#which means elementary school. she should be like eleven.

[zickmonkey]

I fucked up the timeline a lil

[despicablebisexual]

Out of Touch by Hall & Oates

part 1, part 2, part 3

Jotaro Kujo x Ex-wife!Reader

You and Jotaro meet for the first time in six years. When you try to dodge the encounter, he convinces you to sit and drink, and have a nice talk.

warnings: alcoholic consumption

Spring of 2003, Tampa, Florida

“Mom~”

You turned on your side, hoping for another five minutes of sleep.

“Mom~”

You ignored Jolyne for another second or two. The girl quieted down for a second and you thought your prayers had been answered and she had retreated from your room. Just as you approached the edge of unconsciousness, a heavy form jumped onto your stomach and woke you.

“There you are mom!” Jolyne, your strong willed eleven-year-old said.

“Hi, Jojo,” you smiled weakly, a bit winded from her jumping on top of you.

“I’m hungry,” she declared. 

You looked over at your bedside table where the clock laid. 7:14 am. So much for sleeping in on a Sunday. 

“Okay,” you took a second to rub the sleep out of your eyes. “I’m up, I’m up.”

You shooed her off you so you could climb out of bed and make your way to the kitchen, her quickly running past you.

“Can we have pancakes? Ooo what about waffles though! Can we have both?!”

You laughed at her indecisiveness. “How about something a little healthier?”

“But mom,” she groaned.

“Hey! We gotta keep those muscles strong! You can’t do your best if you don’t eat well,” you reminded her.

When she was eight, Jolyne had come home from elementary school whining about how all the other girls in her class played softball and she wanted to too. You were hesitant at first, telling her that just because everyone else is doing something, doesn’t mean she has to do it. After a few weeks insisting she should be allowed to play, you finally agreed. Jolyne had always been a rambunctious and active kid, so you reasoned that sports would be a good outlet for her to let out that energy. After she had a few recurring disciplinary incidents, softball was sounding even better. 

To your satisfaction though, after most of the girls quit, Jolyne kept going. After one season, you became a full fledged softball mom, wanting to constantly show up to support Jolyne. She was currently in her third season on her travel team.

The only gripe you had about softball was that it never dwindled her energy, in fact, she seemed more lively. Considering she was up this early the day after she had an all day tournament, you could only sigh. At least she wasn’t getting into as much trouble.

A knock pulled you from your thoughts. “Jojo, can you go get the door?”

“On it mom!” she yelled over her shoulder. A few seconds later and you heard the familiar squeal Jolyne let out whenever your current boyfriend, Anthony, arrived. He liked to stop by in the mornings often.

“Oh shit,” you muttered, hurrying to grab the leftover wine bottle and glass you left out from last night. You did a quick breath test and attempted to fix your flyaways as Anthony came into the kitchen.

“Hey pretty lady,” he said, swooping in to steal a kiss.

“Gross!”

You laughed at Jolyne’s antics. “I was just getting ready to start breakfast, you hungry?”

“I would love to but I’ve got to get to the firehouse, lots of paperwork to do. I just wanted to stop by and say hi.”

You hummed as Anthony turned around to start play fighting with Jolyne. You turned back to contemplate what to cook. The longer you looked at the contents of the fridge and pantry, the better pancakes sounded. Looking over at Jolyne’s bright smile, you gave in and reached for the pancake mix. While you prepared the batter, you sent Jolyne and Anthony to run outside and retrieve yesterday’s mail. Anthony carried her outside on his back.

Alone, your thoughts wandered over your two year relationship. Anthony was a very attractive man: tall, dark, and extremely handsome. He worked as a fireman, which matched his heart of gold he seemed to have. You two had met when you and Jolyne moved from northern Florida to Tampa, him introducing himself at the bar your new neighbors had offered to take you to. After just sitting around and getting to know the local gossip, you had gotten up to order a drink from the bar. When some asshole bumped into you and spilled your drink all over the counter, Anthony, who had been friends with the culprit, offered to buy you a new one. 

Although back then it had been four years since you and Jolyne’s father, Jotaro, divorced, you were hesitant to accept Anthony’s invite to go out for coffee. After your close neighbor had incessantly annoyed you about it, she eventually convinced you to go out with him and the rest was history. Completely ignorant to the world of stands and evil, he was a nice place to take sanctuary in.

“Mom! You got an important letter from your job!”

“Hm?”

You turned back from pouring the batter into the pan to see Jolyne handing you a letter while still hanging from Anthony’s back. The letter was addressed to Y/n L/n from the Speedwagon Foundation. Worried about the contents, you tore it open and began reading.

“Well, what does it say?” Anthony asked.

You sighed a breath of relief. “They’re giving me an award for my recent research publication.”

“Woah, no way! Congrats babe!”

Anthony kissed your temple while you let the growing anxiety fade away. You honestly had been expecting it to be a letter detailing a new stand user issue. While you did work in the Speedwagon Foundation’s research sector, they also had you hunt down concerning stand users. Having been doing so since you were seventeen and went on the 50 day journey to Egypt.

“When are they giving it to you?”

“This Saturday, 7pm.”

“It’s a date then!”

**********

“Thank you so much for watching her. It’s not often I get invited to 21+ venues.”

“It’s no problem, y/n, really! We love Jolyne like one of our own.”

Your neighbors, the Williams’, bless their hearts, were about the only family that you had ever trusted to watch Jolyne. Being a stand user as well as working in a dangerous research field, you had a penchant for attracting all sorts of evil. When you gave birth to Jolyne, there had been complications with the delivery and you ended up having to be rushed to a nearby emergency room instead of going to the Speedwagon Foundation like you planned. Everything was going well until Jotaro ended up facing off with a stand user impersonating a night shift nurse. He ended up nearly beating the woman to death, and ever since that day, you had been living life constantly looking over your shoulder for Jolyne’s sake.

After divorcing and moving to a new area, you were hesitant to let then five year old Jolyne play with other children or go to their houses. After thoroughly observing and testing your neighbors by running background checks and consistently bringing out your stand at random intervals to see who would look, you concluded that the Williams’ were not stand users and that their daughter did just want to be friends with Jolyne. It worked out in your case because you soon had friends to rely on, and could find a babysitter with ease.

Now getting ready for the banquet tonight, you stood in front of the mirror doing your makeup just how you liked it. While adding finishing touches, your cell started ringing and Anthony’s contact ID popped up.

“Hey babe.”

“Hey, y/n! How are you beautiful?”

“I’m good, just getting ready for the ceremony.”

“That’s great… Hey listen babe, I don’t have much time to talk but I can’t come tonight. I’m sorry for the late notice but one of the guys’ wife is having their kid and he needed someone to take his shift. It’s gonna be overnight so I won’t get off until about 8am.”

You frowned as you looked down at your nails. You already didn’t want to be heading out anyway for a silly award, but now that Anthony wasn’t coming, the desire to stay home was sounding really appealing.

“Y/n?”

“Hey sorry, spaced out.”

“Are you mad?”

“No, no. Don’t even worry about it. I’m just gonna go, get the award, and come home. I’m not feeling staying out tonight.”

“Alright, well stay safe. Have fun and call a cab if you drink anything.”

“Okay, dad,” you teased him.

He laughed. “I love you.”

“Love you too.” 

The phone beeped when you hung up.

**********

“Right here is fine, thank you.”

You handed the cab driver some money before shouldering your purse. The foundation had rented a banquet hall for the ceremony. Along with you and your research team, a few other people were also receiving awards tonight. Consequently, the crowd was extremely large as people from all over the company (lots non-affiliated with the stand research division) were gathered for the big event. Dinner would be served at commencement, then some words from the current CEO, awards next, and finally happy hour. You planned to slink away immediately after you got your award.

“Y/n!”

You turned to look for the source of the voice and found a few of your colleagues from your research team standing around a table right up front and center waving at you. It seems like you all were the big honorees of the evening. 

“Hello, congratulations everyone.”

Lucas, a fellow from the team, came up with a waiter following him with a tray of champagne flutes. The drinks were quickly dished out. 

“Congratulations to you, our fearless leader, who without you, we would have never got the funding.”

You snorted. “Well it’s easy to bust balls when I know all the higher ups. That’s one thanks I can give to my ex-husband.”

A few chuckles could be heard before the emcee asked people to take their seats. You turned around to quickly down the champagne before sending a silent plea to the waiter for another. The drinks could at least help with your nervousness. 

**********

“Wow, no one told me I’d have to speak!” you nervously chuckled.

“Um, I’d like to thank my team. Everyone here did so much investigation, tests, wrote up reports. They seriously put in the overtime.”

Your eyes scanned over the large crowd watching you. Your team was the last to be awarded, so everyone was patiently waiting for you to wrap up so cocktail hour could start.

“I’d also like to thank my daughter, Jolyne. I can’t tell you how many times she made me coffee in the dead of night while I stayed up working.” That remark earned you a chuckle from the audience. You felt a little looser knowing you made them laugh. As you looked around, your eyes landed on a familiar pair of blue ones way in the back of the hall leaned against the wall, staring you down intently. You swallowed thickly, not believing it to be the last person you’d ever see here.

“Uh, thank you for the award.”

You briskly walked off stage and back to your table, already grabbing your purse and other belongings. The emcee got back up to announce the bar was once again open, and cocktail hour had begun.

“Y/n, wait!”

Lucas reached out a hand to stop you from rushing off. With a small amount of shame, you turned back to see your team staring at you rather quizzically. 

“Why don’t you enjoy a couple drinks with us?”

You silently prayed for whatever entity resides above to strike you down right there. While you really wanted a drink right now, you’d rather do it alone in your house where you could wallow in the silence between sips.

“I really need to-”

“Come on, one won’t hurt!”

Lucas and the rest of the team flagged down the waiter for a round of a stronger drink this time. By some sick and twisted fate, your evening was just beginning.

**********

“You’ve got to be kidding me! You’re not even drunk yet?”

You smiled at Melina, another girl from the team, as you nursed your beer. A few rounds of shots had been dealt and the rest of the team was pretty drunk. You on the other hand, better at pacing yourself than them, were just beginning to feel the buzz. The alcohol had done well to soothe your anxiety, but the nagging feeling of being watched remained.

“I’m going to grab another drink,” you announced.

Making your way through the throngs of people, you arrived at the bar and flagged the bartender down.

“I’ll take a shot of tequila, thanks.”

“Wanna start a tab?”

“I’m paying for her,” a booming voice said as a debit card was slapped down.

The bartender quickly disappeared to run the card, and you contemplated running when you realized who was standing beside you. 

Swallowing your anxiety, you refused to make eye contact with him. “You didn’t need to do that.”

“Call it a gift for your award.”

“The only gift I want from you is to leave me alone.”

Jotaro sighed next to you, leaning on the bar so he could stare down at you. You still refused to look at him.

“Don’t make this difficult, y/n.”

You snorted. “Where have I heard that line before?”

Distantly, you recalled the night he placed the divorce papers on the table and announced he would be staying at a hotel while things finalized. He had told you the exact same phrase while you ugly cried and interrogated him. The whole night was underscored by Jolyne sobbing away in her room.

The bartender arrived with the shot and set it down. You quickly picked it up and slammed it, setting the glass back down.

“Thanks. See you around.”

You set off to leave, but a strong arm pulled you back. 

“Jotaro,” you warned.

Jotaro dropped your arm before sighing. He took off his signature hat to run his hand through his hair. “Can we just talk?”

You stared at him in surprise. On the outside, he looked like the exact same Jotaro you once knew. Donned in his signature flashy style with a face that could kill. But his eyes held an emotion that wasn’t the normal fire in his soul. For a second, when he asked you to talk, he almost looked mournful, like he was trying to save something. In all the years you had known Jotaro, he was never once concerned with matters of the heart. If anything, he would rather get pummeled over and over again than admit he had feelings. You glared at him before sitting down on the barstool. 

“One drink. You have the time it takes me to drink one drink.”

**********

“What’s that supposed to be?”

“Tch. Don’t play dumb y/n.”

You looked down at the small black box Jotaro had placed in your hands. Never one for lots of words, Jotaro had just explained he had a gift for you before putting the case in your hands, a small engagement ring looking back at you.

“I’m asking you to marry me?” he said, his hands shoved in his pockets and eyes casted to the side.

“Why?” you blurted out.

Jotaro sighed and took his hat off. In a rare moment of vulnerability, he kneeled down in front of you while you sat on the bench in the park you two were at.

“Because you’re the only person in this fucked up world I could ever love; I could ever trust. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Jojo…” you started as you teared up.

He caught you as you practically fell into his arms while repeating yes. 

**********

What was supposed to be one drink, quickly turned into one drink and a shot. Then Jotaro ordered another shot for the two of you, then one more for good measure. You weren’t stupid, it was easy to tell when someone was building up liquid courage.

The conversation first began with him asking how you and Jolyne had been. You rolled your eyes and told him ‘fine,’ stating that she was making friends and a star on her softball team. Jotaro remained amicable in spite of your passive-aggressiveness. The more he got you talking about your daughter, the more you began to open up to him. It was nice to know he still wanted to know about her, even if it was the bare minimum. As the night went on, he somehow convinced you to show him a few pictures of her from your phone and you two quickly began reminiscing on the days when she was just a toddler and barely walking around. Eventually the conversation shifted to his life and search for the stand arrows. He told you about his uncle he discovered and you gasped at the revelation that Mr. Joestar had cheated on Suzi Q, the woman who became like another grandmother to you when you and Jotaro were married. When you two came home from your first semester away at college and announced you had gotten eloped, Suzi Q and Jotaro’s mother were the only people to support you initially. It hurt to know she had been emotionally backstabbed.

“He’s lucky he’s an old man now, or else I’d seriously kick his ass for doing that to her.”

For the first time in a long time, most definitely due to the fact that he had been drinking all night with you, Jotaro laughed. And when he laughed, the whole room shook with him. It was the first time you had heard it in years and it put a loopy smile on your face while you laughed with him. When he realized how loud he was, catching the eyes of a few others, he quickly quieted down, a twinge of embarrassment and anger easily seen on his face. Upset he stopped laughing and worried he might cause an uproar (being the hothead he is), you reached over and placed a hand on his. He looked at you with surprise, before turning up his hand and offering you his palm. He smiled as you giggled at the action. 

As the conversation progressed, it was clear that you were both exuberantly drunk, but it didn’t stop you from ordering one last drink.

“You sure can put them away now. You used to puke after two shots back in college.”

You snorted. “I’m well practiced now.”

You looked down at the time on your phone, not realizing it was soon approaching 11:45pm. Looking up and around, you noticed how the hall had seriously cleared out, most of the initial crowd gone.

“Shit, it’s late.”

You stood up and looked at him, a bit sad this night was coming to an end. The alcohol had opened up all the scars on your heart and reminded you of how much you missed him, but the small-voiced rational part of your brain was reminding you that things couldn’t stay like this.

“I’ve got to go. It was nice catching up, Jojo.”

Wanting to leave on a positive note, the drunken devil on your shoulder convinced you to lean in and give him a chaste kiss on the cheek. Completely normal, right? 

“Y/n, wait.” 

Jotaro grabbed your waist and pulled you further into him, your chests colliding. He was still sat on the barstool, so you were somewhat even in height for once, meaning your breaths mixed in the air. It was a familiar position that had both of your hearts pounding rapidly.

“I’ve missed you calling me that.”

His hand was heavy on your waist. Not wanting to lose balance in your stupor, your arm landed on his shoulder. 

“You used to tell me you hated being called Jojo,” you whispered teasingly.

He huffed and looked down. “I was lying.”

He looked back up to you with eyes as deep as oceans. “I don’t want to be anything except your Jojo.”

You softly gasped and he took it as his chance to pull you in for a soft kiss. Your lips barely moved against each other, just savoring the fact that they were once again reunited. 

Once upon a time, Jotaro would have handed you the world on a silver platter. It wasn’t by coincidence that you got married so young. You two were passionate, devoted, in love, but seasons change and people do as well, and Jotaro could no longer fill the superman-esque job he had been born into. At this point, it had been six years since you two divorced. Both twenty-six then and thirty-two now, he felt more like a stranger than someone you used to love. After having had so long to contemplate your relationship, you wondered how much of it would have happened if you two had never went on that journey. Seeing so much horror at seventeen scarred you two, and you definitely had a relationship built upon a trauma bond. You questioned often if it was ever love, or just comfort in shared pain. 

Now though, so many years later, with your lips pressed together, there was no mistaking the spark between you two. All the misery you’d experienced in the world of stand users was flushed away at his hot touch. Even if it was just momentary, you knew he could love you the same way again.

“Let me take you home,” he breathed over your lips.

One look into his pleading blue eyes and you knew without a doubt there was no coming back from this.

[carrved]

(LAURA HARRIER, FEMALE, SHE/HER)Oh, is that EMERY QUINN? I heard the THIRTY-TWO year old is DETERMINED. But don’t let that pretty face fool you, they are also EXPLOSIVE. Makes sense seeing how they are a HITMAN in the THE CRIMSON gang.

tw: murder mention, child endangerment, violence, overall depressing :/

Full Name: Emery Eve Quinn.

Nickname: Em, Emmy.

Age: 32.

DOB: March 25th, 1992.

Hometown: San Francisco, California.

Familial: Gina Quinn (biological mother; deceased), Melinda Rooney (foster mother; presumed alive), Roger Rooney (foster father; presumed alive)

Hair color: Brown.

Eye color: Brown.

Height: 5'9.

Tattoos: Multiple sprinkled throughout her body. small dainty things. they don't hold a lot of meaning.

Scars: Multiple scattered around. each one has a story. she's not to keen on sharing why.

Piercings: Triple ear piercing.

Sexuality: Bisexual (leans towards men).

Relationship Status: Engaged.

Occupation: Hitman. Socialite.

tldr; Emery Quinn has a tragic backstory that makes her tough as nails. She always felt out of control of her own life. It's a lot easier to call the shots when you have a gun, which is why she does what she does. Her day job is being a beautiful, rich, NYC socialiate. Her evening job is working as a hitman for the Crimsons, which fuels her day job. She's very Lana Del Rey coded.

She had humble beginnings. A mother who worked late and a father who partied hard. He always in and out, never staying too long. When he did come around, he always brought chaos. One day, a group of men come knocking on her mother’s door looking for her father. He had some unpaid debts, her mother paid for them with her life. There was no witnesses except for scared little Emery, who was four years old at the time. She had the perfect view from the hallway closet.

Her father was never heard from again after her mother’s death. The only recollection she has of him is his name, only his last. She became a ward of the state and jumped around foster home from foster home within the Bay Area. Emery had decided at a young age, she’d never be scared again. Not like that night. She acquired some grit to her. As an elementary school student, she’d pick fights and won them. She made threats and honored them too. Part of the reason she moved so many times was because the state of California didn’t know what to do with her.

At eleven, she got placed with an older couple in the Tenderloin of San Francisco. They never had children of their own and filled that void by taking in foster children. Emery was hardly their first. Melinda Rooney was able to wedge herself inside of that cold heart of Emery’s. She didn’t see her as a menace like rest of the world did. She saw a little girl who needed a mother. That was what Melinda became for Emery. Roger wasn’t so bad either. He was a retired police officer and avid hunter. He eventually took Emery to the gun range some weekends, to teach her how to use a gun. Emery was a natural. She still remembers the first time she shot one of his pistols. That was true power in her finger tips.

Old habits die hard. When she was thirteen, Emery fell back into the wrong crowd. Doing things no thirteen year old should. One of her friends had the great idea to rob a liquor store. It’s a lot easier to steal when you’ve got a weapon. Emery stole one of Roger’s guns from the safe. When things go wrong during the robbery, Emery’s friend took the gun and shot at the store employee. They missed.

Thank God, it was her friend that shot, Roger said later that night, Emery wouldn’t have missed.

These actions had consequences. Emery got pulled from the Rooney home. It was like losing her mother all over again. This time, she kicked and screamed, trying to fight for this mother. But her efforts did nothing. She was sent off to a girl’s home. She never saw the Rooney’s again.

The entire experience hardened her. It made one thing clear t. She was never going to have a normal life. She was never going to have the things other people had. She was never going to be clean. So why even try? Through her connections, she’s exposed to the crime life of San Francisco. Scammers, drug dealers, thieves, and even a few hitmen. While they didn’t make their money honestly, they still had to put food on the table and pay their landlords every month, which Emery could expect.

When she got older, Emery joined an underground fighting ring. She fought girls her own age. She usually won. She was vicious in the ring. Though, looking at her, you wouldn’t expect much, she had enough tenacity and rage inside her that fuel her in the fights. She made enough money to support herself. She eventually made enough money to run away from her group home and live independently. Soon enough, she turned eighteen and was approached by one of these hitmen she used to know. They got her involved in their organization. Emery remembered what it was like to shoot a gun. Powerful. When she caught her first body, it was even more so.

Emery worked in SF and throughout the entire state of California. When she got an opportunity to go to New York City, she jumped at it. She begun working with the Crimsons and the rest is history.

To the naked eye, Emery Quinn is another beautiful, wealthy woman in NYC. Independently wealthy, a socialite with a trust fund, a divorcé with a generous alimony agreement. These are the lies she tells people if they ask how she affords her penthouse in Manhattan. This is how she gets into rooms with government officials. This is how she meets her fiancè. The only people who know her truth are the same ones playing the same game she is.

[floralseokjin]

⤑ made-up love song epilogue (m).

Your first encounter with Kim Seokjin doesn’t go so well, nor your second, or your third… and maybe that’s because it shouldn’t work on paper. You’re an elementary school teacher living with your best friend, and have never left the country despite hitting the third decade of your life not so long ago. He’s the dad of one of your students, nearly a decade older than you and divorced. Oh yes, and just another minor detail – he’s a multimillionaire.

Your lives are lightyears apart, yet somehow, your paths having now crossed, things just seem to fall into place…

pairing; kim seokjin x reader au/genre/warnings; strangers to lovers, single dad! seokjin, ceo! seokjin, elementary school teacher! oc, age gap (oc is 30, seokjin is 37), seokjin is a dilf, romance, fluff, a final resolution, smut; oral (male receiving), penetration, got a lot spicier than i initially imagined, oc was feeling herself words; 6,503

↪︎ chapter index

chapters; i • ii • iii  • iv • v • vi • vii • viii • ix • x • epilogue  (+ drabbles)

author’s note; fun fact, I’ve never actually written an epilogue before, but it felt fitting this time around, to tie up all the loose(ish) ends and satisfyingly bring it to a close – she says as if she isn’t writing drabble upon drabble (and more) lol but you get what I mean. I hope you enjoy! Thank you for reading ~ 

“The rabbits!” Seokjin cried out of the blue, jumping to his feet. 

Immediately you found yourself slumped into the sofa, having been leaning against him, cuddled up all morning. You sat up, confused as you looked at him. “What?”

His eyes were wide with panic. “I need to feed them! Arin will kill me if she finds out.” 

“Relax,” you chuckled, taking a hand in yours to tug him back to you. He stepped between your legs but kept standing. “They won’t starve to death. When did you feed them last?”

“Last night,” he thought. “Just after I came home from work. Maybe 7.” 

You checked his watch, seeing it was just gone eleven. “They’ll be fine for another half hour.” You stood up, tugging his hand again, but this time to lead him to the kitchen. “Come on, let’s take the stuff for brunch to your place.” 

You’d stayed in bed for a while this morning, just happily holding and kissing one another, still buzzed and definitely still basking in that post-orgasm glow. When you’d finally managed to escape the warmth of your sheets, you’d showered together. Your bathroom was a lot smaller than his – obviously – and your shower bath was even tinier, but you made it work, until you didn’t, Seokjin nearly toppling out over the side while simultaneously nearly getting rolled up in the shower curtain. Of course that had given you the giggles, but you’d composed yourself, finishing up, getting dry and then getting dressed for the day. Luckily, Seokjin had some clothes at your place, so he didn’t have to recycle the ones he’d slept in last night. 

You were treating this day like a Sunday, making the most of being lazy on the sofa before you inevitably had to go and cook brunch up. 

He stopped in his tracks, making you turn back. “You sure?” He asked, pulling you to him, nuzzling his nose against your jaw as his arms wrapped around waist. “I wanted to stay here this weekend.” 

You couldn’t stop yourself from chuckling, linking your hands around his neck as he placed a kiss behind your ear. “It doesn’t matter where we are as long as we’re together.” 

He pulled back to see you, his plump lips already curved into a smile. “You speak such truth. I’m forever awestruck by you.” 

“Shut up,” you rolled your eyes, but that didn’t stop you from stealing a small kiss. 

Seokjin decided he wanted more, pressing kiss upon kiss to your lips with enjoyable hums. “I love you,” he declared causally after the last that lingered a little. Then he grinned. “How many time will I say that today before it gets annoying?” 

You smiled fondly at him. “You could never be annoying.” You got the last kiss. “I love you.” 

.

.

A lazy day was a lazy day regardless of the house. After Seokjin made sure the rabbits were happy, fed and had fresh water, you started brunch, eating it on the kitchen island as the rain continued, falling down against the tall windows. Any other day you would have found the weather depressing, but not today. Not when you were bursting with happiness and beautifully content. Besides, that just meant you had even more of a reason to do nothing, cuddled up on Seokjin’s large corner sofa as you picked up the series the both of you had started watching a couple of weeks ago. 

At around 5pm you started toying with the idea of going out for dinner somewhere, but then you hadn’t brought along the right clothes and by now it was raining heavier than it had all day. The idea of putting on makeup made you feel even lazier, so you decided on takeout in the evening and a movie instead. 

As Seokjin was arranging the containers and plates around the coffee table, ready to dig in, movie ready to go, you slipped out a question. There’d been something on your mind all day, nothing major of course, but still, you didn’t quite know how to bring it up. 

“What time is Arin coming home tomorrow?” 

“I’m unsure,” he replied, briefly looking over at you before he opened up the black bean noodles. “I need to text Nana.” 

You nodded, opening you mouth to ask a follow up question, but hesitating last minute. He looked at you again, sensing your caution and raised a concerned eyebrow. You hated seeing him worried, so you rushed ahead. “Do you want me to go home beforehand?”

“No, of course not,” he exclaimed, before he furrowed his brow. “Unless you want to of course… If you feel uncomfortable.” 

“I don’t,” you were quick to reassure. You wanted to be there actually, if he was okay with it. “I was thinking her and I should clear the air.” 

You could see Seokjin deep in thought for a brief second before he nodded, sitting back against the sofa to take your hand. “It won’t be like last time. I promise.” 

Seokjin had already told you some of what he and Nana had spoken about Thursday evening, so you knew not to be worried about any potential conflict, but still, you didn’t want to blindside her. “We should probably check with her first though, right?” 

“Okay,” he agreed. Giving you a smile, he squeezed your thigh. “I’ll call her after the movie.” 

.

.

“Should I turn off the lamp?” 

You nodded in reply, watching Seokjin lean over his side of the bed to flick the only form of light you had off. When he rolled onto his back, you immediately pounced, hooking a leg over his hip to settle yourself on top of him, your stomachs flush. It may have nearing 12am, but sleep was not the thing on your mind. 

“Oh, hello,” he responded, happily surprised as his hands found your hips, nudging you closer. 

“Hello,” you smiled, wasting no time with meeting your mouths. 

You were a woman on a mission, knowing exactly what you wanted. Today had been lovely, and yes, you’d already had sex today, but when had that ever stopped you before? You were happy and in love and just couldn’t keep your hands (and lips) off of your boyfriend. On top of that, you were just in a great mood, full of positivity. Nana was fine with meeting tomorrow and that meant you could all clear the air and move forward. You’d finally get to see Arin again too, you’d missed her.

