#you can’t really change a stubborn parent’s mind

[chocostrwberry]

You once said that your version of Emilie is a menace, but not a "villain." Does that mean she'll eventually come to her senses and let her son live his life his way? (I'm sorry, please forgive me. I'm sort of a sucker for her and have always advocated to be a protagonist who learns from her mistakes)

So she’s not a villain because she truly wants what’s best for Adrien and usually isn’t acting selfishly.

HOWEVER,

She has a very narrow view of what she considers beneficial to him, which is why I consider her an antagonist. Near the end she’ll realize she has no/lost control over him, and maybe have the revelation that her son is his own person?? I think she’s so hands-on with him is because she’s worried he’s been lost so long without her. Like she’s been comatose for what? Almost 10 years? She still sees him as a child who always came running to her and needed her comfort, someone she had to protect. So I think once he finally stands up and says he won’t just do as she says anymore (through saying he’ll not break up with Marinette) she’ll realize that he’s not that kid anymore!! But then it’ll lead to her trying to set him up with Cerise, so I’m not too sure about the “learning from mistakes” aspect of her character.

[kingtomura]

Good Girl

Summary: It’s not your fault that your boyfriend was hard for people to warm up to. God, your parents are so lame. But so were you. So you did what anyone else with strict parents would, and you cut him off. 

Bad idea. 

Word count: 4k

part two is here!

Content: Tomura Shigaraki x female reader, explicit content, kinda quiet sex, cunnilingus, praise, slight humiliation, unprotected sex, strict parents, toxic relationship with parents, AU - no quirks, no use of y/n, gets a little mushy at the end im sorry

You would rather be anywhere else but here. You would pay to be anywhere else but right here, right now being scolded like some teenager who had been caught sneaking out after curfew. But you were here and you weren’t going anywhere any time soon. 

“He’s just not good for you,” your father’s voice stressed. It dragged on, pulling you from your drifting thoughts. “You have so much ahead of you and we even agreed to this gap year so that you could figure out what you wanted to do, not so you could run around with some delinquent boy with no future–”

“He‘s not a delinquent,” You cut off, “you’re judging him without even giving him a chance.”

Your father sighs, knowing he’s fighting a losing battle, but knowing you inherited his stubbornness has never detoured him from taking your objections head on. He’s been on this earth longer than you, butting heads with others longer than you have. “Well, whatever he is, he’s not allowed to see you again. That’s final.” he says with a shrug of his shoulders. False air of nonchalance sending fury through your veins. 

There would be no more arguing and you knew it. You desperately look to your mother, who is in her usual stance of resignation and uselessness when it comes to his word. If she saw things your way, she would never say. And even if she agreed with you, there would be no change. It has always been your father’s way or no way. 

“I’m an adult, you can't tell me who I can and can’t see.” you try once more, not ready to end things here. It’s suffocating. 

He scoffs, bringing a hand up to count his fingers, “You live under our roof, you eat our food, you drive our car, you give me attitude when I agree to give you time to figure out your life when you decided to leave university after two semesters,” his voice is rising and you begin to feel your eyes burn with the threat of tears, your chest tightening as its harder to catch a breath. You can’t cry here, it would only make things worse.  “I don’t think it matters how old you are. I am done with this conversation. End things with him now or you won't have a pot to piss in by the end of the day.” 

This cannot be happening. You're still sat on the plush sofa of the living room as your father stalks off with your mother in tow. The latter only glancing back with an empty look of pity as you stare at where your father had just been. Words burned into your mind while hot tears finally break and run down your cheeks. This is really happening.

And Tomura was going to be upset.

In a perfect world you could meet up with him tonight, talk it over, or even run away together and leave all this behind, but you know better. You know the two of you haven’t dated long enough to warrant running away together, but it still crosses your mind. You’ve never felt this way about anyone before and it's painful to think you never will again. Tomura just made you feel so.. Alive. There was so much to him and his witty dry humor that keeps pulling you in. 

He’s cynical, he’s moody and sometimes he’s mean but god he could be so soft. Touch you in ways that felt like he reached your soul. Quiet nights where you would stay at his house and watch him play video games would turn into late night sessions of making love until the twilight of dawn peeked through the dark curtains of his room. There was no way you could let him go. But you had to. You had to. Your father had given you no other choice. So you take the coward’s way out.

You text him.

You send him a short text that would send you to the bathroom dry heaving, but you didn’t know what else to do. What more could you say other than your father had snapped at you and you both could no longer be together. It would hurt so much more facing him head on. You knew that if you had to speak to him face to face that you would crack, probably throw out your silly idea of running away together and then face the awkward rejection. This was all you could manage. You felt awful for it, finally forcing yourself off of the floor and dragging your feet to the bathroom to get ready for bed. 

It had been hours and there was no response from Tomura. You couldn't blame him. What could anyone say to a break up text? You hollowly hoped he would fight for you. Even a little. But the flat Read 14:57 showed you otherwise. This had now become a heartbreak you werent quite expecting. You couldn’t help but second guess every interaction you had with him before. If maybe you read into things a little too deeply. If maybe, some smaller, quieter part of you dreaded your father was right.

There was no use of dwelling on that now. No point in running through what you would never know. So, you sighed, and finished up in the bathroom. Slipping on your silk sleeping gown that stopped above your knees and adjusted the small straps on your shoulder. You had cried for hours after your argument – if you could even call it that– with your father was over and your face ached. The bags under your eyes showing the worse for wear state you had found yourself in. it would be okay, you told yourself. You just have to sleep it off. 

And that was your plan and you slid into your welcoming bed, soft comforter embracing you and your worn feelings. You feel more tears begin to sting behind your eyelids before there's a sudden tap at your window. 

A trick of the wind, you decide and return to your somber thoughts. 

You would have to move on eventually, but tonight? He was the only thing on your mind. His eyes, his hair, the way he would feign annoyance when you were overly touchy, craving closer contact. He always indulged you. Always gave you more, you knew he liked it as much as you did. You were lovesick. 

Tap. 

There was that noise again. Louder than before as if someone had thrown a rock right at your window. The room was still and quiet so you knew it hadn’t been your imagination. 

Jumping to your feet and shuffling towards the window in question you brushed your curtains to the side to see the possible culprit. And when you do, your heart drops and instant regret fills you. Stomach aching as you take in the sight before you.

It’s Tomura Shigaraki and he is pissed.

Tomura, your Tomura leering up at you with another rock resting in his hand, bigger and ready to be tossed at your window if the last attempt didn’t work. 

You look around, knowing no one is in your bedroom but yourself and the moonlight, then go to open your window, ducking your head out to get a better look at him. There he was, black hoodie oversized and so soft, red eyes burning in anger but you aren't scared. You’re relieved, it's him. He's here to see you, mouth turned down in a scowl and fists clenched in fury but he was here. 

You couldn’t stop your hushed whisper, “what are you doing here?”

“I came to talk.” Was his only reply before he dropped the rock and walked towards your window. It wasn’t terribly high up, but higher than he could reach without a bit of help from you. 

Now that he was closer you could see the anger in his posture much more clearly. All tense shoulders and narrowed eyes. It was enough to make your stomach turn. You couldn't help but worry your bottom lip as he pulled out his phone and took a step closer.

“Really? Over a fucking text message?” He hissed, rasp in his voice, uncaring of the time of night or who could hear. 

“Tomura, shh, please–” you tried, hands coming up to placate him, if only a little. Your father would have your head if he heard another man in his home, let alone Tomura Shigaraki. 

He huffed a sarcastic laugh, disbelief taking over his features, but he obliged, “I don’t care what your father told you. He can’t control who you talk to.”

You shake your head, the all too familiar sting of tears in your eyes threatening to fall, “I know. I told him that, but he threatened to kick me out, to cut me off. I’m sorry Tomura, but I can't.”

“He can't do that.”

You nod, knowing all too well that your father would go through with his threat. “He can. Technically. I'm an adult, so it’s his choice.” The tears fall now, seeing the rage dissipate from Tomura, slight drop of his shoulders showing disbelief and disappointment. It's too much. This is why you didn’t want to see him, couldn’t face him. “I'm so sorry,” you whisper, trying to hold in the sobs threatening to wrack your body and possibly wake your parents up. This could not have ended worse.  “I don't want it to be this way.”

“Wow, I didn't know you were such a good girl.”

Your breath hitches, caught off guard, “What is that supposed to mean?”

He shrugs. “I didn't know you did everything daddy says. What a good girl you are.” The tone is one you’re familiar with. Condescending. Challenging. He’s testing you.

Your cheeks flushed. What could you say? That you’re not a good girl, actually. Then what would that make you? A bad girl? You would walk right into his trap. He’s watching, waiting for a response. Something to make you slip up. 

You don't have the chance to respond before he’s taking a step forward, lifting your chin with a finger so that you could look him in the eyes. Even in the dim lighting of the room those crimson eyes looked into your own. Like he was delving deeper, looking for the response that you can't seem to give him. Nothing else matters in this moment. It’s just him and you and the pale moonlight dancing between you. The air is tense and unmoving, like the smallest noise, the faintest blow of wind would ruin this moment. 

You couldn’t take it, couldn’t wait another minute before your body moved, leaning forwards onto the tips of your toes to give you more leverage as your lips pressed to his. His lips were still cold and dry from the cool air outside but that didn’t matter. Nothing matters more than knowing you needed more of him and you needed it now. Tomura’s hand came to rest at the nape of your neck, pulling you closer and the kiss deeper. Taking all of you in as his other hand gripped your waist. 

Your hands wasted no time burying into his hoodie – so soft and worn–  the faint smell of citrus and cedar being a comfort as the intoxicating kiss deepened. Tomura wasted no time, slick tongue entering your mouth, hungry, like it was the last time you would have him this way. It was too much. It was not enough. You broke the kiss, a string of saliva following the short distance you put in between. Air seemed sparse, like you couldn't get enough and Tomura spoke before you could.

“Get on the bed.” 

And you did, newfound vigor in your step as you eagerly did as what you were told. Energy ebbing through your veins as excitement overtook your previous anxiety. Tomura was a mere step behind, discarding his hoodie without care and joining you on the bed, caging you beneath him as he dove back in for another kiss, wet and warm, before trailing lower. Open mouthed kisses to your jaw, then neck, his hands, rough and warm gripping your thighs, taking in all he can. After leaving a particularly hard bite on your neck, Tomura lifted your gown up, smooth silk gliding with ease above your ass and resting below your breast. It was only natural for your legs to spread for him, cool air on your bare cunt making you shiver. 

“Oh?” An amused huff from the man above you makes your cheeks heat further than before. He’s seen you like this many times before, but he’s always had a way of making you feel shy. “No panties, huh?”

You push past your embarrassment. “You know i dont wear them to b– ah!” you're cut off by the feeling of his finger sliding between your folds, slick making it glide, and rubbing over your clit. The surprise of the motion makes you press your thighs closer together. Tomura grins above you, before bringing his wet finger to his mouth, a mocking shh following the motion, tongue flicking out and licking the digit as his other hand pushed your legs apart again. 

He bends down, bulge in his sweatpants pressing against your bare cunt. He’s so hard and that thought only makes you wetter. Tomura’s nose brushes yours, your eyelids fluttering shut as he dives to kiss you again. All open mouthed and wet. You could taste yourself on his tongue as well as feel the pressure of his clothed erection grind against you, rubbing against your bundle of nerves. You are sure your slick is dampening his sweatpants but Tomura doesn’t care. He’s grinding you into the mattress and you’re so close to begging him to get on with it you want to scream. But almost like he’s read your mind, he pulls away. 

