised well into the night that he couldn’t sleep so he spent the time training for what was undoubtedly going to be the second-most important match of his career. The first being the finals that were already set for the following Friday, he felt the weight of the unparalleled pressure that rested on his exhausted shoulders. This was Jungkook’s first national match and if Jungkook he were to win the next two rounds he would be the next national heavyweight champion. He would finally be able to spend every second with the daughter he loved more than anything else in his life.

Jungkook thought about messaging you, it crossed his mind more often than not but he didn't know what to say and spent an abnormal amount of time rewriting the same message over and over. "I miss you, I'm sorry." And despite Kyomi's urge to complain about her boring new babysitters or how much she missed you, she was well aware that her father needed peace so she kept her tiny mouth shut. She was right to do so, with the semi-finals steadily approaching Jungkook needed all the help he could get. Jungkook didn't like the idea of relying on his four-year-old daughter for emotional support so Jungkook pretended he was fine whenever she was around. Every other minute Jungkook coped by doing what he always did in times of doubt; continued training until his lungs gave out.

The day of the semi-finals had you seated at the edge of your bed with your phone tightly clasped in your hands. You waited, anxiously, for Jin's message that Jungkook was okay because even if he hurt you, you couldn't handle the thought of anything happening to him. Your leg vibrated with nervousness but the only vibration you truly paid attention to was your the one from your phone. With every notification that wasn't Jin, you could feel the worry laced with well-intended frustration seep into your bloodstream faster, making it difficult to breathe at a reasonable pace.

It was safe to say that you did not take Jungkook's criticism very well. You spent two days crying whenever you felt the slightest urge to, a day of working through misplaced anger, cursing men, chess, watermelon and everything that reminded you of the brown-eyed brunette which brought you to Wednesday, when all you could feel was the remnants of loss. You missed Kyomi and Jungkook and ironically, distance did make the heart grow fonder.

Philosophy: 1, Y/N: 0.

You were violently ripped out of your trance when your phone had vibrated in your hand's tight grip.

"He won and he's okay. Poor guy couldn't even get a good punch in."

You didn't fight the proud smile on your face or the sigh of relief that escaped from your lips. In the comfort of your room, you were your worst critic and you could argue the unethical-ness of watching people fight for sport any other time but that day you were solely glad that Jungkook was safe. When your phone vibrated a second time within 10 minutes of Jin’s message, you were expecting more updates from your roommate but you were pleasantly (that’s debatable) surprised to see Jungkook's contact light up your phone instead. While you were flattered that he immediately thought of you after winning the biggest match of his career, the message was a bleak "can we talk?" And you couldn’t say you were shocked, Jungkook was never a good texter but you agreed anyway. You knew ‘can we talk’ usually preceded a horrible break-up but it wasn’t like there was much room for the situation to get worse.

The night following Jungkook’s extremely anticipated win, he was wiping his clammy hands on the material of his jeans while waiting for you on his couch. Jungkook thought about what he was going to say over and over, perfecting everything to a tee with a figurative list burned into the side of his brain. He even looked at the small cardboard box of macarons he’d spent hours baking for you earlier that day. He was determined to win you back and if that meant being vulnerable (something he very much hated) then so be it. Jungkook would lay himself bare for your judgement. Before Jungkook could recite his apology one last time, his train of thought had been disrupted the second he heard the doorbell ring. When he opened the door, his eyes landed on your form, depleted and void of any joy, he had to swallow the lump that formed in his throat.

“Hey, come in.” He moved out of the way to make room for you and while you normally jumped into his arms straight away, you stuck to the far end of the hall, as far away from Jungkook as physically possible while you slipped off your shoes. Converse. He was glad to know you weren’t planning on making a quick escape. “Do you- uh, do you want anything to drink?” You shook your head, standing awkwardly in the open area between his kitchen and living room. Jungkook moved first, sitting down and patting the space next to him, gesturing for you to take a seat. He couldn’t say it didn’t hurt when you sat on the single chair to the right of his couch instead.