Things were perfect, if you did say so yourself, everything heading in the right direction, and right now you wanted to celebrate that. With Seokjin. In the best kind of way. 

“I would have kept the light on if I knew we’d be kissing,” Seokjin murmured wetly against your lips, his tongue missing yours by a second as you started to trail your way down his chin, throat and then his chest, kissing over his pyjama shirt. 

He felt you start to undo the buttons, his cock beginning to rouse expectantly which was highly amusing for you. As you exposed more and more of his chest your lips followed suit, kissing down his stomach, past his belly button to stop just above his pyjama pants, the tiny hairs that littered the skin tickling. You pulled the shirt open, working your way up again, Seokjin helpfully keeping your hair out of your eyes as he tried to hungrily watch you at work, the light of the moon shining through the gaps in the drapes casting enough light to be able to make you out. 

He let out a shaky moan when you flicked the tip of your tongue against his right nipple, laughing at himself afterwards. 

Back at his mouth, you didn’t stay too long before you sat up, straddling him. 

“Where are you going?” He wailed, annoyed you didn’t want his kisses. 

But it wasn’t that you didn’t want them, more like you wanted something else… 

You moved downwards, covers collecting at the end of the bed as you slotted in between his eagerly opening legs, his hips bucking when you cupped his now fully erect (and trapped) member. You began to run your hand up and down it, a grin on your face as you looked up. “You’re so easy.” 

Eyes having adjusted, you saw his grin was a little more bashful, eyes half lidded as he admired the view before him. “Only for you.” 

Ever the flatterer, you had him inside the warmth of your mouth in no time. You weren’t shy by any means, especially now what with all the times you and Seokjin had been intimate, but there was something about being surrounded in near darkness that gave you a fresh surge of confidence. In the glow of the moon, you could make out Seokjin’s parted lips, his eyes piercing the ceiling, giving you a glorious view of his thick neck, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down slowly as his breathing got shallower, just enjoying the moment. He looked handsome as hell – mixed with that pyjama shirt pushed sinfully open, his toned chest and stomach on full display. For you. 

Taking him deeper, you reached for him, running your hands up his stomach, feeling the firm ridges of muscle. He let out a deep moan, looking down to take your hands in his, eyes heavy with desire as he clasped them tight. You eased up a little, smiling around his cock before you started sucking the tip, caressing your tongue over him time and time again. 

He lifted his hips up, eager for more and you wrestled one of your hands free from his to clasp it around the base of his dick, feeling how wet it was from your saliva as you slowly started jerking him off, placing small, wet kisses against his slit. 

With the hand still on his torso, he slipped his fingers between yours, head relaxing back, eyes shut once he felt you softly begin to massage his balls, coating them in the spit that had dripped down onto them. You took him deeper again, picking up speed as you bobbed your head up and down. The sensation just about exploded his mind. 

“Jesus, fuck, baby,” he gasped, free hand running through his hair and tugging at the roots. “If you keep that up I’ll cum.” 

You found it cute how bad his voice trembled, pulling off to smirk. “And is that a bad thing?” 

“Nope, it’s not bad,” he agreed, a little more himself now that you’d spared him for a few seconds. “I just thought we could do some other stuff too.” 

“Some other stuff?” you laughed, lifting on your knees to crawl closer to him. You continued to massage his balls, feeling them tighten. “Like what?” 

He took a shaky breath, rolling his hips into your touch. “Like…” He paused to groan. Now you were jerking him again, your thumb rolling small circles against his slit. “Sex.” He tried again. “I want to have sex with you.” 

“You do?” 

“I always want to have sex with you.” 

And impatient now, his hands gripped your waist, tugging you to him. You squealed, fingers slipping from his cock to land on his chest, the movement sudden enough to make you think you were falling. He kissed you hastily, a soft growl in his throat as his palm grazed over your ass, fingertips playing with the frill detail of your shorts. 

“I’d be inside you 24/7 if it was possible.” 

“God, I want it to be possible so bad.” You practically lamented, his mouth on your neck now, licking strips up and down the sensitive skin. 

He made another noise, cock twitching against your thigh. You felt impatient yourself now, hands finding the collars of his shirt to push it over his shoulders, needing to strip him. He lifted his back of the bed, letting you shimmy the item off before his hands grabbed at your vest, lifting it up over your head in no time. Your mouths met in a rush, his hands palming your breasts, making you moan out, nipples sensitive as he pinched them between his thumb and forefinger. 

You went to move, wanting to get rid of his pants but he stopped you, fingers wrapping around your ribs. 

“W-wait, wait, wait, wait,” he babbled, pulling you closer. “Let me taste them.” To explain further, he caressed a finger down your left breast, making you shudder. “Mine,” he whispered possessively and then you found yourself hovering over his face, his hands cupping the soft, sensitive flesh as he kissed and sucked them in turn. 

You could feel yourself growing wetter and wetter, shorts uncomfortable as he swirled his tongue around and around your nipple, nipping it gently as he pulled away. “I love your body,” he breathed – hard. “I love you.” 

“Mhmm,” you moaned deeply, watching him suck on the other boob now. Your fingers dug into the pillow, arms trembling with pleasure. “I love you, too.” 

He made a noise of approval, finally letting you break free so you could get his pants down over his hips. His erection was so hard by now it almost stood poker straight, veins angrily visible even in the faint lighting. Pyjama pants below his knees, he eagerly kicked them off the rest of the way, watching as you peeled off your shorts. Both naked, he moaned as you straddled him, sliding up and down his cock teasingly, coating it in your arousal. 

“Honey, please,” he pleaded. His voice shook. “Don’t tease. It’s not very nice.” 

“You tease me all the time.”

He groaned weakly, unable to think of a comeback. You sat straighter, chest wet and shiny in the moonlight, his doing, and you knew he could see it too, his dark eyes watching you silently – hungrily. He looked so good, you couldn’t wait any longer. Wrapping your hand around him, you ambitiously went for it, pushing down and taking him whole. It surprised you both, groaning together as you caught your breaths. 

Although, you didn’t give him much time to get used to the feeling of your warmth hugging him tight before you began to ride him hard and fast, bouncing up and down loudly before you stopped to swivel your hips. He could feel you everywhere, his eyes practically rolling back into his head as you continued your onslaught. 

“Y/N…” He murmured, voice weak as he watched you begin to bounce on top of him again, his hands travelling up your thighs to land on your waist. “Y/N,” he tried again, unable to piece together a sentence. “Shit, keep going like that…mmfph, yeah, just like that…” 

When you felt his fingers digging into your skin you wrapped your hands around his, pushing them away. “N-no touching,” you panted, feeling him lift his legs and fold them at the knee behind you, giving you something to lean back on. 

“Seriously,” he asked, sounding annoyed, yet dreadfully turned on. 

You smirked. “I want you to lay back and watch.” 

He matched the curve of your lips. ‘Oh, I can do that no problem, honey.” He stubbornly kept his voice steady, thrusting inside of you once before he stilled his hips completely. “Could watch you ride me all night.” 

On cue, he folded his arms behind his head, biceps bulging. The casual manner got you instantly hot, bouncing along his cock a couple more times before you leaned forward, changing the angle and in turn hopefully sending him crazy. You moved back and forth, griding all over him, your arousal soaking into his pubic hair. You were wetter than usual tonight, turning yourself on as you rode him, hearing the soft squelching where your bodies met, the pressure on your clit eliciting moan after moan. 

You stared him straight in the eyes, noticing the way his jaw was clenched tight, a muscle twitching in his left cheek, but he continued to persevere, stubborn to the bone. 

That was until he felt your breasts graze against him. His hips jerked up, moaning as he was unable to stop rolling into you, and you let him, let him fuck up into you, moaning softly. 

He grunted. “Someone’s getting tired.” 

You shook your head with a whine. You could be stubborn too. Sitting up, you attempted to bounce again but his hips were working too fast by now, his fists grabbing the pillow below his head to gain some momentum. You cried out as he thrust harder, Seokjin’s own noises of pleasure gasping out of him as if he’d been holding his breath. 

“S-seokjin,” you panted, shakily holding onto his thighs. 

He wasn’t relenting. If anything he fucked you harder. “Honey, just give up,” he said matter-of-factly, yet his voice was strained, veins in his neck visible. 

Confidently he brought his hands to your hips, knowing you wouldn’t stop him now, too far gone. You let your eyes flutter closed, concentrating on how good his cock felt inside you. The beautifully crude sound of him pounding into you. 

“Yeah?” He breathed. “Let me make you feel good now. It’s your turn…” 

You nodded, moaning brokenly, and in the blink of an eye you found yourself on your back, Seokjin situated between your spread legs, finding home once again inside the warmth of your body.

You grasped his shoulders, making more noise as he rolled his hips into you, and hooked your legs around his waist, wanting him as deep as possible 

“Uh-uh-uh,” he grinned, taking your hands off him. “No touching.” 

You started complaining but then he pushed your hands above your head, holding your wrists tight with one hand. “Nghnn. Seokjin,” you moaned, feeling him start to fuck you with his entire weight. His back looked delectable and all you wanted to do was rake your fingernails down it but you couldn’t. 

Although, being pinned down by him wasn’t such a terrible thing. 

After a couple of minutes he pressed the elbow of the arm that had you imprisoned into the mattress, careful not to squash you as he brought the other hand between your legs, beginning to roll your swollen clit between his fingertips. Gasping, your legs fell back to the bed, circling your hips in time with his motions, wanting to cum now that he’d put the idea into your head. 

He chuckled at your eagerness causing you to whine. “Why d-don’t you put those lips to good use?”

“Like this, baby?” He smirked, leaning his face in closer, mouth millimetres from yours, and you just about lunged, kissing him desperately. 

He matched that urgency, at some point unable to keep your wrists in place and as soon as he let you go, you had your arms wrapped around him longingly. A groan tore from his throat, thrusts more determined as he continued to rub your clit, and you could feel your back begin to arch, toes curling into the sheets. 

He could obviously feel you squeezing around him too, ripping himself away from your mouth with a moan of your name. “Y/N. Fuck.” 

That’s all it took for you to crumble, face contorting with pleasure as you stared up at him, pulsing around him uncontrollably. 

“You’re so pretty when you cum,” he cooed, removing his hand from between your legs as he pressed soft kisses to your mouth, your orgasm continuing to wash over you in waves. “Am I pretty when I cum?” He joked, but you were too far gone to snort, let alone reply. 

He kept rolling into you, determined to keep your pleasure going for as long as possible, and you almost felt overwhelmed, back arching higher as you clung to him, a tear escaping out of one eye to run down the side of your face. He kissed it away, continuing to adore you, voice cracking, close himself now.  

“You’re my pretty woman. So pretty.” He murmured against your lips and you kissed him hard, the last of orgasm rocking through your body. Holy shit, that was a powerful one. You felt lightheaded but couldn’t get enough. 

“Fuck,” he gasped, feeling the effects as you squeezed and spasmed around him, and with one final thrust he stilled, beginning to spill inside of you. 

You cupped his face quickly, hands trembling and pushed his head up, wanting to admire his face. His plump lips were parted and shiny, beads of sweat collecting along his hairline, gaze unfocused, eyelids heavy with the weight of his pleasure. He looked positively sinful. 

You gave him a drunken smile, your own eyes barely open, and told him simply, “You’re pretty when you cum.” 

.

.

You awoke just as Seokjin was rolling over, a muscular arm reaching for you, pulling your body into his warmth. It was still raining, even harder this morning, but you didn’t care, not when you were so cosy and in love. You were still both entirely naked, which Seokjin took full advantage of, hand cupping a breast – nothing sexual in it though, more like a comfort thing. You smiled, eyes still closed and cuddled in deeper. 

“Where is he this morning?” 

There was a brief silence as he tried to work out what you were asking, but soon enough he realised and laughed, sound cracked and raspy with sleep. “He’s tuckered out after last night.” 

“Aw, diddums.” 

A Sunday morning without a boner? Blasphemy. His morning woods were part of the package, so honestly it was quite surprising to not feel him hard between your butt cheeks. 

Seokjin kissed the top of your head, making a sleepy sound, hugging you tighter to his body. “He just wants to stay in bed and cuddle this morning.” 

“That sounds perfect to me.” 

You honestly couldn’t think of anything better. 

.

.

Once you eventually dragged yourselves out of the warmth of Seokjin’s giant bed, the rest of the morning and early afternoon went by in the blink of an eye. You had just about enough time for a quick lunch before Arin was due back at 2pm, and even though you were ready to meet Nana this time, you still couldn’t stop yourself from feeling a little nervous. It was only natural, you knew that, so you didn’t dwell on it too much, but as you heard the intercom start to ring in the entryway, signalling her arrival, your worry must have been written all over your face. 

“Hey,” Seokjin said softly, calling you as you hovered by the doorway of the family room. When he saw he had your attention, he smiled warmly. “Everything’s fine.”

You gave him a reassuring smile of your own, watching him answer the call to Nana before he opened up the front door, waiting their arrival. 

Arin came in full steam ahead, her little backpack on her shoulders, her carry-on hopping behind as she attempted to ram it over the step to get inside. Nana was only just getting out of the car, you could see her slightly from where you still stood in the doorway of the family room. 

“Hello, Arin.” Seokjin greeted, amusement clear in his voice as he watched his daughter struggle. “Did you have a fun time?” 

She was too busy huffing and puffing to reply and that’s when he finally took pity on her. He reached out his arm, “Let me take your case.” 

“No!” She insisted. She was a determined little thing. “I can do–” 

She never got to finish off her sentence because as she looked forward she caught sight of you smiling at her. 

“Y/N!” She squealed, case (and dad) immediately forgotten as she ran towards you. You weren’t expecting the wave of emotion that hit you when she wrapped her arms around your middle, face in your stomach, but it was there, and it got you right in the gut. You hugged her back. “You’re here,” she beamed up happily. 

“I am,” you grinned, swallowing back your wavering voice. 

“I missed you. It’s been ages.” 

You could always count on kids to be straightforward with their words. She was going to make you cry if she carried on like this. “I missed you too.” 

“It’s only been a week, sweetie,” you heard Seokjin say. 

Arin turned to him quickly. “It’s still a long time.” Then back at you. “I thought you’d never visit again.” 

You felt your heart constrict, and unsure what to do you looked over at Seokjin, finding him equally as afflicted by his daughter’s confession. Teacher mode activated then. “No, no. I was just... busy with work, that’s all.” 

You winced inwardly at your stupid excuse, not wanting to lie to her, but unable to really tell her the truth, especially at a time like this. 

On cue, you heard Nana’s voice greeting you. “Hi, Y/N.” 

You looked over to see her stood just behind Seokjin, a small smile on her face. She seemed a little nervous herself, which selfishly relaxed you. 

“Nana,” you smiled back, “hi.” 

Seokjin cleared his throat, taking a few steps towards his daughter and you. One look at him told you he was feeling the jitters too. This was brand new territory after all – for all of you. 

“Arin, why don’t you take your backpack upstairs and I’ll tell you when mommy is going home so you can say goodbye?” 

“Okay,” she agreed simply, pulling away from you to bound upstairs before she stopped abruptly. She turned back to Seokjin and ran forward with her arms forward. “Sorry, daddy. I forgot to hug you.” 

He chuckled, bending down to kiss her head before he ruffled her hair. “That’s okay. Now, unpack your things. I’ll bring your case up later.” 

She nodded, giving her mom a wave before her attention returned to you. “Will you still be here when I get back?”

“Of course,” you nodded, ignoring the fresh tug at your heartstrings. 

“She really likes you,” Nana observed just as you lost sight of Arin going up the staircase. 

You shook your head, chuckling as you replied modestly, “I don’t know about that.” 

“She does,” she insisted, smiling afterwards. “It’s nice to see. I’m glad she’s happy with everything.” 

You nodded, unsure what to respond with, but Seokjin saved the day. “Do you want something to drink?” 

Nana shook her hand. “I’m okay, thanks. I won’t stay long. I don’t want to interrupt your afternoon.” 

Seokjin gestured her to enter the room, then moved back to take your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze as he brought you forward, wanting you to go next, putting the hand on the small of your back instead now. His touch calmed you. 

“Sit,” he prompted Nana warmly, and she perched herself on the edge of the teal love seat. 

“I like what you’ve done with the place by the way,” she said politely, looking around. 

“You and me both know I just threw some new throw cushions down,” he laughed, attempting to ease the atmosphere.  

Nana joined in just as you sat down on the far end of the sofa. Instead of taking the seat next to you, Seokjin perched himself on the armrest, loosely throwing his arm around the backrest, fingers grazing your shoulder. 

Nana’s attention fell to you, her expression now serious. “Y/N, I want to apologise to you.” She began. “I was out of order last weekend. I was angry but that’s no excuse.” 

“I appreciate it,” you replied, finding your bearings. “I understand it was a shock to find out about me.” 

“It was, but I still acted embarrassingly.” She looked down at the floor, ashamed of herself. “To think that’s your first impression of me.”

She had said some terrible things, yes. Not only to you, but Seokjin too, but, Seokjin had also said plenty of cruel things back. You weren’t one to hold a grudge, especially if she was showing genuine remorse, which you believed to be the case. 

“We can start anew if you like?” You offered with a small smile. 

She visibly relaxed. “I’d like that.” Then she hesitated before deciding to carry on. “I meant what I said, it seems like Arin really likes you. I trust my daughter’s intuition.” 

“She really does,” Seokjin agreed with a hum, rubbing your shoulder. 

“She’s been talking about you over the weekend – not that I’ve been prying of course,” Nana was quick to clarify. “You’re good with her.” She looked you straight in the eyes. “Thank you for accepting my child.” 

You weren’t used to having this much praise and attention thrown your way, you didn’t really know what to say, but that was alright, you didn’t think Nana was looking for an outright response. You understood how important this was for her. She needed to trust the woman that spent time with her daughter, just like Seokjin had grown to trust you. It was slightly more difficult for her considering she wouldn’t be spending a lot of time in your company, so all she really had to go off was Arin’s opinion on you. It meant a lot to know she had given you a chance. Last week you had been afraid that might not be the case. 

You smiled gratefully. “She’s really special.” 

“Yes, Y/N says she’s a talented storyteller,” Seokjin mentioned soon after, helping the conversation along as if he could sense that you felt awkward with all the attention cast on you. He knew you too well. 

“Oh really?” Nana looked delighted, eyes on you as she waited for more information. 

You nodded, complimenting Arin coming easy to you. “The stories she wrote while I was her teacher were amazing.” 

“I have the copies somewhere if you want to read them yourself,” Seokjin offered. 

“I’d love that,” she beamed. “Thank you, Seokjin.” 

“No problem. I’ll find them this week.” 

Nana’s gaze happened to fall to Seokjin’s hand still comfortably on your shoulder then, and her smile faltered. In its place appeared guilt. “Listen, I... I hope I didn’t come in between you both because of last weekend.” She turned to you. “I know mine and Jin’s relationship seems toxic and it was until a few days but I,” she paused to glance at Seokjin, “I really want to change that.” 

“You know I do too,” he agreed. 

“I don’t want to fight anymore, or have things tense between us. We both love Arin.” She caught your eyes. “We all love Arin, so that’s the most important thing.” 

You looked down at your lap but nodded in agreement. Arin’s happiness was what mattered the most. 

“It is,” Seokjin replied. 

Nana smiled, satisfied, and stood up. “Okay, I should get going.” You both followed her, starting to walk towards the doorway. 

“Um, I managed to get that Wednesday afternoon free,” she told Seokjin, “is it okay if I collect Arin from school and take her for something to eat?”

“Of course. I know this great pizza place she loves if you want the name.” 

“She already told me about it,” Nana chuckled. “I think she was dropping hints, but directions would be great. Thanks, Jin.” 

“No problem.” He stopped by the staircase, voice raising quite a lot to reach Arin in her bedroom. “Arin, your mom’s leaving. Come say bye, sweetie.” 

In no time at all she was galloping down the stairs. “Will I see you Wednesday?” She asked her mom eagerly. 

“You betcha! How does pizza sound?”

“Yay, thank you, mom!” She squealed, going in for a hug as Nana bent down.  

“I’ll see you in a couple of days, okay, darling. I love you.” 

“I love you more,” Arin murmured sweetly, kissing her mother’s cheek. 

Nana kissed her back, chuckling. “Not possible, but okay.” Then she stood up, nodding to you and Seokjin with a small smile. “Bye both. I’ll see you Wednesday?” 

“See you Wednesday,” Jin confirmed. 

.

. 

You spent the afternoon playing board games together, Seokjin finding a bunch of his old collection in the attic and you had fun teaching Arin how to play, although she didn’t quite grasp the full idea of monopoly yet, wanting to buy everything in sight regardless of if she had enough money or not… It was funny to say the least, even more so when Seokjin was unable to refuse her, loaning her money from the bank time and time again. 

Where’s my special treatment, you’d teased quietly when Arin was distracted, secretly finding it adorable how much of a softie he was when it came to his daughter. 

“You know I’d buy you anything you want,” he’d replied with a grin, unable to stop himself from stealing a quick kiss. 

At around 6pm, you and Seokjin began preparing dinner for the three of you. Only you left him in charge for a little while when you followed after Arin who had gone to feed her rabbits, wanting time alone to talk with her. You hadn’t been able to stop feeling guilty about effectively lying to her earlier and after confiding in Seokjin about it while Arin was unpacking her suitcase, he’d suggested you speak to her about it. He agreed that honesty was the best policy from here on in (within reason, of course) and that she obviously understood something had been wrong last week else she wouldn’t have reacted the way she had when she’d seen you earlier this afternoon. 

She was only getting older and that meant as much transparency as possible when she was personally involved in something. She was at that age where these things would stick with her. Although hopefully nothing like last week would ever happen again. 

You stood by the doorway watching as she cooed and conversed with the Olive and Ariel at first, not wanting to interrupt. She was such a great little pet owner, making sure they were fed and watered enough, helping to clean their hutch, watching over them when they played outside. She adored them. 

After a few moments she noticed you. “Oh, Y/N,” she smiled, “is dinner ready?” 

You shook your head. “Not yet.” Stepping closer you joined her, watching the rabbits bound about. Seokjin had found the largest hutch imaginable. “Did you miss them?” 

“Yes, but daddy has been feeding them well.” 

You stifled a laugh, remembering Seokjin’s panic yesterday morning, but then crossed your arms, clearing your throat. “Hey, listen,” you began cautiously, feeling a little nervous. Arin looked up at you curiously. “Remember when I said I didn’t come over because I was busy with work?” 

She paused to think and then nodded. 

“I was lying actually, Arin.” 

Her eyebrows pinched together. “How come?”  

“Because… I didn’t want to worry you.” 

She took some time to process what you were saying before she shrugged matter-of-factly. “I was still pretty worried last week anyway.”

You smiled sadly. “I know, and I’m sorry about that. Your dad and I…” 

“Did you have an argument?” She was looking up at you curiously, finger playing with Olive and Ariel’s water bottle. 

“Something like that,” you nodded. “It was more of a disagreement.” 

“I thought so because daddy was sad all week.” 

Her honesty stabbed at your heart. 

“Were you sad too,” she asked. 

“Very.” 

“But you’re happy now?”

You smiled at her. “Yes, everything is all fine now. Me and your dad are happy.” 

She looked happy herself at that piece of information, relaxing visibly, but then she asked a question that caught you off guard. “Do you know if daddy and my mom are happy too?” 

“I think so.” You replied as vaguely as you could, not wanting to overstep the mark. But it didn’t feel right. You tried again. “I think things will be different from now on, Arin.” 

“I hope so. I hate it when they argue.” She sounded sad, her gaze cast to the floor. 

“I know. No one likes watching their parents fight.” you sympathised. 

“What about you and my mom?” She asked suddenly, changing the subject a little. “Are you happy?” 

“Yes, I think so.” You smiled at her. “I like your mom. She’s very pretty just like you.” 

Arin beamed and then added, “You’re pretty too.” 

You wrapped an arm around her shoulders, giving her a squeeze. “Thank you.” 

“Don’t worry,” she almost whispered, “I won’t use that word again.” 

You were clueless for a moment, not understanding what she meant but then it hit you. She carried on. 

“Not until we all decide. Mommy said I might call you that one day if you want me to.” 

For the second time today you felt emotional, throat tight as you choked up suddenly. You composed yourself expertly though, taking a breath before you smiled and replied. “That’s right. There’s no rush for when we all decide.”  

Arin nodded along happily and you took her hand. 

“Should we go and check on daddy now? See if dinner’s ready?”

“I think so.” She agreed, her eyes rolling slightly. “Last week he set off the alarms because he burned my chicken nuggets.” 

“Oh, gosh,” you said, soon spluttering out a laugh. Arin joined in. Seokjin had failed to tell you that (hilarious) piece of information. “Well then, let’s hurry.” 

Seokjin was searching the pantry for something when you arrived back at the kitchen. “Hey,” he said, shooting a warm smile your way. “How’s my two favourite ladies?”

You looked down at Arin, wanting her to reply and she beamed at her father. “Happy.” 

You nodded in agreement, catching Seokjin’s eyes as you shared a private moment, silently telling him everything was fine now. He shot you a playful wink then, closing the door. “That’s funny, because I’m happy too.” 

You moved closer to him, collecting the messy ties of the apron he insisted on wearing whenever he was in the kitchen to retie them properly. “We were just checking in to see if the chef was burning dinner again…” 

With a surprised huff, he turned to his daughter, eyes wide. “Kim Arin did you tell tales on me?”

Arin erupted into a fit of giggles, you and Seokjin joining in immediately. “Maybe…” 

“It was an accident. Happens to the best of us,” he tried to defend. 

“Sure, sure.” 

Arin was greatly amused by your flippant response, but soon grew sympathetic towards her dad, stroking his elbow. “It’s okay, dad, I forgive you.” 

“That’s very kind of you,” he laughed. 

“Should I set the table?” 

“And that’s very sweet of you,” he added, eyes shooting wide. “Thank you.” 

You helped her get all the cutlery she needed and watched her leave for the dining room determinedly. But your attention soon got stolen away, pulled into Seokjin’s warmth as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders. You hooked yours around his middle. 

“Okay?” He murmured, checking in as he placed a kiss on your forehead. 

You looked up at him, a smile on your face and gave his waist a squeeze. 

“Okay.” You confirmed. 

Everything was more than okay, actually. 

Everything was perfect. 

Written 2020 - 2021. Please refrain from posting my work elsewhere. No translations allowed. © floralseokjin 2021

[jungwonenthusiast]

Field Trip

A/N: I’ve been working on this pic for a while, I hope you guys like it :)

Pairing: Jake Sim x fem! reader

Word count: 5.2k

Genre: fluff, high school au

Warning: mentions of virginity loss and porn, occasional swearing, nothing else I think

“How many shirts should I take?” Jake asks you through your phone. 

“Uhm, we’re there for three days so take four just incase.” you reply and you pack your suitcase as well. 

You two were preparing for your five day field trip to New York which was happening tomorrow. 

You packed your favorite jeans and hoodies and even a dress just in case. You can't help but romanticize the hell out of New York after being stuck in this small town all your life. 

“How many pairs of underwear should I take?” he asks again and you giggle. He’s like a kid sometimes.  “How many times do you think you’ll change your underwear?” you say while sitting on your suitcase to get it to zip closed.

“Probably three but I’ll take four just in case.”

“What a quick learner.” you say and you hear him scoff. 

Jake has been your best friend since elementary school when you scraped your knee during tag and he took you to the nurse’s office. He’s been a sweetie since day one. 