The kisses he places along your body set your nerves on fire, anticipation eating away at your patience as he takes his time. Once he’s reached his destination, right between your thighs, he places one wet kiss onto the plush of your inner right thigh. Another teasing move. Another way to make you squirm in excitement. He looks up at you, ruby eyes gleaming in the moonlight of the room. 

“Be quiet for me, yeah?” 

Tomura huffs a laugh at your eager nod, grin growing wider. So quick to please. Dedicated. “Good girl.”

The praise makes you falter for a second, embarrassment threatening to make its way to the surface once more. There was no time for it now, Tomura enjoyed catching you off guard. Loved surprises. He wastes no more time, tongue licking a wet strip between your lips. The action causing you to moan louder than you intended. Your hand rushes to cover your mouth. If you were to be caught in this predicament by either of your parents it would be horrendous for the both of you. 

This doesn’t stop Tomura, though. If anything you were starting to think it encouraged him, because his relentless pace on your cunt was driving you wild. His long stripes simmered into just the tip of his tongue flicking your clit and  sending jolts of pleasure roaring through you. You were already close, pleasure and pressure building and building until you were so close to tipping over– 

Knock knock.

“Hey sweetie. I know it's late, I just wanted to talk for a second.” 

It was your mom. Holy shit it was your mom and there's a boy in your bed with his head buried between your legs and holy shit. If she opened the door, if she barged into your room in the familiar way she always had a bad habit of doing, you would be done for. With wide eyes and accelerated breaths, you clamped down harder over your mouth with both hands. Even Tomura stopped in his tracks, gaze lazily focused on the door with curiosity bleeding into his indifference. 

Your mother must have taken the silence as a sign of slumber, yet she continued. Voice muffled by the door between you both. 

“Your father... was harsh today. And I’m sorry for that.” She pauses, long enough for you to believe she would be giving up and going back to her bedroom. You aren't so lucky, surely at this point you were very unlucky and you dreaded whatever else she had to say. “I just want you to know that he just wants the best for you.” your heart drops as she carries on, unaware and unconcerned of the other pair of ears listening in to her words. “We don’t know him that well. We can't risk you getting involved in something you're not ready for and throwing your future away.”

At this, Tomura rolls his eyes, interest clearly lost and goes back to his earlier movements. The sloppy kiss to your clit catches you off guard and forces a whine out of you. It was small, but still a noise. Squeezing your eyes shut you prayed this would be written off as an odd sleep noise. Wishing to the sky that it wasn't noticeable and Tomura would stop. He didn’t. It was in that moment he decided pressing a finger against your entrance would bring out more noises. The digit slipping in with minimal effort and adding more pleasure to this mix as he sucked your clit. 

If your mother heard anything, she didn't make it known. The floorboards outside of your door creaking with the shifting of her weight. “Well, maybe we can get ice cream or something tomorrow. Have a little girl’s day?” The silence is palpable as she waits for an answer that won't come. “Okay well, goodnight sweetie. See you in the morning.”

You don’t know what you're more grateful for; the sound of her receding steps or that fact that Tomura wasn't cruel and waited until the telltale sound of a door opening and closing rang through the air before adding another finger and curling them. This time you couldn’t bite back the moan that escaped you, hands gripping the cotton of your duvet. 

“Aw, how sweet,” Tomura started, sitting up while adding a thumb to your sensitive nub and rubbing slow circles to replace his mouth. “She wants to have a little girls’ day with you.” 

His mocking tone would have gotten a reaction out of you any other time, but right now you were so close. On the precipice of an orgasm that’s been drawn out for far too long. You could only look at him with half lidded eyes as his fingers worked like magic sending you closer and closer, your breath hitching as you finally, finally reached the climax. Body shaking pleasure cascades over you like a tidal wave. 

“There we go,” Tomura whispers, giving your cunt a playful tap after letting you ride the sensation out. He pulls away completely to take off his sweatpants and underwear, cock already hard and leaking. Your tongue darts out to wet your lips at the sight and you hear his breathless chuckle. “I’ll let you have a taste next time, but right now, I can't wait any longer.” 

It was only when he began to line up with your entrance that you absently wondered about the lack of condoms you owned. You look up at him, question burning on your tongue but he only grins at you, and you swore in that moment he was a mind reader. “I didn’t bring any with me, sorry,” his voice was far from apologetic as he stroked his cock, rubbing the head between your folds and against your clit, slick soaking the head. “But don't worry,” he continued, leaning forward and you felt the pressure at your entrance, excitement buzzing through your veins. “I’ll pull out.”

Whether you believed him or not didn’t matter, you had no time to process a thought as he began stretching you to the limit with his size. A gasp escaped your parted lips as the sickeningly sweet feeling of being stretched too far too fast took over. He gave you a minute to adjust, even as his cock twitched in anticipation of movement. The grip he had on your hips was tight enough to bruise and you knew it was taking a lot of his self control to wait for you. 

He pressed on, figuring it had been long enough and bottomed out with a sigh. Your walls clenched around him and swore you could cum from the stretch alone. After giving you a second to breathe he pulled back, almost pulling out, only to snap his hips back forward into you. Your head lolled onto the pillow, hand coming up once more to mute the moans dragging from your body. Tomura hoists your legs onto each side of his shoulders,bending them forward and successfully folding you like a lawn chair as he started his aggressive pace, forcing your tight heat to clench around his cock. 

“Oh, fuck…” you couldn’t help but mutter as you struggled to hold off your already approaching orgasm. 

Tomura saw this as a challenge. “What? You gonna cum on my cock?” he mocked, pace wild and rough, leaving you gasping as you shut your eyes, not ready to admit how right he was. “It's okay,” he continued, leaning closer and allowing his dick to press deeper inside you. The drag hitting the bundle of nerves inside and nearly sending you over the edge. “Come on, cum on my cock like the good girl you are.” 

Those words push you over, hips convulsing as your legs shake and it takes Tomura slapping a hand over your mouth this time to quiet you. You couldn’t focus on anything else, let alone keeping quiet. Your body felt light and Tomura fucked you through it. His pace grew more erratic as his grinning face became one of focus, brows furrowing as his eyes shut and he focused on his pleasure. Your pussy squeezing around him making it harder for him to stave off his own nearing climax. You were worried that at this point you were both too far gone. The silence of the home would leave the messy noises between you both loud and clear for the entire house to hear. Tomura was great at keeping his composure but the soft groans coming from your lover only showed how much he was losing his grip. 

“Can’t– fuck, sorry–” you didn’t have time to decipher his strange words, your curious eyes meeting his face to gauge his expression before you feel it. 

His cock twitches inside you, seed painting your insides white as his thrusts didn't slow. He was hammering away at your insides, only pumping his cum further into you.  You feel so full, the warmth spreading over your body like a blanket. He came in you. Even though he said he wouldn’t, he did. The worst part about it? You don’t care. It's invigorating. You feel even more attached to him. Even closer. You want more.

Overstimulated and weak, you whimpered, thoughts swimming as Tomura finally came down from high. Slowing his thrusts and panting heavily. Your heart is drumming against your chest as he removes your sore legs from his shoulders. Shuddering as he slips out of your tight heat, feeling the cum dripping out of you and onto your sheets. 

The bed dipped as he took his place next to you. Out of breath and eyes focused on the ceiling. Your ears were ringing with the sudden quietness of it all. Things felt different, heavy. 

“You could always just not tell them.” It was Tomura who broke the silence first. “Act sad, mope around, and then come see me at night.” 

You glanced over, vaguely registering the sweat cooling on your body. You would need to get up and get cleaned up soon. “Yeah, but if they catch me–”

“They won't. I’ll teach you how.” he turns towards you, bringing a hand to your chin to make you face him. There’s a fuzzy feeling turning in your chest and the familiarity of heat rising to your cheeks is starting to drive you mad. His grin is enamoring, red eyes almost glowing with mischief in the moonlight. “I’ll show you the ropes.” 

There's an ache that tugs at your chest as you nod. “Okay.”

You are so fucked.

[amsgrey]

Jumped

Request: I would love to see something Like IT’s Career day at school and Jay and Will come to teach about their jobs along with others. And Halstead's sister gets bullied. During the break of moving in between careers someone comes and beats her up in like the bathroom and leaves her there and no one notices her being gone untill the end of the day. (I kinda want like Fire, Med, and Pd to find her)

sorry if it doesn’t make much sense you can choose how to end it and stuff

I also LOVE your fics I can’t wait to see more❤️

Authors Note; Y’all really love the angst huh, gotta deliver,, and hopefully you enjoy this little drabble. Also, part of me really wanted to title this, 'big sister hugs' because I think that Hailey would be the best big sister and also give the best big sister advice.

warnings: private girls school (yes that's a warning), bullying, getting jumped (i guess?), hospital and injuries,, Jay and Will not knowing girl bullying and being stubborn, a very poorly written plot

High school was not always easy, but you were comfortable at your school with your friends. That was until there was a security issue and Jay’s information got leaked. Your apartment, school, Jay’s license plate, everything that could be used to track him ended up in the hands of the ‘bad guys’. Jay and Will had broken the news to you that they were pulling you from your current school, and moving to another school closer to Will’s. A private girls school, the ones with the fancy uniforms and stuck-up kids who thought the law didn’t apply to them because they had money. You hated it. You had begged Jay and Will to let you stay, but there was no changing their mind. 

The first week was hell, you knew no one. Starting in the middle of the year meant that everyone knew you were the new girl. You were enrolled under your mother's maiden name, for extra safety. It was weird not hearing your name followed by ‘Halstead’. After the first week was gone, you decided to stick it out until the problem with Jay blew over, by then, you could probably convince them to let you go back to your other school. Three weeks passed by and intelligence solved Jay’s leak. 

“So,” You began on Sunday family dinner, “Now that the whole leak in PD is over…” 

Jay and Will shared a look from across the table. 

You narrowed your eyes, “What?” 

Will ran a hand down his face, “Listen…” 

“You won't let me go back.” 

“It’s a better school-”

“Better?” You spat, “How is it better? I hate it there!”

“It’ll get better,” Jay said, “You just need more time to adjust.” 

“I don’t want to adjust-” 

“We’re not pulling you out,” Jay said, “I know you're struggling right now, but you’ll make some friends and-” 

“I can’t believe you.” You pulled away from the table, leaving your half-eaten dinner where it was and stomping off to your room. Jay stood to follow, ready to scold you for storming away and having such an attitude. 

“Jay,” Hailey grabbed his arm, “Let her cool down.” 

Jay and Will didn’t budge on your school. You had gone from begging to bargaining with no success. Now you were giving them both the silent treatment. You knew it was immature and frankly ridiculous, but you were too mad to think clearly. Jay had already scolded you for not talking to him for the last week. You had ignored him. 

Hailey was the only one you spoke too, because it wasn’t her fault that Jay was being stubborn. Even so, you didn’t tell her everything when she stopped by your room. Namely, the career day that was coming up. You knew telling her meant she would tell Jay. And Jay and Will had a terrible habit of embarrassing you at school. At your last school's career day, Will and Jay had come and talked for hours about their funniest stories. You knew if they came this time, your peers wouldn’t be as amused. 

When career day did roll around, your dean stood in front of the school in the auditorium, introducing students and their parents. Your school was much smaller than your last one - something about smaller class sizes being better for learning - so the auditorium wasn’t fully packed. 

Not everyone brought their parents, but the popular kids with parents who had good jobs came. Like the group of girls who hated you, who all brought at least one parent. Your dean invited students to the stage by class and then had the student introduce their parents. Your class was last, the biggest number of parents who had come. You were sat at the end of your class, mostly because you didn't have anyone to bring. Not that it bothered you.