As Jungkook raked through his brain in hopes of finding the list he had so confidently confided in just a few minutes ago, you decided to speak first. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to overstep my boundaries with your daughter.” Your voice was soft as always but it wavered, unsure, afraid and all he could do was hope that you weren’t afraid of him. “You don’t have to apologise for teaching her a game, Y/N.” Jungkook didn’t mean to come off condescending but he winced at the sentence the second it left his mouth. You looked a little taken aback and Jungkook wanted the ground to simply swallow him whole. God, he was notoriously bad at apologies. “Right…” Following your feeble attempt at filling the silent void was yet another silence that was not only awkward but uncomfortable. You were waiting for an apology, an explanation, an excuse, anything, you weren’t picky. You just wanted your boyfriend back.

“You know, when I first met Kyomi I had no idea she existed until I was in the hospital. Her mother was a one night stand I had at Namjoon’s friends party when I was 19. Isn’t that funny?” Jungkook laughed despondently at the mention of his bleak past. It hurt you to see him so pained so you tried to stop him. "You don't have to do this." "I do." Following his dour statement, you retracted, deciding to listen to what he wanted to tell you. “I didn’t even know she was pregnant but apparently she had some complications during the late stages of her pregnancy and the doctors told her she’d die if she went through with it. She had to deal with that alone, the fear of a situation that dire while I fucked around on Namjoon’s playstation. I was pathetic and she still put me down as her father.” Tears were beginning to well up in Jungkook’s eyes that grew increasingly glassy every time he blinked. You weren’t sure why Jungkook was telling you about Kyomi’s mother when he had been so adamant not to speak about her but you were glad he was opening up to you, even if it clearly hurt him to reopen the wounds of his past that only barely began to heal. “She went through with it anyway and I thought she was an idiot for it. God, she was only 22, who the fuck gives up their life for a baby they haven’t even met at 22?” Jungkook wiped a tear off of his face the second it fell and some of your own were beginning to sting your sensitive eyes which had grown rather sick of crying that week. But you couldn’t help it, not when Jungkook was so visibly upset about something that incredibly difficult, not when all you could think about was how hard it would be to recover.

“I got a call from the hospital a few hours after she was born; they told me I had a daughter over the phone and hung up, just like that. I brought an entire person into this world and found out about it the same way I order pizza. I felt sick and I didn’t know what to do so I ran to Namjoon all the way from my tiny ass apartment and he booked a flight with me, went to Japan with nothing more than a duffle bag he messily packed in the midst of the chaos. He stuck with me through the most difficult time of my life even when all I'd done for him is screw things up.” Jungkook was smiling with pride through the blur of his tears at the mention of the man he admired with every inch of his body. Namjoon truly was a saint and you were completely crying by the time he had confirmed that; trying to stay as quite as possible as Jungkook revealed out the darkest parts of himself to you. You could never tell he’d been through so much, how he kept such an agonising memory hidden from the world was beyond you.

“I didn’t know her well, barely knew her name but she sacrificed herself to bring Kyomi in the world. She trusted me, a stranger who was piss drunk at some college party to take care of the child she laid her life down for. I wanted- no, I want to make her proud. To let her know that what she did was worth it. She saw potential in me when no one else did, she gave me my miracle. Kyomi is the only reason I turned my life around and a lot of people tell me that I saved her, that I was so courageous for taking her into my care and not leaving her to the system, but she saved me. She’s the reason I am where I am today.” He paused for a second, and moved forward, reaching out to take your hand in his and coaxing you to sit next to him. It wasn't leering, you couldn't sense any ill intent if you'd looked for it so you complied, far too sympathetic to keep up your angry facade. When you were seated next to him, knees barely touching, he took both your hands in his, engulfing them to not only convey his emotions but to calm down his shivering hands. He looked at you with those same round Bambi-eyes that you remembered so well, the ones you thought he'd lost.

“Kyomi is exactly like you, Y/N. She’s smart, kind and picks up my slack whenever I screw up. She’s sassy when she wants to be and she always critiques every little thing in movies just like you used to do. I don’t know how, but I projected the parts of you that I loved the most onto her. I was afraid of being a horrible father, of doing what my parents did to me and putting too much pressure on her to succeed. I mistakingly associated you with that lifestyle. But, Y/N,” He moved his hands up to wipe away your tears and you continued to shy away from his haunted gaze, you were never good with eye contact and he knew that more than anyone else. Nonetheless, he held your chin softly and moved your face directly in front of his. “Look at me, baby. Your success had nothing to do with your parents, or mine or anyone else but you. You are not a product of the things I hated about my childhood and it was my mistake for thinking that for even a split second. I love you and I would love for you to stay in my life and Kyomi’s.”