“I doubt I’m gonna get any sleep tonight,” you sigh. “I’m too riled up.”

“Same,” he sighs. “I wonder how many flashers we’ll run into.”

You laugh. “Why is that the first thing you think of you creep.”

“Hey now,’ he chuckles. “I thought that was the stereotype.”

You hop onto your bed and pick your phone up, it looks like Jake’s doing the same. All you can see are his eyes and a bit of his nose bridge. His dark hair has started to grow out and it was poking at his eyelids. 

Your phone pings with a text from Jake. It’s a horrendous screenshot of you climbing over your phone to get into bed. You gasp.

“I’ll kill you.” you tell him as he’s holding in his laugh. “I will do it.”

His laugh bursts out of his throat, jolly and warm. “Why I love it.”

“I hate you so much. Delete it.”

“No way,” he bunches his brows. “You have an entire photo album dedicated to bad pictures of me.”

“And I also have an entire album dedicated to good pictures of you.” you roll your eyes.

“You do?” he asks. “That’s a bit fangirly of you.”

“Me? A fangirl? Maybe Madeline but not me.” you scoff.

“Madeline?” his voice perks up. “She likes me?”

“Yeah, I thought you knew this.” you swear that you’ve brought this up before. Maybe he just forgot. 

“Nuh-uh.” he says.

“Well...” you say. “do you like her back.”

“I mean she’s nice but,” he hesitates. “not really.”

“Why not? She’s smart and super pretty. I'm so jealous of her hair.” you say. Madeline was a tan ginger girl with curly fiery hair down to the small of her back. 

“You have nice hair.” he says nonchalantly. 

You touch it and rub it between your fingers. “It’s whatever.”

He scoffs. “You’re too hard on yourself all the time.”

“I’m a teenage girl, I can’t help it.” You defend yourself, but he isn’t lying. 

“I’m bored, can I come over?” he says suddenly. 

“Tonight? We have school tomorrow.” you reply. 

“Maybe I’ll just sleep over.” he says while turning over in his bed. “I don’t think our parents would care.”

Sleepover? You two hadn’t done that since you turned eleven. 

“Where would you sleep?” you ask him, already imagining how this would go.

“I don’t know on the floor.” he shrugs.

“I’m not letting you sleep on the floor I’ll feel bad.” you argue.

“I don’t care, I’m the one who suggested it, plus I miss you dude, I wanna hang out.” he says and you smile.

“I saw you on Friday.”

“Yeah, a whole two days ago.” he gets up off his bed. “Okay I’ll be there in ten.”

“What-” you start but he cuts you off.

He brings the camera up close to his face and he flashes you a smile. “Bye!” he hangs up. 

Your palms feel a bit sweaty and you brush them off on your pants. Why am I nervous? You guys have had plenty of sleepovers before but the rest of the boys were always there, probably passed out from beer or a sugar crash. 

You tidy your room up a bit and prepare a little blanket bed on the floor right next to your actual bed. 

You hear knocking at the door right when you expected, Jake was hardly ever late. 

“Hola~” he says as he walks in with his backpack on. He takes his shoes off before skipping over to your room. You giggle to yourself. 

He falls back onto your bed with a big sigh. “I missed being here.” 

“Why? There’s nothing cool here. Your house is way cooler.” you say and he smiles.

“Well I can’t deny that,” he shrugs and you punch him in the arm. “you’re the one who said it.”

“We get it rich boy.” you roll your eyes and sit down next to him.

“I’m just playing,” he sits up. “you know that.”

“I hope you showered after practice,” you say. “I don’t want you stinking up my bed.”

He whips his head to you, looking a little bit offended. “I am very clean alright? Here smell my hair.” he shoves his head into your face. 

You let out a strangled noise and try to push him away. “Okay, okay!”

“No smell it,” he keeps his hair up in your face, it’s tickling your nose. “smells like mangos right.”

Admitedly, he's right. It smells like mangos.

“Yes it does,” you squeak out. “now please respect my personal bubble.” you spread your arms out and create an imaginary bubble between you two. He tries to tug at your arm but you bellow in a robot voice. “PERSONAL BUBBLE PERSONAL BUBBLE.”

“Fine, fine.” he falls back onto your bed again, laughing. “Lets watch something.”

You follow suit and tug your laptop into your lap. 

“Hold on,” you get up and close your window, it was starting to get too cold.

You shimmy under your covers and pull up Netflix.

“Scary movie?” you click on the horror section.

“Sure but you probably won’t be able to sleep.” he teases and you roll your eyes. 

“That was years ago.” you start to scroll through the movies. 

“Mhm, and I’m never letting you live it down.” he says with pride. 

During freshman year the gang decided to go to Jay’s house to watch It together and it freaked you out so much that you went to sleep in the boys room rather than the guest room. 

You click on Hush, a movie you’ve been avoiding because it’s about one of your biggest fears, a home invasion. 

“I thought you hated this movie.” Jake says, crossing his arms.  “I do, but I need to face my fears eventually right?” you click on it and get up to turn the lights off. 

Jake soon gets under the covers as well. You both cringe and slap each other every time your feet touch. 

“Yo yo yo yo watch out!” Jake whispers and pulls his hood over his head, something you both do when you’re nervous. You weren’t wearing a hoodie so you settled with a spare blanket and draped it over yourself like a cloak. 

“Oh shit,” you whisper. “look behind you!” you yell at the main character. 

By the end of the movie both of your bodies are stiff and sore from being so tense for two hours straight. 

“I thought she was gonna die.” you sigh and you shut your laptop. 

“Nah, they couldn’t kill the main girl.” Jake says, comfy and cuddled up in your duvet. “She was so smart.”

“Yeah she was.” you yawn and then kick Jake in the side. “Go to your bed.”

He groans. “It’s warm here though.”

“Go and I’ll make pancakes tomorrow.” you say.

He perks up and follows your orders. 

You relax into your mattress, but you miss his warmth next to you. You ignore that. 

Your alarm goes off at 6:30 and Jake sleeps right through it. 

“How the hell does he get up in the morning?” you whisper. “Probably Leila.”

He’s sleeping on his side, cuddling a stuffed animal he must’ve stolen from your bed while you were asleep.

You stretch your back before washing up. 

Jake’s POV

My serene sleep is interrupted by pokes at my shoulder. 

“Get up poop.” she says. I almost forgot that I was at her house. I crack my eyes open to find her crouching next to me. 

“Good morning.” I croak out.

“You stole ginger.” she points at the stuffed bunny in my arms. 

“I was lonely.” I say before sitting up and rubbing my eyes. “What time is it?”

“7:30,” she says holding in a giggle. “go wash up so we can eat.”

“What’s so funny?” I ask her as she walks away. “You’ll see when you look in the mirror.” she says.

My eyes widen. Did she draw a dick on my forehead or something? I thought we swore to never do that.

I scramble to her bathroom to meet some gnarly bedhead. I have no clue how guys have good messy hair, my hair is either boring and flat or just messy. 

“Jesus.” I say to myself and try to run my head under the sink. 

I brush my teeth and secretly use her facial cleanser. 

“So fancy.” I whisper while lathering it up on my face. 

I can already hear her voice in my head when I’m drying off saying “don't forget to put lotion on, and face lotion, not body.”

A stack of pancakes is waiting for me in the kitchen, just as she promised. 

“Thank you mom.” I say to her before digging in.

She sits across from me with her own plate of flap jacks. She looks so pretty this early in the morning. Her face is fresh and sparkly and her eye bags somehow just make her prettier. It’s cloudy out and I can tell she’s cold she way her body is bundled up in her chair. 

I still remember the moment I realized that I liked her. It was seventh grade and we were at our town’s annual fair. She got a bit sick after a ride with a lot of loopdey loops so I stayed behind with her while the rest of the boys continued to go on every ride they pleased. She told me to go with them and that she didn’t want me to miss out but I said that it was fine and that I liked hanging out with her anyway. She smiled her bright smile at me and rested her head on my shoulder for a moment. Then she threw up on my shoes. Like projectile cotton candy, funnel cake, and other miscellaneous fair food vomit. And I didn’t even get that mad, I was more concerned for her. After that I figured I liked her, because if it were Jay I would’ve beat him up. 

“Did you have any nightmares?” I ask her and she shakes her head.

“Nah, I dreamt that Sunghoon married a dolphin. It was weird.” she sighs.

I choke on my pancakes. “A dolphin?”

“Yeah,” she laughs. “his name was Jerry.”

“And it was a guy too?” I hold my chest, trying not to choke.

“Don’t judge their interspecies homosexual marriage. It was beautiful.” she laughs and takes a big gulp of water.

I’m almost crying at this point. “Best dream ever. I can’t wait to tell Sunghoon this.”

“No!” her eyes widen. “He’s gonna think I fantasized about it or something.”

“What?” I cock an eyebrow. “Everyone knows that dreams are uncontrollable sometimes.” “Still it’s weird. Imagine if someone told you that I dreamt of you marrying a dolphin. It’s be weird.” she says through a mouth of pancake. 

“Did they have kids?” I cackle,

“I don’t know. How would that even work?” 

“Maybe they had a surrogate or something.” I suggest.

“Oh god,” she shakes her head, smiling. “we need to stop. I feel like I'm violating him.”

“Alright, alright.”

“Should I wear this shirt or this sweater.” she asks me as we’re getting ready in her room. 

“Sweater. It’s probably gonna be cold.” I say while tugging socks on. 

“Shit you’re right. Then I won’t be able to wear this dress.” she holds up a little dress that flows out a bit from the waist. 

“Bring it anyway and maybe you can wear it for a second so I can take pictures for you.” I suggest and she smiles. 

“Good idea.” 

We both settle of hoodies and jeans and say goodbye to her parents before hopping in my car. 

We get to school right when people start getting on the bus to the airport. We throw our luggage into the bottom carrier and get in line. 

“Yo!” I hear a familiar voice call as we get on. “We saved seats for you guys.”

Jay, Sunghoon, Heeseung, Jungwon, Sunoo, and Niki have already gotten comfortable in the back of the bus. Niki was already asleep. Y/N couldn’t help but pat his head before settling down next to Jungwon. The bus wasn’t a school one but one of those fancy ones they bring out once a year. 

I sit down next to Sunghoon and dap him up. 

“What’s up.” I say while putting my backpack down by my feet. 

“Tired.” he says. “Valentina kept me up all night.”

I raise an eyebrow and he smirks. 

“For real?” I ask and he nods. “No way.”

“Yeah way.” he says and holds up a fist.

I fist bump him and pat him hard on the shoulder. 

“You’re a man now Sunghoon.” I congratulate him and he snickers. 

“What does that make you then?” 

“I’m taking my time alright? I’ll get there eventually.” I say, a little embarrassed. 

I look back to check out what she’s doing when we start to drive off. She’s fast asleep with her cheek pressed against Jungwon’s shoulder. He looks like he’s about to dose off too. Cute. 

Sunghoon and I watch a couple episodes of Death Note before we arrive at the airport. Sunoo shakes Y/N and Jungwon up. 

She’s still groggy as we walk into the airport and grabs onto my arm for leverage. My heart jumps a little. It’s not often that we touch despite how much I think about touching her. I could stare at her back all day. She could ignore me for the rest of my life and I’d still be happy to be in her presence. Mental note to all of you: do NOT let your feelings get to this point.

Soon we’re on the plane and she chooses to sit next me. I silently celebrate. Sunoo and Sungoon behind us, Heeseung and Niki next to us, and Jay and Jungwon in front of us. Sunoo pokes his head over her seat.

“Do you have chapstick I can borrow.” he asks with his blonde hair flopping over his forehead. 

She digs into her bag and hands him a small tin of lip balm.

“Thank you!” he says and she nods. 

“Are you that tired?” I ask her.

“Mhm,” she sighs and shuts her eyes. “I forgot to drink coffee this morning.”

I put in my AirPods and start to watch Lady Bird. She looks over and takes an AirPods out of my ear. 

“I wanna watch too.” she say and puts it in her own. 

We take off for the six hour trip and soon Y/N is sound asleep. Her head kept dropping forward so I pushed it up and pulled it to rest on my shoulder. This was not on purpose. I can’t help but snap a picture of her and add it to the good pictures of her album. She looks so peaceful and comfortable and gorgeous. I lay my head on hers for a moment before continuing the movie. 

Y/N’s POV

After two hours of unsatisfying sleep, and hour of gossip with Sunoo, and three hours of chit chat with Jake you finally arrive. You sit up and stretch as best as you can in the plane. You pull you backpack onto my back and get you luggage down from the overhead bin. It’s already five p.m. when we get off and your stomach is growling. 

We take another bus to the hotel and you can’t help but admire the city life as we drive there. 

You’re roomed with two other girls at the hotel but you don’t even bother unpacking. You know you’re gonna be in the boys’ room anyway.

Mrs. Gilroy gave us tonight to do whatever we wanted as long as we were back at the hotel by ten p.m. 

You sneak into Jake, Jay, and Sunghoon’s room as soon as you can. And when you get there, it’s already a mess.

“Good lord.” you say as you’re met with clothes all over the floor and mini bottles of liquor on the beds.

“You guys are drunk already?” you scrunch your nose and drop your stuff in a corner of the room.

“No.” Sunghoon says to you lazily with a little smirk on his face. You can’t help but giggle. Sunghoon is pretty adorable when he’s drunk. 

“Are you drunk too?” you turn to Jake and he shakes his head. His pink cheeks give him away though. “You’re all bad liars.”

“Lets go swim.” he says excitedly. 

“There’s a pool? I didn’t bring a swim suit.” you say, bummed.

“Can we go later, I’m hungry.” Jay says and you agree.

“Me too.” 

Jake tugs at your arm. “Come on~ we can order room service or ask Jay to get us something.”

“We can get you guys something.” Sunghoon says, pulling a hoodie over his head. 

“Please?” Jake looks at you with shiny eyes. He’s and adorable drunk too.

You purse your lips and sigh. “Fine. But I don’t have anything to wear.”

“Just wear shorts and a shirt.” Jake says as he tugs his swim trunks out of his suit case.

“I didn’t bring shorts because you said it was gonna be cold.” you complain, crossing your arms. 

“Uhm,” he stops for a moment. “you can wear my boxers then.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Huh?”

“What?” he looks at you. “They’re basically shorts. And they’re clean.”

You hesitate but then comply as always. He tosses you a pair of black Calvins.

You steal one of Jay’s shirts and make your way into the bathroom to change. You’re wearing a simple cotton bralette which should be fine for the pool. You bundle up the rest of your old clothes and stick them behind your backpack before heading out with Jake. 

The pool is empty and huge and is only light by the lights inside. 

“It’s so cold.” you rub at your arms as Jake sets your towels down at a seat.

“I’m sure the pool is heated.” he says and dips a toe in. “Yeah, it’s warm.” Before you can even reply, he tugs his shirt off and canon balls in. You turn your face to avoid getting splashed.

“How is it?” you call out as he emerges from the water. He shakes his hair around like a dog. 

“It’s warm so come in, you look funny standing there.” he teases and you roll your eyes. You kick your sneakers off and try to make a peaceful jump in but you didn’t realize you were in the deep end. It takes you a moment to get your senses together and swim to the surface.

“Why is it deep?” you say, a bit out of breath. 

Jake giggles at you. “Remember when we used to play and you were the mermaid and I was the-”

“Turtle companion.” you finish his sentence. “Yes, as clear as day.”

“Why couldn't I be a mermaid too? Why was a I a lame turtle.” he fusses.

“I’m sorry okay?” you laugh. “I was a mean child.”

“Yeah you were. I’ll never forgive you for shoving that clump of dirt in my mouth.” 

You burst out laughing, flailing your arms in the water to try to stay afloat. “You deserved it!”

“I did not!” he protests. 

“You cheated in handball! It was one hundred percent deserved.” you say, swimming over to him.

“I barely cheated!” he calls out, starting to swim away from you.

“Barely? I would’ve won and been champion of our grade if you hand’t pulled that shit!” you say, still laughing and swimming after him.

“Why are you chasing me?” he says while hopping around the pool where he can touch the ground.

“So I can shove another clump of dirt in your mouth.” you try your best to get him but your heavy cotton shirt is holding you back. You don’t let it stop you though. 

You finally get to him and tug his arm. He yells as you push him underwater. He finds the ground though, and shoots up soon after. 

“Are you trying to drown me?” he looks at you, astonished but giggly. 

“Maybe.” you shrug before tackling him again. It had been a while since you two wrestled like this. 

You’ve got him under water for a bit until he finds your rib cage and plunges you in. It’s hard to hold your breath while you’re laughing. You feel around for him and pinch his thigh only semi hard. He lets you go after that. 

“I won!” you celebrate with your fists in the air.

“You used pain, that isn't fair.” he rubs at the area that you pinched. 

“Don’t be a sore loser. I won fair and square.” you cross your arms.  “Fine.” he admits his defeat. “that pinch hurt though, come kiss it better.”

Your face twists. “Nuh uh.” you say plainly. 

“Please?” he asks. “I will drown myself right now.” You laugh at him. 

“I will do it!” he insists.

“Okay, okay! I’m not to going to kiss your leg you weirdo but I’ll give you a hug.” you float over to him and wrap your arms around his shoulders. “I even pinched you lighter than I normally would.”

“I’m sensitive.” he says into your neck and you giggle. 

His arms feel so right around your waist and you struggle to decide when to let go, so you just don’t, and neither does he. He holds you decently tight and you feel him pat your back. 

You’ve hugged plenty of times before but it felt a little different this time. Probably because you’re pressed up against his bare skin. It makes you feel a bit sheepish. 

You pull away from him. “Feel better now?” 

He nods with a smile. His cheeks are pink, but this time it’s not from the liquor. 

Jake’s POV

I can’t help but feel disappointed when she lets go of me. 

I shouldn’t have patted her back that's a dad thing to do. 

Her makeup has started to run down her face which makes me giggle.

“What?” she asks.

“Your mascara is making you look crazy.” I say and her hands fly to her face.

“Shit I forgot I had it on.” she attempts to wipe it away but all it does is smear it across her face. 

“Here,” I say and float over to her. “I’ll help you.” this was not on purpose.

I hold her face as gently as I can in my hands and rub the runny mascara off with my thumbs. I dip my fingers into the water to get all of the bits off. 

I want to kiss her so badly, but I know that I’ll never do it. Sometimes I get irritated at myself for not being able to confess. I think Jay and Sunghoon get irritated about it too. 

“You talk about her all the time man just ask her out.”

I don't know why I can’t do it. If she rejects me she’ll do it nicely and things would go back to normal pretty soon. But I don’t think I could live knowing that my feelings would never be reciprocated. Sometimes I get a feeling that she likes me too but I can never be too sure. 

“All gone.” I say and she thanks me. 

She lets her self float on her back. She has a small smile on her face and she’s so pretty I could cry. There have been multiple times where I nearly cried over how much I like her.

“What are your thinking about?” I ask.

“You know I never know how to answer that.” she bleats. “My mind always goes blank when you ask.”

“Well try to remember what you were thinking about then.” 

“Us.” she says plainly.  “Us?” I questioned. “What about us?” “I don’t know, just how I met you guys and how happy I am to be friends with you all.” she says. 

Oh. She meant all of us. 

“Yeah me too.” I agree, trying not to sound down. “Who’s your favorite?”

She snorts. “I don’t have a favorite.”

“Of course you do,” I say. “and it better be me.”

“Why would it be you?” she jeers. 

I frown. “Because we met first.”

“I’m kidding, of course you’re my favorite.” she admits.

“And why is that?” I egg her on and she rolls her eyes. 

“Because we met first.”

I sigh. “Is that all?”

“Mhm.” she says. 

Y/N’s POV

You’re met with InNOut that Sunghoon and Jay got and also a room full of teenage boys. The younger ones were laying on their stomachs on a bed together, watching something on a laptop. Sunghoon and Jay were trying to watch t.v. You say trying because of the furious clicking on the remote. 

“What the hell are you guys trying to do?” you and Jake plop onto the one empty bed.

“Trying to find the porn.” Jay grumbles.

“Infront of the children?” you look over at the younger ones.

“They don’t care they’re watching YouTube.” he says, still clicking. 

You take a bite of your burger. “You have an endless arena of porn on your phone why do you want the t.v. one?”

“The t.v. makes it special.” Sunghoon says. 

“Weird.” you mutter to yourself.  “They’re probably gonna make you pay for it too.” Jake chimes in. 

“Do you think it’ll go to the school’s credit card or whatever?” Jay asks with wide eyes.

“I don't know but if it does they’ll know it’s from our room.” he says through a full mouth. 

You grab pajamas out of your bag and head to the bathroom to shower. 

You come out feeling fresh and the younger ones have gone back to their room now. 

“My turn,” Jake says, walking into the bathroom. 

You sit next to Sunghoon on his bed and start scrolling through your phone. 

“Should I get this sweater or this one.” he holds his phone up to you and shows you light blue sweater and a black one.

“Second one.” you say.

“Really?” he questions. “I feel like it’ll make me look emo.”

“You should become emo honestly. It would look good.” you reply and he chuckles. 

“You’d have to help me with my eyeliner every morning.”

“Yeah,” you giggle “wait can I do it right now? I wanna see how you’d look.”

“Right now?” he cocks a brow and you nod. “Okay but don’t give me raccoon eyes.”

“I won’t I won’t.” you rush over to your bag and bring your make clutch to the bed. 

“Hold still.” you tell him as you give him smokey winged liner.

“It tickles.” he says, trying not to blink too much.

“Beauty is pain.” you clean up the wing with your nail. 

In a couple minutes you’re done. “Finished." you say.

“Lemme see.” he grabs a hand mirror from your clutch and holds it up to his face. “Hold on. This looks kinda good.”

“Right?” you had to admit it; he looked gorgeous.

“Why are you so pretty?” Jay says from his bed. 

Soon Jake came out of the shower and it was hard to deny how good looking he is especially with his damp hair. How could someone make a t-shirt and sweats look so good? He dumps his laundry by his bag. 

“Does Sunghoon have makeup on?” he asks, settling onto his bed.

“Yeah doesn’t it looks nice?” you ask and he agrees. 

“Y/N are you gonna sleep here or in your room.” Jay asks.

“I thought I would just sleep on the floor here.” you suggest and he furrows his brows. 

“No that’s mean. Share a bed with someone.”

“You should sleep with Jake.” Sunghoon elbows you in the side and you shoot him a dirty look. “We all know he wants you to anyway.”

“Fuck off Sunghoon.” Jake looks over at him with a piercing stare, a contrast to his pink cheeks. 

“Is it okay if I do?” you ask him and he nods.

“Yeah for sure.”

Sunghoon snickers. 

“I hate you.” Jake scowls. 

After a couple hours of watching movies and horsing around it’s nearly midnight and your eyes are getting heavy. 

You crawl under the covers and scroll on your phone a bit before trying to sleep. Despite how tired you are it’s hard to sleep with the boys chatting and snickering to each other. 

“Can you guys quiet down?” you ask them.

“Sorry.” Jay says. 

After maybe an hour of sleep, you feel someone get on the bed. Probably Jake, you think to yourself. His little sighs as he gets comfortable are cute. 

“You awake?” he whispers. 

“Mm?” you turn on your side to face him. “Yeah.”

“Cool.” he says. The room is dark but the moonlight helps you make out the outline of his face. 

‘What’s up?” you ask.

“Nothin.” he says and you giggle.

“Okay weirdo. Go to bed.” you close your eyes, stilling facing him though. 

“I’m not tired.” he says.

“Count sheep.”

“That never works for me.” he sighs. “Sing me to sleep.”

You try to slap him in the arm but you end up hitting his face. “Oh shit sorry!”

“Ow!” he whines. “Why do you keep hurting me?”

“It was an accident!” you whisper and rub at his cheek a bit. 

“Now I actually deserve a hug.” he pouts and you roll your eyes.

“You are not five years old.”

“I still want the hug.” he says plainly and you sigh.

“Fine.” you scooch over to him and pull him into your chest. You pat his back. “There there. Better now?”

He shakes his head. “It still hurts.”

“You’re embarrassing yourself.” you scoff. 

“I have no shame when it comes to your affection, you should know that by now.” he smiles.

You feel his arm fall over your waist and his hand slide up your back. It gives you goosebumps.

You’re cuddling with him. You guys are cuddling right now. You think to yourself. No you’re not, you’re just...hugging. Right?

Jake pulls away to look at you. “I need to tell you something.”

“Are you gonna say your mom again?” you ask and he shakes his head. 

“No,” he says giggling. “it’s something for real.” 

“Okay what is it?”

He takes a sharp inhale. “I like you.” he winces. 

Your heart jumps a bit. “I know.”

“What?” he laughs.  “You’re very obvious about it.” you chuckle.  “Are you rejecting me?” he asks and you shake your head. 

“I would never.” you pull him in by the back of neck and push your lips against his.

[sohotthateveryonedied]

No Matter What

Read here on AO3!!

Summary: 

Bruce figures out that his son isn't straight from an early age.

That doesn't make him love him any less.

- Eight Years Old -

Bruce is finally starting to get a hang of this parenting thing.

The first few months were rough, there’s no disputing that. Bruce lost track of how many times he panicked and called Leslie Thompkins whenever Dick burst into tears over something and Alfred wasn’t home. Not to mention all the times when Alfred would leave Bruce on his own for dinner, insisting that one must learn how to raise a child without a butler to help. Bruce fed the kid burnt chicken nuggets and garlic bread for two nights straight. Now, though? Bruce is immensely proud of how far he and Dick have come. He’s even taken to attending PTA meetings, if only for the free coffee and doughnuts. He hears the front door open right on time, then wet boots hitting the floor. Dick had a half day today to make room for meet-the-teacher night later. Bruce isn’t looking forward to spending two hours sitting in a chair made for eight-year-olds, listening to a teacher in plastic pearls talk about an elementary schooler’s oh-so challenging curriculum. At least he’s only got the one; he has no intention of having more kids after Dick. Bruce busies himself with his mostly unburnt slice of toast, one ear trained on the footsteps through the foyer accompanied by unceasing chatter that Bruce has grown quite fond of over the months. “—and then they let us outside for recess even though it was raining, and I went on the swings and my hair got all wet and it was so cool.” “That explains the muddy clothes,” Alfred says. “Sorry, Alf. I’m not immune to mud puddles.” “It would appear so, Master Dick.”

The two of them enter the kitchen, Dick working his elbows out of his yellow rain slicker to reveal the school uniform beneath. His cheeks are rosy, his eyes bright. “Hiya, Bruce!”

