gone to young

Reveal idea:

So for about a month or so, Adrien has been asking his father for discarded textiles, just left overs or rejects in his fathers office after a design session.

He takes things like half used spools of thread, almost empty flasks of pearly buttons, a rejected roll of crocheted lace.

His father has no idea where Adrien is squirrelling them away to, but he’s actually okay with Adrien developing an interest in design and manufacture of clothing.

Gabe finds out from Nathalie that Adrien’s class is doing a project on manufacturing or something, and that parents are invited to look at the presentations. Gabe thinks ‘ah-ha!’ and has Nathalie open up his schedule this one time. 

This is when he attends he realises where all his rejected clothing supplies have gone. The young lady who won his bowler hat contest is doing a project on textile manufacture. From the scraps she assembled a blazer, the outside is carefully arranged crocheted lace, the lining is soft pink satin (off cuts from an evening gown if he remembers correctly). 

Her project covers how each type of fabric is manufactured, how they are coloured, stitched, knitted and pieced together to create a final product.

He understands, he thinks, his son has spent a month gathering treasures for this girl like a bower bird collecting blue bottle caps. So Gabe attempts to put a good word in for Adrien. So he tells Marinette about how Adrien has been putting a lot of effort into selecting the materials for her.

“Adrien did?” she asks, visibly surprised. “Is that true?” she cranes her neck at someone behind Gabe.

Gabe turns to find Adrien behind him, face pale, mouth gaping.

Oh… “Son, did you perhaps deliver those items anonymously?”

“Uh something like that…?”

Cue Gabe excusing Adrien and himself so he can apologise to his son for throwing off his game. 

Tengo miedo, mucho miedo. Miedo a que el se canse de mi. Miedo a perderlo, miedo a que me deje. Miedo a que yo no sea suficiente para el, miedo a que me lastime. Miedo a que no me quiera como yo lo quiero, miedo a que no me desee. Miedo a que no me prefiera, miedo a que no me hable. Miedo a que no me necesite, miedo a amarlo. Miedo de el. Y sobre todo, miedo a que no se de cuenta de que es mi única razón para seguir viviendo.
—  Dollhousepain

U know who in the west wing universe would be a r good president? That’s never really talked about regarding presidents? 

Donnatella Moss

Josh wants to be the guy the guy counts on–Well hello DC power couple. Donna, who absorbs info like a sponge, is just so damn competent and brilliant and smart and can grasp difficult concepts v easily and translate them into things that the average American can understand without losing the nuance of policy, like the cats and the Supreme Court.

And CJ said it herself :“Josh isn’t ever going to find an assistant better than you” CJ has worked in a myriad professional industries and made over 500k a year and is the goddamn US Press Secretary and for the fact that the deputy chief of staff will never find a better assistant than donna

Like……this isn’t some podunk law firm in the middle of nowhere this is the white house. A West Wing job. To say no one would be better means out of tens of thousands of people who would kill for that job would not be better than donna (honestly there’s even an episode addressing it being Josh Lyman’s assistant is better than getting a Master’s and Donna’s starting salary at that website was what she assumed the total budget would be. That’s how valuable pre-Santos era Donna is considered to be). She hears and she absorbs and she retains and she’s able to apply that information–remember when she knew the exact filibuster rule, with the Stackhouse ep?

And Donna can publicly speak–we’ve established with Leo (and plenty of other people) that some people just forget almost everything in front of a camera or a crowd, or in a debate type of setting, or just look bulldogish and antagonistic(can you say the plot of the pilot?). It just isn’t for everyone. But this is what Donna did, for two campaigns and even as Josh’s assistant. Remember when he sent her to North Dakota to deal with people who wanted to eliminate ‘north’ in ‘north dakota?’

Once she quits she gets almost as good as Josh in like a year and sure, there’s few complications, yeah. But hey Bartlet had his riding into a tree affair. Donna has her yelling at a chicken debacle.