“Next up, we have Olivia and her mom, Jen.” 

Jen was a dentist, she spent 10 minutes explaining how her job worked and then opened for questions. There weren’t many, mostly a few questions from seniors about collages and other stuff. 

Then it was Sophie, with her dad the Banker. 

By the time the girls who hated you were called up, you were ready to fall asleep. No one here had an interesting job, most of the jobs were boring well playing jobs that you could never see yourself doing. 

The main girl who didn’t like you was Madison. She wasn’t fond of how the teachers asked you for answers in class, not that you could do anything about that. Her friend group was made up of 5 or 6 girls who were seemingly lovely. All smiles and compliments around teachers but spread vicious rumors and lies when adults couldn’t hear. You had heard them speaking about you a few times, not that you cared. It wasn’t great to be the new girl with all the rumors, but you had banked on leaving the school before for long. Which, you knew now, wasn’t an option. So now you were stuck with the girls who all hated you for rumors or lies that you didn’t even know. 

Madison brought her mum and dad with her, real estate agents who worked together selling multi-billion dollar houses. The whole time she had a smug look on her face. When she sat back down in her row, she turned in her seat, looking back at you. 

“Didn’t bring anyone?” She asked. 

You didn’t bother replying. 

“Is it because your parents are coke addicts?” Her friend beside her pressed. 

How that rumor even started you didn’t know, it was so absurd.

“Or is it because they’re dead?” Madison pressed.

You gave her a bored look, “I’ll take my family over your fraud family any day.” 

Madison opened her mouth to bark something back, but was shushed by your teacher. She turned back to face the front, arms crossed over her chest. No doubt stewing in your words. 

“We now have some guests to speak to you,” The Dean said through the microphone, “We reached out to some of our first responders and invited them to come speak to you too. Everyone please welcome Dr Asher and Dr Halstead from Gaffney Chicago Med.”

Will and Hannah walked to the stage, both in their Med scrubs with doctors coats on. Will was looking for you, you could tell from the way his eyes scanned the faces in the audience. You slumped in your chair, avoiding looking at him at all. 

How did he find out? Did he and Jay find out somehow? Did your school contact them? 

You really wanted to disappear now, your face was no doubt bright red by how much it was burning. You prayed silently that Will hadn’t told Jay, but you knew it was a useless prayer. If Will was here Jay would be too. 

You got your answer when the dean explained that there were more guests outside on the fields. She ordered everyone to head that way, ushering students with promises of something ‘exciting’. 

Outside, firehouse 51 had parked their rigs on the grass. 51 had their ladder extended, Mouch standing at the controls grinning like a champion. Not far from Mouch was Trudy, flanked by two patrol cars and their officers. Looking across the gathered first responders it didn’t take long to spot Jay and Intelligence. Their own cars were parked on the grass, the lights on. Everyone but Voight had their vests on, adding to the dramatic atmosphere already created. 

Students huddled around, entranced by the cars and rigs which you had seen plenty of times. You tried to hide towards the back, but Kelly had spotted you and tried to usher you closer. You shrugged back at him, trying to make it look like you were stuck within the crowd. 

“Firstly, we would like to thank Sergeant Trudy Platt and Sergeant Hank Voight, as well as Chief Wallace Boden for coming today. We are hugely appreciative to hear from you,” The dean spoke into a microphone, “Secondly, I want to ask students to be respectful, as these hard working men and women have taken time out of their busy days to come and speak to us. So we are going to listen and show respect. There will be time for questions and demonstrations at the end. Please Welcome Sergeant Trudy Platt.” 

The crowd clapped as Trudy took the mic, but it wasn’t too enthusiastic. Trudy gave a similar speech to last year. Along the lines of what made district 21 special, intelligence and the hardworking patrol officers. She talked about fake calls and how breaking the law would wind you up in her cells etc. It was funny, a few quips earning laughs from teachers and parents. But you had heard it all before. You were dreading what the others would say. You didn’t want everyone knowing your brother was a cop, that would cause way too many issues. 

So instead, you slipped away from the crowd, heading back towards the school building to hide in the bathroom. 

You didn’t think anyone would notice, most people were paying attention to the speakers or interested in the rigs. You were wrong, of course, being followed almost immediately by Madison and a couple of her friends. 

You got to the lockers before they announced themselves. 

“What did you mean my parents were frauds, bitch?” 

You turned around in fright, not even hearing them sneak up on you.

“I didn’t mean it,” You replied, “I’m sorry.” 

You were, kind of. Mostly you were sorry that you had said it, because she genuinely seemed shocked. But this was Chicago, anyone with any money committed fraud, it was kind of the standard. 

“I don’t care if you're sorry,” Madison snarled, she was taller than you so when she stepped closer you couldn’t help feeling intimidated. “What did you mean?” 

“Madison-” 

One of her friends pushed you hard against the lockers with a forearm over your collar, “Answer the question.” 

You were by no means a confrontational person. Growing up, Jay always tried to teach you to talk out your issues, violence or fighting wasn’t a good solution. Will was the same, although both of them weren’t always the best at doing as they counseled. 

“I just meant that,” You were panicking under the glare of all three girls, “You know, this is chicago and-”

“And what? Everyone is a criminal like your addict parents?” Madison got in your face again. 

“My parents weren’t addicts,” You scoffed, now annoyed that she wouldn’t let that go. 

“No?” The girl who was holding you back moved her arm further up your neck, pressing against your throat, “Then where are they?” 

“If my parents were addicts, would you really think I'd be in a private school?” You pressed, “Use your brain for once, please.” 

You should have known that would piss Madison off. She let out an annoyed scoff then pulled back her fist and punched your square in the nose. The force slammed your head back into the lockers, the sound echoing through the empty halls. The punch wasn’t hard enough to break your nose, but you would feel the blood start to drip down your lip. Madison shook her hand like she had taken more damage than you had. 

“Want to say that again?” The third girl finally spoke up. 

It was like they were all gaining confidence in the security of the three of them. When one of them said something the others would laugh and smirk. 

“I don’t like bullies, you know,” Madison said. 

God, the irony. 

This time the punch came from the third girl, landing in your stomach. You didn't know her name, but she was on the volleyball team, so her punch was much stronger. Your body doubled over, arms crossing over your stomach as your lungs tried to fight your diaphragm for air. The arm holding you up was dropped, and your body fell to the ground as you tried to force yourself to take some deep breaths. 

“This is what you deserve,” A girl said, before another blow landed on your ribs. The wind was knocked out of you again, causing you to cough and choke. 

Madison crouched down to your level, “Bullies like you deserve to be put in their place.” 

You didn’t have time to appreciate the irony this time, because she was kicking your head, hard. 

Your body reacted on instinct, curling into itself to try to protect you from another blow that was sure to come. 

“Hey!” 

The three girls sprinted at the voice, running away from their actions. 

“Hey, kid,” A hand on your shoulder made you flinch, when your vision cleared you realized it was just Kelly. He held his hands out to show you he meant no harm, then gently helped you sit up. 

“You’re alright,” He said softly, steading you sitting against the lockers. You couldn’t even reply, focused solely on breathing through the pain in your head and side. 

“I found her,” Kelly said into his radio, “North Hallway, bring a jump bag.” 

Kelly gently touched the side of your face, tilting your head to look at the side you had been kicked. 

“You still got that med kit in your bag?” He asked, knowing Kidd had taught you that in girls on fire. 

“Yeah,” You said softly, your voice above a whisper. 

Kelly ripped open your bag, rummaging through it until he found the small first aid kit. He was only after gauze, once he secured it, he ripped the package open and pressed the gauze to your head. 

You winced, instinctively pulling away from him. 

“I know,” He said, sitting down next to you so he could hold the gauze in place, “Sorry kid. 

You both looked up as the sound of footsteps came running towards you. You might as well have been on fire, the entire house was rushing towards you. Jay and Intelligence were there too, Will and Asher running along beside everyone. 

“This is overkill,” You said to no one in particular. 

Kelly chuckled, shuffling so that Will could take his place next to you, “We’re all here for you, kid.” 

Will replaced Kelly’s hand with his own, when Kelly pulled away you could see blood on his hand. 

Jay croached on your other side, letting Will, Hannah and Brett take care of you. 

“What happened?” He asked, looking over your bloody nose, head injury and the way you were holding your side. 

You didn’t want to be known as a snitch, one glance behind your brother and you could see students being held back by teachers and 51. The school day was almost over, everyone would be gathering their things to leave. You hoped you weren’t in front of someone's locker who hated you, this would definitely make them hate you more. 

You looked back at Jay, his eyes filled with worry, “What happened, squirt?” 

“I, uh.. I fell.”

Will scoffed, “You fell?” 

“Yeah, I’m clumsy,” You said.

“You fell and hit your nose and the side of your head?” Hannah asked, voice soft, “Are you sure that's the story you want to tell?” 

Over her shoulder, Kelly was talking to Voight and Hailey. Hailey was pointing something out, a camera that was positioned above one of the classroom doors. 

“Yeah,” You didn’t sound confident at all. But right now, you wanted to be anywhere but here.

Jay looked pissed, but he didn’t say anything. He got to his feet and stood out of the way as Hannah and Will helped you stand. They lead you over to the stair chair, despite your very vocal argument that you were fine. 

Being wheeled through the crowd of students and their parents was the most embarrassing thing you had ever experienced. You passed by Madison at one point, who was leaning against her locker talking to her parents like nothing ever happened. You avoided looking her way, instead focusing on what Brett was saying about getting to the rig. 

Outside the building things were less stressful and crowded. You managed to convince the four hovering adults that you could stand on your own to get into the back of the ambulance, even if you didn’t really think you needed one. 

“I’m really fine,” You argued for probably the fifth time, “I think you're overreacting.” 

Will sighed, running a hand down his face, “You are too stubborn for your own good,” He muttered. 

Violet chuckled, “Just lay back, alright? You aren’t getting out of this, no matter how much you complain.” 

She was right, but that didn’t stop you from pouting the whole way to Med. 

At Med, Will hovered as Hannah stapled the laceration on your head. You weren’t too happy about the idea of being stabled back together, but Will had taken a photo of the laceration to prove you needed it. 

“That’s so gross,” You said, pushing the phone away from you. 

“That’s why you need staples,” Will explained, rolling his eyes.

Not long after Hannah had treated you and left you to rest, Jay, Hailey and Voight walked in. 

“Are you doing alright?” Jay asked, hesitant to start another argument. 

“I’m fine,” You repeated, “I don’t know why everyones making such a big deal.” 

“You were attacked at-” 

“I fell.” You interrupted. 

“Y/N-” 

“Jay.” You echoed in the same tone.

Jay's face flashed with irritation, he looked to Will for help. 

“We know that’s not true,” Will said, giving you his best parental disappointed look. 

“The whole thing was caught by the security cameras,” Hailey spoke softly, she was the only person in the room who knew what it was like to be a teenage girl in high school, “We just want to know what they said.” 

You tried to come up with some kind of explanation that wouldn’t get anyone in trouble, but you came up short. 

“It’s not that big of a deal,” You shrugged, avoiding eye contact with all of them. 

Will leaned forward, he looked wary, “Listen, squirt, we want to help, but we can’t unless you tell us the truth.” 

“That is the truth,” You argued back, crossing your arms definitely, “It’s not a big deal.” 

“You’re in the hospital!” Jay gestured around, “What about this is ‘not a big deal’.” 

You scowled, refusing to say anything else and just sitting silently. 