“Hey, champ. How was school?” “It was awesome. It was raining all day and at recess there were a ton of puddles all over the playground and a million worms. I didn’t touch them though, ‘cause the teacher said not to.” “What snack would you like, Master Dick?” Alfred asks, taking Dick’s discarded raincoat and folding it over his arm. “Can you do ants on a log?” “Coming right up, sir.” Dick heaves himself up on the bar stool beside Bruce, his sock feet kicking against the lower cupboard. Bruce spreads marmalade over his toast. “Tell me more about school. Any fights today?” “Nope,” Dick says proudly, flashing his gapped teeth. Dick and another boy got into a scuffle on the first day over a comment about whether Dick’s parents being from the circus meant they were part monkey. It’s a miracle Dick only gave the kid a nosebleed and didn’t break anything. The principal let Dick off with a warning since it was his first time at a normal school, but Bruce has a feeling the only reason he wasn’t expelled was because his guardian is the most powerful man in Gotham City. Bruce had a stern talk with Dick when they got home about the importance of controlling one’s actions. Traveling the world in a circus train car doesn’t do much to help one’s impulse control. He also banned Dick from watching television for the rest of the night, but Dick’s crocodile tears swayed him to balance it out by letting him have ice cream before dinner. That’s good parenting, right? “I even made a friend,” Dick says. “Oh? What are they like?” “His name is Caleb and his desk is right next to mine, so we talked during reading time. Then he gave me some of his chocolate during lunch and we played on the swings together at recess.” “Ah, the wonders of childhood friendship,” Alfred says from where he’s slicing up a celery stalk at the other end of the counter. He sounds relieved, and Bruce finds himself matching it. Dick has been at Gotham Elementary for almost a week and hasn’t made a single friend until now. Bruce can’t tell if that is more because of Dick’s circus background or because he is a tan-skinned boy with the barest of Romani accents attending a predominantly white private school. Sometimes (all the time) Bruce loathes being associated with Gotham’s high society. If you’re not white, straight, and rich, you are automatically shunned in their minds. “He sounds great, Dick.” “Yeah! And he’s got really pretty eyes too. I can’t tell if they’re brown or green, but they’re sparkly like glitter.” Bruce arches an eyebrow. “You must like him a lot.” He takes a bite of his toast, making eye contact with Alfred over the boy’s head. Alfred doesn’t react but for a twitch of his mustache. Dick nods, focus switched over to the plate Alfred slides in front of him. Dick takes a celery stick and picks off the first raisin coated in peanut butter, licking it off his thumb. “I hope he talks to me again tomorrow. Alfred, can I bring an extra snack to lunch tomorrow so I can share it with him?” Alfred smiles. “Of course. I will pack a second cupcake in your lunchbox tomorrow morning just for him.” “Thanks, Alf.” Dick goes right back to eating his ants on a log, cheerful as ever, completely unaware of the swarm of question marks buzzing around in Bruce’s head. Huh. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

- Eleven Years Old - Bruce gets home from a three-hour business meeting, his sandpapery eyes aching to close and stay shut for...let’s go with ten years? That should be enough. He loosens his tie and prepares to go upstairs to his bedroom where he’ll spend the next decade of his life hibernating, until he sees his ward on the living room sofa. Dick is lying on his stomach with his face buried in a throw pillow, as if he’s waiting for the sofa to swallow him whole. Must have been a bad day if he’s not sliding down banisters and flipping over chairs like usual. Sighing, Bruce goes over. “Dick? You alive over there?” “Mmph.” At least he’s conscious. Bruce sits on the arm of the couch, shaking Dick’s thin shoulder. “Come on, kiddo. Use your words.” “Mmph.” “Bad day, then?” Dick nods. “Do you want to tell me what happened?” Dick shakes his head. Bruce sits back with a frown. “Alfred?” he calls. Alfred pokes his head in. “Yes, Master Bruce?” Bruce gestures to their anguished preteen. “It would seem that our lad had a rough day at school. He wouldn’t tell me what, but I’m making his favorite casserole for dinner. Hopefully that will perk him up.” Bruce turns back to Dick, who hasn’t moved. “C’mon, Dickie. Sit up so I can see your face.” Reluctantly, Dick forces himself upright with one last groan into his pillow. His hair is mussed, standing up on one side. There’s a pillow crease on his cheek. He sits back against the sofa, miserable. “Better.” Bruce prods Dick’s ribs which earns him a giggle, goading the kid into sliding over a few inches so Bruce can sit beside him. Dick leans into his side immediately and Bruce puts his arm around him. “Now, tell me what’s got you down.” “I want to transfer schools.” “How come?” As far as he’s known until now, Dick has loved middle school. His childhood took a bad turn when his parents’ ropes snapped, but preteen life is at a good start. Until now. Dick’s gaze is trained on his sneakers, kicking them where they hang over the edge of the couch. “Some kids in my science class were talking crap about me.” “Don’t say crap.” “Can I go to a new school? Please?” “What did those kids say about you?” Dick picks at a dime-size hole in his jeans. “They called me gay,” he says quietly. Bruce tightens his arm around the boy, his heart panging. Of course someone had to bully Bruce’s kid. As if his life hasn’t already been hard enough without stupid teenagers making it worse. “I wasn’t even doing anything wrong. I was just talking to my lab partner, and the guys at the next table over started whispering about us. Then they started throwing papers.” “Did you tell the teacher?” “No. But I know she noticed. Everyone did. She just didn’t do anything about it.” That sets Bruce’s blood to a boil. Teachers have a responsibility to protect their students, no matter what. What gives her the right to turn a blind eye to bullying, just because a couple of students might not fit the agreed-upon standards of “perfect” upper class society? “I’ll set up an appointment with the principal,” Bruce decides. Dick’s eyes get wide. “Bruce, no. Please. It’s fine, really. I don’t want this to turn into a big deal.” “What did you do when it happened?” Dick shrugs. “Nothing. My lab partner stopped talking to me, so I just asked to go to the bathroom and didn’t come back until the bell rang.” Bruce sighs. Middle schoolers are the worst, every last one of them. (Except for Dick, of course; he is perfect.) “I’m sorry, sweetheart. Kids can be cruel—especially at your age, when they start learning new words that they don’t understand the way they should. They think some words are insults or something to be ashamed of when they’re not. Most kids grow out of this. Too many don’t.” “People suck,” Dick mutters. “I don’t even know why they were saying all that stuff. I’m not...I’m not like that” Bruce bites his cheek. He’s going to have to be careful about this. “Dick, do you know what being gay means?” “Duh. It’s when two guys date each other. I’m not stupid.” “I know you’re not stupid. But gay can mean a lot of things. Men can like other men, just as women can love other women. Like Kate, for instance. Then there are bisexual and pansexual people who love all genders, and asexuals who don’t like either.” Thank god Bruce thought ahead and read some LGBTQ+ research books all those years ago when he first began to suspect that Dick wasn’t heterosexual. “And transgender is when someone doesn’t identify with the gender they were assigned at birth. Sometimes people feel more like a man, a woman, neither, or both.” “...Okay?” “I just want to make sure you understand these things, because part of being a respectful person means respecting others for who they are. And if you don’t completely understand the label they identify as, then it’s your job to try and understand it the best you can.” “Why?” “Because too many people in this world judge others for things they can’t control, and that’s not right. No one should have to feel like they were born wrong. And I want to make sure you know this, that way you can be better than those who choose to hurt others for things they can’t control.” “Does that mean the guys who made fun of me are bad people?” “I’m sure they aren’t. They might just be confused because they don’t understand that being gay isn’t anything bad or dirty. The people in this part of Gotham...they don’t accept a lot of things. They think that being queer or a person of color means you don’t deserve respect, and that’s wrong. It was wrong of those kids to tease you and your lab partner the way they did.” Dick nods slowly. “I’m not gay.” “I know. I just want you to be aware of these things. And if you ever have questions or need to talk, you can always come to me.” He ruffles Dick’s hair. “Even when other people are nasty, remember that I love you no matter what, got it?” Dick shoves Bruce’s hand away and smoothes his hair back out, grinning. “Yeah, yeah. I got it.” ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

- Thirteen Years Old -

What’s the difference between a growth spurt and a shark? 

Dick doesn’t have any sharks. “We’re home!” Dick announces. He and Alfred stumble into the house, their arms filled with all kinds of shopping bags. With Dick shooting up half an inch nightly these days, he’s growing out of his clothes at a rate even Bane would gawk at. Bruce and Alfred can barely keep up with the kid. “Want to see what I got?” “Show me, pal.” Bruce sets aside his tablet and pushes his reading glasses up on his head. (He does not have poor vision, thank you very much. Leslie just made him get a prescription as a precaution, that’s all. He’s still young by anyone’s standards, just ask Selina.) Dick starts pulling clothing out of the boutique bags, showing off every one of his new sweaters and pairs of Alfred-approved jeans. After ten minutes that Bruce desperately tries to look interested during, Dick pulls out what looks like a t-shirt that’s been sliced in half horizontally. The fabric is bright pink with a chibi whale on the front. “This one is my favorite,” Dicks says. His grin is blinding. Bruce stares for a long moment, his brain a lagging computer drive. “What is it?” “It’s a crop top. You know, like a belly shirt?” Memories from Dick’s Kim Possible phase flash in front of Bruce’s eyes. “Alfred let you buy that?” “Yeah?” Dick’s smile flags. He lowers the crop top, suddenly self-conscious. “Do you not...like it?” “You were supposed to get winter clothes, Dick. For cold weather.” “So?” “That’s clearly something you’re supposed to wear during the summer.” Dick pouts. “But I like it.” He holds it up against himself, twisting this way and that like an amateur model. “Sorry, kiddo. You’re not leaving the house in that until springtime.” “Oh, so Robin can wear tiny shorts in the winter, but Dick Grayson can’t wear a harmless crop top? I smell hypocrisy.” “Yes, because Robin has thermal leggings and a built-in heater in his uniform.” He looks back at the pink monstrosity, at Dick’s pleading eyes. “I would be open to negotiations if you’re willing to wear a sweater under it.” “That’s not how fashion works, B.” “I don’t care. You can wait until it gets warmer out to wear it.” “You’re such a drag,” Dick whines. He lifts his dozens of shopping bags and goes to leave, then turns right back around. “What if I wear a jacket over it and promise to keep it closed whenever I’m outside?” Bruce considers that. “Fine. But not below fifteen degrees, got it? And if I see you outside for even five seconds without the jacket, I’m confiscating the Xbox. Deal?” “Deal.” ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

- Fourteen Years Old -

Something is different about Dick today. You’d think his boots were made of helium with the way he floats through patrol, and then smiles into his late-night milkshake like it did his homework for him. Bruce sits beside his Robin on the roof of Wayne Tower, silent for as long as he can bear before he can’t hold it back any longer. “Did anything interesting happen today?” “Huh?” Dick looks up as if Bruce pried him and his thoughts apart with a crowbar. “You’ve been...different. Happy.” “Am I not usually happy?” “No, you are. Just seems like you’re...extra happy, for whatever reason.” A blush dusts the kid’s cheeks. He sips his chocolate shake and shrugs. “Dunno. It was just a good day. Nothing special.” Yeah, and Bruce is a goddamn unicorn. Still, he knows better than to pry where Dick doesn’t want him. It’s a delicate thing. “If you say so.” “I got a hundred on my English essay,” Dick offers. It’s a start. “Was that the one on Grapes of Wrath?” “That was last month. We’re on Animal Farm now. It’s not my favorite.” “Yeah, I wasn’t a fan of Orwell either. Shakespeare was okay, but I preferred his tragedies over his comedies.” “Of course you did.” That makes Bruce laugh. He’s not worried; the two of them are high enough that no one can hear it. Bruce even has his cowl down, his face exposed to the cool air. “They had quinoa burgers at the cafeteria today.” “Mm-hm.” Dick is dodging something, beating around whatever bush he wants to talk about. Bruce can be patient while he figures it out. “And I spent some time with Barbara after school.” “Oh?” “Yeah. We walked home together and we took this old path through the park. Then we kissed.” Bruce chokes on his milkshake. He coughs, his sinuses burning and eyes watering. When he recovers, he says, “That’s...that’s great, chum.” “Yeah.” Dick can’t stop smiling, a true schoolboy in love. “And she asked if I wanted to patrol with her tomorrow night, but I said I needed to check in with you first.” “I don’t see why not.” It’s not like Bruce hasn’t patrolled without Dick before. Sure, he misses the company on the few days a week he’s alone, but he’s not about to deny Dick the thing he clearly wants. “You sure? You look...freaked out.” “No, no. That’s...great, that you kissed. Congratulations.” Awkward. He’s so fucking awkward. Stop being awkward right now. He doesn’t know why this is messing with his head so drastically. Bruce has listened to Dick moon over girls for the entirety of his pubescence, talking about them like they’re goddesses he’s forbidden to look upon, Barbara included. And Bruce has seen the way Dick and Barbara interact with each other in between muggings, always talking with their heads bent close like they’re the only two people in the world. Who would have thought Batman could be a third wheel? “I’ve liked her for a while now, but I didn’t know if she liked me back and I was too nervous to ask.” Dick’s face goes even pinker. “Kissing her was cool.” Part of Bruce’s brain jumps at the realization that, holy shit, Dick just had his first kiss, my little boy is growing up, what a milestone. The other part is far less happy about this new development. Yes, Bruce has seen Dick win brawls with men three times his size. He can fly the Bat-jet on his own, knows six languages, and is even leading his own superhero team. And yet, all Bruce can think is, no, not my little boy, he’s just a baby, Batgirl is corrupting his innocence and She Must Be Stopped. With great effort, Bruce holds it all back. He’s read the parenting books, he knows that it’s important to be supportive when they’re at this age. “Good to hear. I’m happy for you.” He pats Dick on the shoulder. “Thanks, B.” ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

- Sixteen Years Old - “Hey, Bruce? Can I talk to you?” Bruce doesn’t look up from the metal flakes he’s testing. “What is it?” “I can come back later if you’re busy.” “No, I’m just analyzing some samples. I’m looking for residue from one of Zsasz’s blades.” Dick steps forward, tentative for once. “Need any help?” “I would like for you to come out with whatever it is you clearly need to tell me.” Dick snorts quietly. “Nice phrasing.” “What?” “I think I’m bisexual.” Bruce turns around, forgetting about the samples entirely. Dick’s arms are crossed over his chest, his eyes skipping between everything that isn’t Bruce’s face. At sixteen years old he’s finally tall enough that he doesn’t have to crane his neck to look at Bruce anymore. “You...think?” “I am. I’m bisexual.” “Okay.” “Is that cool with you?” The question shocks Bruce. “Of course it is.” Did Dick honestly think this would change anything? Has Bruce done something wrong, made Dick think that he wasn’t loved unconditionally? Dick squints, appraises Bruce’s reaction. “You knew, didn’t you.” “No.” “Bruce.” “I knew a little bit.” Dick rolls his eyes. The tension slips from his shoulders. His arms uncross. “Of course you did.” “Well, you weren’t exactly subtle about it.” “What the hell does that mean?” “Language,” Bruce chides, more out of habit than anything. “And do you realize how often you would come home after elementary school complaining about stupid pretty boys?” “That was just me being dramatic.” “I’m not disputing that. But they were still crushes, pal.” “I figured you thought it was just a phase.” Bruce shrugs. “Maybe for the first few days. But trust me, I have known you liked boys since you were a kid.” “Then why didn’t you just say so? It took me years to figure this all out, and you’re telling me you’ve been sitting on this info the whole time?” “Because this is your truth, not mine. I knew that you would tell me about it when you were ready. And you have.” Dick is clearly fighting a smile. He bites his lip instead, runs a hand through his mop of black hair that not even Alfred can wheedle him into combing anymore. “Well, I’m heading to the tower for the night, so don’t wait up, ‘kay? Kay. Good talk.” He goes to leave, but Bruce stops him. “Hang on. Why choose now to tell me?” Dick stuffs his hands in his pockets—an obvious tell. “No reason. I just...wanted you to know. Just in case.” “In case of what?” “Oh, you know.” Dick waves his hand in a gesture that clarifies absolutely nothing. “Life happens. People meet each other. You know how it is.” Bruce’s soul implodes. “You have a date?” “I never said that.” “You implied it.” “Real detectives rely on evidence, not theories.” Dick winks. “Tell me who it is. Are they a civilian? A hero? Do they come from a respectable family?” If it’s Roy Harper, Bruce might have to bury a body tonight. Especially after learning about Harper’s drug problem. Dick is too pure for someone like that. Or—heaven forbid—that Wally West kid. Dick is already walking away. “See ya, Bruce!” “You come back here, Richard John Grayson! Do I know him? Does he know your father is Batman?” Dick’s cackle echoes around the cave. “It had better not be a speedster!”

[spencers-renaissance]

The Noiseless Crash of Crumbling Walls

Summary: After Derek and Spencer are paired up on a science project in their senior year of high school, they become the closest, most unlikely friends possible. But what happens when Derek finally finds out what Spencer's dealing with at home? Inspired by the prompt “where did you get those bruises?”

Tags: high school au, hurt/comfort, fluff, angst, hurt spencer, protective derek, abuse, friendship, pre-slash, spencer just turned 16, derek is almost 18

Word Count: 4.6k

Pairing: Derek Morgan & Spencer Reid

Masterlist // Read on AO3 // Part Two

This is a platonic Derek & Spencer friendship fic because they are minors, but there are seeds being fairly obviously sown for part two of this series which will be set when they are both over the age of 18.

Spencer unfolds the creased piece of paper he’s holding for the eleventh time as he stares up at the house in front of him. He remembers the address scrawled on the sheet Derek Morgan had ripped from the back of his notebook earlier that day perfectly, the spiky peaks of his handwriting and the surprisingly loopy ‘y’s and ‘g’s are burned into his brain, but nerves have overtaken his helpless body. He’s not exactly in control of his actions. 

It’s not much but it’s definitely a cheerful house, that much is clear from the brightly lit windows and colourful curtains, the many gnomes decorating the front garden and the carefully planted flowers neighbouring the vegetable patch. One of the windows upstairs is cracked slightly and he can hear 90s R&B floating through the airwaves, accompanied by a female singing voice. The welcome he knows he’ll receive, though, is exactly what’s giving him pause.

A happy home is so foreign to him he has no idea how to behave. He’s used to being the adult, but tonight he has to play the 16 year old he is, and his mask is so dusty and disused he’s worried he won’t be anywhere close to convincing. 

Eventually, though, he summons up the courage to make his way up the stony path leading to the bright red front door. A brass knocker stares him in the face, but there’s a doorbell to his right as well, and the choice debilitates him for a moment, leaving him standing uselessly on the front step. He decides on the doorbell, since it’s a little more subtle, and he only has to wait a couple of seconds before the door is being yanked open and a smiling Derek Morgan is right in front of him. 

“I thought you’d never come.” His voice is bright and cheery but Spencer wonders for a moment if he’s mad at him. He’d been early when he first turned onto Derek’s road, but his over-thinking and ritualistic obsession over the address written on a scrap piece of paper had made him late. 

“Sorry,” he says sheepishly, and his desperation to be understood, his clear discomfort in such a foreign environment must be obvious, because Derek’s face softens even further. 

“Don’t be ridiculous, pretty boy,” he grins, slinging an arm around his shoulders and leading him deeper into the hallway as he kicks the door shut behind them. 

Pretty boy. He’d used the nickname once earlier that day when they were planning when to meet up for their science project, and Spencer had flushed immediately. No-one’s ever called him pretty. He’s an awkward, lanky 16 year old senior who’s far too short for his age; his appearance isn’t exactly conducive to flattery. 

The last time anyone had called him by a fond nickname was when he was eleven years old and his mother was still somewhat rational. She’d pulled him close and called him her baby boy, and while some pre-teens might have recoiled from such a name, he simply snuggled closer and tried to remember every second he was wrapped up in such warmth. Five years later, he’s so thankful he did. He replays it most nights before he drops off to sleep.

He blushes again at Derek’s easy affection, trying to relax into the warmth of his house. 

“Is that your friend, honey?” A woman emerges from what Spencer assumes is the kitchen, drying her hands on a teatowel. She looks every bit the stereotypical American mother, dressed in casual, comfortable clothes with a warm smile plastered across her face. “It’s so nice to meet you, sweetheart. I’m Fran, Derek’s mom.”

“It’s nice to meet you, too,” he says shyly, trying to meet her eyes but failing miserably. He can’t help that this whole experience is so out of his comfort zone it’s ridiculous. 

“Do you boys want any snacks to take up with you?”

“Are you hungry, Spencer?” Derek asks, and he internally panics for a moment. Yes, is the answer. Yes, I’m so hungry. The only thing I’ve eaten today is an apple this morning. But is he allowed to say that? He examines the both of them and it does look like a genuine offer, but will they guess that something is wrong if he says yes? It’s only six o’clock, though, so maybe he can swing it.

“Yes please,” he dares, “I haven’t had dinner yet.”

“Well, we can’t have that,” Fran says, putting her hands on her hips. “You both head on up. I’ll bring up a tray.” 

Derek’s room is big, filled with football trophies and posters. It’s so achingly normal that Spencer’s stomach clenches as he gingerly takes a seat on his bed at Derek’s instruction. 

“I did some research that will help us with our presentation,” Spencer offers as Derek sits on his desk chair, spinning around to face him. 

It had been a shock when they’d been paired up. Derek’s friends had hollered and laughed when their chemistry teacher had paired them together, and Spencer had gone bright red at the humiliation, not that he could exactly blame them. Pairing up the skinny nerd who’d been moved up two grades with the jock who was almost guaranteed a football scholarship to an excellent university later this year had been a rather bizarre choice on their teacher’s part.

It’s not that Spencer minded: along with being the quarterback with a 4.0 GPA, he was also painfully nice. But everyone else certainly did. Every girl in their science class had sent him death glares as Derek had sauntered over to his desk at the end of class, wearing a lazy grin.

“Chill, pretty boy,” Derek chuckles as he pushes himself side to side in his spinning chair. “We got time.”

“I have to be back home by 9,” Spencer says sheepishly. He’s sure most people in their senior year are allowed to stay out later than that, and he hopes against hope Derek thinks it’s only because he’s sixteen and not that he has to get his mother into bed and try and force her meds down her throat so she won’t wake him up in the middle of the night convinced the shadows in her room are government spies. 

“Still three hours. Anyway, I’m sure my mom can drop you home,” Derek shrugs. “It’s not a big deal. Besides, we have weeks until we have to present. Why don’t we spend tonight getting to know each other? I feel like I should know a little bit about my project partner, especially if we’re going to be working together for the rest of the year.”

“The rest of the year?” His voice squeaks anxiously but he can’t help it, Derek’s completely catching him off guard. 

“Yeah. Ms Farron keeps partners from the first project together for every assignment that year.”

This is news to Spencer, but he tries to keep calm. It’s a good thing, right? Derek has always been friendly to him, and he’s intelligent, too. It’s unlikely he’ll fob all the work off onto him. But being taken advantage of and subsequently left alone is what he’s used to: ‘getting to know each other’ is decidedly new territory. Spencer’s head is spinning. 

“Oh.”

“So, pretty boy,” Derek grins, giving himself another 360 spin, “tell me what a 16 year old is doing in senior year.”

“I got moved up two grades back in elementary school,” he explains, grateful that this is at least a rather impersonal topic. “My teachers wanted me even higher but two grades is the maximum our school district allows.”

“I guessed that much,” Derek points out. “Why were you moved up two grades?”

They’re briefly interrupted by Fran’s delivery of a delectable spread for them to feast on. Spencer reaches for a cracker and dips it in some cream cheese, but as soon as he’s swallowed his first bite, Derek gives him a look that tells him he hasn’t exactly gotten away with it. 

He sighs. “The last time I was tested, I had an IQ of 187,” he admits, looking down at his worn sneakers. He’d expected to be told to remove them, but he’s glad he wasn’t. His socks almost certainly have holes in them, and laundry isn’t something he can afford to do often. “And I have an eidetic memory.”

Derek lets out a low whistle. “Damn, I knew you were a genius but that’s some next level shit,” he says, before popping a grape in his mouth. “You’re going places, Spencer Reid.” He’s saved from having to fight his blush too hard by Derek moving swiftly on. “Your turn to ask me a question.” 

Spencer takes a second to think before deciding to push the boat out, to ask something he actually wants to know instead of playing it safe. “You’re popular, star of the football team, get straight As,” he starts slowly, not meeting Derek’s eyes. “What makes you so nice? You could easily join in with your friends and be another asshole jock pushing me into lockers.”

When he looks up, Derek’s face is an array of emotions. “Kindness costs nothing,” he says seriously, and the intensity of his gaze surprises Spencer. “I saw my pops shot to death in front of me when I was ten and I got my ass kicked every day in freshman year, believe it or not. I know what kindness can mean to a person just as much as I know what cruelty does to someone.”

Spencer doesn’t really know what to say to that, but he knows that he’s finally relaxed a little. Derek’s stark honesty and vulnerability, as much as he doesn’t know quite the right way to react, is refreshing to him, and it’s made the icon of their school seem much more human. 

“I’m sorry you had to go through that,” Spencer says quietly. 

“Thanks, man,” Derek says, a half smile crossing his face. “What about your family life?” 

Spencer swallows another bite of his cream cheese and crackers, his empty stomach thanking him for finally filling it. “My dad walked out when I was ten,” he admits, treading as carefully as possibly. “It’s just me and my mom now.”

“I’m sorry. Are you and your mom close?”

How does he answer a question like that? They’re close in the respect that Spencer cares for her and spends every free moment he has with her. But he also holds his breath every time he turns down his street, half expecting to see his house up in flames, and they’re going hungry this week because she threw most of their groceries in a nearby river after convincing herself it was all poisoned. They don’t exactly have a typical mother-son relationship. 

“Something like that,” he mumbles, stuffing another cracker into his mouth. Derek clearly takes the hint that he doesn’t want to elaborate and moves on. 

They spend the rest of the evening taking it in turns asking one another questions, ranging from simple ones like their favourite colours to deeper conversations around their future plans and biggest fears. By the time 9 rolls around, they’re lying next to one another on Derek’s bed both facing the ceiling as they trade questions back and forth. Fran’s dinner tray is now covered in crumbs, her carefully prepared spread having been demolished by two hungry teenagers. 

Their assigned topic, Enthalpy, Entropy, and Free Energy, hasn’t even been touched, and Spencer can’t find it in him to care. He could throw together a perfect presentation the night before if he needed to. Right now, getting to know Derek Morgan seems far more important. Ironically, the boy he’s only really started to get to know three hours ago is probably the person who knows him best in this whole world, and the thought makes his chest hurt. 

The jittery nerves that had consumed him at the start of the evening have dissipated into a calm companionship, and he can’t believe how comfortable he now feels. He doesn’t want to leave, but he has to take care of his mom; she’s already been on her own for so long today. 

As if on cue, Fran knocks on the door, poking her head round. “Would you like me to drop you home, Spencer?”

He feels guilty accepting, but the last thing he wants is a twenty minute walk home through the streets of Chicago in the pitch black December night. “Yes, please.”

Derek comes with them for the short drive, and Spencer feels a little embarrassed as he points out the apartment block he lives in. It’s a shitty neighbourhood and his building is crumbling, but it’s home and it’s the cheapest they can afford on welfare. He ducks out of the car and shoots them both a grateful smile. 

“Thank you for driving me home, Fran,” he says. “And thank you for a nice evening, Derek.”

“No problem, pretty boy,” Derek winks. “I’ll find you at school tomorrow and we’ll sort out another night to meet up, yeah?”

The smile the Morgans put on his face doesn’t fade until he opens the door to his apartment and reality brings him crashing back down to earth. 

⭐️

Over the next few weeks, Spencer Reid gains his first friend. They finally end up actually writing their presentation and naturally, they get an A+ but Spencer’s anxiety that Derek would want to stop hanging out with him once the project that had brought them together was behind them ended up being for nothing. Derek had fist-bumped him as they’d walked out of their classroom. “Come over tonight?” he’d asked, and once Spencer had recovered from his shock, he’d beamed and nodded excitedly. 

As Christmas comes and goes, they continue their bizarre friendship. Spencer runs up to Derek’s room as soon as the door is opened, and dives under the covers on his bed, always freezing cold. The first time Derek had cuddled Spencer, he hadn’t been able to stop smiling. He’s seriously touch-starved, and it’s only more apparent from the way he craves contact with Derek. He’s ridiculously thankful that the older boy is so free with his affection, not consumed by the same toxic masculinity that seems to plague the rest of the football team. 

It’s nearing February when Derek asks the fatal question.