And also the trip abroad. Like she doesn’t like to politicize it. But people who are like “oh she hasn’t served in combat” well she was injured in a war zone. Annabeth mentions how the people fell in love with her, wanted to make her story into a movie. There’s name recognition early on right there, something that would make it a lot easier to campaign on as a Senator or a Representative than the average person, get her foot in the door.

And listen people would be much more afraid of pissing off donna than Josh because Josh is always pissed but donnais the one person who can sometimes reel him in. No one is there to reel in donna. She’s charismatic, much more than josh, and people like her. Maybe after shes served a term as the first ladys chief of staff, helen more at ease with being first lady and more of an idea of what she’s doing, she’d run. She’d totally get elected as a Representative with her resume, then maybe serve two or 3 terms, then after possibly run for governor. And then start her election campaign. CHARLIE AS VP LBR CHARLIE IS TOTALLY GONNA GO BACK INTO POLITICS, HE’S TOO GOOD AT IT AND HAS SO MANY CONNECTIONS AND HIS WORK AT THE TAIL END OF THE BARTLET PRESIDENCY HAD HIM HOOKED HE TOTALLY WOULD BE DONNA’S VP.

MOSS/YOUNG FOR AMERICA. HAS A NICE RING TO IT

anonymous asked:

I've seen you say a couple times that you don't see or that you're disabled. Do you mind talking about it? I ask because I am an aspiring writer and it is really hard for me. I wanted to know how you managed or what it was like?

I don’t mind talking about it. It’s something that made me who I am.

When I was about 12, my health sort of started to eat itself. I suddenly had a ton of allergies, and there were days I couldn’t get out of bed. I got sick all the time. In freshman year of high school, I suddenly couldn’t see. For a long time a thing had been going on in my eyes, but I guess I didn’t think it was abnormal until it made it impossible for me to see. Basically this hole was kind of growing in my eyes, but it was more like a rainbow.

When I started having trouble with colors and detail vision, my mom freaked out a bit, because at the time, I was an award winning artist who had ideas of going to college for art. Then I started tripping over things, hitting my head, having trouble with depth perception. Then I got sick, and I mean sick.

I spent about 23 hours a day in bed. I had almost constant migraines. I had pain in my entire body. My skin turned yellow. I went to every kind of doctor you can think of and was tested for everything there is. One day, I had about 12 vials of blood drawn. No one knew what was wrong. The eyes weren’t that big a deal at first, because it seemed like I might have something really serious. The first couple of eye doctors I went to kind of looked at me and said “Oh it’s nothing big.” I actually had one guy tell me that my brain was just shutting off my eyes because I wasn’t using them properly. Yeah.

Then finally, my mom took me to a friend of our family who happened to be an eye surgeon. She did a free exam. I’ll never forget it because it was the first time anyone believed me. I’d been told by doctor after doctor that there was nothing wrong with me. I’d been referred to therapists, told I needed depression meds, told I was just going through a phase or needed attention. Then this doctor put on her head gear, looked into my eyes…took off the head gear…got new head gear…looked into my eyes…took off the headgear…got hand held tools…looked into my eyes…and then stared at me with her mouth hanging open.

“I can’t see the back of your eye,” she said. And suddenly the world simultaneously healed itself and flipped upside-fucking-down for me.

Then it was all about my eyes, the one symptom we could see happening. The one that was the most dangerous. But by then it was too late.

What happened is pretty simple: I apparently have some weird recessive DNA. It triggers certain bizarre immune issues at puberty. My immune system decided to attack my body. The eyes are a delicately balanced system. They show symptoms first. My immune system attacked them with a vengeance. They swelled up like balloons. Normal eye pressure is about 14-17. Mine was at a 22 at its best. It put a tremendous amount of pressure on my Retina, specifically my macula, cutting off blood flow like when you sit on your foot. You know those little shadowy things that float across your eyes? They’re called protein floaters. My eyes had produced so many of those that the doctor could not see through them. It was a fog.