Voight squeezed Jay's shoulder, “We’ll let her rest, come back later?” 

Jay nodded, not bidding you goodbye as he stomped out of the room. You hadn’t seen him this mad in forever, you weren’t sure if this would blow over as easily as your other fights. Voight followed after Jay, he told you to get some rest then followed his detective to try to calm him down. 

Will got up to leave too, he told you to rest and said he would come back soon. When the three left, it was only Hailey who stayed behind. 

“I know you’ve been struggling at school,” She took a seat on the bed next to you, “I know what that’s like.” 

You fiddled with your fingers, not wanting to admit she was right. 

“You know what happened today wasn’t right,” Hailey continued, “Jay wants to press charges.” 

“What? No! That’ll just make it wor…” You stopped yourself.

“Make what worse?” Hailey pressed. 

You took a deep breath, trying not to get upset. 

“Whatever is going on, I can help,” Hailey promised. 

“You can’t get me out of that school,” You scowled. 

“I think after today, that might be possible.” 

You leaned back into the pillows. Dr Asher had given you some pain meds for your head, they removed the sharp pain and replaced it with a dull throb. You could feel it more as you got more upset. 

“There’s this stupid rumor that my parents are addicts,” you explained, “Madison is always taunting me with it, saying that's why no one ever comes to parent evenings or teacher interviews…” 

Hailey didn’t say anything, she just sat listening patiently. 

“Before you guys came, she asked why my parents weren’t here and I said that I would rather have my family over her fraud one.” 

Hailey nodded as she listened. 

“It was stupid and as soon as I said it, I regretted it. When we were outside I went inside to go to the bathroom and Madison and her friends followed me… They, uh… Madison wanted to know why I said it and I apologized but she didn’t- she, she didn’t care and…” 

Hailey got the cue, “Okay. It’s alright.” She pulled you into a gentle hug. “Everything’s going to be alright.”

[jessicaslittlelovesickmess]

To love is to be changed

Pairing: Melissa Schemmenti x Reader, Melissa Schemmenti x Gary

Warning: Slay Nonna, Crappy Gary, Sad lesbians, stop the wedding

Pt1 Pt2 Pt3 Pt4 Pt6

“Truthfully, I’m not sure there is anything you can do Mel” I sighed “please. There has to be something” she stepped closer. “Anna, she loves the colour green specifically forest green and baking, cupcakes are her favourite” I breathed in.

“You can visit whenever you like so you need to know things about her and if you prove good with her I- you could even have nights”. Melissa smiled to herself “thank you Y/n/n” I nodded in acknowledgment “I realise I shouldn’t be here Melissa, I shouldn’t have come”.

“Would you have told me about Anna if you hadn’t come today?”

“No”

“Why not?”

“Why not?” I laugh “how would I? I didn’t know if you had changed your number or if you had this new life with children that you love. What if I told you about Anna and you wanted nothing to do with her?”

My eyes couldn’t meet Melissa’s as I paced back and forth beginning to rant “and I mean pushing Anna into this new life now is hard, she’s so used to having just her mama and her duncle Liam”

“Duncle?”

I paused “it means her dad uncle but that’s besides the point I wouldn’t know what to do if the worst case scenario was to happen plus I had tried to tell you before. Now you’re getting married” I sighed wrapping my arms around myself.

“What if I don’t want to get married?” She asked causing me to stop “what if I’m doing this because I’m not getting any younger?” She laughed shaking her head. “I mean look at me Y/n, I’m still hot but I’m old y’know I never had a life that all these little girl’s dream of”.

“I got married too young to the wrong person and when I found the right one I screwed it up just like everything else I touch. And now I find that I have a daughter”

“Don’t”

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t get married if you don’t want to”

-

I shake my head zoning back in as Melissa waves her hand in front of my face.

Don’t get married

“Anna, she deserves both parents even if Liam has been an awesome dad there’s still things we can’t explain to her” I smile sadly. “For me there isn’t much, I came to terms with your absence years ago it doesn’t mean I don’t miss you I’m just used to the silence now”.

“Why did you come here?” Melissa asked “why did you call?” I returned “I asked first” she held her head up “hope? That maybe you would see me and change your mind but it was stupid of me I realise it now” she looked unfairly beautiful. I hoped Gary was a good guy who treated her well and I hoped she could live the life she’d always dreamed even if that life wasn’t lived with me.

Don’t get married sat on the tip of my tongue

Don’t get married

Don’t get married

“It’s not stupid hon, you’re just in love and so am I”

Just not with me

So I nod and smile “yeah yeah, I get it” she reaches for my hand again and finally I let her hold it “I really don’t deserve you” I know you don’t. “Let’s just hope this one lasts” I joke wanting to leave as soon as possible “yeah” Melissa breathed out.

You sat beside Nonna who held your hand as Melissa walked down the aisle “I always told her she was stupid for leaving” she whispered in your ear. “I can’t stand this one, I don’t think he can even wash his balls without Melissa holding his hand”.

You tried not to laugh, oh karma it seemed sadly “it’s her life Nonna” you responded with a small shrug “we’ve made our beds, I raise our daughter and she gets married”.

“You’re a good girl Y/n/n if only Melissa wasn’t so damn stubborn”

Soon enough Melissa stood at the front her hands clasped with Garys and boy did you find him severely underwhelming. At least Joe had been attractive, you watched as they said their vows the more you watched the more annoyed you felt.

Gary hardly had vows it seemed like a shopping list while Melissa gave her everything and when it came to I do he only seemed cocky. Smug bastard you thought to yourself while Nonna tsked in disapproval, Melissa paused as she looked back to the crowd.

Her eyes met yours “I-” her face seemed desperate, you nodded “I.. I” she began to panic slightly “go on” Gary rushed. This was getting messy the hold on your hand tightened as Nonna watched the man “I can’t Gary I’m sorry” she sighed in defeat.

“I have made many mistakes in my life and I don’t want this to be another one, I love you I do but we won’t work” her voice soft. “I’m sorry for wasting everyone’s time” Melissa turned to the crowd “I- this isn’t how I planned my life and definitely not who I had planned my life with”.

Slowly she walked sadly back up the aisle leaving Gary at the altar.

[jayden-killer]

Hi!

I love your stories, could you make one where the reader is dating Miguel and is also a part of the spider community. The reader helps Miles to escape and Miguel finds out and argue with her.

I hope that you will keep writing stories.

Have a great day !

omg omg hii! I'm so glad you enjoy my stories, receiving these types of compliments always make my day :DD. And, i deeply apologise for taking this long to write your request; I've been so busy with my uni exams.. Anyways, here's your story!!

I HATE TO FIGHT YOU. (Miguel O'Hara × gn!reader)

warnings: Angst to light sfw (at the end)???, Miguel expressing his anger by literally destroying his lab lmao, VERY LONG ONE SHOT.

☆

Superpowers aren’t easy.

So it wasn’t a relationship with the leader of the Spider Society. Miguel was not an easy guy to argue with, you might call him stubborn, which was one of his main features. And even when Miles Morales, the newcomer to society, tried to change his mind, begging him to give him a chance to save his father, he hadn’t changed his mind. There was nothing Miles could do to change his mind. It was difficult with me, imagine with the others! But this is another story; Miles Morales was chased by an angry mob of Spider people, led by Miguel, flanked by me. The walls of the structure resounded with encouraging screams that every spider person gave himself, giving more charge during that chase. Miles was right in front of us, dodging webs and traps stretched by other members. There was something about that kid that maybe wasn’t something wrong.

He needed to be sent home and help him save his parents. I had not succeeded, and I would have avoided that another person (moreover a little boy!) would have gone through the same pain that I had to go through. Miguel and I split up, and that was my chance. With a perfect throw of my web, he managed to grab Miles' right arm and pull it towards me. The boy stretched his eyes, thinking it was the end for him. Only when I made a sign to him to become invisible and to hide behind a shaded wall, he understood. He hid me in turn, letting the angry crowd pass us.

Now it was the right time. "Miles". I called the kid with the labored breath and he returned to his normal form. He was exhaling and inspiring too, following the hunt we were giving him. Without wasting time, looking around if there was a person there, I took out my time clock, and put it on his wrist. " This clock will take you to your dimension. It’s already set for where you need to go. Don’t ask any more questions, go." Without giving him an answer, I left him there, in the shadows, his face confused and sweaty, while I waved him to go.

~☆~

"You did what?!"

"He’s a boy, Miguel!"

"You have no idea how serious the situation is because of you".

"Miguel, you have to reason. You can’t really thi-".

"The situation is far worse than you think, puta madre!"

Miguel’s scream rang out the second it left his mouth. I could compare him to an animal: panting, with his eyes reddened and grainy, studying every movement, his shoulders outstretched, ready to attack his prey, me, or maybe someone else. His fierce and intimidating tone made me shudder, close my eyes for fear that something might happen, or worse; I held my arms in place along my hips, biting my lip to channel the emotions I had inside. I didn’t want to show weakness before Miguel. Or better: he had already seen me as I was. Fragile, with doubts that twisted my mind, like a normal human being, yet in those situations I always tried not to show off... I wanted to have everything under control. The man didn’t realize that he was wrong, that he was blinded by this compulsive obsession with control. We were talking about a little boy, Jesus Christ!

I opened my eyes.

My thoughts were replaced by the still threatening tone of Miguel, my lover, who took a long sigh, pinching the tip of his nose. Then he shook his head, turning his back. The lab was upside down: the news of my help to Miles was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

"The consequences are serious. I can’t risk losing more people to a kid".

That was more a warning to him than to myself. "I need to think about it... I need to be alone".

"Miguel.." I tried to talk to him.

With one hand he stopped me from talking to him and shook his head slightly, not looking at me. " No." He said. "I know what you did. It was right. But now I need to be on my own" he repeated feebly, that I found it difficult to understand well what he wanted. Then I agreed, because I respected his condition and his well-being, so I left him alone in the now ruined laboratory, with the last words: "I only did what was right. He deserves a chance", then the doors closed. I swear I heard something from him.

"And I don’t blame you. But it’s not right that he can save his family, and I couldn’t do it".

[norinenglish]

Stardew Rancher AU - Intro cutscene

Here's my first piece for the Stardew AU challenge.

If you want to take part too, use the #traffic stardew au tag (You can also use the banner I made). On my blog, I will be using #stardew ranchers au as well.

The writing is under the cut.

>> Next Part

I hate this life.

Jimmy doesn’t remember a day in the last year he has not thought this. He’s staring at a computer screen, as he has been for the last seven hours, when it hits him. He hates this life. In fact, it could barely be qualified as a life. 

He misses nature. Running around in the grass, playing, talking to people… He turns his head around to look at the window, but there isn’t even any on the office walls. He looks around him and only sees rows and rows of cubicles with other lifeless people slaving all day. The clicking of keyboards and mouths, the buzzing of the neon lights, it’s all too much.

I can’t stand it anymore, he thinks to himself. I need a way out.

Suddenly, he remembers a conversation he had with his grandpa, when he was young, about the burden of modern life. He hadn’t really realised what it had meant before today. Jimmy, like his parents, had dismissed it as the stubbornness of an old man who was made to live in the countryside. But it must have stayed on the back of his mind, because he kept the letter. 

In fact… 

He opens the drawer of his desk and there it is. A fancy old letter with a fancy purple seal. 

(He’s definitely not going to think about the fact that he kept it in his drawer at work and the possible implication of that. Nope.)

With shaky hands, he breaks the seal and opens it. The swoosh of the paper unfolding is the loudest sound he’s ever heard in his life. 