Spencer had whizzed home after school and made sure his mom was okay before running over to Derek’s, breezing past Sarah on the staircase and diving onto the soft, clean bed sheets. He’s sometimes jealous of all the home comforts his friend has access to, but he does his best to tamp it down. It’s not like it’s Derek’s fault that he’s well-loved and cared for. 

“Whoa, pretty boy,” Derek chuckles as he spins around from where he’s doing homework at his desk. “Where’s that shy boy who sat right on the edge of my bed only two months ago, hm?”

“You prefer confident Spencer and you know it.” He moves up the bed a little to sit with his back against the headboard. He’s never become so comfortable around a person this quickly before but there’s something different about Derek. 

“Can’t argue with that.” He gets off the chair and moves to sit next to Spencer on the bed, lifting his arm to let the smaller boy cuddle close. Spencer sometimes has nightmares that the boys at school find out how affectionate they are with one another and call them gay after which Derek doesn’t want to hang out with him anymore. (Secretly, he thinks he might actually be gay, but he won’t tell Derek that. Just in case.)

“Can I stay for dinner?” he asks. It’s a moot point: Spencer always asks if he can stay and the Morgans always say yes, but he doesn’t like assuming, especially since he knows how expensive food is. Not that Fran has ever complained about an extra mouth to feed, though. The dinners at Derek’s house are always a family affair, full of laughter and hearty, homemade meals and Spencer likes pretending he’s one of them, just for a little while. 

The guilt that he’s leaving his mom for so long eats him up, only eased by the knowledge that she usually sleeps the afternoon away, worn out by a manic morning. He has no idea how to navigate this anymore. It was easier when the only person he had in the world was his mom, but now he has Derek and his family. And as much as he loves his mom and doesn’t mind taking care of her at all, spending time with Derek doesn’t automatically trigger gut-eating anxiety and heart-wrenching misery.

“Of course you can stay, don’t be ridiculous.” Derek elbows him playfully. “You don’t need to ask every night.”

“What if one night you don’t want me to stay, though?”

“I thought I told you to stop being ridiculous?”

Spencer can’t help but smile at Derek’s relaxed, easy grin. For some reason this popular football player with the world as his oyster and a million friends chooses to spend every evening with the nerd who’s two years younger than everyone in their year. For some reason, Derek chooses Spencer. 

After a few minutes of comfortable silence, Derek asks the question. “Why don’t I come over to your place instead one evening?” It’s a casual suggestion, there’s nothing really behind it. “I’d like to meet your mom and see your bedroom. If you’re gonna make fun of my football trophies, I need some revenge material.”

Spencer freezes. He has no idea how to respond to such an innocent proposition. Derek takes his stunned silence as reluctance simply cured with a little more persuasion. “Besides,” he continues, “I feel bad that you always have to run home first before coming over here. It’s like a twenty minute walk.”

“I don’t know,” Spencer hedges, trying to buy time as he comes up with a cover story. “My mom is really particular about our space and she doesn’t really like visitors. I’m not sure your mom could spare you a family dinner anyway.” He pushes Derek playfully, hoping to God he’s even half-way convincing. 

One glance at Derek’s face tells him he isn’t buying it, but he can clearly read Spencer’s troubled anxiety expression so he doesn’t push it. “Okay, pretty boy,” he says, relaxing back into the bed, “we’ll stick with the Fran Morgan dinner delight for now.”

Something tells him he won’t get so lucky next time. 

⭐️

Spring is just starting to show her face the next time it comes up, and this time it’s completely Spencer’s fault. He shouldn’t have gone over to Derek’s. He should have made up an excuse and stayed in his shitty apartment with his mom, but he couldn’t help it. He was sore and desperately sad, and all he wanted was Fran’s comforting shepherd’s pie and a cuddle with Derek. So he’d made his way home, checked his mom was still sleeping before limping over to the Morgan’s.

He’d concealed it pretty well all day, but energy is seeping out of him and the pain is only getting worse, not helped by the decent trek across town. 

He has a key now, so he lets himself in, hoping to avoid Fran until dinner time. Luckily, he’s quiet enough to not disturb her baking in the kitchen, so he makes his way slowly up the stairs, hoping Derek is not as perceptive tonight as he usually is. He’d briefly considered using bullies as a cover story if it came up, but Derek has spent almost every moment he could at school with him the last few days, he wasn’t out of his sight long enough to really encounter anyone cruel enough for it to be a viable story. 

“Pretty boy,” Derek greets him, not turning away from the maths homework he’s finishing up. It gives Spencer a little extra time to make it to the bed like he usually does. “You good?”

“Yeah,” Spencer sighs. “A bit tired. You?”

“Training was rough today so I’m sore as shit, but otherwise I’m fine. Better now you’re here.” He turns to smile fondly at Spencer, finally locking eyes on his pale, sallow skin and defeated expression. He scrambles to try and make himself look slightly less terrible, but he’s not quick enough. “You sure you’re good? You don’t look it.”

“No, seriously, I’m fine,” Spencer tries to persuade him. “Just tired as I said. Can we watch a movie while we wait for dinner?”

Derek doesn’t look even close to convinced, but he gives in and brings up netflix on his computer. Spencer collapses against Derek and lets his eyes close as the film they choose plays across the laptop screen, but he must fall asleep because the next thing he knows, he’s being shaken awake by his friend and he’s in a completely different position. 

“Spencer, wake up,” he says insistently, and the urgent worry in his tone makes him sit up, wincing when the movement aches his core. 

“What? What’s wrong?” he mumbles sleepily, obediently sitting up at Derek’s instruction. 

“Pretty boy,” Derek says, sounding teary and a little desperate, “where did you get those bruises?” 

He freezes for a second before glancing down at himself and realising that as he’d slept his shirt had shifted, revealing his black and blue stomach. How the fuck was he going to explain this? Not seeming himself wasn’t such a challenge, everyone has their off-days after all, but bruises like these aren’t the sort of thing your best friend just drops when you don’t want to explain them. 

“I—” He has no idea what to say. Tears spring to his eyes in a terribly unhelpful fashion, and Derek moves closer, wrapping Spencer up in a hug. 

“It’s okay, you can tell me, Spencer,” he promises as he holds him so tenderly it breaks his heart. “Take your time.” 

He cries for a good few minutes — it just feels so good to let it out — but as his painful sobs draw to a close, he knows it’s time to face the music. There’s no other option. He has to tell Derek. And maybe a teeny tiny part of him actually wants to tell his best friend.

“I haven’t been honest with you,” he confesses, keeping his head buried in his friend’s chest so he doesn’t have to look him in the eyes. Derek’s hand combing through his hair doesn’t falter. “The reason I didn’t want you to come to my place is because of my mom… She’s a paranoid schizophrenic. When my dad left I became her primary carer, and I’m— I’m not doing a good job.”

Derek holds him a little tighter and presses his cheek to the top of Spencer’s head, shushing him quietly. “Don’t say that, I’m sure you’re doing an amazing job.”

“The other night she got confused because she’d refused her meds again. She became convinced that I was a spy there to hurt her. I can usually talk her down from these moments, or at least guide her to bed to let her sleep it off, but this time there was no reasoning. Eventually, she got so worked up that she shoved me backwards, hard. It sent me sprawling face first across the coffee table, and she kicked me twice before considering herself safe and barricading herself in her room.” He tells the whole story through thick tears, shoulders still shaking with pent up emotion. He wishes it didn’t feel so good to finally get off my chest. 

“Spencer, oh my God,” Derek whispers, sounding thoroughly shocked. He’s suddenly fearful that he’s going to report Diana, and he sits up, finally meeting Derek’s teary eyes with his own. 

“You can’t… you can’t tell anyone,” he begs. “If anyone finds out, she’ll be locked away and I’ll be put into foster care. I can’t do that to her and I can’t lose you.” 

Derek takes Spencer’s hands. “Okay, okay,” he soothes, making him calm down a little. “I promise I won’t tell anyone, okay? Not without your permission. But I also can’t let you be beat up by your mom.”

“It’s not her fault,” Spencer says desperately, “it’s not her fault. She doesn’t know what she’s doing, she thinks she’s in danger.”

“I know,” Derek promises him, “I know it’s not her fault, but she still hurt you. Has this happened before?” Spencer’s hung head and refusal to respond speaks for itself. “Okay, listen. I know you need to go home tonight, but come over tomorrow morning okay? It’s a Saturday and we can spend the morning figuring out a game plan and the afternoon taking your mind off it. How does that sound?”

“Yeah, okay.”

“Is this… is this why you like being here?” Derek sounds nervous asking the question, clearly not wanting to offend him.

“Before I became friends with you,” he whispers, moving back to hide against Derek’s chest where it’s safe, “I went hungry a lot. We don’t have much money between rent and bills and mom’s medical expenses. I had to hide the groceries because she would become convinced they were poisoned and destroy them, but she got really good at finding them. I had to stop keeping them in my room because she would insist that I was corroborating with the government in trying to poison her.” 

“Spencer,” Derek breathes, holding onto him for dear life. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I didn’t know about any of this, I would’ve done something, I could’ve helped.”

“I didn’t want anyone to know.”

“I’ll keep you safe now. I promise.” 

When Fran comes and asks them down for dinner a few minutes later, Derek points to Spencer’s exhausted form slumped against him and asks if they can have it up in his room. She relents, and Derek manages to get him to eat a few bites of the risotto Fran had made, not leaving his safe cocoon against Derek’s chest.

He insists on driving Spencer home himself tonight, surprising Fran who had her coat and boots on already, but he escorts his friend right up to his door. “If you come in, mom will get confused,” he explains so Derek gives him a long hug in front of his apartment door instead, holding him as close as possible. 

“Spencer… you know I love you right?” he asks, expression intense and serious as his gentle hands rest on his shoulders. “You’re my best friend. I’m always gonna be here for you.”

“I love you, too, Derek,” he whispers, giving him another hug. It scares him just how much he means those five little words, all the meanings that dance behind them taking him aback. For now, though, he settles on one more tight squeeze before deciding to not procrastinate the inevitable anymore. “I should go in and see mom.”

“Yeah. I’ll pick you up at 9 tomorrow?”

“Perfect.” His heart does an excited little leap at the thought of seeing Derek again in the morning. As he walks away back towards the elevators, Spencer takes a deep breath before inserting his key into the lock on his door and pushing it open. He only has to go 12 hours without seeing his best friend. He can do this. 

His life suddenly seems like it holds infinitely more promise than it ever has. He supposes that’s the power of Derek Morgan.

Part Two 

taglist: @criminalmindsvibez @hotchgans @suburban--gothic @strippersenseii @takeyourleap-of-faith  (taglist form)

[gloomyhearts]

That's life || Steve Harrington

Chapter six

November 8, 1983

Y/N's POV:

"Y/N" I was about to answer a question in my lesson as Hopper stepped into the doorframe.

"Miss Henderson could you come with me?" I nodded and followed him into a small and quiet room.

"Okay do you know anything about Barbara Holland?" He leaned against the door.

"No why?"

"Were you on Steve Harringtons party yesterday"

"Yeah I was but only one hour because Dustin was alone at home. I drove with my own car"

His elbows rested on his knees and he bend further to me, "so you want to tell me what's happened?"

"I arrived at Steve's house *how long has it been since I was here the last time* and Steve opened the door and let me in. We walked through the house to the backyard where everyone except Barb sat. Tommy and his girlfriend looked at me a bit irritated but I didn't cared that much.

After a while Steve came back with canned beer and gave everyone a cane but I passed but Barb took one I knew she would drive Nancy back home but Nancy kind of drilled her to drink it. Barb tried to opened the bottle like every other with a knife but it hadn't succeeded and she had cut herself. I went with her to the bathroom after we were finished I went back home and Barb stayed there." I buried my face in my hands, "I didn't even know she's missed. What happened?"

"Y/N we'll find her I promise" Hopper is kind of a good friend to my mother but it isn't like Joyce and his "relationship".

Sometimes all the families meet and Hopper is there too; he always looks like he wants to kill everyone but he's the nicest person on this earth.

"What has Nancy told you?"

"I haven't spoken to her yet."

"Talk to her yourself. And support her, please" I nodded and walked out of the room just to see Nancy walking around the floor.

"Nanc?"

"Y/N. Barb. I know what happened."

"Are you alright?" I asked her.

"Yeah mostly."

"Tell me what happened, please."

"After you went home Steve took me to his bedroom and Barb waited for me to finish "it". She sat at the pool and when I went to the backyard she wasn't there anymore. It's my fault." I embraced her; all her tears are falling on to my shoulder.

"We'll find her" I let go of her and wiped  her tears away.

"I think whoever took Barb wasn't a human. It was nobody who lives here." She whispered.

"What?"

"Yeah maybe a bear or something else but not a human trust me."

"You're serious?" She nodded.

"I heard clicks like a camera but Steve said I should brush it off. It was only in my head. I went back there Y/N and there was something it was big and it scared me."

"Okay Nancy I believe you but was someone else there? To support your sentence" she just shakes her head.

Hopper came out of the room and looked over to Nancy and me

"You're ready Nancy?" She walked over to him and turned to me when I gave her a small smile.

When I walked to my car which was in the near of Steve's. I heard how Steve and his friends threatened Jonathan. It looked like a picture what was torned into pieces. Steve has thrown those pieces onto the floor next to Jonathan camera. He did not; he's such an asshole. I opened my door and get in.

A few seconds later Jonathan sat next to me with tears forming in his eyes.

"Everything's good?"

"No Y/N. Steve is such an asshole how can he think that he's the king? He's just threading everybody like shit. How can Nancy be with him? She deserves so much better"

"I know Jonathan. But you know how Steve was in elementary school. And to be honest I have the feeling that Steve and Nancy aren't really in love."

"Really?" I nodded and started the car.

"But it doesn't bother me anymore they're allowed to do anything they want and if they want to pretending a relationship so they do."

Ten minutes after leaving the parking lot I was at Jonathan's house.

"Thank you Y/N. See you around." We all know that won't happen.

"Yeah. See you" I drove to my home when I was greeted by a nervous Dustin.

"Hey Dusti. What happened?"

"What? What happened?"

"Why are you acting so weird "

"Mm nothing. Really nothing."

"Dustin. You promised something."

"Okay so. Mike Lucas and me went searching for Will but we found a girl. Eleven. She said she would know where Will is."

"You did what?! You can be happy that mom or dad aren't here. You would get so much trouble."

"Yeah I know and I'm really sorry but this girl. She has powers" what?

"Yeah trust me. She has telecinese powers like"

"Yeah I understood but where did you guys found her?"

Dustin rubs his neck, "the forest"

"Next to Wills house?"

"Yeah"

"Where is she now?"

"At Mikes"

"you meet them tomorrow?"

"Yeah we meet at his."

"I'm coming with you"

"Y/N no that's no Jesus we're boys"

"Yeah and Mike has a girl in his basement. I'm coming with you" Dustin frowned because of me; because I'm embarrassing.

"I don't care what you think Dustin." I smiled and walked to my room.

I did my homework and was currently cuddling with meows on my bed.

"Y/N" I got called from downstairs.

"What?" I began to walk towards the stairs.

"What Dustin?" The frint door was opened.

"Steve? What the heck?" The second time? What's he doing here?

"Y/N" he hasn't spoken my name in years.

"You're friends with Nancy right ?" I nodded. "So she's kind of mad of me. Maybe you can talk to her."

"Mm maybe."

"What?! Why what's so difficult" he shouted

"you're asking me what's difficult to talk to her?! Why aren't you standing at her door right now and talk to her? Why the fuck are you here Steve Harrington"

"I actually thought we can talk to each other again," his graze trailer down.

he what? Oh I would love to but I can't not after all what he had done to me.

In middle school school Steve did everything to impress Tommy; he even cancelled our hang out session; he threw food in my face; he had pushed me off the swing; he took my food without asking, I mean he always did but that wasn't like the other times.

"You want to talk? About what?"

"We were best friends and now you aren't even looking to me in the breaks"

"Do you know why?! Because you're with Nancy, you're best friends with Tommy our enemy. You just left me" after those words I closed the door and slide it down until I sat on the floor.

"Y/N everything's okay?" Dustin walked over to me. He found me sobbing and searching after breath on the floor.

"Yeah everything is fine Dusti. It's just that Barb went missed too" he sat next to me and embraced me.

"Why was Steve here"

"he told me everything about Barb" he just nodded. He can't know it.

"Y/N?"

"Yes?"

"I know that you love Steve." Damn.

"Since when?"

"Don't know since the beginning? And I think you two would be the best couple in the world" he hugged me even tighter.

"Oh Dustin if that would be so easy"

"I know. Life sucks."

"Don't say that we'll find Will baby Dusti" we stayed in this position a few minutes until the phone rung.

"Henderson's."

"Y/N?"

"Nanc? What's wrong?" Nancy was in the other end; sobbing.

"Steve. He's just... Steve has thrown Jonathan's camera to the ground. He know Jonathan is my best friend. And now I know that I was right with the click sound. Jonathan was there and he has a picture. It isn't a human neither a bear. It's strange..."

"sorry Nancy wait a moment" I hold the phone a few inches away from me.

"Dustin Henderson where are you going?"

"Lucas and I wanna study something"

"it's already 6pm"

"yes but this can't wait. See you"

"wait Dustin. Call me when you arrived at Lucas'" he nodded and left.

"So it was not human or animal?"

"No it was as big as a bear but it hadn't a fur. It ate a deer and then when I wasn't around it took Barb..." she began to sob more.

"Nancy. Please calm down. Talk to Jonathan clear things up. Talk to Steve tell him what an asshole he is and that it can't go on like this."

Dustin pov:

Lucas, Mike, El and I were at the quarry. There were ambulances and police cars and officers everywhere. My friends and I looked at each other until Mike began to scream at Eleven for lying that Will is still alive.

Will is death.

I grabbed my bike and drove. My feet drove me to the only person who understands this.

Y/Ns POV:

The door rang what means I have to stand up; I was halfway sleeping.

As I opened the door I was kind of surprised.

"Dustin what are you doing here. I thought you'll sleep at Lucas'?" Without answering he took me in a tight hug.

What happened?

"Dustin what happened?" By now he was crying.

"Wi.. Will" he could barely answer in between his sobs. His teary blue eyes are looking at me

"What's with him?"

"He.. he... quarry"

"they found him in the quarry?" He nodded and by now more tears are streaming down.

"Oh Dustin. I'm so sorry." I'm not the best in emotional support..

"do you wanna cuddle with me?" He nodded again and I took him piggyback into my room. I set him on my bed down and walked out of my room.

"Where are you going?" He asked frightened.

"I'm going to pee"

After a few I was back and we laid down in my bed and he quickly fell asleep.

[somestansomewhere]

Frank’s Dementia in 11a

Points to discuss:

Moments where Frank forgot.

Things he might be able to remember.

Other characters finding out.

Aftermath...

So to start of, I made a list of every instance in SEASON ELEVEN A, where Frank’s memory seemed a bit off, I’m not gonna analyze the whole series for this but I’m sure there’s more there. Now:

Moments Where Frank Forgot

11x01

1. Frank’s History of Chicago

While this does appear to imply just the opening monologue, there are actually several moments throughout the episode where Frank is talking about the Gallagher’s running Chicago to Alan. And while this seems like typical “Frank being drunk nonsense”, plus a spectacular opening to the season... I now see it in a different light especially after:

2. Frank’s Memory Elixir

Frank LITERALLY has a line asking for “memory elixir”, meaning booze, which Alan hands him. Ironic since he has ALCOHOLIC DEMENTIA. You can’t tell me that wasn’t intentional!

3. He Forgot Bars Were Closed

Now, I may be reaching here... BUT when Frank enters The Alibi for the first time this season (what a grand enterence btw) he says “I heard somewhere all bars were open again”. V responds by saying something along the lines of “three weeks ago maybe” and that the mayor shut them down again. Frank says “Well who the hell can keep track”. And okay, yeah maybe Frank genuinely didn’t know... but this is the bar he goes to EVERYDAY. Not to mention if they shut down less than THREE WEEKS AGO, Frank should know... idk this one might not count but I added it anyway. Kermit is unaware of bars being open/shut down in 11x03 so moving on:

11x02

4. The Alibi’s Secret Enterence

Okay, again REACHING! However, when Frank entered The Alibi through the Keg Zone door he forgot to use the “secret knock” and Kev had to remind him about it. Now in 11x01 he used the front door (and I’m not sure he knew to use the other door in that ep) but still at least he remembered to use the correct door in 11x02.

11x03

This is where it got noticeable.. strap in, here we go:

5. Taking Franny to School

He took her to the wrong school. This is the same person that knows the Southside perhaps better than his kids (lol), like the back of his hand! He not only took her to the wrong school but a middle/grade school. Franny is in elementary/preschool school. You can see in WHM’s face here that Frank was confused...

6. Uncle V and Aunt Kev

Maybe just a comedic slip up, but Frank calls Kev and V “Uncle V and Aunt Kev” as opposed to what they really are. Maybe he forgot? I’m reaching LOL.

7. Debbie Is Not Fiona

Frank talks about one of his favorite MEMORIES with Franny’s mom: Debbie, but “oh no, maybe that was Fiona”. Small moment, typical Frank but... nonetheless, poor memory. The writers are smart by mentioning Fiona in this scene... it’s “a Fiona mention”, we’re going to remember this, and that’s probably why they did it.

8. The Paper Store

Yeah, this was the first red flag for me and if I can recall, the moment EVERYONE knew something seemed off. Frank, walks out of the paper store with Franny and cannot remember where he is, or where they are headed. Once he is reminded of their “goals” for the day (by Franny, a five year old) he proceeds to head to the paper store... Franny once again let’s him know that they already went there and Frank notices the paper already in his (Franny’s) backpack. Ouch.

11x04

9. The Nation of Islam

Ooo this one hurt! After Frank suggests to visit The Nation of Islam in an attempt to get their help to get rid of the Milkoviches, him, Kev, and Liam do. We SEE them go there. It’s a whole scene, so later in the episode when Frank suggests to go ask them for help AGAIN as if it were a completely new idea, we as an audience know they already did that. As Kevin says they “JUST did that”. Frank forgot. Shit.

11x05

10. Mrs.McCurdy

Frank discusses with Kev about murdering Mrs.McCurdy, later he tries to murder her. We see it, we remember it becaue she grabbed Frank’s dick. It was funny, the scene evoked laughter, it forces the audience to remember it. Frank mindlessly walks into The Alibi and Kev asks Frank if he “did the thing”. Now at first Frank is confused. They were using “quotation talk” earlier so yeah I get it, but then when Kevin is more direct with Frank, Frank thinks Kev is implying that he had sex with Mrs.McCurdy... Frank is clearly confused. Only then does Kev point out that he meant MURDER. Frank takes a second, again if you watch he does not know what Kev is talking about, but then it hits him, and he remembers. Thus continuing the convo like nothing.

11x06

11. Monica

Now this one REALLY hurt. Frank’s first scene of the episode is a sex scene between him and Letty. She’s blonde, and Frank calls her Monica. He truly believes he is sleeping with Monica, only Monica is dead, she been since season seven. When Letty mentions that she isn’t Monica (thinking Frank calling her that was only a sex thing), we see WHM’s brilliant preformence once again. Frank doesn’t know what Letty means, he thinks she’s Monica. Then when he realizes she isn’t, he gets this lost dejected look on his face. He’s confused and knows that he keeps getting confused.

Frank says “I gotta get to work”. Letty asks him where he works and Frank is left bewildered.

12. Seven

Okay so remember Frank and Franny’s adventure in 11x03? Frank visits a dry cleaners to get some weed. They make a point of Franny saying that Frank will pay SEVEN for the weed. No offer is made and Frank must get it somewhere else. Throughout the episode Frank refterences SEVEN to Kev & V as the asking price to sell. We as an audience are forced to remember SEVEN. Also in 11x03, as Debbie frantically looks for Frank/Franny, she visits the dry cleaners where they were (retracing their steps). We as an audience have been there twice.

Now, in 11x06 Frank goes to pick up an order but like, we already saw him go there episodes ago. When the woman behind the counter literally tells him she has nothing for him and he argues with her, WE KNOW she is right. Once again, Frank forgot. I’m so sad. Not only that but Kev and V don’t have Frank going on runs anymore. Ian & Mickey are doing it... Frank is legit lost and forgot that he’s not doing that anymore, Kev tells him he’s not in 11x04.

Ms.G even says to Frank that she doesn’t need to write anything down to remember it because the “Mind’s a steel trap”. She doesn’t owe him... she can use her mind to remember where Frank cannot. The irony.

13. Pedestrian, Blue, Handlebar (abc)

a) Frank getting hit in the head results in him having a visit to the hospital where a nurse discovers that Frank has no clue how he got there and more specifically, how he got hit in the first place.

b) The saddest part, when asked his name he remembers FRANK. But has to look down at her sheet to know his last name is GALLAGHER. This is the man who walks around saying “It’s up to Frank Gallagher to save the neighborhood”. He forgot his last name.

c) The scene goes on, the nurse asks him to remember three words: pedestrian, blue, and handlebar. They discuss other things, then she asks him to tell her those words. It’s so abundantly clear that Frank just cannot. He doesn’t remember. He was told like 30sec ago and gets, for the first time ASHAMED. He’s the most shameless person ever (hence the title of the show) but now the tides have turned. He “doesn’t wanna play this game anymore”. Frank can recognize AGAIN that he is confused, only now he is forced to face it. The nurse noticed, she runs some tests and Frank learns that he has early stages of alcoholic dementia. This isn’t his liver, he can’t get a new one, this is his brain.

14. + 15. Letty & Terry

Just two bonuses, Frank wanders aimlessly into the Alibi again (like in 11x05) because it’s routine for him. Letty calls him over. Frank forgot they were supposed to meet there. :(

Frank and Terry on the porch: Maybe it’s just bad writing or they were trying to make a point but like a “Gallagher-Milkovich War” never happened??? We watched the show for 11 seasons... Also are the Milkoviches actually from Poland Frank? I’ll excuse that one cuz Ian mentioned it too, but I thought they wer Ukrainian. These seem like writing mistakes tho so oops.

Things He Might Be Able To Remember

Frank has his and Franny’s name tattooed on his body... he literally forgot his last name at the hospital. And if he forgets a bunch in 11b then that’ll be the payoff for the tattoo... he might not know why the tattoo is there or who the people are listed on his arm, or even what it means exactly, but he will know that Frank loves Franny.

Where he lives. Frank never threw out the paper with his diagnosis. He might remember his home, however the conflict comes in the fact that the Gallaghers might be selling it. He needs to be around people/places that are familiar to him. This could jeopardize his memory.

The Alibi is where Frank seems to just walk to or go to whenever he has no clue where he is or going but it’s subtle. I could see him getting lost and no one knowing where he is and Frank just being at the Alibi beacuse idk muscle memory? He’s on autopilot.

Early stages of ALCOHOLIC Dementia can improve. Like if maybe Frank were to tell someone and if he wasn’t removed from the Gallagher house, and oh I don’t know if Frank STOPPED DRINKING, he could remember. But I don’t think we’re heading in that direction, especially if the house is sold, and let’s face it... it looks that way.

Fiona? Will he forget her... this all feels reminiscent of 4x11.

Other Characters Finding Out

Franny, Kevin, and Liam, are the only people who have REALLY been subject to the possibility of noticing... but think about it. Franny is too young to notice anything, Kevin is not the brightest bulb, he doesn’t seem to realize it either, and Liam was exposed to it once, but at that time he was so scared about the Milkoviches that he didn’t notice it. Maybe if he saw it again, he would. Liam is smart enough.