They had to find a way to map my eye, to track the damage. Cue the eye exam from hell. I have always been, even before my autoimmune disorder, deathly allergic to melon. Any kind of melon. But now I was allergic to all sorts of shit, fruits vegetables, all kinds of crap. My dad is allergic to contrast dyes. So when the retinologist suggested this dye-based eye exam that is kind of like a CAT scan, my mom said “no”. See, they inject you with this dye and then they flash this weird light in your eyes. It causes the dye to glow, and then they can see the things through the fog. My mom told them I was too sensitive to stuff for that to be safe. The doc assured her they’d put a butterfly in my arm, meaning the vein would be kept open, and a syringe of benedryl was set on the counter. They’d never had anyone react, and they needed the pictures or there was nowhere to go from there.

So they put this dye into me, and it was like I’d been injected with fire, but there was no way around it, and to me, I knew they only had about 90 seconds to get the images they needed. So I sucked it up. finally the burning began to spread. Suddenly my back felt like I was being stabbed, and I suddenly couldn’t speak. I tapped my hands on my mom, then began sneezing spontaneously. My mom lifted my shirt, and I had quarter-sized hives. The nurse said “Stop sneezing on the camera”. Yeah.

My mom went ballistic. The doctor flew up the stairs and gave me the emergency meds. I slid into a dissociation state and nearly out of my chair. They had to prop me against the camera for the next couple minutes and reinject the dye. No other way, you see.

They did this test every few months for a few years.

But then there was treatment. Not much they could do, except try to get the swelling under control. Only way to do that was corticosteroid injections in the eye. Yup. A needle in the eye. No, they don’t knock you out. They numb the surface of the eye with the same numbing drops they give you for the exams and then they come at you with a needle, tell you to look down and to hold still. And you fucking do.

I was 15 when that started.

I went to experimental clinics, labs, and joined studies. I dropped out of those. Why? It’s pretty simple. The first day I came to the exams, I was kept waiting for over two hours. I was taken into a room. I was left there. No information, no talking. Suddenly a man came in followed by a group of people, all in lab coats. He started moving me around like I was a doll and talking like, “The patient presents with…the patient this, the patient that…”

I shoved him back and said, “The patient’s name is Kristina, and she is 16.”

He finished his exam, and when he left, after the students had gone, he took two Q-tips, dipped them in that pink shit your dentist uses to swab your gums before an injection, and SHOVED them under my eyelids with a cocky smirk.

The patient will never be an snotty little bitch again, I guess.

So yeah. Fuck those guys. They gave me two injections in one day, which no one had ever done before, because it was almost impossible to function with two pimple-like bubbles on your eyeballs.

Still my health was bad. Then all of a sudden, when my mom had given up, It just wasn’t anymore. Suddenly, I was fine, and all that was left were the eyes. I went back to school, except now I was blind.

In a few months, I’d lost about 80% of my perfect vision. I was photophobic. I got horrible and constant headaches. I walked with a cane. And not a single fucking teacher believed me, except my civics teacher, who had gone blind at a young age due to some other weird eye disorder, and my physics teacher who was deaf. I had teachers send me to the office for wearing my sunglasses (with a note on file). I had teachers get on my case about having an audio recorder and CD player for my books. I had teachers call me names, make fun of me, make me leave class to photocopy their notes larger, so that I missed the lecture the notes were on. I had teachers take my medications which had to be in my possession because of their time-sensitive nature and constant administration and hide them in their desks as punishment for asking questions or demanding help. I had classmates pick on me, but luckily, I was well-liked, and I was an officer in the ROTC. I even excelled there in spite of my vision, because my Captain believed in my leadership skills.