The letter says: 

Dear Jimmy, 

If you’re reading this, you must be in dire need of a change.

The same thing happened to me, long ago. I’d lost sight of what mattered most in life… real connections with other people and nature. So I dropped everything and moved to the place I truly belong. 

I’ve enclosed the deed to that place… my pride and joy: The Ranch. It’s located in Stardew Valley, on the southern coast. It’s the perfect place to start your new life. 

This was my most precious gift of all, and now it’s yours. I know you’ll honour the family name, my boy. Good luck. 

Love, Grandpa. 

PS: If the Sherrif is still alive say hi to the old guy for me, will ya? 

He puts the letter down and looks up at the ceiling for a second. 

In all the emptiness he feels, it’s like he’s just grown wing. 

🌿 loading🌿

The bus startles to a stop and Jimmy wakes up. 

“Pelican Town!” The driver screams. 

Jimmy looks around. There’s no else on anymore. He quickly grabs his travel bag and gets out. He says his thanks to the bus driver who just hums unhappily. Guess he really didn’t want to go that far out for just one person. 

On the side of the road is just a small clearing, with broken fences and dirt path. Someone is waiting for him, though. A man with cyan blue hair and an easygoing smile. 

“Hello, you must be Jimmy,” he sayswith a cheerful voice. “I’m Scott, the local florist. Mayor Grian sent me here to fetch you and show you the way to your new home. He’s there right now, tidying things up for your arrival.”

It takes a second for Jimmy to find his words. The reality of what he’s done hitting him finally. He quit his job. He moved out of his appartment. He sold his things and bought a ticket for this small town in the middle of nowhere to become a farmer. 

“Nice to meet you, Scott,” he says after swallowing. “I…”

Gosh, he cannot screw this up. This isn’t like in the city. The people he meets are going to be the community he’s going to live with. He wants to make a good impression. 

Scott smiles, tilting his head to the side. He looks Jimmy up and down with mischief in his eyes in a way that makes Jimmy blush a little. He must be tired. 

“The farm’s right over here, if you’ll follow me.”

Jimmy nods and follows him on the dirt path until they reach an area with a… house. Supposedly. 

“This is the Ranch,” Scott announces, waving his arm around to show the land that stretches before them.. 

The Ranch is an old building made out of wood. It looks like it’s been built in the last century. The farmland around, which was included in Scott’s gesture, is littered with some kind of forest. There are different types of trees, dead wood on the ground, bushes, and even some rocks! Is this really the farm his grandfather loved ? 

“What’s the matter?” Scott asks in a light voice. He’s got his arms crossed in front of him and an air of challenge about him. “Sure, it’s a bit overgrown, but there’s some good soil underneath that mess! With a little dedication, you’ll have it cleaned up in no time.”

He turns back towards the house itself. Jimmy notes that there’s plenty of firewood on the side of the house. Someone must have stacked it for him. That thought settles in his chest, fluttering like a bird. He won’t sleep in the cold tonight, and that’s thanks to strangers. 

“... And here we are, your new home,” Scott says. 

Just like his words summoned him, a man opens the door and gets down the few steps of his porch to stop in front of them. He pulls the sleeves of his red sweater back to his writs and offers his hand to Jimmy. 

“Ah, the new farmer! Welcome, I’m Grian, the Mayor of Pelican Town.”

Jimmy shakes his hand and introduces himself. Grian nods, seemingly satisfied. 

“You know, everyone’s been asking about you. It’s not every day that someone new moves in. It’s quite a big deal.” He turns to look back at the house. “So… you’re moving into your grandfather’s old cottage. It’s a good house… very ‘rustic’.”

“Rustic?” Scott chimes in. “That’s one way to put it… ‘Crusty’ might be a little more apt, though.”

“Rude,” Grian says under his breath, his eyebrows frowning. “Don’t listen to him, Jimmy. He’s just trying to make you dissatisfied so that you buy one of Gem’s house upgrades.”

“Gem?” Jimmy asks.

“She’s the local carpenter. She lives north of the valley, near the mountain.”

Gem, the local carpenter. Jimmy tries to mentally catalogue. She makes house upgrades.  He turns his eyes towards Scott. He doesn’t remember if he said what he was doing. 

“Anyway… You must be tired from the long journey,” Grian says, looking back at the house. “You should get some rest. Tomorrow you ought to explore the town a bit and introduce yourself. The townspeople would appreciate that.”

He turns to leave and sees the box placed next to the mailbox. 

 “Oh, I almost forgot. If you have anything to sell, just place it in the box here. I’ll come by during the night to collect it. Well… Good luck!”

They are gone before Jimmy can really say anything else. But it might be for the better, because he’s exhausted. 

“I’m here,” he says to no one. Maybe to himself. Or maybe to his grandfather. 

Going into the house is a blurr. He barely have time to register the small table with one chair, the fireplace that was lit up for him and the bed. He just melts into the mattress and passes out.

[ya-zz]

Regret and Forgiveness

Ramattra x child!Reader

Word count: 5042

Words decided to word right for me for a change... and the fact that over 5k of them worded right for me is surprising. Perhaps when I have made another full fic like this I will make a seperate master post for them because this is part of the child series with Ramattra I want to complete at some point in the future.. Whenever I can find the time to write and relax from work... We shall see... Also yes, you have a pet slicer because who doesn't want a pet slicer ♥

He has you cornered, oh how silly you were to be running from the leader of Null Sector. Your small body trembles as you step back, only pushing yourself further into that corner. There is nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. He is right there.

Ramattra glares down at you, optics picking up your heightened heart rate and a small, extremely small, part of him feels guilty for the fear he is putting in you. You are just a kid, afterall. “Trust me, you do not need to do much to piss me off. Just a couple of stubborn retorts, a dash of disobedience and a generous serving of reckless behaviour and voila! You have got the perfect recipe to send my systems into a fit of rage.” 

“You say that like I do it on purpose! You’re just easily angered!” You yell as you step back, watching as the omnic closes the distance you have made. “You don’t trust me at all!”

You glance down to your slicer unit, its body rumbling as if it was growling towards Ramattra. At least you have my back, you think to yourself amidst the situation. 

“Do you really think me being angry is just some flaw of mine and not a direct response to your stubbornness and recklessness?” His wires burn, his chassis heats up as anger, no, rage burns hot inside of him. “And you want to talk about trust? You say I do not trust you, but when you go running off like this, without telling anyone… how do you expect me to trust you? You are acting reckless and immature, not like a child, but like a spoiled brat!”

There was a slight hesitation in your voice as you speak, your mind reeling with memories of your parents and their shouting. “I am not spoiled and you know that!”

Ramattra notices the way you hesitate, the quick flash of pain in your eyes before your anger towards him returns. He lowers his voice slightly, not wanting to shout any longer. “I know you are not spoiled, little one. That is not what I meant.” 

“You said it so you clearly meant it.” There was a sharp edge to your voice and Ramattra doesn’t miss it. 

“I said you are acting like a spoiled brat, not that you are one. There is a difference.” He snaps back, his patience wearing thin. 

“I am acting like a kid who wants to have fun and not be watched everywhere I go! I let you put this tracking device on me as a safety precaution and I can’t even walk down the hallway without you panicking!?” You raise your arm, the tracking device dangling from your wrist. 

“It is justifiable concern. You are a child wandering Null Sector, of course I am going to be worried about you if you leave my sight! You go running off after a tantrum and you expect me to not worry about you?” 

The wall connects to your back, finally stopping you from going anywhere else. “What else am I supposed to do!? You don’t listen to me and you never let me explain my side before you’re off with some stupid counter argument that makes no sense!” 

Ramattra stops just before you. 

The slicer unit stands between you and him; a futile attempt in protecting you.

There is nowhere to run now.

“Stupid counter argument? Really? You think my reasons and concerns are stupid? My attempts to keep you safe, to prevent you from getting into trouble, they are just “stupid counter arguments” to you?” There was no doubt about it, he was pissed. “And as for listening to you, I listen to you plenty and give you opportunities to explain yourself. But when you throw a tantrum and lash out, how am I supposed to listen? How am I supposed to understand your side when you refuse to communicate like a mature child?”

Biting the inside of your cheek to ground yourself, you notice the way his fists are clenched, the metal joints grinding from the sheer pressure. Glaring up at him, you’re about to speak before you realise too late that his hand has risen. 

The slap connects, the sound ringing in the hallway and in your ear. It burns, your eyes stinging just as much as your cheek from the oncoming tears. Shock and pain course through your body, your head tilted to the side from the impact. No words, not even a sound comes from your mouth as you stand there trying to process what had just happened. 

Ramattra stands there, his body and systems frozen. He let his anger get the better of him and the last time he did that to someone as innocent as you, he nearly killed them. Guilt overpowers his own shock as he takes a step back. “I… I am sorry… I did not…” 

Tears finally fall down your cheek, the saltiness of them making your cheek sting that little bit more. Bringing your hand up, you try to soothe the pain he had just caused. 

“Little one… I– I did not mean to…” He reaches out, wanting to comfort you but your sudden flinch, your body jerking away from him, makes him quickly retract his hand. “I am sorry… I am so sorry… I– I do not know what came over me…” 

The omnic takes another step back, wanting to give you distance. His systems go back through the entire situation. Could I have prevented this? The weight of his actions sink in, regret making his words shake. “I cannot… I cannot believe I have done this… to you…” 

You stay silent, not knowing what to say. It’s taking everything in your body right now to not break out sobbing, the sting in your cheek making it that much more difficult. A lump forms in your throat as you look up at your guardian. 

“Please… Say something… Anything…” It’s breaking his mechanical heart, just the sight of you, the fear and the pain he has caused you. The redness of your cheek, a reminder of the physical pain he has inflicted. 

No words come out as they catch in your throat. Taking what little strength you have left, you walk up to Ramattra and then walk past him, keeping as much distance as possible. Your pet follows behind, its little feet tapping against the cold floor.

You do not want to be near him. 

He notices the tension in both your body and the air. Guilt threatens to consumes him. He wants to reach out to you, to soothe your pain, to hold you close and make it better but he knows that he has no right to do anything of the sort. Not right now. 

“Please…” 

Hearing his plea, you stop and turn to face him. “I… I’ll be in your quarters, but, just… leave me alone.” Your voice was quiet, almost a whisper. You hear the soft tapping of your slicer unit hopping past you and you follow behind it.

Ramattra watches as you turn a corner and disappear from his sight. He doesn’t even bother checking the tracking device, his systems are trying to fight off the heating situation before anything else. Part of him wants to chase after you, to apologise for his actions and his words but he doesn’t move.

“[y/n]...” 

He’s left alone in the hallway, regret and guilt building up inside of him. He has hurt the one person he had sworn to never lay a hand on. Then, the realisation hits him; he has become the very thing he vowed to protect you from - someone who uses violence to solve problems and assert authority. He let his own principles and values slip away in a single, careless moment. 

Meanwhile, you had made your way back to his room, the door sliding open with a hiss and illuminating the dark space inside. On the floor, the broken glass and this mornings breakfast lay there. Part of you doesn’t want to pick it up, but you knew it would only cause more issues. Being as careful as you can, you pick up the broken glass, the shards clinking together in your hand as you drop them into the trash. The toast was hard, stale, hitting the bottom of the can with a loud thunk. 

The slicer unit watches you intently, a series of sad sounding chirps and beeps emanating from it. 