I wonder if the Gallaghers will just find out the hard way (,like those stills from 11x08 are making me think,) or if anyone will begin to seriously pick up on it. I intially thought they would show Frank forgetting in front of each character until someone was able to notice but scratch that. They seem to be setting Lip up on the “alcoholic path” this season, (and I may go more into depth about that one another time, it’s another big post if I do get into it). But what will the Gallagher’s reactions/feelings be towards Frank’s diagnosis? Mickey and Ian had many Terry/Frank discussions in 11x06 literally setting up for it. It hurt when they all kept dismissing Frank because yup, they don’t know yet. They would have to help him in order to keep his memory maintained, but that’s the thing... Frank’s pride. He might deny their help even if they actually were to give it to him... Either way, I’m “looking forward” to see how this all unravels and how everyone finds out and what their reactions will be, which brings me to my final topic:

Aftermath...

So what happens? Will they sell the house, potentially causing Frank to forget? Will he not know his kids, his history? Will he die? Will Frank finally stop drinking... yeah I doubt that... So what WILL happen? Will the Gallaghers be left to take care of Frank? Will they even do that? Will he remember them?

What if in 1x01 Frank’s narration IS his memory? We see him talking about his kids to someone? It circles back? I don’t know, but either way I expect this whole thing to pull on our heartstrings. When the rest of the regulars find out... it’s gonna get real, and rough.

Interesting stuff coming up in 11b I’m sure. Let’s see how this plays out for our Protagonist and Patriarch: Frank Gallagher.

Omg, if you read through this, you are so cool and I really really appreciate you! Please send me an ask or write a note, I would love to get your take on the matter. 💙

Hope you enjoyed this analysis and I hope it didn’t go on too long.

[rabbitrah]

Treasured Hatred

When I moved to a new town when I was 11, I had never really experienced bullying. I was a weird kid and had experienced people saying mean stuff to me, but my elementary school had a cohesive anti-bullying plan, so it was never a real issue.

Then I went to a new school. These kids were fresh from an elementary school that definitely did not have a cohesive anti-bullying program. They existed in an iron-clad social hierarchy with clearly marked Undesirables at the bottom who were routinely tortured and humiliated by the Social Elites. Talk about culture shock.

I was quickly sized up by my peers and shuffled towards the bottom of the social ranks. There were about 4-5 kids beneath me, but I was still quite a ways from the middle. I observed my classmates carefully, trying to understand this sixth grade dystopia I had just landed in.

There was one girl who was the unquestionable leader and the biggest bully. She had a circle of friends, and beneath them were the kids who weren't her friends, but who had their own clout and she didn't pick on. Then there were those on the bottom of the pile. Generally they either looked or acted differently from others. Most were ND, I'm sure. These kids formed a loose friend group, but I avoided them, sensing that it was safer to eat alone rather than join them.

When the Social Leader started to pick on someone, often out of nowhere, her peers were quick to back her up. Often the middle-rung kids would also pitch in, until almost the entire class would single out to taunt one particular person. I became one of her targets as well, for a time. I wasn't attacked as persistently as some others, but she'd routinely pick something arbitrary about me to mock. I remember one day she made me cry because I said my favorite color was purple.

Others didn't have it so easy. Once, during a game of dodgeball, one of the lowest-rung kids made the mistake of complaining about something the Social Leader had done. One of the middle-crust kids overheard and went over to report this like they were a member of the secret police or something. She immediately stormed over to confront him. She called him names and told him what a terrible person he was. Her friends backed her up. The middle crust kids backed her up. He started to cry. She said, "Why are you crying? I'm the one who should he crying! YOU did this!"

Later in the girl's locker room, they continued to talk about what a terrible person he was, how dare he, what a cry baby, etc. The thing that shocked me most of all was that one of the bottom crust girls, a favorite target of the Elites and someone who I had thought was his friend, joined in. The Social Leader was delighted by her contribution. The girl didn't earn a higher ranking in the hierarchy, but she did get a brief spotlight of approval, and basked in it. I felt nauseous.

My own social salvation came when I made a friend in the other sixth grade class. She was a star soccer player with social skills and thus had full immunity from bullying. This girl, who would later become my best friend, was tough as nails. At the age of eleven she had learned to stare down and scare off anyone who approached her with even slightly taunting energy. For many years after I would be almost embarrassingly grateful to her from rescuing me from being an eternal outcast.

My new friendship gave me something to hold onto, but she was in another class and couldn't protect me most of the time. A memorable event included the Social Leader leading our warm-ups in PE. (Literally, where was our gym teacher?) She made us run laps in the gym basement with the lights off. I found it extremely scary and asked if she'd turn them on. She laughed at me for being afraid of the dark and taunted me for the rest of class. Eventually I cried, which she also found funny. Still, having a friend meant that I wasn't alone in the universe. I had someone I could talk to after school who would nod knowingly and then talk ask if I wanted to watch X-men.

Things were much better in the seventh grade. My best friend was in the same class as me. So was social leader, but she couldn't get near me anymore. When I stood by my best friend, I imagined that there was a forcefield emanating from her. I was protected. We had a few other friends as well, book worms who were less concerned about seeming cool. The social hierarchy was changing.

Close to the end of the year I had to work on a group project with my old bully, one of her friends, and the most bullied kid in our grade. While we were working, he said something innocuous, and she started mocking him and saying it was stupid. Her friend started to laugh along with her. Their target was getting red in the face. I remembered the way she'd made so many kids cry for no reason, confident that everyone around her would either join in or stay silent. I hated her so much, and in that moment, even without my best friend's forcefield to protect me, I wasn't afraid.

I looked her straight in the eye with my coldest stare and said "That's not funny." The energy shifted dramatically. I defended what their target had said. There was silence. Pure loathing flowed from her to me and I sent it right back. She wanted to put me back in my place, I know she did, but I hadn't been a target of hers in a year. She looked over at her friend, who wasn't laughing anymore. He said, "Oh, yeah. I guess I can see that now." My old bully was mortified.

I don't remember what happened after that, just the roar of victory in my ears. I finally understood it. She was still a miserable little sadist, but the source of her power was the people around her, and I was one of those people. When I saw her edging in for the kill, I had the power to knock the knife out of her hand, and now I knew that none of her friends would jump in to stop me.

By the eighth grade the social dynamic had completely shifted into three distinct camps: Hers, mine, and the boys, who had segregated themselves for some reason and owed allegiance no one. Happily, there didn't seem to be any more outcasts. The boys who had been bullied were now a member of the Boys. The girls who had been outcasts were absorbed into our group. Looking a certain way, dressing a certain way, and social awkwardness weren't grounds for alienation any longer. I don't know if she was even the leader of her group anymore.

None of this felt as tangible or serious by the time we were in high school. There were easily four times as many people and we all started to exist in nebulous, overlapping friend groups. My old bully wasn't particularly popular or noteworthy anymore, but I never stopped hating her. I kept the memories of the fear and emotional pain she'd inflicted in my pocket and I was careful not to lose them.

The last time I saw her, we were 21. I was having a drink in our town's pub with my roommate, someone who I went to our high school but I'd gotten close to only later. My old bully walked in and saw my roommate. They'd been on a team together, gone to a few parties together. She made a beeline for our table with a "Hey girl!" eager to catch up. She only recognized me afterwards. We acknowledged each other and she went back to chatting with my roommate. When she said goodbye, she moved in to give me a hug. I hugged her back.

I wonder if she ever remembers the things she used to do and say as a child. Does she remember it at all?I can remember how much I hated her, but now my anger has a different target. Where were the adults in our lives for all of this? Why did her family fail to teach her how to be kind? Where were her teachers in grades k-8 who failed to notice this behavior and create a plan to combat it in a healthy way? Why didn't any adults step in when kids were being tormented for their appearance and neurodivergences?

I don't know why I'm writing about this now. I was rummaging through my pockets and found that old hate, I guess. I never did lose it. But I'm casting it out now. It's easy to say that children are cruel, but more accurate to say that they don't have to be, not when the adults in their lives show them how to forge a kinder road. I hope my old bully, an adult woman now, found that road at some point. I hope she's walking it, and I hope that she has people with her who love her. If she remembers any of it at all, I hope she forgives herself.

You were a child, and someone should have been looking after you too.

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Won’t You Stay (Part 4)

Summary: The reader enjoys lunch with Jensen as strictly friends but the pair both know something is still there. The reader and her dad end up having a slight argument later on in the day when she tries to give him a few notes...

Masterlist

Pairing: Jensen x Director!reader

Word Count: 3,100ish

Warnings: language, mention of car accident/death

A/N: Please enjoy!

______

“Good evening,” said Jensen, smiling as he popped up behind you in the line for lunch, albeit, dinner break. 

“Hi Jens,” you said, returning the smile he was giving you. “Having fun today?”

“Oh, there’s nothing I love more than being tied to a chair and screaming my head off,” he said. You looked him up and down and started to laugh, Jensen rolling his eyes. “Alright gutter mind, take it easy.”

“I couldn’t help myself,” you teased, getting a hot bowl of soup and bread tonight. You rubbed your arm and Jensen smiled as he threw a few meatballs in his styrofoam container. 

“You uh, want to eat in my trailer with me?” he asked. You looked over your shoulder, most of the tables filled up. “It’s a little cool in here anyways.”

“Sure,” you said, securing a lid on your food and grabbing a spoon. You followed him out of the tent and across the lot. He held the door open for you as you slipped inside. His was certainly smaller than your dad’s but it wasn’t horribly outdated like some of the other ones that were for the rest of the rotating cast.

He pushed some papers off his small table and onto the seat, waving for you to take a seat. You hummed as you felt warm air come out of the vent nearby.

“I love a toasty trailer on a cold day,” you said.

“You know us LA types. Can’t handle the cold,” he chuckled. “I’m glad we’re inside today.”

“It’s supposed to get a bit stormy next week,” you said. “We’ll have to get some heaters on set for night scenes.”

“I wouldn’t mind that,” he said as you took off your lid and dipped your bread in the soup. “I’m sure this is nothing compared to how it was on Freeze.”

“Oh my God,” you said with a smile. “I loved Freeze! I was seven when my dad did that movie. You know the sled dogs? I got to go on a ride with them. It was one of the few movies of my dad’s he let me see when I was little.”

“Well it was a children’s movie,” said Jensen as he set a drink down in front of you and started to eat. “I used to watch it all the time with my brother. We both had the flu once and we watched that thing four times that day.”

“It was a good movie. I was excited because we lived up in Alaska for about two months. I built so many snowmen and I think I dragged my dad sledding every single day,” you said. “I don’t know when he slept.”

“Probably when you were at school,” chuckled Jensen.

“Actually I was homeschooled on occasion,” you said. He raised an eyebrow and leaned back. “Most of the time it was studio tutors that did the teaching but my dad got all certified to teach elementary school. Up in Alaska I think he did it on his own. I had recess a lot.”

“Ethan is a man of many talents,” said Jensen. “Not to brag but I mean, I can drive a stick shift.”

“He can do that too,” you said.

“Alright. He’s frustratingly good at everything.”

“He can’t sing for shit if that makes you feel better,” you said.

“I can,” he said. You tilted your head and he shook his head, cheeks pink for a moment. “You know, average. It’s really not good.”

“Now who’s the one underselling themselves,” you said. “I thought that was my thing. I bet you sing better than you think.”

“I can’t really do it in front of other people,” he said.

“I understand,” you said. His face returned to it’s normal color and you went back to your meal. Green eyes stared at you though and you looked up through your eyelashes as you slurped your soup. “Something on my face?”

“No,” he said. You caught him staring a few more times, enough that you checked your shirt to make sure you hadn’t spilled anything on yourself. He smirked when you looked down. You rolled your eyes and caught him frown, his body stiffening up while you ate in silence.

“Thanks for letting me eat in here,” you said. You gathered up your trash when you finished, Jensen letting out a small breath.

“You just...look nice today is all,” he said, taking a bite of his breadstick. You looked down at yourself. You thought you looked like crap but whatever. He was free to his opinion. 

“Okay…I’ll see you on set,” you said. You grabbed the bag of trash and left the trailer, hearing a groan as soon as you left. 

“I’m an idiot,” you heard him say. You smiled briefly before you wiped it off your face. You were nothing more than work friends. It was very clear and obvious that would be for the best. 

Which was of course why he completely threw that out the window and said you looked nice and couldn’t stop looking at you. You sighed and heard the door open behind you, Jensen standing there with his script in his hand.

“Oh. You’re still there,” he said. You hummed and quickly hopped off the steps, squeezing your eyes shut as you walked. Great. He’d probably heard that.

You nearly tripped over a cable, your eyes flying open. 

“Uh, you doing alright?” he asked. You gave him a thumbs up and got out of there quickly, your dad whistling as he headed into his own trailer nearby.

“You look like you’re having a day,” he said.

“I am so looking forward to the weekend.”

“Sorry kid,” said your dad in the middle of a scene later on that night. Jensen turned his head and shook it out. “You okay?”

“Yeah. My fault, should have turned quicker,” said Jensen, his cheek probably decently sore after that hit. After the dinner break, Jensen had gone back in the chair and you’d continued with the rougher parts of Hale’s interrogation of Lyle. The movie was going for a PG-13 rating but that didn’t mean it was going to be pretty.

“I was the one off the mark,” he said.

“You guys okay?” you called. 

“Accidentally popped Jay in the face. He says he’s okay though,” said your dad.

“Jensen, you good to keep going or you want medical?” you asked.

“I’m good,” he said, giving a quick thumbs up. You knew he was ready to get out of the chair. He’d been squirming the past half hour and not because he had to use the bathroom. Getting yelled at and fake beat up for eleven hours today wasn’t all that fun.

“Alright, reset. That was good but dad, go harder on Jensen,” you said.

“I was going pretty hard before,” he said with a scoff.

“Pretend some guy killed your kid. How pissed would you be? Do that,” you said. He looked over at the camera, a strange look on his face. 

Oh shit.

He was not happy and you knew it.

“Hey, let’s take a quick fifteen minute break. We’re all due,” you said. “Jensen, you need out of the chair?”

“Nah, I’m okay,” he said even though you knew he’d prefer it. “Just want a little bit of a drink.”

“Alright,” you said, your dad already walking past the cameras and headed outside for the trailers. “We won’t be long.”

“Why’d we break? We just started this scene,” said AJ as he leaned over to you.

“Just give me ten minutes please,” you said as you hopped out of your seat. You turned off your radio and went to your dad’s trailer, knocking a few times. “Dad. Can I come in?”

He was quiet and you rested your head against the door. 

“Dad, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

You heard him on the steps and moved back, the door creaking open. He stared at you before he held it open and you stepped up. He went to his couch and took a seat, reading over his script and clearly giving the cold shoulder.

“Wow. You’re forty five years old. Act like it,” you said.

“Don’t give me notes like that,” he said as he stood up. “In fact, don’t give me notes at all. I know what I’m doing. I know your book. I don’t need you to tell me how to play Hale. I have been doing this your entire life.”

“Well sorry. I know you were forced to take me in. I’ll be sure not to give you any notes on caring about children again,” you said, turning to go when his hand caught your arm. “Let go.”

“I have thought about that night a lot and I would pick you over Kim every single time if I was given a choice. Do not try and spin this that I don’t care about you,” he said.

“Well why’d you get so pissed off?”

“Because you almost did die. I know what that feeling is like and I never want to feel it again, even pretend,” he said back.

“You didn’t even know she was pregnant though,” you said. “She was never going to tell you about me. I’m not even supposed to be here with you. Her parents didn’t want to raise her bastard child that the doctors chose over her and that’s the only reason I am here.”

“You know I love your mother, that I love Dani,” he said.

“Yes, dad. I was in the wedding,” you said as you rolled your eyes. “What does that-”

“I love her. She was the first woman I’ve ever truly loved but I would shove her in front of a train for you or Anthony or Ella. Do not ever doubt that I wouldn’t put my children first, ever,” he said.

“Just...forget this happened. Obviously I shouldn’t have said what I did. Come back when you’re ready,” you said, his hand tugging you into a hug. “Dad, it’s fine.”

“I’m still sensitive over Kim. I snapped and I’m sorry. Please give me notes and direction. You’re not a little kid and you’re the boss, not me,” he said. 

“Sorry for being bitchy,” you mumbled.

“I’m sorry for being bitchy first,” he said, giving you a smile. “It’s alright. There was nothing wrong with your note, kiddo.”

“Why didn’t she tell you she was pregnant? You never talk about her,” you said after a few minutes.

“We were stupid high school kids that broke up when I moved away. I was out in LA by the time she realized she was pregnant her parents always said. She knew who the dad was and finally told them but she didn’t want me in your life,” he said. “She was probably angry at me for leaving and scared to do it alone. I never blamed her.”

“She got hit by a drunk driver right before I was due. I know you felt guilty over not knowing about me but-”

“I never said that,” he said.

“Well you didn’t have to say it,” you said. He leaned his head back and sighed. “I know you must have still cared about her from the way you barely talk about her.”

“Yeah,” he said. “I remember that night. I’d just gotten my first movie deal and I was supposed to start real soon. I got a phone call though and that all changed. I had to quit, told them my daughter needed me. Bryerson delayed the project for me actually.”

“Studio owner Bryerson?” you asked.

“He didn’t always own it. He was just a junior vice president back then. He liked me. He liked my priorities. NICU baby was hard to ignore,” he said, giving you a smile. “I’ll go harder in there. You’re right. I was holding back. I don’t need to pretend to know what it’s like to lose a child though. I almost lost my first one, more than once.”

“I grew up healthy though,” you said with a frown. “Right?”

“Yeah. That first week was rough though. You survived the car accident and birth but then you were so little. There were a few days where I almost lost you again. But you pulled through and we got lucky you did,” he said, smiling to himself. He still looked off though and you gave him a hug. He held on tight, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“Dad? Are you okay?” you asked. He hummed, squeezing you too tight.

“Alright, alright. We got a long night ahead of us. Let’s get back to it.”

“Very good job tonight!” you called out a few hours later. Your dad jogged off set and grabbed his backpack from his chair, taking off quickly as you saw Jensen stand. “See everyone in the morning. Jensen, please hold back a minute.”

He sighed as he walked off set and gathered up his things from his chair, waiting there while you spoke to the AD for a moment.

“Yes?” he asked wearily when you went over to him.

“You alright? Today’s stuff wasn’t easy. My dad’s a veteran actor and I know it got to him a bit,” you said. Jensen stared at you and nodded. He looked exhausted and tired from shouting and crying most of the day. He looked away and let out a breath.

“I’m okay,” he said, his voice sounding a bit raw and scratchy. “I really want to go home and go to bed is all.”

“Don’t bring it home with you,” you said. He rubbed his eyes and nodded. “Jensen.”

“I’m not,” he said. “I’m fine. I want to be left alone if that’s okay.”

“For a great actor you make a horrible liar,” you said. Jensen sighed and you grabbed his hand. “Let’s get an early breakfast. My treat.”

“I would rather we don’t see each other outside of work. Simpler that way,” he said. You stared at him and dropped his hand. 

“Jensen, come on. This isn’t...you need to get out of Lyle’s head for a minute. It’s not you. You’re okay.”

“Y/N, I appreciate the concern but I’m fine and I don’t want to see you anymore tonight,” said Jensen. You frowned as he started to walk away. He was still upset but you couldn’t make him do anything about it. Thankfully your dad walked over just then and slapped Jensen on the back, giving him a smirk. Jensen sighed but forced a smile onto his face. “Hey, Ethan.”

“Come on, kid,” he said, throwing an over his shoulders, leading Jensen towards the actor’s parking lot. “Let’s go walk.”

“Where?” asked Jensen quietly. “I want to go home, Ethan.”

“Just come on,” he said. “I’ve been there. I’ll take care of him, Y/N. Don’t worry about it.”

“Good afternoon,” you said when you saw Jensen get to set the next day around lunchtime. He looked happier and rested, giving you a small smile. “Feeling any better?”

“Yeah. Your dad gave me some tips and stuff on dealing with emotional scenes. We went and got waffles at some diner nearby. He told me Lyle’s not me so I don’t have to carry his crap,” he said. You hummed and he kicked at the ground with his sneaker. “Sorry I was an ass last night. I wasn’t really myself.”

“It’s okay. I could tell you were a little off,” you said. He nodded and started to head over to the hair and makeup trailer. You bit your bottom lip and frowned. Great. He was only barely talking to you again.

“Hey, Y/N,” he said as he spun around on the blacktop after a moment. “Sorry for being an ass the night before that too. I shouldn’t have given an ultimatum like that about seeing each other.”

“You weren’t an ass,” you said. “It’s not a good time to do this is all, like you said. I barely remember to eat, let alone date.”

“You know, your dad sort of invited me over for dinner at your parent’s place on Saturday,” he said as he rubbed the back of his neck. “For surviving my first week and all.”

You smiled to yourself. Often your parents had people over, studio executives, producers, directors, actors. A lot of times it was work related. It was rare for them to invite someone over to the house on a Saturday though. Ordinarily those things took place during the week. Saturday meant it was supposed to be fun.

“Jensen, I think maybe we should forget about the not seeing each other outside of work thing. Obviously that’s kind of silly considering the situation. We can be friends though,” you said. He nodded, his features soft. “Friends hang out.”

“Yeah, totally. I’m down for being friends,” he said with a smile. 

“Maybe when this is all over…” you said, Jensen’s face blank, not sure if you should actually try to push it. “Maybe I’ll be ready then.”

“I uh...to be honest, Y/N if you’re not ready for a relationship now, I don’t think two months will change anything. You’re still gonna be busy with editing and scoring and maybe we’re better staying in the friend zone, for both of us,” he said. “No offense. I mean I’d like to and obviously there’s...something there between us but time’s always going to be an issue.”

“Oh, sure,” you said, Jensen nodding and biting his bottom lip. “You’re right. I’m going to be pretty busy for the next few months. Um, I have to run to a meeting. I’ll see you on set.”

You quickly left and rolled your eyes at yourself, your dad raising an eyebrow when he walked by with a coffee.

“Bad day?”

“Don’t ask.”

______

A/N: Read Part 5 here!

[fizzingwizard]

Another Sunday, another episode of Digimon Adventure: (how tf do I do punctuate??). It is a good time to be a fan of Yagami Taichi.

I remember being 11 years old, the last episode of Digimon Adventure made be bawl my eyes out, and although I was excited for 02, really I just wanted more of Adventure. I guess I’m just slow to like new things (well, I am), but I would have super happy if the producers had been like, “02 will be a reboot for Adventure with the same characters and similar storyline.” And then do the same thing for every new Digimon season xD I’m sure I’m pretty damn alone in that opinion and don’t get me wrong, I love 02, and I think Tamers was good. And yet xD

^The screenshot that sums up the episode: Greymon gets his butt kicked while Taichi hangs on for dear life

I know the bond between children and Digimon is what powers them, and I’m kind of wondering if having a physical connection improves that in this show, because these kids are always riding around on their partners. (Not able exception - Togemon, because ouch. But I expect to see Mimi on her boxing glove at least lol) I have to rationalize it that way because otherwise it’s like why would having an elementary school kid on your head while you rush into the line of fire count as a battle strategy

This ep picks up pretty much where we left off, which means it’s probably only been hours since Yamato joined the group at the fortress. Already the atmosphere is completely changed.

I can see them, but they can’t see me... Ishida Yamato’s modus operandi

more below

Here is a very Digimon-esque tableau: everyone gathered around Koushirou and his computer. Yamato still being standoffish. I imagine he jumped at the chance to stand guard at the entrance so he doesn’t have to get too close to anyone.

Agumon’s fight with MetalTyrannomon went... not so great. Yamato coolly tries to explain to Taichi that evacuating was the only way, otherwise they’d risk all being destroyed, and that would be the end of everything.

Taichi’s fist tightens and begins to shake...

... he doesn’t look like he totally agrees with Yamato’s reasoning, but he doesn’t have a better idea. But, being Taichi, he can’t just let it rest.

Yamato talking to Taichi’s back while Taichi frantically starts to sort out his Feelings is just how they communicate. This is a common shonen anime trope for the hero and his foil. Yamato’s pushing, Taichi’s not exactly hiding, but he doesn’t want to face him until he can face him with resolve.

Yamato: Look at me. Look at me!

Taichi: *sweating* It feels like a hole’s burning in the back of my neck, so... I’ll pass

Taichi finally explains out what’s got him so knotted up: he regrets Ogremon’s death. Like we saw last episode, the battle that began as revenge turned into a battle of samurai pride. And Taichi is evidently a samurai. He wanted to see that battle to the finish, out of mutual respect for the opponent (who he’d never met before and who had been trying to kill him previously... but y’know when you’re kindred spirits that’s all water under the bridge)

Yamato doesn’t really get it. This is where these two are fundamentally different. Taichi attac, Yamato protec, then everybody gets a FIGHT!

I mean, not 100% of the time, but the bottom line is Yamato’s not so big on this pride thing, although he does have pride of his own. But he’s definitely not into taking unnecessary risks, especially if it puts his friends in danger. The trouble is, Taichi doesn’t think he takes unneccessary risks either... just necessary ones ;)

The other kids can already feel the tension increasing and Taichi and Yamato haven’t even raised their voices at each other yet. Lol buckle up kiddos

Jou wonders if he should make them stop, and Mimi instantly turns around and begs him to try. My Joumi heart LEAPT.

TBH I was surprised she did anything at all, I was expecting Jou’s “Should I break them up?” to just end there with nothing happening. Instead we got an adorable Joumi moment where Mimi shows that as much as she teases him, she already somewhat relies on Jou (to be fair, I do think Mimi’s the type to rely on anyone who offers when she’s not sure what to do herself). Jou, being Jou, is unprepared aaaaand wigs out.

Jou: Oh no oh no oh no she actually expects me to get between them?!?! But but I flunked Tough Guy school! That’s literally why I’m a nerd! This girl’s trying to throw me to the wolves!

Fortunately for Jou, he has a redheaded savior.

Sora: Stop it. He’ll wet his pants again and I don’t have any more extras.

Sora shows her insight into people’s hearts and understands that Taichi and Yamato need to hash things out. It’s not dangerous... yet. But the way she’s more or less frozen in place along with the others says she’s... maybe a bit on her guard, at least, lol.

Koushirou, being Kousihrou, is completely oblivious to all of this and focused on his computer.

Oh yeah... the real reason Taichi turned his back to Yamato earlier - whenever they look directly at each other, they suck each others souls out. I CALL BODY SWITCH

I mean jogress

I mean marriage

They spend like the entire first half of the episode arguing omg get a room.

Then... Agumon wakes up!

And even though it’s a cartoon, it’s clear to see the way Taichi’s body fills with relief. I wonder if Yamato didn’t realize or didn’t think Taichi was that worried about Agumon. 99 Yamato tended to feel that Taichi was insensitive to others. But while he can be, Taichi also doesn’t express his emotions in the same way as Yamato. They’re both wont to hide how they feel, but while Yamato goes quiet and aloof, Taichi just acts like everything’s normal. So maybe here, Yamato really thought Ogremon and MetalTyrannomon were the only things on Taichi’s mind. Just a guess.

Awwww montage of cute...

a boy and his dinosaur!!

Maybe to Yamato’s surprise, Agumon totally echoes Taichi’s feelings about Ogremon. “I wanted to settle the score with him.” Weird as it sounds, they made a manly bond with Ogremon and running away just doesn’t sit right. Agumon’s raring to go...

... but his stomach isn’t quite ready yet hahaha.