That was the very first time either of you had said that you loved one another and even though you felt it for quite a while, you were always too afraid to speak it into existence. Even in that moment, you couldn’t bring yourself to stop sniffling enough to tell him you loved him and Kyomi with every nanometre of your heart. Jungkook forced your head onto his shoulder, nestling your face into the crook of his neck where your sobs began to settle. Thankfully, Namjoon had volunteered to take Kyomi out for ice cream while he settled the mess he'd made. He wouldn’t know how to explain making you cry again to her. “I love you too and Kyomi, so much.” Jungkook could barely decipher your words which were almost incoherent, muffled by his shoulder and your subsiding tears. “I know and I’m so sorry. I promise I'll do better.” You believed him.

You weren’t sure how long you spent in that position but by the time you pulled away you were sure you looked like a mess. Jungkook’s shirt was damp but his face was dry, you couldn’t say the same about yours with your eyes that had swollen up the slightest bit. You exerted them a lot that week, they definitely deserved a break. “You soaked through my shirt.” “I think that's the least you deserve.” You joked with a smile and he chuckled, glad that the joy he had sucked out of you began to trickle back in again. You yawned and stretched your limbs which had been contorted into a weird position while you were crying your heart out earlier. Suddenly, a deep sense of exhaustion had consumed you and all you could think about was sleep.

You didn’t need to tell Jungkook that you were tired, he saw right through you all the time, which would definitely end up being problematic. “Are you seriously falling asleep on me, Y/N?” You could tell he wasn’t serious, but you definitely were; your eyes were far too tired to stay open. “Just let me sleep here for a bit.” Jungkook laughed at your negotiating but he genuinely couldn’t let you sleep over that night, even though he really wanted you to. “I’m sorry babe, but I have to fly out tomorrow morning for the last match.” You groaned through his explanation while he weaselled his hands around your waist to bring you up right against his chest and out of your sleepy state. You caved, sitting up on your own to put distance between you and looking at him with a worried gaze. “You better be careful, okay? I mean it Jungkook, even if you have to forfeit mid round and look like the biggest pussy in the world, you better do it.” Jungkook would have snickered at your demands if you weren’t completely serious which, you were. “Yes ma’am.” Jungkook playfully saluted in response reminding you of the very day you met Kyomi. He was definitely lying, there was no way he would risk being the laughing stock of the season but he'd say anything to satiate your pleading expression. “Before you go, you should take this.” Jungkook handed you the box of macarons from his coffee table and you took it apprehensively, unsure of what was inside. You didn't want to seem cheap. “What is this?” Jungkook didn’t clear up much after your question, just said “proof that I’m a culinary god” and sent you on your way. Or more accurately, he dropped you off at your home.

That night, when you had returned to your apartment with a heart that was just beginning to heal, the poor muscle had received yet another blow. When you opened the door to enter the place that had been your safe haven for the past four years, Seokjin had been waiting for you in the living room. “Why are you just sitting there in silence, aren’t you bored?” Before you could hurtle another joke at the man, you noticed the papers on your coffee table and your smile fell instantaneously. Jin looked vacant, as if he had no idea how to feel. Read the room, Y/N.

“Jin, what is that?” Your mind tired not to jump straight to the worst case scenario but there wasn’t much else the papers could mean. Still, a part of you hoped he’d jump up and say ‘get punked!’ with the promise of never pulling a horrible prank like that ever again. He didn't, and you knew he never would. “Y/N, I’m so sorry. Your parents they-” He didn’t even need to finish, not that he could bring himself to. You collapsed onto the floor on the other side of the table, hands struggling to grab at the papers as your world had not only caved in on you but flipped in on itself and shaken you mercilessly. The universe had a weird way of working, trading one heartbreak for another. And to top it all off you had to find out about your parents' simultaneous deaths through death certificates mailed with express post.