I always tell this story because I think it is funny. We had this special boot camp we got to go to if we were in the upper ranks of the ROTC. If you joined the military after high school (which I could never do) you got a higher paygrade for having gone through it. Almost like taking a couple JC classes in the military. It was grueling and all physical fitness, obstacle courses, PT, classes, guard duty…fucking blah. Our unit was allowed six participants. I sort of figured that it wasn’t really fair for me to go, even with my high rank (a company XO). To my complete fucking shock, my Captain recommended me to go, cutting out a classmate (and ex) of mine who was higher in rank. The boy went ape-shit. He went on and on about how unfair it was. He even went to the school board. My Captain made his reasons clear; he told them that the academy isn’t about military sponsorship. It’s about skills and quality. He didn’t care if I had a disability. In his eyes I had more innate ability than anyone there because I had worked so hard just to be where I was. The boy was angry. I told my Captain I appreciated the gesture, but honestly, we ought to make it fair. I told him that we should train to meet the PT standards, and that if this kid could make his, but i couldn’t make mine, he should go. I made mine. He didn’t. He complained about that too. At the last minute, we were told one extra person could come because another school had lost one. So he came anyway. The whole time he bitched about me being there. When I got there, the real military officers gave me shit like you wouldn’t believe, because they weren’t used to dealing with disabilities or recognizing that they can’t discriminate against high schoolers by law. The commander of the unit tried to dress me down in front of everybody for wearing sunglasses. I was pretty pleased with myself for telling him off but still sounding respectful. He kept saying “Take off my glasses”. I told him they weren’t his. They were mine, by law, and that if he had a problem with that, he could consult my attorney, the DOJ, and the doctor who prescribed them. He tried to fuck with me. I didn’t say anything except to ask him if he wanted me to have a migraine, because that’s what taking the glasses off means. He was so confused by me he walked away and called my Captain over. There were words. After that, he came up to me once or twice, almost like a test, to ask me if I needed him to slow down or if I was getting around alright. He wasn’t being nice. He was egging me in a condescending tone and with very bullying language. He’s a drill instructor, and you know what, that’s his job. I told him I was fine. But I made a decision: I wasn’t just going to make the female PT marks. I was going to test out of this fucking place at the male PT marks. And I fucking did. That boy…had an asthma attack on the track (I had asthma too, but I worked my ass off while he coasted on his “boyness”) and failed. At the certificate ceremony, the commander came up to me and said I had really impressed him, and that it was a shame I couldn’t enter the Navy. I thanked him, but what I wanted to say was, “Go fuck yourself and take the NAVY with you”. I ended up the Battalion XO Senior year. This would have given me a guaranteed spot in Westpoint if I could have taken it. My Captain cried when he told me he was sorry he had to give it to one of our Company XO’s. I told him that it was best for everyone, because I am not the type of person to enjoy taking orders. I had learned that about myself.

He laughed.

Around Junior year I got people to pay attention. My doctors got the DOJ and the Social Security people involved. A woman came to my school and enforced compliance in a tone of voice I’d never heard anyone but my mother use. She threatened to rain brimstone down on them if they didn’t give me what I needed, and things changed.

My parents wanted me to take a full scholarship to a local school, but I wanted to get away. So I did. I wanted to travel abroad, so i did. And when I was 19, they perfected one of the surgeries they had been working on the entire time I’d been struggling with this.

See, the injections had brought and kept the swelling down, but that meant that the fog was still there (since ocular fluid doesn’t replace), and the structures in the eye had been stretched all to shit, and were laying in my eye like melted plastic wrap. The old surgery was like a blind man hacking with a machete, but the new surgery used fluorescent dyes to track movement. Dyes that wouldn’t kill me. The old surgery had a 50-50 shot at complete loss of vision and made you lay on your face for three weeks. The new was fool proof and took 45 minutes. So, I got one eye done. They swapped out all the fluid and replaced it with saline. They peeled the distorted membrane off the macula. They stitched up my eyeball and gave me a sick metal eye patch. Looked like a fucking space pirate. It was rad.

But the blind spot is still there. The cataracts caused by the steroids are still there. The scars are there.