“I know…” You speak softly before climbing onto the bed. Wrapping yourself in a multitude of blankets, you move yourself as close to the wall as possible, leaving just enough space for your pet slicer to come and intrude. It nudges your arms, moving under them like a puppy would when it wants attention. The metal of its body is cold against your skin, a soft vibration coming from the unit as it snuggles up close to you, wanting to soothe the pain in both your cheek and chest as you sob against it. 

Ramattra had been wandering the hallways of the base trying to come up with an apology, a reasoning, something, to make you forgive him, but he knows that he cannot change your minds that quickly. As stubborn as you are, it was a good trait to have when it comes to this. You won’t be so easily swayed and manipulated should someone get their hands on you.

His fists clench at his sides as he keeps walking before he finally finds his way back to his quarters, fingers hovering just over the keypad. He hesitates. Ramattra stands outside of his room, hearing the muffled sobs. He had been standing there for what seemed like an eternity - when in reality, it had been five minutes by the time he came back to his senses. 

The door opens once more, the light from the hallway illuminating your body curled up on the bed. You’re not facing him, nor do you want to voluntarily. Ramattra notices the slicer unit lift its head up, a loud rumble escaping it to indicate it’s growling. I failed to do what you are doing now…

The larger omnic stands there, the door closing behind him. Your body shakes under the blankets and as he takes a step closer towards the bed, the slicer unit growls louder. 

“Don’t. It’s not worth it.” You mumble, hand appearing from under the blankets to pull the unit back down, it’s body protesting before letting you pull it close. 

There was an audible click in Ramattra’s vocaliser as he fights his own emotions. His voice is pained as he speaks quietly. “Little one… please, let me talk to you.” 

“If you are going to yell, I will leave.” You warn, not wanting to take anymore of his hostility. 

Ramattra takes a step closer only to watch as you shuffle further to the wall, clearly not wanting to be near him. “No, I will not yell. I just want to talk. I do not want to hurt you again.” 

You can hear the clear remorse in his voice but you still don’t want to look at him. “Why should I trust you when you don’t trust me?” 

Ramattra pauses. The weight of his own hypocrisy hitting him like a tonne of bricks. “You are right. I do not have the right to ask you to trust me after what I have done. My actions were wrong and I know that…” The omnic hesitates before continuing. “I want you to know that I am sorry. I am truly sorry for what I did. I do not expect you to forgive me, but I do want you to know that I never meant to harm you… I lost control and let my emotions get the better of me…” 

You hum in response after listening to his apology. The warmth of the blankets makes a small bead of sweat drip down your face but you’re too stubborn to come out. Your pet slicer growls quietly as you hold it tightly. Seems like neither of you want to listen to him much longer. 

Ramattra wants to leave but can’t bring himself to do so. Ignoring the slicer unit’s growl, he approaches the bed once more. “Please, little one… just hear me out. I will not force you to talk, but I need to say something that has been eating away at me…” 

The silence was unnerving before Ramattra speaks once again. 

“I know I have no right to ask for your forgiveness… I know that I broke your trust, and that I caused you pain… I do not even deserve to be standing here right now, but I have to say this. Please… let me apologise, genuinely and from the bottom of my soul. And after I am finished, if you want me to leave, I will go and will not disturb you again.” 

After a short pause, you come out of the blankets and sit up, pressing your back against the wall. The slicer unit, albeit heavy, sits on your lap shaking in anger. It takes more than the usual amount of courage to look up at Ramattra. 

“Fine…” Was all you could say.

A small bruise was beginning to form under your eye, resting just on the bone of your cheek and the guilt overwhelms the larger omnic. His voice shakes, a weakness he had never once shown to anyone but his own brother countless years ago. “Little one… I am truly and sincerely sorry. I should never have laid a hand on you. I should never have hurt you. I know that I broke your trust, and that I shattered the sense of safety you had with me. I know that I hurt you both physically and emotionally.” 

You can sense the guilt in his voice once more as you listen to his apology. You grab the closest blanket, bundling it up in your hands, watching as the slicer unit shakes himself free from being hidden under it. You needed some form of comfort and it sure as hell wasn’t going to be from Ramattra. 

Ramattra can see the slightest hint of understanding, possibly forgiveness in your eyes but he doesn’t dare hope for much more. “I know that the words “I am sorry” alone will never be enough to erase the damage I have done. I know that words are not enough to heal the pain I have caused you, both inside and out… I know that I have no right to ask for your forgiveness, and that I have no right to hope for it… but please, please know that I am truly, deeply sorry. I know that I will never forgive myself for my actions, and I promise you that I will do whatever it takes to make it up to you…”

Silence fills the room once more. Uncomfortable, unmoving. 

Looking away anxiously, you have no idea what to respond with. 

“I’m sorry…” You finally muster out. 

“No, no… Do not be sorry. You have nothing to be sorry for, little one. This is not your fault, it is mine. All of it.” Ramattra is taken aback by your apology but he takes another step closer when he notices that you won’t look at him. “Please, look at me…” 

You hesitate, hearing the slicer unit rumbling quietly at the larger omnics request, but you look up at him, his faceplate still expressionless as always.

Ramattra can see the pain etched on your face, the small bruise a reminder of the slap he brought down on you nearly an hour prior. He aches to reach out, to comfort you himself but he can predict the outcome of that ordeal.

“Can I sit down?” When you nod, he tilts his head in a silent thanks before sitting down on the edge of the bed, a generous space between you and him and he was careful to not move too quickly and startle you. The silence hangs heavy in the air as he processes his next string of words.

“Forgive me for asking… but-” He hesitates, already preparing himself for the answer as he looks at you. “Do you hate me?”

The awkwardness was plastered on your face. How do you answer him? After what he’d done, you have every right to hate him but it was one slip up. One bad action. He has been taking care of you for the last year now and everything has been fine. Sure, you had your arguments, but this… this reminded you of home. 

“Please, just be honest with me.” Ramattra speaks quietly. The silence that hangs in the air is almost unbearable, each second ticking by like an eternity. He watches as you look away, looking back down at the blanket that is in your hands. The slicer unit hums against your thigh, metal ridges digging into your skin but you pay it no mind. 

“I don’t hate you… It’s just… I don’t know… I’m hurt…” You speak with a voice that’s nearly a whisper. You don’t want to look at your guardian, let alone talk with him but you know that if you walk or run away like last time, it will ignite another fire. 

Ramattra feels a flood of hope and relief course through him despite the pain evident in your voice. You do not hate me? After what I have done to you? 

“I feel like I have destroyed everything between us. I have broken your trust.” Ramattra calmly analyses your demeanour as he notices the way you cling to the blanket. You need comfort and he wants to provide what you need, but he knows all too well that he has no right to do so. 

He takes a shaky breath, not that he needs to, but to cool his systems. “I do not know how to make this right.” He finally admits after a short pause. He wants to salvage what is left of his relationship with you, he doesn’t want to be like your parents. He genuinely cares for you, wants you to be a part of his life despite his hatred for humankind.

“I just need time… and space.” Your hand comes up to pat the slicer units head, wanting to soothe its anger and your anxiety. 

Ramattra wants to protest, he wants to actually beg for your forgiveness. He doesn’t want to give you space, he wants to be there for you, but your words ring loud in his systems. 

Time and space.

How long? How much space?

“I understand.” He finally speaks up. “Just… Promise me one thing, little one.” 

“What is it?” You keep your head bowed, focussing on your motions against the slicer units head.

“Promise me that if you need anything, no matter what it is, to come to me, okay?” 

Just the request alone makes your body shudder and your hand freeze. After what he’s done, he has the audacity to ask such a thing? 

“I will.” You lie. Whatever it takes to get him to leave. You want to be alone. You want to be away from him. 

The larger omnic breathes a sigh of relief, his systems calming down. He wants to say more, to keep apologising until his vocaliser hums static. “Thank you.” 

He takes one last look at you, your body tense as you stay seated with your back against the wall. Your guard is up and rightfully so. Ramattra stands from the bed, walking back towards the door to give you that much needed space you desire. He can’t bear to look at your frightened form so he speaks to the door. “Please, take care of yourself.” 

You don’t look at him, though, just out of the corner of your eye, you can see that his back is turned, beige fabric wafting gently from his movements. “I’ll be here.” 

“I will be nearby if you need me.” With hesitancy, Ramattra leaves the room, the door separating the two of you once more. He takes a moment to compose himself, the regret, the guilt swelling inside of him as he tries to calm down but no amount of meditation will make it evaporate. Just as he’s about to walk away, he hears you break out sobbing. He tenses before shaking his head. 

He can’t go back in. 

He has to leave. 

His footsteps echo throughout the halls as he makes his way around the base. There was no destination in mind, it was just him wandering until he either found his way back to his quarters or until he wore the metal of his feet away. 

Meanwhile, you pull the blanket around your body, snuggling it up close to your bruised cheek. The soft fibres of the blanket provide a sense of comfort to you, something you wish that Ramattra could give. 

Your hand tightens around the fabric before you remove it from your face. The anger swirls in your mind once more but you can’t entirely blame him for his actions. You roused him, you pissed him off. If you didn’t run and instead spoke to him, you wouldn’t have been struck…

But, on the other hand, if he had just listened to you in the first place, if he would’ve just understood that you didn’t want to disturb his charging time just for some toast and didn’t start yelling at you for your “careless behaviour”, then maybe you wouldn’t have run. 

Groaning out, you fall back against the bed, your pet slicer coming up and curling beside you, emanating warmth against the side of your body. 

Ramattra had made his way towards the control room after several laps of the base, the hum of electronics being the only noise in the room. He’s slouched in the chair, optics staring up at the muted monitors. The reality hits him hard, fingers tapping away at the table before swiftly throwing everything off of the control panel, letting it crash on the floor. 

His systems involuntarily go through the scene; the way your head snapped to the side as his hand connected to your cheek. The heat and redness that instantly swelled, the tears that pricked your eyes. Your shock. Fear. 

It scared him more than he’d like to admit. From your first encounter, being so friendly and unnerved by his presence, holding his hand and examining him to this… timid and frightened child. 

He growls, slamming his fist against the control panel. Your stubbornness is just as bad as his, you have a sharp tongue, quick to respond when provoked… and now… You hesitate. You step back, you go as far back as you can possibly get. 

“I messed up. This is all my fault.” Ramattra fights his own thoughts, fights against his systems to rid the nightmare that plagues his optics. His hands fiddle with the holopad, pads of his fingers beginning to type, beginning to work. He wants to forget.

Seconds turned to minutes, minutes to hours and Ramattra had finalised three separate plans and a backup plan for each. Whilst focussing on the tedious part of counting numbers for his army, he doesn’t hear the beeping of the tracking device. 

You’re on the move. 

As you’re walking through the maze of hallways, the little slicer unit trots alongside you much like a puppy with it’s owner. You’re still clutching the blanket in your hands as you pass several Null Sector units but none of them pay you any mind. You’re a visitor, you’re not a threat. 

Ramattra had changed their programming, granted it took longer than he had anticipated, but seeing you able to interact with them as a curious kid should do, it warmed his circuits. You were careful and gentle, small hands tracing their ridges and curvatures. You treated them like they were omnics, not war machines. You treated them as if they were friends, not enemies. 

Perhaps, that was when Ramattra found himself yearning to keep you close by.

As he’s inputting the last set of numbers into the database, there was a quiet and timid sounding knock on the door causing Ramattra to snap out of his work daze. He fell silent, wondering if he was just hearing things, but when the knock sounds again, he perks up, sitting straighter in his chair. 

He waits for a moment longer before speaking up and then returning back to his plans. “Come in.” Ramattra hears the door hiss open before it shuts again, but there was no talking. The quick succession of tip-tapping makes him turn around, watching as your slicer unit makes a beeline for the sofa on the far side of the room, instantly jumping up and resting on it, humming quietly. 