Yamato’s probably used to Gabumon’s appetie but I suspect Agumon’s tummy growl has errr exceptional resonance

Glad to see the return of the Digimon’s bottomless pit aka stomach. I think it was just last week I complained about that not really being a thing so far. This time it was the other Digimon who went gathering, but I hope to see the human kids rushing around in a frenzy to care for their partners’ appetites soon lol

While the others eat, Taichi and Yamato decide they haven’t finished vampiring each other’s souls and sneak out to the mouth of the cave. Sora follows them to see if she can watch any hot yaoi action.

Lol but I do really like the framing heart. All we can see of the boys is their shadows. Sora keeps her distance but she’s watching them intently from a distance. I assumed she was just gathering more data on how short a leash she needs to keep them on.

Turned out that was not quite correct... reluctant to interrupt though she’d been before, once they start talking about what to do next she adds her input. We’ve got Yamato on Taichi’s one side and Sora on his other side. It’s the beginnings of TAIORATOOOOO *more airhorns*

^I can’t see anything but Goku and Vegeta bahahaha. Also why is eleven-year-old Yamato SO broad-shouldered, between that, his deeper voice, and his perfeclty coifed hair Taichi must seem like a toddling infant to him bahahaha. Like come on Yamato is not a child you must be kidding

Already Yamato is getting into the habit of Looking At Taichi while Taichi Looks At Literally Anything Else.

These two don’t need words. They talk with their vampiric eyes.

Koushirou’s hyper focus on his computer finally pays off and they all gather back around. Everyone starts cheering when the hologram appears even though they don’t know what the heck it is. This is Koushirou, so it must be awesome!

It turns out to be a map of much usefulness.

And it turns out Ogremon was telling the truth about the path to the holy Digimon being straight ahead, while fires Taichi up even more.

^Obligatory ‘Gomamon is cutest Digimon’ cap

Koushirou also gives Taichi special data on MetalTyrannomon, including his weak point. Taichi is THRILLED. He’s happier about this than he is about finding the route to the holy Digimon. This is the difference between Taishiro and Taito guys. When Taichi gets a reckless idea, Yamato tries to talk him down, or at least be sensible about it. Koushirou? Koushirou is a FREAKING ENABLER.

They wait with baited breath for Yamato’s reaction. Though he seems underwhelmed, Yamato admits Koushirou’s information “does seem reliable.” That’s all the permission Taichi needs to go back to freaking out over how awesome Koushirou is.

They come up with a plan to lure MetalTyrannomon away so Taichi can fight him while the others take the chance to escape and head towards the path to the holy Digimon.

^Obligatory ‘Sora is best girl’ cap

Yamato waits for the others to get away before following after... he stalls for a minute as if unsure whether it’s really alright to leave Taichi on his own. In the end he joins the group... All things considered, I think he’s pretty thrown off by Taichi, tbh.

Yamato’s group doesn’t make it far before they encounter a very suspicious looking lake.

^More evidence that Yamato is not really an elementar school kids. He’s clearly at least 15. He’s been routinely failing every year in order to get held back until he can be in the same class as Takeru. That’s the extent of his overprotectiveness

It sure is fortunate that Koushirou’s genius extends to fluency in English or they’d have no idea this lake of dark mist is bad friggin news.

Or... maybe they would have:

Mimi sneaks behind Jou and pulls his middle school exam workbook out of his bag.

And immediately chucks it into the lake.

Where it disintegrates.

This is how Mimi’s mind works. She’s smart! They need to know what would happen if they went into the lake without actually going in it. So they need to put something else in first. So far so good. What should she throw? A stick? A rock? One of Sora’s endless towels?

No, Jou’s workbook. Duhhh.

She probably felt she was killing two birds with one stone here x’D Experiment complete, and Jou prevented from anymore whining about not having time to study. Mimi is chaotic good.

gosh I love Joumi

Jou is lawful neurotic

Greymon shielding Taichi is just soooo cute even if it still feels weird that he has to be up there in the first place

The battle rages between MetalTyrannomon and Greymon, who just won’t quit even though he’s losing... pretty bad... I mean...

He just grabbed a missile with his bare hand...

Taichi: Now I know what it’s like to be a firework

Loop-de-loop! Taichi’s suction cup shoes strike again.

Courage going UP!! Reaching a fever pitch! The evolution that’s been looming for two episodes finally happens!

MetalTyrannomon: Eat my dust!

Woooooooo, MetalGreymon is just as freaky as ever. Always my least favorite evolution in Agumon’s line, but the glowy purple wings are cool.

Also, nipple missiles.

MetalTyrannomon: I can’t believe I was beaten by some meddling kids!

So yeah, we are back to killing Digimon willy-nilly. None of this “but what about their hearts?” shitck. Always found it amazing in 02, a children’s cartoon, that said “Yeah the characters you loved last season were totes murderers but it was justified and sometimes you just have to kill.” And fourteen-year-old Taichi is just like, “Yeah, I’m a murderer, and you should be too.” XD And Miyako hits LadyDevimon with a skateboard. Priceless

This scene is adorable but Taichi’s butt looks so saggy.

I’m kind of wondering how evolution works in this show. They jumped right to jogress in like episode two or something, but we haven’t seen it since (I would sort of expected Taichi to think of it when it was clear MetalTyrannomon was too strong, though I would also expect Yamato to nix that idea both because he doesn’t want to and because to him it’s a pointless fight and not the priority). Since then, the Champion level evolutions went similar to 99 Adventure, with everyone getting their special episode, and I’m sure that’s how it’ll go down with the next level too, but there was no gap at all between going from one level to the next. I’m trying to say, they seem able to reach the next level awfully fast. They didn’t need to meet Gennai and collect the tags and Crests, the Crests appear already uploaded in their Digivices. I’m not complaining, as always I’m glad this show is not just a carbon copy of the old one, but I am curious if evolutions are easier to attain in this series, or if there are going to be more of them and that’s why they come so quick, or if the series just won’t run long enough for there to be significant gaps of time between evolutions.

Episode ends with the group deciding, like I predicted last week, to split up and try the Left and Right routes, since the Straight one is blocked. Gays go right and lesbians go left, of course. :P

This episode was pretty fantabulous, I loved it, Digimon is awesome.

Next week it’s no surprise what we’re gonna get.

WeeeeereGarurumon! Also my least favorite evolution of Gabumon’s line but still cooler than MetalGreymon hahahaha.

I’m also totally stoked for the grouping of Yamato, Jou, and Sora. There’s tons of potential for Yamato and Sora to bond, although my prediction is that while he’ll pretty much like her (even if he won’t admit it to himself), she’s going to find him a little difficult. But she’ll have an easier time talking to him than the others do. I also fully expect Jou to drive Yamato out of his mind lol.

This also means the other group is Taichi, Koushirou, and Mimi. I assume we won’t see too much of them next week, but I hope that means they’ll get their episode the week after, because I am dying for some Taishiro moments. Practically salivating. Also, Koumi fans can probably look forward to Mimi and Koushirou Not Getting each other too, lol

[carriagelamp]

~ Queer Lit 30 Day Book Challenge ~

I decided to do this challenge I came across for June! Originally it was designed as a “day-by-day” thing, but my June was way too hectic to do a write up every single day… so I decided to make a nice compilation for the end of the month instead!

This is perhaps not the “purest” form of the challenge but I wanted it to be personal for me. Growing up when I did and where I did, I had very little exposure to queer books, especially age-appropriate queer books. That being said, there’s some books on this list that are really only “queer” by technically, or through a secondary character rather than the main character. I debated whether to include these but finally decided that, yes, I would. I owe it to myself. Even though some of these books that aren’t “as queer” as other, they were (or are) really important to me as a queer person and my journey is understanding that, so I wanted to acknowledge them!

More info about the books and the challenge under the cut!

Day One: First Queer Book You Remember Reading

Color by Taishi Zaou and Eiki Eiki

Remember how I mentioned a lack of available, age-appropriate queer books? I was one of those kids who was definitely exposed (probably too young) to queer manga/yaoi. It wasn’t necessarily what I wanted, especially as a wee ace teen, but it was the best I had at the time and it meant the world to me at the time, to see same-sex relationships even if looking back on them is very “YIKES”.

I’m sure I read others before this, but Color is one of the first that I really remember and which I a) actually owned and which b) wasn’t completely repellent in hindsight! I haven’t reread it in probably over a decade so I have no idea how it stands up, but at the time it read like a much more “realistic” account of two teenagers developing a crush and starting a relationship and as a questioning teenager it really helped me realize that this was a real, viable option.

Day Two: Queer Book That Reminds You Of Home

The Witch Boy by Molly Knox Ostertag

I hummed and hawed about this one for a long time because honestly I tend to read books that make me feel far from home. I decided to go with The Witch Boy though because it’s a story that challenges gender norms and stars a large family out in the woods, running wild and exploring magic, and honestly it gives me vibes that remind me of vacationing with my extended family. We’re also partially ginger and inclined to run wild in the woods. If we knew magic we’d have used it for sure.

This book is about 13 year old Aster, who lives in a family where the women all become witches and the men all become shifters. Aster, however, has no interest in shapeshifting and instead finds ways to study magic and learn the arts of witchcraft while constantly being pushed out by his female relatives… though everything might change when a new danger, that may or may not be connected to Aster studying magic, begins to appear.

Day Three: Queer Book That Has Been On Your TBR Too Long

Beneath The Citadel by Destiny Soria

That was an easy choice, this has been sitting on my bookshelf for months, staring at me accusingly every time I enter my room. I’m really excited to read it (Magical heist? Rebellion? With an asexual protagonist? Yes please) but for some reason I have not gotten around to it. Some day, baby, some day.

Day Four: Queer Book With A Name Or Number In The Title

George by Alex Gino

George is an absolutely charming middle grade novel about a child named George who the world perceives as male… but who knows she’s definitely a girl. The novel begins when her class decided to put on a play about the novel they had just read: Charlotte’s Web. George is desperate to play Charlotte, her favourite character, but isn’t even allowed to try out because it’s a “girl’s role”. George and her best friend struggle with how to handle this problem and manage George’s secret amid elementary school and home drama.

This book is really adorable – it was a nice, easy, cozy read for an adult, and would also make a great read aloud to elementary-age children if you want to introduce them to transgender characters.

Day Five: Queer Book Where The Protag Has A Fun Job

The Magic Misfits by Neil Patrick Harris

Not actually a queer protagnoist, but a queer side character who plays a major role in the series. Mister Vernon, one of Leila’s fathers, has arguable the coolest job: he’s a retired stage magician turn magic shop owner, which is complete with large rabbit, hidden room, and tons of fascinating gadgets to help a young practical magician learn their trade. He is hands down one of the neatest character in the series and is a major catalyst throughout the series.

The first book follows Carter, a runaway orphan who practices street magic to get by, as he runs away from his horrible uncle and winds up meeting a gang of magic-loving friends in a small town. Hiding from his uncle is only the beginning though, and the mysteries surrounding the town and Mister Vernon become thicker and thicker as the series goes on.

Day Six: Favourite Queer Graphic Novel

Check, Please! by Ngozi Ukazu

There’s lots of fantastic queer graphic novels out there, but I have to name Check, Please! as my favourite (and not just because I’m Canadian and am legally obligated to at least show interest in a hockey story). Check, Please! is the friggin cutest story about Eric “Bitty” Bittle, former figure skater and avid baker, who joins the Samwell University hockey team. The story is told in the form of Bitty’s vlog as he recounts the bizarre quirks of the Samwell hockey team, his struggle to overcome his fear of checking, and his growing crush on the team captain, Jack. Seriously guys, this is cavity-inducing sweetness and you can read it all online for free, here on tumblr @omgcheckplease or at its own website, checkpleasecomic.

Day Seven: Queer Book You Often Reread

Boy Meets Boy by David Levithan

Another book I haven’t reread in years, but this was the first queer novel I ever read (and owned!) so I read it obsessively, first the copy from the high school library and then my own copy (which is, let us say, well-thumbed by this point). It was pure fluff, in an aggressively diverse, relentlessly accepting, rainbow-coloured high school and it was exactly what I wanted in high school, and it still makes me happy whenever I remember it. It’s a straight-up high school romance, pretty traditional to the genre, but it has the most delightful supporting cast you could ever ask for. Maybe I should reread it again this summer…

Day Eight: Queer Book With A Happy Ending

Of Fire and Stars by Audrey Coulthurst

This was a bit more of a “yeah it was fine” book for me, but honestly… queer people deserve some average, run-of-the-mill YA fantasies. As far as my normal reading preferences go, run-of-the-mill YA fantasies are my bread and butter. And this one has a cute sapphic romance to go with it. It’s about Denna, a princess with a dangerous secret: she has a magical Affinity for fire, despite being betrothed to the prince of a kingdom that aggressively prosecutes and fears magic-users. So now Denna is in a strange land, trying to hide her increasingly volatile magic, solve an assassination that rocked the kingdom, and deal with the growing connection between her and the prince’s wild sister, Mare. It has court intrigue, a murder mystery, horses, and lots of confused sapphic pining so it’s totally worth picking up if you want a light summer fantasy adventure.

Day Nine: Queer Book With (Over) 100 Pages

River of Teeth by Sarah Gailey

I decided to try to get as close to 100 pages as possible! River of Teeth is a 114-page novella that I haven’t quite finished (work and covid stress happened) but which I am fucking losing my mind for. I can’t recommend it enough. It’s peak alternative history, about queer hippopotamus-riding cowboys in Louisiana during the early 20th (late 19th?) century. Like… I don’t know how to emphasize how unbelievably cool this book is. Genderqueer demolition expert with a giant crush and a penance for making things blow up and attempting to poison guests when they’re bored?? Check. Gay gunslinging hippo-riding cowboy with an angsty backstory (and also a giant crush)? Check. Sexy, fat, badass lady con artist with an albino hippo that she spoils? Check. Like damn guys. I’m not done the book and I’ve already bought the sequel because I know the second I pick it back up I’m not gonna stop until I’ve ploughed through it all. This book is the epitome of “refuge in audacity” and “rule of cool”. Is it over the fucking top? Absolutely but that’s the point.

Day Ten: Favourite Queer Genre Novel

The Red Scrolls of Magic by Cassandra Clare

I’ll be honest, I’m a little shaky on what counts as a genre novel (isn’t… everything… a genre??) so I decided to interpret it as “slightly trashy YA supernatural fantasy” because that sure is a hella specific genre I’m weak for.

I really thought I was done with the Shadowhunter novels, I thought they were a goofy series I left behind in teenagerhood that I could look back on with amused indulgence. And then I found out that there was a novel specifically about Alec and Magnus and! Oh no! Ding dong I was wrong. I fell back in hard because listen… I love them. They were one of the first canonical same-sex relationships I ever read about in an actual novel, they meant a lot to me then and still mean a lot to me now. I have nothing to say to defend myself here except that this book wrecked me and I can’t wait for the sequel.

Day Eleven: Queer Book You Love In A Genre You Don’t Read

Laura Dean Keeps Breaking Up With Me by Mariko Tamaki and Rosemary Valero-O’Connel

I am very rarely a slice-of-life / romance genre sort of person. I like my stories cut with a heavy dose of fantasy, scifi, action-adventure… something. So a graphic novel that’s not only a romance, but one about an unhealthy relationship and infidelity is like… super outside my usual range of reading material. But it was very much worth the read! The art was stunning, and the complicated emotions it tapped into really touched me. I’m very happy to have read it, and was so damn satisfied by the end.

Day Twelve: Queer Book With A Strong Sense Of Place

Belle Révolte by Linsey Miller

Linsey Miller is one author I very actively follow, I love her works and they always have very distinct, complicated worlds with unique societies and magic systems. Belle Révolte was her latest book and followed a prince-and-the-pauper type of story, in which wealthy Emilie des Marais is determined to learn noonday (magical) arts in order to become a physician, someone who can actually work to make her home a better place… but this is not something a proper lady would ever be allowed to do. So she flees her finishing school and meets poor, but magically gifted, Annette Boucher and offers her the chance to switch places. Annette goes back to school as “Emilie” and gets to hone her skills at the midnight arts while Emilie will use her name to sneak into medical school and fight her way up the ranks to physician. This is a challenging enough task, with rebellion roiling just beneath the surface and the country about to slip into a arrogant war that threatens the lives of hundreds…

Day Thirteen: Queer Book That Really Made You Think

Our Dreams At Dusk by Yuhki Kamatani

This is a four book manga series that is completely breath-taking. It’s touched by magical-realism and completely drowned in visually stunning metaphors and symbolism. Seriously, I’ve reread these books multiples times trying to digest how the wide variety of symbols overlap and contradict and compliment and challenge each other. I still haven’t really gotten a solid handle on it, it’s very fluid, so yeah… definitely makes me think.

The story starts with Tasuku Kaname who believes he may have just been outed as gay by a high school friend, and feels like he’s watching his entire world crumble around him. He is seriously considering taking his own life, when he runs into the mysterious woman “Someone-san” and winds up leading him to a drop-in center that’s run by a local non-profit, and is also a hub for a number of queer people in the community. The books follow Tasuku as he grows, learns, makes mistakes, and confronts his feelings, along with a number of other members at the drop-in center. It is completely beautiful, optimistic, but also quite stark and harsh at its look at homophobia and transphobia in modern Japanese society and how it can effect people in different ways. I just bought book four and can’t wait to read it and see how everything ends.

Day Fourteen: Queer Book That Made You Cry

The Marrow Thieves by Cherie Dimaline

Holy shit guys. Listen. Listen. If you don’t read any other book on this list, please consider reading The Marrow Thieves. It is hands down the best book I’ve read so far this year. Another book that doesn’t have a queer character as the protag, but as one of the main supporting characters and listen, his story fucking destroyed me as a person. That romance just… aaaaaaah. AAAAAAAAH.

Anyway. The Marrow Thieves is a Canadian dystopian novel. It takes place in a post-climate change world in which society has been ravaged – partially due to the wildly different and extreme weather patterns, but also through a strange disease that has spread through the population that has left people completely incapable of dreaming. Now unable to rest, process their lives, and dream of a future, people are being driven insane and only one group appears to be immune: North America’s First Nations people appear to be unaffected. And so they begin to be harvested, rounded up and collected in “school” in order for people to suck the marrow out of them to give to white people afflicted by this disease. The Marrow Thieves follows a First Nations boy named Frenchie as he flees the recruiters and tries his best to survive in this post-apocalyptic like wilderness, banding together with other First Nations people who are heading north, where they hope to find communities of their own people with whom they can shelter and start to rebuild their lives.

It’s a YA level novel, not very long, and such an insanely good read. I cannot emphasize enough PLEASE GO READ THIS BOOK. 

Day Fifteen: Queer Book That Made You LOL

Mostly Void, Partially Stars by Joseph Fink and Jeffrey Cranor

Welcome to Nightvale always makes me laugh and it was a lot of fun to get to read the transcripts of the episodes. I’m a sucker for novelizations/transcripts of shows. It was a nice nostalgia trip and gave me an excuse to go back and relisten to some of my favourite episodes too! If you’ve never gotten into Nightvale… hey, it’s a classic! Podcast is fucking stunning if you’re into podcasts, and if you’re not but would enjoy a weird, queer, eldritch horror comedy then try the book! It’s the first “season” compiled in text form, exactly how it’s heard in the show.

Day Sixteen: Queer Book That Is Really Personal To You

Jughead volume 1 by Chip Zdarsky et al

Including this one because gee golly it sure did make me want to fight a lot of people for quite a while. It was one of the first stories I ever found/read that had an explicitly asexual main character… (and a character I already really loved! Which I now got to feel an even stronger connection to! It was so fun and validating!) so it was super awesome how like half of tumblr decided for a year there that this was apparently a cardinal sin. Imagine… one single version of old, long standing comic series deciding to retcon a character to represent a heavily under-represented community… imagine being so fucking angry about that that you decide to start a hate campaign on the internet. So much fun to live through that as an ace person. Anyway, these comics were nothing amazing but I sure do love them aggressively out of pure spite, even now that the aphobia on tumblr has died back down I will hold this to my chest and adore it.

Day Seventeen: Favourite Queer Book Sequel or Spin Off

The Lady’s Guide to Petticoats and Piracy by Mackenzi Lee

Honestly do I even need to say anything here? Is there any queer person who hasn’t read Mackenzi Lee’s The Gentleman’s Guide to Vice and Virtue series? If you are someone who hasn’t read it yet… go do that?? Absolutely stunning, one of my all-time favourite book series. It’s the perfect combination of hilarious and goofy, intense action, heartfelt character development, and a dash of “wait was that supernatural or??” This sequel was fantastic, this time focusing on Felicity, Monty’s sister, and her quest to become a physician despite being a woman in the 18th century. Awesome look at femininity, feminism, asexuality, and race. (Also… OT3? OT3.)

Day Eighteen: Favourite Queer Book By A Favourite Author

Monstrous Regiment by Terry Pratchett

One of those “ehh is this technically queer? Not really but close enough, it is in my heart” books. It was one of the books I read as a teenager when I was still beginning to seek out and try to explore queer lit in so much as I could.

Terry Pratchett is, hands down, my favourite author, and though he doesn’t tend to write explicitly queer literature, his exploration of gender through allegory is top fucking tier. Everything to do with the dwarves in his series is fascinating, and a really great challenge/critique/exploration of gender, and this is the book that takes it to the next level (and brings in at least implicitly queer characters). It’s about Polly Perks, who lives in a small, war torn nation, choosing to join the army in order to find out what happened to her brother. However, as tradition dictates, she can’t join as a girl… so she disguises herself as Ozzer, a young man. There’s a lot of twists and turns, and as always Pratchett delivers fantastic humour and just absolutely delicious satire.

Day Nineteen: Queer Book That Changed Your Life

And Tango Makes Three by Justin Richardson

This was the book that made me realize that I, as a queer teacher, could have queer kid lit in my future classroom. Maybe a comparatively small revelation, but a really important one to me. It made me realize that this didn’t need to be something I kept a secret in my professional life and which could really positively influence children, especially queer children. It was the first queer children’s book I ever bought.

Day Twenty: Favourite Queer Book Series

Candy Color Paradox by Isaku Natsume

Alright… I’ll admit it, this isn’t actually my favourite series, but I’ve used my favourites in other spots. And this is a good one! Definitely more of an actual “yaoi” than the other manga I’ve included (here there be sex) but it has a very different vibe that what I’m used to from that type of manga. The main pair are actually both capable, mature adults, with careers they actively care about, and who get together in the first volume! 

The rest of the series is less about them angst-ily toeing around their relationship, and much more about them learning to grow as a couple and balance their work and relationship and society. It’s funny and sweet, and I really enjoy these two losers. It’s a very low-stakes enemy-to-friends-to-lovers story, in which Onoe (a reporter) and Kaburagi (a photographer) are paired up on a news story they’re supposed to dig into together. What starts as a bickering rivalry gradually becomes respect, friendship, and love~ Onoe is a gremlin of a protag, so he’s a treat to follow.

Day Twenty-One: Queer Book That You Recommend A Lot

Mask of Shadows by Linsey Miller

To repeat myself: Linsey Miller is awesome! This is my favourite book of hers, the first of a duology. It’s kind of like an intense, edgy Tamora Pierce novel with murder. In this world, the Queen has a team of assassins known as the Left Hand. They’re an elite group that keeps the Queen safe and does the dirty work that needs to be done to protect the kingdom and keep the encroaching nations at bay. When the assassin Opal is killed, a contest is announced to find the new Opal. People from all over come to complete for the honour of being one of the Queen’s royal assassins, including gender-fluid thief Sallot Leon. Sal has some deep motivations to become Opal that go beyond a loyalty to their kingdom, but they’re going to have to survive their competitors if they even wants a chance at it… (Sal generally goes by either she or he in the books, but I’m using they in this instance since it’s in a more general sense.)

Day Twenty-Two: Queer Book That Made You Take Action

The Deep by Rivers Solomon

Uhh, I don’t really have any books that made me take action per se, but this one sure gave me a lot to think about. It’s about deep sea mermaids who originated from the pregnant slave women tossed into the ocean to drown during passage to North America. From those dying women, this race was born and were taken in by whales, raised and protected until they could descend into the deep ocean waters, to form their own safe society. Their collective past is so painful though that as a species they’ve developed a very short term memory. But a people can’t live without any ties to their roots and so one of them, the Historian, holds all the memories for their entire species and shares it with everyone once a year so that the community can be connected to their ancestors before once again returning the memories to the Historian for safe keeping. Yetu, the current Historian, is so overwhelmed by these memories, that she can no longer take it – she flees her people, her responsibilities, and her pain and escapes to the surface instead...

Day Twenty-Three: Queer Book By An Author Who I Killed Is Dead

Cybersix by Carlos Trillo

I cannot emphasize enough, this is not actually a queer comic, it is in fact a very homophobic, transphobic and sexist comic written by a horrible person.

That being said, he’s dead and I own it now the TV series was essentially about a genderqueer superhero and a very confused bi biology professor who has a crush on both personas. I had a passionate crush on both personas as a child, and I will cherrypick this comic until I die in order to enjoy the only kickass genderqueer/genderfluid noir antihero I’ve come across. I am valid and I am not open to debate or discussion. Do not read this comic it’s horrible (but consider watching the show).

Day Twenty-Four: Queer Book You Wish You’d Read When Younger

The Prince and the Dressmaker by Jen Wang

This is such an incredibly soft story with the nicest art. There’s so much understanding and compassion in it and its exploration of gender and self-confidence and being true to yourself would have been very reassuring to me as a child, especially by late elementary/middle school. 

Day Twenty-Five: Queer Book In A Historical Setting

The Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller

A retelling of Achilles’ and Patroclus’ relationship from childhood to the Trojan war. So yeah, you can imagine that this was also a candidate for Day 14 :’) I haven’t read this one in years but god it was lovely and emotionally destroyed me as a person.

Day Twenty-Six: Queer Superhero Book or Comic

Overwatch: Reflections by Michael Chu and Miki Montillo

I don’t really read superhero stories very often (the comics have always driven me a little bonkers, trying to find a way to enter the totally unapproachable Marvel/DC canons, and the MCU burnt me out years ago for every other sort of superhero story) so this is the closest I can get. Tracer’s a superhero yeah? Anyway, I, like every other queer person in the Overwatch fandom, lost my fucking mind when this dropped for Christmas a few years back and officially declared Lena Oxton not only the face of the entire franchise but also a lesbian. It’s an adorable little comic and Tracer’s girlfriend is a sweetheart.

Day Twenty-Seven: Favourite Queer Children’s Picture Book

Prince & Knight by Daniel Haack

There’s a number of sweet queer children’s books that are popping up these days, but this is my favourite just because it’s less about “explaining the gays to children” (though those books also have their place) and more of a cute little fantasy adventure in which the actual protagonist is gay. It’s about a prince who sets out to find himself a bride who can help rule by his side, but it quickly becomes clear that he isn’t interested in any of the girls. Instead, when a fire breathing dragon threatens his kingdom, he meets a brave knight who fights along side him. It’s very supportive and the art is lovely.

Day Twenty-Eight: Queer Book That Made You Feel Uncomfortable

Let’s Talk About Love by Claire Kann

This is a book with an asexual protagonist that I was originally really excited for. I know there are a lot of people out there who really enjoy this book and connected with it, but it didn’t do it for me. Maybe because my expectations were too high, but the protagonist’s experience with asexuality was vastly different than my own and the narrative voice ended up rubbing me wrong (and let’s be honest, slice-of-life romance is NOT my usual genre at all). So it’s not “made me uncomfortable because it’s Bad And Wrong” more just… totally vibed wrong with me. Maybe the perfect book for other people but definitely not for me, I had to return this one unfinished because it’s portrayal of asexuality just made me so deeply uncomfortable.