A few years later I had the other one done too.

My college was great. It took a lot of work getting all my reading done, about 500 pages minimum, per week, done via audio. I used to spend hours at the pool table in our residence hall, listening to my books and practicing. I got pret damn good too, at pool. It was difficult taking notes or working with a note taker. It was scary traveling by myself. It was hard to get people to understand there wasn’t anything WRONG with me. Just that my eyes don’t work even though it seems like I’m normal and fine, and like they should. People always think to be legally blind you have to be completely blind, and they think you’re not going to be able to defend yourself. I’ve been targeted by pickpockets. I’ve been followed by scary dudes. I’ve been treated like shit, laughed at, and accused by full grown adults of faking to get privileges, all because I can look at the place where their head should be and smile at the blank spot there. All because I can walk down a flight of stairs with a few neat tricks I know that have nothing to do with a cane.

But shit…you probably didn’t mean to ask for my life story. I’m going to get back to the point. My writing. What has it done for that? Like how can you be a writer if you can’t fucking see? Technology. It’s been amazing. I can use a computer same as anyone. The Kindle has been a fucking revolution for me because for the first time in a decade and a half I could read without pain and suffering. Just…all the things it does have made life so much easier than it used to be. It got me out of bad relationships with people who used my disability as a control. It gave me a little bit of confidence back. It helped me know I could handle myself.

And really, I think my vision loss had a lot to do with my writing. In some ways it gives me different perspective, sure, but it’s more than that. I was undeclared when I entered college. I didn’t know what I wanted to do. I thought about history or sociology. My mom had a degree in that and she was an English teacher. I wanted art history, but what the fuck was the point in that? Couldn’t see a damn thing. And then I had a class in poetry, and shit…That made sense. I’d always loved language and writing. Always been okay at it. Dorte stuff but never thought about doing it for a living. But then it was like yeah…yeah I’m gonna fucking do that. Just like when I decided to meet the male PT standards.

If it is in you. If you love it. If it defines you and possesses you, it does not matter how fucked up you are. You will find a way. You don’t have a choice. You are that thing. And you’ll adapt. You just have to let yourself. You have to keep pushing. You have to learn how to handle frustration. you have to train yourself into stamina. You just keep going. I’m nowhere near as successful as I want to be. I’m still going. I hope I get even better. I hope I can say things that make truth more obvious, or that help people put words to things they have always wanted to say.

I don’t need my eyes to be a fucking firestorm. That’s just me. Eyes don’t mean shit.

So keep going. Keep doing whatever you need to. Do it better and better. Bend yourself around it. People who see you struggle will think they’re lucky, but you and I know the truth: they’re not even close to the kind of strong you are. Not even a little bit.

8

some highlights from the Bullet Club’s live Q&A

Today my debut novel, If We Were Villains, came out and I was lucky enough to spend the afternoon with some of the amazing people who made it happen. But before I run off to the launch party tonight, I just wanted to take a moment to say thank you to you, the lovely people of Online whom I will not get to thank in person. 

I quite honestly never expected to have so many wonderful people following me here or anywhere else, and I will be the first to admit that I still don’t quite understand what you’re all thinking or how I haven’t managed to scare you away. You have sat through weeks of me shitposting about grad school and stumbling through the publishing world and liveblogging Homer, and I just want you to know that your support has not gone unnoticed or unappreciated. I’m young and publishing is scary and your excitement has buoyed me through some rough nights of revision and some long hours of anxiety about whether this thing I wrote is actually worth anybody’s time (or money). 

You’re all wonderful, and I am so lucky to have you in my corner. Thank you for the last few years. Your support and enthusiasm means much more than you know. I can’t give you much in return but this book, so I hope it is worth the wait. 

Here’s to many more theatre stories, grad school meltdowns, and updates you didn’t ask for. 