Whatever deity there was in the heavens that controlled your life must have been playing a sick, sick, game. The worst part of it all (outside of your parents dying, of course) was that you couldn’t even call Jungkook, the man you grew up with, for comfort. Not when his final match was right around the corner and the topic of your family made him retract into his shell like a terrified hermit crab. Jin didn’t know what to say, you were clearly upset but he knew very little about your family, you never really mentioned them outside of what they did for a living. There was more that he needed to tell you but he didn’t know how.

“Also, the letter was sent by uh- by Jeon Jungyun… Y/N, does Jungkook have a brother?”

Tag list: @ggukkieland @barbikatherine @yzkyzkuniverse @kookxin @namjeonii @euphoriagguks @/anon r :,) @simpforbangtan

[ottiliere]

what does dirk talk to his friends about in your au? i noticed in your Dave Strider Hatethoughts drawing dirk's orange pesterchum soliloquy is broken up by a small amount of pink text. is roxy his go-to person to talk to?

roxy... this post is going to focus on Roxy because it became a bit too long to include the other two.

since we have established the existence of carapacians in this au having evolved parallel to humans (working on a prospective biology workup for them right now... don't hold your breath though), we decided that Roxy would likely live in a carapacian community similar to canon. there is so much to say about a society with another sentient species coexisting within it, we have talked about it for hours and hours and I don't think it's reasonable to synopsize it all efficiently into one post... subcultures of all kinds do tend to congregate together, though, so just picture a congested little NYC carapacian neighborhood and now picture that Roxy grew up there. I imagine carapacians evaded "nuclear family" propaganda and have much more community-centered child rearing methods because of that (aligning nicely with both the bug and chess army motifs), so she was likely raised not just by parents but all her neighbors too. a human child raised by carapacians... not unheard of but certainly a bit novel. they would adore her, of course. along these lines not all carapacians are as sentient/smart as humans (deuce vs. slick) so I imagine as she enters her teens it'd be a lot similar to how one takes care of an elderly parent just beginning to enter the throes of dementia. a bit like how she has to feed her neighbors in canon and help them with little tasks and such, how she needs to help them escape the red miles... likely this impacts the way she thinks of dirk; I can only imagine growing up in an environment like that primes you to be something of an unthanked caretaker. practically a reflex for her.

I think it's important that Roxy is an equal kind of isolated from the world (or humanity) that Dirk is. this, in addition to the fact that just being in proximity to Dave by degree of separation of alpha rose would set dirk off so bad they could literally never be friends because of it (even though they would meet before the disillusionment kicks in; afterwards he wouldn't be able to tolerate it. it would be all he could think about. he is quite obsessive like that). and so on. the isolation itself is important because of the intrinsic parallels of dirk and roxy both living on the fringes of society (trailer park vs carapace slum). roxy, at least, had a community. she had a family. she had sentient beings who cared about her, even if they were a bit disconnected from human culture. regarding her schooling, if she's in a carapace community she'd go to the school they all go to, ergo there would be more carapaces in the student body than, say, a school in a yuppie district. her school would, likely, have a body of human students, but I don't think a lot of the other humans would've been carapacian adoptees like her. likely a bit alienated due to this fact. (aside regarding alpha rose: I think Roxy would've been a teen pregnancy given up at birth. not sure how she would've ended up with the carapacians though. a plot point for future rumination.)

regarding drinking habits: I think they know but she hides it well. and everyone is busy... no one specifically is doing on her or tending to her. their social standards for child rearing are different.

As an overview of their actual relationship, Roxy has the special privilege of being dirk's very first friend. I imagine that she and dirk met on IRC chats at a young age trolling. perhaps having a conversation larping as people who are freakishly interested in whatever topic of the channel they went on, saying increasingly ridiculous shit until they both get banned, at which point they add each other. this has to have been when they were around 10-11 (c. 2000-2002). Pre-4chan... she would have been present with him through it all. Almost 100% certainly the only person on the planet who knows the extent of what he went through (and what he is ACTIVELY going through at their moment of meeting). He is a pretty secretive guy even in the comic (ohh dirk hiding your plans and being elusive again are you -all of the alpha kids) but Roxy... I think it's a combination of the fact that they made contact just before dirk was edified to the fact that everything his guardian was doing to him wasn't the norm. she would've witnessed the aftermath of that, and was possibly even the one to explain it to him (bro obviously wouldn't sign the sex ed permission slip). I have a lot of thoughts about how this conversation would go, and I don't think it would really hit the same just factually talking about it here. perhaps deserving of its own... post... or fanfiction... or mspfa. to be decided.