Familiarity.

Ramattra turns his attention to you, your slow movement forwards making him feel uncertain about the upcoming conversation. You’re here for a reason, either you’re going to change your mind and now hate him, or you forgive him. Ramattra leans towards the hatred. 

The blanket drags behind you, picking up small particles of debris as you keep walking towards the control panel where Ramattra was still seated. 

A pang of guilt rises within the larger omnic upon seeing the bruise that has formed on your cheek. The reminder of his actions will haunt him until it fades and then some days or even weeks after the fact. He could always wipe the nightmare from his systems, never to be remembered again, but should it be brought up in another argument, should it be mentioned, he would have no idea what you were talking about. 

Rustling breaks him out of his thoughts. He doesn’t realise how close you had gotten as you stand in front of him. 

Innocent eyes catch his optics behind the faceplate. Uncertainty. Hesitation. 

Just get on with it. Tell me you hate me. I will let you go.

What he didn’t anticipate was your outstretched arms towards him. Words had caught in your throat, all sounds had caught in your throat, blocked by the lump that had settled there the moment you had knocked on the door. 

Ramattra hesitates, his systems freezing momentarily as he attempts to process your request. Without thinking a second longer, he slides out of the chair, knees hitting the cold floor beneath him as he pulls you to his chest. Large arms wrap around your small body as he holds you close.

The hum of his inner workings vibrate against your cheek and he’s warmer than usual. You can hear a faint thumping, perhaps coolant pumping through his chassis, though it sounds more like a heartbeat. The thought alone makes you smile. 

“Rama…” Your voice was muffled against the blanket, his arm and his chest. He pulls back slightly, letting you shift within his arms. 

“Yes, little one?” He looks down at you, his hands releasing their tight grip on your body. 

There was a moment of silence, a hesitation before you speak. “I forgive you.” 

Ramattra’s hands twitch against you, systems repeating your words inside of his head. “You forgive me?” I did not expect you to forgive me so soon, if at all… 

He watches as you nod before he’s pulling you back against his chest, his hand rubbing up and down your back in a soothing motion. It was a moment short lived as you pull back completely and Ramattra silently sighs for he already misses your embrace. 

“I… I’m sorry for running off. And yelling. It’s my fault that you lost your temper.” Your small hands grip the blanket tightly as you apologise, but Ramattra wasn’t having it. 

“No, do not apologise. This was not your fault. I lost my temper. It is my responsibility to have control over my emotions and I let my own anger get the better of me.” He places a reassuring hand on your shoulder, giving it a small squeeze. 

“I shouldn’t have yelled… I’m sorry.” You look away, eyes focusing on the holopad that’s on the floor.

Ramattra tilts his head to the side before shaking it. His hand moves from your shoulder to your chin, turning your head and forcing you to look at him. “You have nothing to apologise for. I am the one who lost control and I hurt you. This is not your fault, little one.” 

He can sense that you want to argue back but you bite your tongue. It would only drag the situation on longer and neither of you have either the strength nor the patience to start another argument. 

“Are you okay? That bruise looks bad.” His moves his hand from your chin to cup your cheek, thumb gently brushing over the small pained area. 

“It hurts to smile sometimes.” You admit, glancing off to the side. It still pains Ramattra that he did this to you, guilt still simmering inside of his circuits. “You are always so concerned about me.” 

Ramattra chuckles lightly, hand falling to his side as he looks at you. “Of course I am concerned about you. It is my responsibility to take care of you and I do care about you. I do not wish to see you hurt, by anybody's hand, might I add.” He pauses, head tilting once again. “I care about you a lot, [y/n].” 

The admission makes your heart beat a tad bit faster and Ramattra’s systems pick up on it instantly. 

“Come here.” He opens his arms, an invitation for you which there was no hesitation in taking. You wrap your arms around his back, hands holding onto the silver metal braces as his arms comfortably wrap around your frame. “I just need to know that you are safe. Your safety is my utmost priority.” 

“And I just want you to trust me.” You say softly. 

Ramattra moves a hand to the back of your head, rubbing up and down to soothe the remaining anxiety inside of you. 

“You and your oversized kitchen knife of a pet make that extremely difficult.” Ramattra retorts, his chest vibrating as he chuckles. 

You can’t help the giggle that escapes you at his remark about your pet slicer unit. “You love us.” 

“That I do, little menace. That I do.”

[meowzfordayz]

rude boy

Author’s Note: ohmygosh and weLCOME TO MY LONGEST ONE SHOT (thus far) !! 😭🥳 Huge shoutout to @linahopeeeee​ 🥰 for commissioning this + their patience w/ me, bc this would’ve never been written otherwise lmao. 💀 Read the content warnings (CW), and ENJOY. 🤤😏🤗

rude boy

Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

Word Count: ~5,100

CW: 18+NSFW, alcohol, cream!pie, dark humor, degrading language, explicit language, Fem!Reader, mast!rbation, oral, spit, step!cest

Song Inspo: Rude Boy by Rihanna

Commission Fulfilled: Okay so you and your family are going to spend the holidays at a cabin. You agree to stop and pick up your rude step brother katsuki (who you’ve always had sexual tension with) , so the two of you drive to the cabin but a blizzard starts before your parents are able to leave out and is going to last for a couple of days so it’s just going to be you and katsuki until the roads are clear. The two of you try to stay away from each other until you decide to play a couple of drinking game, the alcohol gets to the two of you and one thing leads to another next thing you know his head is between your legs and it’s just continues on from there.

So I guess you can make the reader a little nerdy, and on the chubbier side with bigger boobs. I want the parents to be my mom and his dad. And he can be degrading but also praising her along the way. And yeah we can have a bit of a plot in there

~faqs~

Bakugou Katsuki you mull over his name, cinnamon Altoid between your teeth, mellow classical music floating in the heat of your car. A dusting of snow softens your surroundings, wipers squeaking intermittently, streetlamps illuminating the ethereal entrance of winter. Not too busy you hum quietly, city full of festive emptiness, lit windows and crowded driveways replacing typically packed sidewalks and noisy traffic. Despite hitting nearly every red light, you’re proud that—for once—you managed to leave early, well aware of Katsuki’s disdain for tardiness.

“Could you pick up Katsuki?”

“Katsuki? He’s your step-son,” you snort, “And hi mom, I’m fine, thanks for asking.”

“And your step-brother,” your mom sighs, “I’m happy you’re fine. Anyway, you’re closest to his apartment. Besides, if the weather’s bad, then I’d rather you drive with company.”

“The cabin’s what, an hour away?”

“Please.”

“Is this why you called me?”

“I called you because I love you and miss you and can’t wait to celebrate the holidays with you!” and… “And because it would really make things easier on his dad and I if you could pick him up.”

“But he’s so…”

Unbearable.

Sarcastic.

“Sweet, honey” your mom clucks her tongue, “He’s a good kid, just like you.”

“Gee, we’re such good kids,” you scowl, eyes rolling.

“So you’ll pick him up?”

“Okay. Sure. Yeah.”

Handsome.

Delicious.

I’m demanding gas money you huff, fingers tightening then relaxing around the steering wheel And I’m staying on aux. Another red light gives you a moment to check yourself in the rearview mirror, stubborn wisps of hair refusing to blow into place, lipgloss sticky and Too glittery as you chew on your bottom lip. A gift’s a gift you shrug, foot on the gas as the light finally changes, only slightly irritated that Bakugou Katsuki decided “girly shit” was what you “needed” for the holidays — never mind how often you rambled about literally. Anything. Else. Maybe he has something more… considerate, planned for the cabin? you entertain the idea for less than second, reality settling in as you shake your head Do not hold your breath for him pinching your cheek Dumbass.

A quick glance at the clock tells you you’re perfectly on time as you turn onto his street, phone buzzing with a prompt You’re late text message just as you command Siri to Call Rude Boy.

“I’m thirty seconds from your front door,” you snap, “And definitely not late.”

“To be on time is to be early,” Katsuki drawls, “And to be on time?” scoffing, “Late.”

“Do you even care about spending the holidays with us?” you mutter, “Besides, I stopped for groceries too, so really, you should be grateful.”

“Of course!” he exclaims, sugar sweet and absolutely lying, “What’s the holidays without the family? I’m gushing with gratitude.”

“Piss off.”

“No can do,” his smirk audible through your car’s speakers, “If I’m rememberin’ correctly, then that’s your car pulling up to my apartment,” voice lowering, “So you’re about t’be stuck with me,” his amused laughter grating as you shift into park, “Although, I guess I could sit in the back, give you some space.”

Space.

Exhaling deeply, memory of his callouses rough against your skin in a too firm handshake flitting bright and involuntary across your vision.

Stuck with me.

Nowhere to go if he sits beside you, broad shoulders squeezed into the passenger seat, manspreading with a taunting glint in his stare, clearing his throat as your fingernails tap erratically on the steering wheel, wondering what it’d feel like if they could graze his thigh instead-

tap tap “Oi idiot!”

Katsuki’s face appears practically beside you, car window protecting you from his glare as you flip him off.

“Unlock your car,” he shouts, palm smacking loudly on freezing metal, “It’s fucking cold, and my shit’s getting damp.”

Flipping him off again, you acquiesce, gut sinking at the click of your doors unlocking, inhaling slowly as though enough oxygen might smooth the crinkling of your heart.

“Pop the trunk,” he demands as soon as he opens the passenger door, snowflakes on his scarf melting at the blast of heat from the interior, “Unless you want a wet backseat.”

Unless you want a wet backseat.

Your body folded beneath his strong-

“Bitch, I’m talking to you.”

“The trunk’s open,” you retort, “Dipshit.”

“Did someone skip their coffee this morning?” he pouts, mock sympathy heavy, “I may or may not have packed a few bottles of Starbucks frappuccino,” sultry edge to his tone as he leans toward the center console, “And if you ask nicely, then your oniisan might feel like sharin’.”

“I thought it was fucking cold,” you hiss, forearms prickling at the faint scent of amber and moss, “And that your shit was getting damp.”

“You like my cologne,” Katsuki murmurs abruptly.

Not a question. Not harshly. A gentle balm of confidence coating the string tying your desire to his implication.

“Your oniisan has impeccable taste, doesn’t he?” his signature smirk returning, passenger door slammed shut before you can rebut.

“How much longer?” Katsuki sighs, practically horizontal beside you.

“Too long,” you grunt.

“Tch, that’s not very nice,” fake pout visible in your peripheral, “And after I shared a frappuccino with you?”

“For once,” you scowl, “This isn’t about you. The snow’s picking up, and we’re still half an hour away.”

“Aww, princess can’t handle a snowstorm?” 

“I can handle it well enough to ensure your side gets the brunt of a crash.”

“Sounds premeditated to me,” shit eating grin on his face.

“And don’t call me princess.”

“Why not?” eyes narrowing, “You look like a princess with those glossy lips.”

Sucking in a breath, you gaze sternly ahead, cheeks warming, “A gift’s a gift.”

“Orrr you love your oniisan, and wearin’ the lipgloss he picked out specially for you makes you feel all cozy and fuzzy.”

“Why would I love you?” you snap, irritation palpable as you glance at him.

Damn.

It’s impossible to ignore his hands resting large and hot on his thighs, sweatpants thick and grey, waistband slung low from slouching in the passenger seat.

Why would I love you?

Impossible to resist tracing the edges of your mouth with the tip of your tongue, lipgloss somehow tasting better at the image of Bakugou Katsuki squatting in an aisle full of make up, your pretty smile at the forefront of his thoughts as he ponders whether you’d look best tinted bubblegum pink or sunset red.