Xx M

Rockabye (pt.3)

genre: fluff and just a little angst / stripper!au

pairing: you x jimin

word count: 2.6k

Originally posted by chimchams


You were stupid. Why would you agree to go out with one of the customers? This club was a strictly “business only” one and if you get caught, you lose it all. Jae-Eun meant everything to you and if you lost him over one mistake, all of your hard work would go to waste. The endless nights of stripping and dancing for men but making enough money to support you and your child would all be thrown down the drain. You’ve worked so hard to be where you are now and this one guy that made your heart flutter, would not ruin it for you. Or at least, that’s what you thought.

You were supposed to call Jimin when you felt like meeting up but that private dance happened weeks ago and since then, you were really putting this whole thing to the side. It wasn’t because you didn’t like Jimin, in fact, that was the opposite reason. Jimin made you feel ways that were unexplainable. He made you feel good about yourself, almost as if his confidence was contagious. It rubbed off on you, but hey, you weren’t complaining. Most of the time, especially during private dances, guys made you feel like a toy. They always called you names and spit profanities in your face, continuously.


Jimin, though, never once looked at you like you were something he could use to just have fun with. He didn’t dare to call you anything besides beautiful. Guys don’t understand how much that means to a girl. Being called beautiful opposed to sexy or hot is so much more flattering and respectful. Jimin seemed to know how to treat a woman and the thought of that put you in awe. 


As much as Jimin was all of these things, you had to be careful. One mistake or you get caught with a customer, it is over and that scared you, a lot. 



Today was the warmest day out of the weekend, so you decided to spend one-on-one time with Jae-Eun. You loved taking him on strolls in his stroller around the park and he did too. He giggled and giggled whenever you made funny faces or noises. Peek-a-boo was his all time favorite game, he really seemed to get a kick out of you hiding your face behind your hands and then suddenly appearing out of nowhere. His laugh was the sweetest thing on earth and it kept you motivated, to keep pushing through all of these hard times.


He was already 3 months old. Time has flown by so quickly. You remember holding him that night after you delivered him, looking down at his soft, newborn, face. He had his dads, well, everything. His eyes; one mono eyelid and one double, small but oh-so, kissable lips. He somehow only got your nose while he got the rest of Jungkook’s features. You knew he would be a lady killer when he got older, just like his dad. 


He was a spitting image of Jungkook and it hurt your heart. Whenever you looked at Jae-Eun, it brought back painful, yet so beautiful memories that you will forever cherish. Of course, he didn’t look exactly like Jungkook, since he was still a newborn but you were afraid for when he got older. He would eventually grow into his same body type, broad shoulders, muscular thighs, and tall. It would hurt to even look at your own kid, just because Jungkook did so much damage to your heart. He left you when you needed him the most. He never came back and that only hurt you more. It made you feel not special, not wanted, and alone. 


Jae-Eun couldn’t talk yet but sometimes you used him to talk to, even if he couldn’t understand. He could barely say anything, so he just stuck to his famous giggles, whines, and cries. As crazy as it sounds, sometimes you feel like you are talking to someone and they are actually listening to you when you talk to Jae-Eun. He looks at you, with his deep brown eyes of Jungkook, eyebrows raised high from their original spot, and his face softens as if he truly understands what you are saying. You were excited for him to grow up because Jungkook was always such a good advice giver and knew how to listen to you. You felt that when Jae-Eun gets older, he will pick up those same characteristics and you’d have each other to talk to and get advice from, just like it was with his dad. 


“Okay, my baby Jae, we are here.” You say as your bring the car to a stop and turn off the ignition. You look behind you and there Jae-Eun was, in his blue pants and white shirt, with a big smile on his face. Your heart softened at the sight, he was really going to be a lady killer, you thought to yourself.  


It was a decently nice day but still fairly cold, with clouds covering the sky. It was something about the sky that brought you so much serenity. Every time you look up, you see your dad smiling from heaven, giving you a thumbs up. It brings tears to your eyes to know that such an amazing man was gone, so young and so unexpectedly. He was all you really had as growing up. Not that your mom was bad, she just tended to work a lot, favor your brother, and forget about you. 