Their relationship, to me, is... sweet, truly. A lot of Dirk's time spent on the library computers after school just talking to her for hours as one of the few things in his life he has to look forward to... I don't think he'll ever fully be able to be a "friend" to her in the traditional sense, but I genuinely feel that she would not be bothered by this since they've been around each other for so long. She knows that is just how he is, by which I mean that the way he comports himself in almost any interaction is so stunted that I think any other person raised under any other conditions would get very upset at his interpersonal and overly sarcastic/acerbic decorum. somehow something about her struck a sweet spot in him where he does care enough about her and actively likes her enough to enjoy her presence but he's also not compelled to throw his whole weight into her or spend all his time around her, etc. it's genuinely unusual for him. he probably will not find this balance with another person ever again in his life. he's too all or nothing.

I think the magic of the internet is that it enables these little types of connections... people who drastically change your life for the better out of a completely happenstance encounter. would dirk have tried to kill himself much earlier if he hadn't met her? it's likely.

as a side note... I'm not sure dirk could've befriended Roxy (or any of his friends, for that matter) if he had known them in real life. I think he is the kind of walking victimized man that is very hard to befriend because his behavior is genuinely so off-putting and rude. nobody with any shred of self-confidence, or self-worth, would tolerate being constantly put down over their interests, especially over a large swathe of years. if he's like this online, I can only imagine what he'd be act like in real life, especially combined with the disordered prosody that often comes after severe childhood abuse and subsequent disfigurement (metaphorically) of one's vagal tuning. (aside: remind me to write my polyvagal dirk post.) a bit rancid, really. i think, certainly, that he is aware of this, of how bad he is at interacting with people. he likely he brushes it off as something that he COULD be good at if he wanted to... but he doesn't. because he dislikes people oh so very much. why should he waste time on learning to be around the common populace? to make himself more tolerable? he's more superior while simultaneously being vastly inferior in a breathtaking display of self-deprecative cognitive dissonance fueled by the classic nihilist dilemma and his brain's only attempt at convincing itself he shouldn't jump off the nearest bridge.

along these lines, I do think roxy and dirk have had numerous incidents where they were remarkably shitty to each other. roxy w/ alcoholism and sexual harassment of course and dirk with his battery acid personality. like... that's just life. that's friendship, especially in preteen years. these are two kids who are affected to varying degrees by their respective upbringings and they WILL be stepping on each others' toes. that's what happens when you're a kid. it sucks and you suck and you take it out on each other because your brain isn't fully developed yet. doubly/TRIPLY so if you are severely traumatized and your brain subsequently wired itself to have very poor control over its emotional reactions... (having to do with messed up wiring between the prefrontal cortex and amygdala, among other structures like the periaqueductal gray, which is responsible for freeze/flight defense patterns. I posted papers about this here before but here's one of them again.) which is what communication is for. neither of them have any other friends (at the start, at least), so I genuinely don't think either of them would've had the option that a lot of people tend to take nowadays of just abruptly ghosting after a conflict or ditching someone because they hold an opinion that clashes with one of yours. when stuff like this happens with dirk and roxy they would have no choice but to either 1) avoid the issue, leading to festering childish resentment until they 2) confront it poorly, with very pointed words and accusations and passive aggression as, again, children are wont to utilize due to inherent lack of maturity, until they can 3) confront it kind of okay style. picturing this progression occurring as they age and their brains grow a little more.

slightly related scenario as an aside, I keep pondering a scenario in which roxy meets jane and begins replying a little late to dirk on occasion (having simultaneous convos). when he finds out why he kind of spirals about being "replaced". could possibly be how he and jane meet, since roxy would attempt to diffuse the situation by sticking them in a group chat together or whatever the mid-2000s equivalent of that was. or just give him Jane's pesterchum handle. i keep forgetting that we can use pesterchum as a convenient anachronism avoidance measure. this would've been the perfect segue into a Jane segment but I think this is enough worldbuilding for one post. did I even answer your question... absolutely yes she is his go-to person to talk to. I think his friendships with Jane and Jake would not be as "deep" as theirs just by virtue of everything listed above. they've #beenthroughitall.