Day Twenty-Nine: Queer Book That Made You Want To Fall In Love

The Gentleman’s Guide To Vice And Virtue by Mackenzi Lee

This book had to make it on here somewhere, and honestly it could have gone in a lot of different spots, but I chose to put it here because the relationship between Monty and Percy is so incredibly sweet and authentic it really does make you want something like that. TGGTVAV (for anyone who has somehow not heard of it) takes place in the 18th century, and is about Monty, his best friend (and crush) Percy, and his sister Felicity going on a final “hurrah” tour of Europe before Monty's father finally tries to pin him down in England and force every part of Monty that’s deemed “unacceptable” out of him. So Monty intends to live this summer up… until everything goes off the rail and the three of them are suddenly fleeing across the continent with assassins at their heels and a strange, stolen artifact in their possession.

Monty has a lot of growing to do in this novel, and that’s one of my favourite things about it. For his and Percy’s relationship to ever have a chance, Monty needs to learn and change and actually communicate with other people, and it makes the relationship feel strong. Not a fluffy, surface level romance that often happens in YA but something built from the ground up by two friends who really want to make it work. Ahh, it’s lovely. One of my favourite novels.

Day Thirty: Queer Book With Your Favourite Ending

My Brother’s Husband by Gengoroh Tagame

A two-book manga series that was completely stunning. It deals with queer relationships and homophobia in a very stark, real-world manner that you don’t often get in manga, while still being incredibly loving and sympathetic. The book is about Yaichi, a single father whose estranged brother (Ryoji) recently died. One day, a Canadian named Mike arrives, introducing himself as Ryoji’s widower. Mike had come hoping to visit his late husband’s homeland to try to get some closure, and Yaichi ends up inviting Mike to stay. The whole story looks Japan’s societal biases, through Mike’s experiences, Yaichi’s thoughts, feelings and prejudices, and those of his daughter who adores Mike. 

Seriously, this is one of the kindest, most earnest looks I’ve ever seen to internal prejudices that critiques them without demonizing the person who feels them. Instead it lovingly embraces grief, growth, and love. This series made me cry multiple times, was good enough that even my straight brother practically ordered me to go out and buy the second book when he finished the first, and the ending was just *chef’s kiss*

Honourable Mentions

A few books I really wanted to fit on my list somehow but couldn’t quite manage it, so here: All Out an anthology of historical fiction short stories about queer teens. The Tea Dragon Society series and Princess Princess Ever After, graphic novels by the amazingly talented Katie O’Neill. Heartstopper a webcomic turn graphic novel by Alice Oseman about a pair of rugby players. The Different Dragon a cute picture book in which the boy has two moms and which is about accepting different ways of being. And Lady Knight a part of Tamora Pierce’s Protector of the Small series because because Kel is word-of-god aro(and/or ace) and I’ve adored that series and Kel since I was about thirteen so by god I’ll take it.

- 

Now for those that wanted to do their own challenge, I found it on @gailcarriger’s blog.

[chibisquirt]

You don't have to answer, but if you wouldn't mind. What are some things you've learned about ADHD from Tumblr that are applicable to you, or others you may now? I've been reading more on it and how it manifests in girls/women and was curious when I read your rb on that post about Grammarly

I don’t mind at all!  Fair warning:  this is gonna be LONG.

I’m going to start by repeating something I mentioned in that post:  I was diagnosed in third grade, which was over two decades ago.  I had my diagnosis halfway through elementary school, much less high school and two rounds of college.  So a lot of the old information about ADHD I learned as a young person, and those things are worth exploring, too.  

Example:  It’s not that I’m not listening, Mrs. Nock, it’s just that if I try to keep my hands still, then the only thing I will retain from the lesson will be keep your hands still and not the things you trying to teach, which are supposedly important! 

(Mrs. Nock was the one who said to me, “I believe you believe you’re paying attention.”  Yes, it’s been fifteen years.  Yes, I’m still mad.  If you can’t have basic respect for your students, don’t teach.)

I figured out half on my own, half because of the counselling that if I had a fidget tool that didn’t require words I would pay better attention than if I tried to sit still.  (I still remember being mocked by my dad for fidgeting well after making that discovery, though.  Apparently diagnoses should only inform compassion when they’re his.)  On the same lines, I also figured out that music in the background wouldn’t work for me if it had words, and television is too distracting for me to use at all.  (I have a friend, though, whose ADHD works the opposite way:  he has difficulty focusing if there isn’t a television in the background.  Yes, both are valid.)

So, the Classics:  

I always had trouble with organization and cleaning, had trouble with schedules and calendars and managing my time.  Those are the things they’ll warn you about, the things they’ll tell you in counselling are natural and normal things for people with ADHD to have trouble with.  Trouble paying attention, sure.  Trouble sitting still.  Procrastination.  Got it.

But if you turn those traits around and re-frame them, they become a new set of symptoms.  Adaptations for these new symptoms are more personal and universally applicable in my life, and therefore, to my mind, more useful.

Take Procrastination.  (No really: please take it.)  That just means “putting it off until tomorrow,” and there are lots of reasons to do it:  “don’t have the tool I need” is one of the biggies, “want to conserve steps” trips me up a lot, “I still have time to get to it” is HUGE for me...  But a lot of times, these are just superficial reasons.  The re-framed symptom is, Trouble making yourself do things you don’t want to do.  

ADHD is an executive function disorder.  That’s a phrase I first learned on Tumblr, by the way; it may have been mentioned by one of my earlier counsellors, but it definitely wasn’t taught.  

This is why soooo many of us have struggled with the perception (including self-perception) that we’re lazy!  But no one tells the kid in the wheelchair he’s just lazy for not playing basketball.  (Okay, they totally do.  People are terrible.  Ignore that, stick to the point.)  I reframe this the way I do because acknowledging this as a symptom, taking the blame out of it, makes it easier to find adaptation.

Now, this is a personal post.  YMMV.  But I have an easier time managing my conduct if, instead of calling myself lazy a procrastinator, I say, “I keep not doing that --> oh it’s because I Don’t Wanna --> how can I con myself into doing it?”  (Strategies include bargaining, making it easier, powering through but then allowing yourself to stop afterwards, just acknowledging that I Don’t Wanna and allowing that to be valid...)  Procrastination is an action, but “executive function disorder” is a disease and “I Don’t Wanna” is its trigger, just as much as an allergy and a clump of ragweed are.  “Procrastination” is a powerful sphynx against which I’m helpless, but “I Don’t Wanna Disease” lets me start cultivating my metaphorical catnip and researching the answers to common riddles.

And while we’re talking about procrastination--and trouble with deadlines, and schedules in general--let’s talk about Time Insensitivity.  Missed deadlines and perpetual lateness (perpetual) are external actions, just like procrastination, and they can have all sorts of explanations.  

(Shoutout to Mrs. Pollack, who looked around a classroom containing thirteen-year-old me, and, knowing full well that I was chronically tardy, declared that “anybody who’s always running late, deep down, they just doesn’t care about anybody else’s time.”  Great job with calling the thirteen-year-old a heartless bitch, Mrs. Pollack!  As you can tell, I definitely forgot it very quickly, and didn’t at all have a self-critical breakdown about it, periodically revisiting the question of my own inherent selfishness for years!!!)

But ignoring the external actions, let’s take a compassionate look inside the head again.  Executive function includes regulation of, and awareness of the passing of, time.  Again: you can’t play the basketball with no legs.  We literally do not realize what time is doing.  Sometimes we do--if we devote enough of our attention to it, which may be a large amount for some, a small amount for others, or a variable amount for the same person.  But our brains literally don’t process it the same way.  

But hold on a minute--let’s go back to that analogy.  Because actually, people with no legs can play basketball!  It’s just that you have to use the adaptation of wheelchairs to do it--and that’s an adaptation for the game and for the players.  

I use alarms.  I’ve recently seen a post about audio memos as alarms.  There are people who just slap clocks everywhere.  When I was forced to work in a kitchen with no clocks, I used the multi-setting timer and set it for like four hours so I would know if I was keeping on schedule.  I also chose a job environment where much of my shift is the same as itself, and rigid punctuality isn’t enforced--that’s adapting my environment, instead of myself.  There’s all kinds of adaptations.  But you have to know you have the condition before you can compensate for it.

Here’s a fun little story:  when I was... oh, eleven?  Twelve?  My Quaker Meeting’s youth group (#7 whitest phrase I’ve ever written) went to the museum together.  One of the stops was in the children’s section, there was a... a pegboard, I think?  With some kind of problem on it.  A puzzle.  Me and a couple others sat down at it, and it took me a while, but eventually I solved it, and I looked up.  

I blinked.  “Where is everybody?” I said.

“They left,” said my mom.  “Half an hour ago.”  

I was stunned.  “Half an hour ago?!  But I couldn’t’ve spent more than ten minutes on this!”

“I promise you, it was half an hour.”

“Why didn’t you call me??  Why didn’t you say my name?”

“We did.  Several times.”

To this day, I will swear myself blind that I never heard a thing.

Hyperfocusing.  They’ll tell you about the problems focusing; oh yes.  They’ll tell you allll about that one.  But they won’t tell you about the flip side of it.  They won’t tell you about the times when the rest of the world falls away, and the only two things in the world are you and whatever problem you’re trying to solve.  

D’y’know what, I bet that’s the reason I test well.  I just realized this now, phrasing it like that, but--I’ve always tested well, even when my actual practical applications of things are mediocre I do well with the classroom testing on it.  I scored a 39 on the MCAT, back when it was out of 45 and not whatever it is now.  (To those with the plain good sense not to want to be doctors:  that’s pretty good.)  And I just bet it’s because, once I get focused on solving the problems, the other problems--nerves, intrusive thoughts, anxiety--just don’t have room to get in.  Hyperfocusing can be a superpower, if you can harness it.  

But it can also blind you to everything else.  And it works in smaller ways, too:  once I think I understand something, it is very difficult for me to perceive information that contradicts that understanding.  I still get the map of the Elflands backwards every time I read The Goblin Emperor, just because I pictured it one way, and every indication in the text that it was the other way just fell on deaf ears.  

And this one leads right into the next, which is Rejection Sensitivity Disorder.  RSD is hyperfocus, but it’s hyperfocus on how everyone must hate you.  It’s delightful!  I’ve been diagnosed with anxiety and depression, as well, and I do have both of those things, but for my money, I think that this one symptom of ADHD--which no doctor has ever even mentioned to me--has hurt me more than both of those conditions combined.  

The last one I’m going to bring up is Auditory Processing Disorder.  Now, I’ve gone and gotten re-diagnosed twice in my life, and the last time was just a few years ago, so they actually used this one in the test.  The psychologist told me about it, she just didn’t use the phrase Auditory Processing Disorder, and she didn’t tell me that it was its own symptom--she just used it for the test.  

What she did was, she gave me two hearing tests, one to test whether or not I could hear, and then the other a list of words that all sounded alike, and I had to mark which one I was hearing.  The second part of that was very long, and very boring, and despite scoring perfectly on the first test, I got several wrong on the second.  I was actually surprised by that; I at no point suspected I had heard any of them wrong.  When she gave me the test, told me this was proof by contradiction, that we were ruling out hearing loss as an alternative explanation for my difficulties.  It was only after the test was done that she explained that the pattern I showed was actually part of the diagnosis of ADHD; that we get bored, and stop really paying attention, and that we don’t even know we’re doing it.

...Okay, but you couldn’t have mentioned the part where I also do that every day in real life, lady?!?!  It’s not just when we’re bored, it’s not just for long processes.  I do this all the time.  I actually tell people now that “I actually have a neurological condition that makes it hard for me to hear; I can tell that you’re speaking, but I can’t tell what you’re saying.”  

This is 100% true.  It is a neurological condition.  

We label this a condition, but as a society, we don’t treat it that way.  Society treats it as yet another excuse.  It’s not.  You’re not lazy, stupid or crazy.  Neither am I.  

I have a condition.  Acknowledging that is the first step of treatment.  Not five thousand sticky notes, not binders or filing systems or even taking all the doors off the cupboards (although I definitely plan to do that one as soon as I possibly can).  Not counselling sessions with so many different people I can’t even name them all, for the love of god please understand that you can’t just fix it with pills.  

(Although mad props to the people who thought Concerta would magically solve me at the age of nine!  Spoiler alert:  it did not do that!  But it did mean that my parents felt comfortable blaming me for all my failures again, so it did at least some of what it was designed for, I guess. :) )   

I have spent the last few years re-understanding my ADHD it as is:  a neurological condition, a disability, and a simple fact of life.  A starting place, instead of yet more proof of my own inherent insufficiency.  And you know what?  When you take the blame and self-hatred out of the diagnosis--when you stop cursing it as the cause of all your problems and start trying to work with it, instead--it gets a lot easier to manage. 

[uwua3]

hi! first off, congrats on the new blog!! i read that misumi piece and i really enjoyed it hehe,, if it's alright, may i request some domestic fluff with kazunari? mayb looking over old photo albums of each other from when they were kids and laughing and telling stories about what happened in the photos? thank you very much and i hope u have a nice day :D

hi!!! this made me so happy 🥺 thank you so much, i hope to keep this blog running for a long time! also, i saw your reblog of my jealousy hcs and i wanted to say thank you for your sweet comments!!! i go back to it whenever i need motivation, you inspire me to keep writing ♡ thank you! i hope to continue making you proud as a writer :D <3

summary: kazunari had to stop living in the past and make new memories outside of his yearbooks with you

author’s note: this is definitely a much happier piece than my others! this was refreshing to write and i treasure it dearly, it’s definitely much more on the humorous side! no angst today, folks!!! (ok just a little, but it’s barely noticeable!)

this is just a little look into a hoarder named kazunari and his sentimental, nostalgic personality ♡ i, myself, am a marie kondo supporter so i love decluttering! if you are a hoarder like kazunari, honestly go you! you keep those knick knacks that remind you of memories! do whatever makes you the happiest :D

word count: 2,151

music: make you mine – public, tongue tied – grouplove (this song is so Kazunari !!!)

nostalgia.

🌻🎨 miyoshi kazunari

it was that time of year again

kazunari hated spring cleaning with a passion. so what if his art supplies were all over the dorms? he knew where everything was! uh, mostly...

(if you ignore his daily panicked house searches which kept everyone up way too late if he couldn’t locate a very specific paint shade for a big project he definitely procrastinated)

so, it took, so much bribery to get kazunari to even consider cleaning out his entire dorm room

(muku was a very Good Boy and already had his side of the room perfectly dusted and organized)

yes, you had to promise to pose as a model for one of his paintings one day (hopefully, not the type of class you were thinking) (kazunari’s suggestive wink didn’t help)

the thing about kazunari was he was somewhat of a, putting it politely, hoarder

as an extremely sentimental person, it would take the whole mankai company to even force him to throw something away

(“no! it has a special meaning to me! i remember what happened when i got this~” kazunari would whine, holding the useless item between his hands with no intentions to ever look at it again)

so the boys employed you to be kazunari’s rational judgement when cleaning that day

(“please actually make him do something.” sakyo looked like he was on the border of begging; kazunari’s abundance of random knick knacks and shopaholic addiction problem was becoming an issue that affected everyone)

rule #1 of cleaning kazunari’s storage room: don’t open anything because kazunari will become very sentimental and nothing will get gone

so therefore, as a team, you two tackled the rather spotless room. the interior was minimal and modern, just like kazunari liked it with pops of color here and there

(he had one blank white wall and you realized it was the backdrop he used to film all his social media posts [dancing tik toks, fashion #ootds on instagram, daily vlogs on his growing youtube channel])

at first, you were confused where all his stuff went until you opened a closet against his terrible and unconvincing distractions

without time to react, you found yourself buried in tens of books you couldn’t even fathom how it all fit

(“i’ve played way too much tetris.” kazunari would admit later on when asked about his immaculate stacking)

“you’ve got to be kidding me!” you groaned, pushing your head above the surface of book covers that have either never been opened or were way too old to even be functionable

“i’m sorry~ please, forgive me!” kazunari pleaded, immediately pulling you out of his own mess and using all his cuteness to make you roll your eyes fondly at your best friend

you almost started ranting at him about the dangers of taking up too much closet space with useless items before you realized:

wait! stop! he’s trying to get you to forget about throwing these books out! you thought suddenly, crossing your arms as you stared at the pile, trying to figure out how to approach the situation

“you cannot distract me. we are going through this mound and you will be getting rid of something today.” you ordered, seeing his shoulders drop in defeat as he nodded solemnly, but accepting his fate without any arguments. thank god for that

you two bent down and organized all the books into categories. popular photography instruction guides, creative advice columns, and all his past art textbooks kazunari couldn’t sell were put into a seperate group because luckily, they were relevant to his art school

things like old newspapers with funny comics were recycled (you refused to let kazunari read them in fear of invoking some form of nostalgia) (also because he had the whackiest sense of humor ever and would die laughing)

it was going well, until you reached the thickest photo books of them all (you had almost forgotten what you and kazunari’s school mascot was)

but unsurprisingly, kazunari had every single yearbook from each year of his education all the way until his last year in high school piled high to his chest

even he looked somewhat shocked from his mass accumulation from his teen years

“ah! i’m so old now~ look at all this! what else can i do except die?!” kazunari dramatically flopped onto his bed, tired of lifting so much weight. hey! his arms weren’t meant for exercise, he was a painter!

lifting his head to see you were distracted from alphabetically sorting the first section lovingly dubbed, “art shit”, kazunari mischeviously grinned as he leaned down to snatch a random yearbook

flipping to a random page, kazunari smiled as he realized it was the first time he ever met you back in elementary

kazunari sang your name as he sat upwards, having a shit–eating look on his face as he started swinging his legs back and forth

oh no, he was up to something no good, you knew it but humored him anyways

“yes, kazu?” you turned your line of sight to the most horrible picture possible: you with the ugliest haircut in the entire world with kazunari’s black hair taking up the entire photo as you two sheepishly smiled for the camera. it was not a proud moment

okay, maybe it wasn’t that bad, you just couldn’t help but shriek at the sight of your hair

“oh my god! you can’t just jumpscare me like that!” you laughed despite yourself. you knew you had to be serious and focused on decluttering, but one look at your past made you remember all the good times before so–called “adulthood”

“look at your hair!” you cackled, reaching up to playfully yank at his mullet as he yelped and lightly smacked your hand away. rubbing the back of his neck, kazunari huffed childishly and pouted like he was back in his youth

“come on! this was the pinnacle moment i realized, i should not be a hair dresser.” kazunari commented, making you remember how you just let a random 8–year–old boy waddle up to you with safety scissors and advertise his salon business like a professional

(yes, you bought into it right away. your teacher had a heart attack when she saw you with a majority of your hair on the floor and kazunari keeping small talk like an actual hair stylist)

thinking back after the haircut incident, you weren’t allowed to chat with the funny class clown anymore as you were forced to wear a hat every day

(it was either that or go completely bald to fix the job kazunari did to your head)

it wasn’t until you received a very creative and colorful apology letter with tons of sad faces drawn with waxy crayons that you snuck out to play with him on the swings in recess

“i can’t believe we became friends because i wanted free hair cuts for the rest of my life.” you added, staring at the picture with a sense of nostalgia. you kinda got where kazunari was coming from, memories were fun to look at every once and a while

at least, eleven years worth of memories after being inseperable from that moment forward

(maybe, you should’ve held onto it, you thought, not knowing that would be the first of many art pieces you would be gifted by him)

kazunari knew he won. excited, he dropped down to lay on his stomach as you leaned against the bed, watching as he thumbed through the pages with ease, leaning his head on yours comfortably

it was rare to find kazunari quiet, he must’ve been like this all the time when going through his stuff, you thought, at peace for once

lazily smiling, kazunari put his finger against your yearbook pictures as he reminisced on the past. something about everyone ever in your grade, how kazunari knew everyone and had a special memory with each person, no matter how big or small

“—and here, the teacher somehow caught a pic of us swinging wayyy too high for kids our age!” kazunari laughed, breaking your train of thought as you snickered at the absolute joy radiating from both your faces as you two competed to see who could reach the clouds

(kazu won. you fell off right after and had to get picked up from your parents after badly scraping your knee. it took another sorry letter and art of you two holding hands with a heart for your parents to forgive kazunari)

“let’s go back.” you interrupted him, making him sit up confused as you swung your keys out from your back pocket. it didn’t take any convincing for kazunari to nod right away and took the elementary yearbook into his arm

you two only had to exchange a secret look before formulating a plan to sneak out, leaving music on from kazunari’s speakers to act like kazunari was still cleaning

you two giggled amongst yourselves before clambering into your car, speeding off and laughing loudly from your successful getaway. the manager was none the wiser!

during the short car ride, you and kazunari played your favorite mixtape of all time

(“you kept this?!” kazunari yelled, giddily bouncing up and down from excitement when he discovered the mixtape stash)

he slipped the disc in as you two yelled along to childhood favorites with the windows rolled down, letting the entire neighborhood know the best duo were back in town

(seriously, there were so many you stashed away in your glove department. all labeled in sharpie with compelling titles connected to the inside jokes only you two found funny)

arriving at the destination, you two exited the vehicle to see the play pen was abandoned as the teaching staff went home for the day

the sun was setting and it felt like the playground was in another rift of time as you approached it, hearing the weak movement of the swings going back and forth on their own. you sat down, holding onto the chains. you hadn’t been back ever since you graduated. it hadn’t changed at all

kazunari opened the elementary yearbook back to the original page, pulling out his tripod and phone he always had on hand in his backpack as he set it up right across the swing set

“what are you doing?” you inquired, tilting your head as he fumbled around pressing different buttons and filters too complex for you to remember

looking up, kazunari grinned as he set a timer for 10 seconds before sprinting back to the swing next to you

“swing contest right now! i bet i could swing higher than you ever could!” kazunari challenged childishly, quickly kicking his legs for the momentum. you narrowed your eyes, refusing to lose as you two laughed over the sound of his phone taking a burst of photos

you realized what he was doing. he was re–creating your memories together

but you turned to look at him and your heart skipped a beat. you never remembered him looking this, different, in the purple lighting. for a flashing moment, you swore you saw the silhoutte of his black–haired, child self sit next to you before you blinked and saw him. kazunari was the same, just older now

you slowed down your swing by dragging your sneakers against the wood chipped ground. you grabbed both the swings’ chains to hold them together

you didn’t want to live in the past anymore. you wanted to grow up with him, too

“what—” kazunari started, matching your pace before being cut off by your lips against his, the phone going off for one last time

you pulled yourself in close enough just to smile. he smelled the exact same as he did when he discovered cologne for the first time. he never changed

you pulled away first even if he tried leaning forward for more, like he was waiting all these years just for that one moment. like he saw you in the same light, too

“i wanted to do that for years.” you confessed, watching as he took your hand carefully, like he was afraid you were going to leave. for once, he didn’t know what to do, which face to show

“me too...” kazunari agreed, seemingly speechless before straightening his back, like he was about to run away. the hair on your neck stood up, what was he about to do?

“i promise i won’t cut your hair anymore, unless?” kazunari winked dramatically, mimicking the shape of scissors with his fingers as he tried snipping at your hair

he laughed as you shoved him with all your might, hopping off the swing to chase him throughout the school parking lot

now this was a memory kazunari would never throw away, no matter what

(no one thought the two of you escaped until kazunari posted the pics on his instagram, both of you getting a scolding from sakyo this time)

(busted!)

[weirdmarioenemies]

Name: Miss Zarves

Debut: Sideways Stories from Wayside School

There is no Miss Zarves. There is no post on her, either. Sorry.

...Nah, I kid. Do you think I’d pass up the opportunity to infodump about one of my favorite series of all time? Pfffah! What a fool YOU are! But first, a few things you ought to know, so you don’t get confused.

Wayside School was built sideways, it is a thirty story building with one classroom on each floor. The builder said he was very sorry. Miss Zarves teaches on the nineteenth story. There is no nineteenth story, and there is no Miss Zarves. Got it? Good. Explain it to me.

Now that I’ve clarified all that, we can talk about Miss Zarves herself! She makes her lovely debut in the chapter “Calvin,” which is about as confusing you’d expect a story about a teacher that doesn’t exist to be. Calvin, a student in Mrs. Jewls’s class on the thirtieth story, needs to take a note to her, but he has a bit of trouble, because there is no Miss Zarves, there is no nineteenth story, and there is no note. Eventually, with a bit of help, he figures out that he can’t deliver no notes to no teachers, and he already hasn’t done it! Mrs. Jewls thanks him, and he says it was nothing. That’s really the extent of what Miss Zarves does in the first book, she just. Doesn’t exist! She gets her own story, later on. Here’s all of it:

But in the SECOND book, things start to get confusing. If they weren’t already. You may already be scratching your head, asking if Wayside School is only twenty-nine stories tall if there’s no nineteenth.

Well that’s a terrible thing to be asking, unless you want to end up like...

Allison, who wonders that exact thing, and subsequently, stops existing! She tries to get attention, but no one notices her. No one except Miss Zarves, that is. Little does she know, she found herself a one-way ticket to Miss Zarves’s class on the nineteenth story, which turns out to be the most brutal class in the school. You get a two-minute break every eleven hours, and all your other hours are spent working on impossible tasks like memorizing the dictionary, and sorting numbers from one to a million in alphabetical order.

Most of the students in Miss Zarves’s class, in fact, are much too old for elementary school, having been there for many, many years. But they don’t mind at all! Miss Zarves always gives perfect grades, no matter how much you mess up, and in the end, you can never be too old to learn, right?

Yeah, I figured that’s what you were thinking. I wouldn’t want to stick around in Miss Zarves’s class either. The only way out is to act like you’re part of any other class. Or at least to act like you’re in any other class at Wayside School, which means to act really, really weird. She doesn’t like it, but how else should she punish you? Keeping you in class after school?

In the third book, we get a glimpse at Miss Zarves’s personal life, after she considers quitting teaching after a cow ends up in her classroom and keeps disrupting class. Whether or not said cow ended up contemplating the nature of the nineteenth story, we just don’t know...

What we do know is that Miss Zarves is sick of being unnoticed, as it turns out, she’s been putting up with it for her entire life! Her teachers always called on other students, even if she was the only one with her hand raised, her friends never did the things she wanted to do, her parents were always out on business trips so she had to tuck herself in and wish herself a good night, to put it simple, Miss Zarves has had it rough! All she wants is to be seen...

And she is! By three mysterious men in black who tell her that the kids in her class need her! And they even get rid of the cow in her room! How sweet!

Of course, if all Miss Zarves wants is to be seen, in which case, you can see her in this illustration, then she must be pretty happy when everyone in Mrs. Jewls’s class shows up in her room in the fourth book. No one’s exactly sure how they got there, but at least it means that Calvin finally is able to deliver her the note.

Due to the rest of the school being ravaged by a Storm of Doom, the kids all take shelter in Miss Zarves’s class, which appears to be completely unscathed. Being non-existent has its perks! But being in Miss Zarves’s class still isn’t easy, when she’s asking you to study the history of everyone who’s ever lived. They all get out when Myron clips her one surprisingly long fingernail, finding themselves scattered across the staircase after the storm is finished.

So that’s everything there is about Miss Zarves in the books! Unfortunately, there was also a cartoon that was very loosely inspired by the series and isn’t very good at all. Fortunately I don’t have to say too much about it, since she’s only in one episode, where Jenny’s bike briefly enters the nineteenth story, only to return with Miss Zarves’s signature on it.

But anyway, I hope you enjoyed learning everything about a character that doesn’t exist. She’s probably one of my favorite characters that has ever not appeared in none of media!

...Did you get all of that? Good. Explain it to me.