Your father was such a humble, hard-working man, and when he died, you felt like the world crashed onto you. You’ll never forget the lifeless, pale, sunken, face of your dead dad, laying in the casket. You lost someone so important to you and your life would never be the same. That was the worst night of your life, even more than Jungkook leaving. 


You had a dad while growing up and a not so supportive mom, the opposite of what Jae-Eun had now. You were dreading the day you would have to tell him, that his dad walked out on the announcement of your pregnancy. A boy needs a male role model in his life, especially when growing up to learn from and grow with but you couldn’t provide that for him. The thought of that shred your heart into pieces but you can’t do anything about it, which only made it that much harder.


When you get out of the car, you carefully unbuckle his seat belt and get the stroller out of the trunk. You set it up and pick up Jae-Eun extremely carefully before placing him down into the stroller and buckling the two straps that held him in place. You were so gentle with him, not because you were scared you would drop him or anything, more so of it just being that, you didn’t want to risk something like that happening if you were too rough or too careless. 


You kneeled down to Jae-Eun's level so he could see you and look at him. You tilted your head to the side and reach out to cup his small, warm, and soft cheek. He really did look like Jungkook so much already and as much as you tried to not see it in him and push it away, you couldn’t.


You still loved Jungkook. He gave you so much to love. Never in a million years did you expect for him to walk out on you so easily or quickly. He didn’t even talk to you about the whole situation, which is his fault because you guys could’ve made it work out, he just didn’t want to.


That night was bad but nowhere near as bad as your fathers funeral. Cancer was indeed, a killer. You remember waking up to Jungkook nowhere in sight, his clothes magically gone and out from the closet, and all of his personal belongings taken by him, except a picture of you two, framed and hung up on the wall. He left nothing, besides a note that broke your heart into fractured pieces, as tears flooded and left your eyes.


Y/N,
      I’m sorry it had to be this way. I can’t be with you anymore. I can’t take care of a baby. I don’t have the recources or stability to help you take care of another human, let alone a newborn . It is too much and I can’t have that kind of stress put on me. I love you, y/n, so much, but we can’t be ‘us’ anymore, there can’t be an ‘us’. I’m sorry.
                                         Jungkook


Stress? Stability? Recourses? Us? Love? What kind of note was that? You’ve never seen Jungkook so selfish in your lifetime. He LEFT you with all of the stresses of being a parent. He LEFT you with a baby when you were obviously not strong enough to do this on your own. He LOVED you, but couldn’t find the pity in his heart to stick with you throughout the hard times, through all of the upcoming years. He SAID that there couldn’t be an us anymore when that was what you’ve always been. He was SORRY but couldn’t stay and talk to you about the problem? He ran out on you. He ran away from responsibilities. He ran out on Jae-Eun, who needs and will need a father, at some point in his life.

 
Each word on that letter felt like another stab to the heart. You’ve never seen someone be so selfish, let alone the father of your baby. Jungkook was always so nice, so compassionate, so caring, warm, and so admirable but your opinion on him soon changed after he walked out on you. He was an asshole, immature, selfish, and an awful person, for doing what he did to you. But no matter what he did, you still loved him, and that’s what you hated most about the whole thing.

Normally a girl would eventually get over the guy that left and move on but you haven’t. You just needed to find someone to heal the wounds Jungkook left on your heart, someone who would make you forget all the bad that has happened to you, someone who would treat you the way you were supposed to be treated, someone who-


“Earth to y/n???“A familiar voice says while the person waves their hands in front of your face rapidly, trying to get you out of your trance. Your eyes widened as soon as you realized who it was that was standing right in front of you. 


Jimin.


“Sorry, I- how- why- wait, did you follow me?” You suddenly ask. Jimin pulled his lips into a smile, as his eyes formed into crescent moons.


“No, silly, I saw you kneeling down as I was leaving the parking lot,” He paused and then continued after he wiped off his forehead. “I just got done with a business meeting and decided to take a walk, which I am now happy I decided to take one instead of not because I get to see you.“ 


Yep. He never failed to make your heart jump out of your chest. He was just so good with words. 

He had on a blue shirt with a blue blazer and the sight of that, made you shiver. He was not only good with words but he looked good while saying them too.  


You slowly stand up and see that he was glowing. His skin was glowing, his eyes were glowing, his teeth you could now see since he was smiling, were glowing. Jimin was just so beautiful, he literally stuck out in a good way. His eyes glistened with the sunshine and his scent once again had you in a trance. There was something about the way Jimin smelled, it brought some sort of positivity and hospitality into your thoughts. He made you forget what you were thinking just minutes before and that was exactly what you needed.


“Uhm, y/n? Gawking much?” He chuckled and as soon as you realized your mouth was hanging wide open and you were staring at him, a sudden wave of embarrassment flooded you. 


“Ah, sorry, it’s just that-” Really, stuttering, cmon?  "You know what, nevermind.“ You shook your head and gave yourself a mental slap to the face. 


Jimin walked closer to you and stopped as he reached Jae-Eun’s stroller. He turned back to you and his lips formed a smile - no, don’t- there it is, you thought to yourself. His smile killed you. It was so perfect, the way his teeth aligned with his lips and the way his eyes smiled too, almost more than his actual one.


“Who do we have here?” Jimin says as he bends over and tickles Jae-Eun’s stomach, as Jimin received giggles from him in return. Jimin couldn’t stop smiling and that made your heart beat even faster.


He looked so good with kids. He was making Jae-Eun laugh and smile and he just got here. How could a guy be so perfect?


“That’s Jae-Eun.” You reply and look at Jimin while he was now playing peek-a-boo with him.


“Peek-a-boo!” He said in a high-pitched voice and repeated the movements needed to actually play and entertain the kid.


You heart sung, as you saw how good Jimin was with kids.  Mostly guys were good, anyways, but he was just, better. Jimin was always better, now that you think of it.


He eventually stopped and reached his hands back down into the stroller, unbuckling Jae-Eun. “May I hold him?” He asked. 


You nodded and that gave him the green light. He slowly picked up Jae-Eun underneath his armpits and placed a hand under his butt before resting him on his shoulder. Normally Jae-Eun cried when you picked him up but for some reason, he wasn’t with Jimin.  He seemed to really be comfortable with him because soon enough, there he was resting the side of his cheek on Jimin’s shoulder, with his hands wrapped around Jimin’s neck, as he slowly swayed side to side, sending Jae-Eun off to sleep. 


“Wow, he really likes you, a lot, Jimin.” You tilt your head to the side and can’t help but smile. Jimin was being so sweet to him and that made you very happy on the inside to know that he was like this. He wasn’t some guy who hated kids or got annoyed quickly.


“I mean, I AM Park Jimin, nobody can resist me.” You flick the side of his head and his mouth drops open, mouthing the word, “ouch." 


"What……. You deserved it.” You reply sarcastically and flick him again in the same spot but before you move your hand away, he reaches out and grasps onto your wrist tightly.


“You know what else I deserve?” You look at him and tilt your head to the side, raising an eyebrow. “A date with you." 


"I already agreed to one." 


"Then, how about I take you out tomorrow night?” He asks while letting go of your wrist. 


“Jimin, I would love to but I would need a babysitter and I can’t afford that right no-” He cuts you off and immediately starts talking. 


“I can pay for the babysitter.” Was he rich or something? He always gave you more money than you needed and now was offering to pay for a babysitter just to take you out? Damn.


“No, Jimin it’s okay, really, you don’t have to, " 


"I know I don’t have to but I want to” And there it was, the smile has returned.