Kissing him, or his cock.

To refocus on the road, too engrossed in your frustration—your forbidden daydreaming—to notice the gleam in his stare as he watches you, involuntary flex of his calves as he imagines showing you exactly why you would love him.

“Because I let you drive,” he mutters roughly.

“You let me drive? This is my car,” you scoff, “Give me another reason.”

“Whatever,” teeth gritted, forcing the imagined warmth, wetness, suction of your lips from his mind, “Just get us to the cabin.”

“So you don’t have another reason?” goading him now, “Or you won’t give me one?” twirling on the cusp of too far, “My love can be very nice, oniisan, but you have to earn it,” your nonchalance toying with his control, “And unfortunately for you, fancy lipgloss isn’t really my thing.”

Which you would know if you ever listened to me you tack on silently, recollection of his normal pompous and inattention calming your simmering ache.

Katsuki’s expression remains brooding and unreadable, palms sweaty—not that you have any way of knowing—as he resists adjusting himself, willing his body to Behave, fuck. Maybe fancy lipgloss isn’t really your thing, but he’s satisfied enough women to know the steady, rhythmic pressure of his cock splitting open your pussy could absolutely be your thing.

“So what is your thing?” he rasps, declaring fuck all to the quickly fading neon of NO TREPASSING, steps heavy and determined as he blatantly shifts his growing bulge, deep groan resonating scandalous and enticing at the fleeting friction of movement.

“My thing,” your voice heart stoppingly quiet, NO TRESPASSING irrevocably trampled with your next sentence, “Is delicious men jerking off in my passenger seat as I drive them to our destination, oniisan.”

“I’m delicious,” he smirks, hand slipping into his sweatpants, under his briefs, tip of his cock leaking precum between his practiced, calloused fingers, “And I’m in your passenger seat.”

The hell am I doing?! as you swallow nervously, every ounce of self restraint committed to keeping your eyes glued to the road — to ensuring your first time with Bakugou Katsuki isn’t on the side of a highway, your knees hung over his rippling shoulders, back squished into your leather seats as he pounds into your welcoming, greedy hole.

“You with me princess?” he murmurs slyly, deftly flicking his wrist, cock engorged and straining in its confines, “I wonder if I’ll be able to cum before we arrive.”

“Is your dick broken? Of course you’ll cum before we arrive.”

Katsuki nearly chokes on your smugness, balls tightening at the bite in your retort, half wanting to prove you wrong because How high and mighty and accurate of you to claim such power when you’re clearly squirming for relief; and half wanting to spill into his lap, staining your precious passenger seat in the process, showing off as he aims in your direction, cum splattering opaque and unexpected on your fuzzy sweater.

“My dick isn’t broken,” reaching lower to cup his balls, “I can assure you my stamina is plentiful, and my refractory period minimal.”

“Eloquent words for a man with a hand stuffed down his pants,” your core betraying you as it flutters at the promise lurking beneath his assurance.

“D’ya prefer filth?” he growls, shooting you a withering, ravenous look, “Because I can be filthy, princess. I can tease the nastiest, pathetic noises from that pert mouth of yours, can make a fuckin’ mess of your lips,” gesturing lewdly at your crotch, “Till they’re as smeared and glossy as the ones wrapped around my cock,” grip increasingly firm as he continues stroking his shaft, motivated by your throat clenching as he paints his vivid fantasy.

Doesn’t realize how fuckin’ tantalizing she is, out of breath, her little shudders, without me needin’ to touch her.

“I bet you prefer filth. Bet your thing extends beyond delicious men jerking off beside you,” finally freeing his cock, slapping its reddened, swollen head against his black and orange hoodie, vision tunneling when you audibly gasp, car swerving slightly. “Bet you prefer delicious men using your slutty, perfect cunt to jerk off instead of their fist, hm?” eyes closing as the swell of climax threatens to overtake his ability to talk, “Bet you prefer your delicious oniisan fucking you within an inch of consciousness, proving why you should love him, why you should love him and his fat, throbbing cock.”

A strangled whimper escapes you, soft moans filling your car as Katsuki orgasms, limbs twitching with each consecutive spurt of cum, splotches glistening on his hoodie, the glove box latch, your empty Starbucks frappuccino bottle nestled in the center cup holder.

Fuck you exhale shakily, clit tingling Whatthefuck, whatthefuck, what. The. Fuck.

Fuck he inhales sharply, tugging off his hoodie in one fluid motion, shirt catching on its lining to reveal solid planes of exerted, flushed muscle That was, unfuckinggodly shock registering And she didn’t even touch me.

You try—and fail—to avoid stealing a peek. 

This can’t happen again sinking wary and nauseating in both your stomachs How the fuck am I going to get through this vacation? tension worse than it ever was.

I want him you think to yourself, dizzy as you turn on your blinker, exit approaching.

I need her Katsuki thinks to himself, unraveling as he cleans your car with the sleeves of his hoodie.

“Not much longer,” you mumble.

“Not much longer,” he echoes.

The lingering scent of his pleasure holds you hostage—keenly so—heady darkness swirling… waiting… ready…

“Have you and Katsuki left yet?”

You frown at her tone, noting its slight dip, “Yeah, mom. In fact, we just arrived,” realization creeping up your spine as you stare at your duffel bag plopped heavy and full on your bed, “You aren’t going to make it.”

Her sigh confirms your statement, “We didn’t leave in time, and the snow got really bad, really fast. I’m still willing to make the drive, but-”

“Don’t bother,” you interject, eyes rolling at your horrendously amazing luck, “Better safe than sorry. We’ll enjoy the cabin for you, and we can always celebrate together afterwards.”

“Are you sure?” tentative surprise in her voice, “I know Katsuki gets on your nerves, and hoped his dad and I could provide a bit of a buffer.”

“Mom, I’d rather him getting on my nerves than you ending up injured or dead in a ditch. In this weather, it’s not worth the risk.”

Laughter crackles through your phone as your mom exhales, evidently relieved at your lack of a fuss, “Well I’m glad you at least love me that much.”

“I do mom, love you lots.”

“Don’t trash the cabin, and leave the cleaners a decent tip, okay? Hopefully you won’t go too stir crazy.”

“It’s only a couple of days,” you snort, “I brought a few books, and I can probably occupy myself by undertaking unnecessarily elaborate recipes for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.”

“Maybe try to get to know Katsuki? His dad tells me he’s great in the kitchen…”

“Do not push me,” you grumble, “I don’t cook for taste — I cook for fun.”

“Alright, I won’t. Thank you for being calm about this. I’m sorry we didn’t plan well.”

“Yeah, yeah, be safe, not sorry, and I’ll keep calm and carry on.”

“I love you honey.”

“I love you mom, bye.”

Thud.

“Oi, those idiots can’t make it,” Katsuki’s annoyed drawl interrupts your moment of reprieve, “That’s why being on time’s so important, yanno.”

“I know,” you snap, grateful he at least has the decency to knock before entering, hesitant question on the tip of your tongue, “What time do you eat dinner?” recalling your mom’s request to Maybe try to get to know Katsuki?

“Whatever time you want, princess. But I’m cooking.”

What a prick.

—

“Good book?” Katsuki grunts from across the kitchen island, chopping carrots faster than you can read words.

“Fine,” you nod, reading, rereading, then rerereading the same sentence.

“Am I distracting ya?”

“Yes.”

“Tch, just tryin’ to make small talk.”

“Bakugou, you literally orgasmed in my passenger seat,” you huff, cheeks burning, stare sharper than his knife, “I think we’re past small talk.”

“Okaaay,” he raises an eyebrow, mindlessly tossing the carrots into the large pot on the stove, “So why’re you reading that book in particular? What draws you to an author?”

Pursing your lips, you glare down at your book, sentences still bleeding into each other, “You don’t care.”

“I don’t,” he shrugs, opening the fridge to grab the thawing chicken breast, “But I do appreciate you buying everything on my grocery list.”

“What are you cooking?”

“Chicken soup,” he smiles faintly, rummaging through a cupboard for a plastic cutting board, “Figured with the storm it’d be nice and cozy.”

“Are we disgusting?” you ask softly, committing your page number to memory as you give up and close your book.

“I’m not disgusting,” he responds immediately, pausing to rinse off his knife, “And you’re not disgusting either.”

“But we’re step-”

“If we’d met before our parents had-”

“Then nothing would’ve happened, because you’re an asshole,” you interrupt, coolness in your tone as you recall how many times he’d ignore you during family dinners, talking over you as your mom offered you an apologetic glance, “The only reason I associate with you is because your dad isn’t an asshole, and my mom deserves to be happy.”

“But, you still want to fuck me,” he smirks.

“For fuck’s sake,” you seethe, standing abruptly, chair scraping the kitchen tile, “Yes, you’re attractive. Yes, you seduced me. Yes, I want to have sex with you. But you know what? I’m not going to, because I’d rather maintain my dignity and self respect than fuck my oniisan whose only redeeming quality is his dirty talk.”

Shit Katsuki winces inwardly as you stalk away, book abandoned on the counter, chicken breast half sliced, broth simmering timidly. He knows he’s inattentive, domineering, selfish; just as he knows why, bubbling resentment familiar, sour, and inescapable when he jolts back to his dad introducing you — to his dad being the best, worst wingman in the history of wingmen. He doubts you remember, but he wasn’t always aloof and cruel: he’d started out cautiously curious, warm lick of attraction already budding in his groin… and then his dad’s relationship with your mom became serious — the mirage, tendril of hope, that they’d fade to the background, snapped. He couldn’t maintain his reserved, almost gentle exterior of wanting, breaking into a fractured portrait of rude, prideful, asshole. It helped that you were adults, that you had excuses to avoid each other, that he could usually exist as an unsavory fragment on the fringe of your thoughts.

“You’re joining us for the holidays.”

The fuck? “Who’s us, and what holidays?” Katsuki scowls, grip on his phone tightening.

“Our family. My girlfriend, her daughter, and you.”

“Our family?” he scoffs, “You’ve been dating for what, six months? And you’re already doin’ holidays together.”

“Katsuki,” impatience growing, “I’m not young anymore. I don’t have the leisure of casual-until-our-connection-peters-out. I don’t want this connection to peter out. Besides, I thought you liked [y/n]?”

“Whatever.”

“You could pretend to be happy for me.”

“I am.”

“Well pretend harder.”

“I’ll be there for your stupid fucking holidays.”

“I love you, Katsuki.”

“Bye, dad.”

“Let’s play Poker,” you declare as you stomp into the kitchen, bottle of vodka in hand, resisting the urge to stick your nose directly into the mouthwatering flavor wafting from the stove to your nostrils.

“Hi to you too,” Katsuki snorts, leaning against the counter, your book cradled in his palms, “Feeling better after your little tantrum?” eyeing your liquor, “Or worse.”

“Did you ask?” you hiss, snatching your book from him, “You probably lost my page.”

“You memorized your page before closing it, actually.”

Unperturbed, you open a drawer, searching for utensils, “I’m hungry.”

“So demanding,” he mutters, lifting the lid off the pot, “It needs five minutes.”

“And I’m feeling so much better after my little tantrum,” you quip, “Thanks for worrying about me, oniisan,” sloshing the bottle of vodka in front of his face, “You’re welcome to join me.”

Eyes narrowing darkly, he ignores you in favor of stirring the soup, satisfied with its aromatic scent.

“Anyway, I said let’s play Poker,” you repeat, “Unless you don’t know how? I can teach you.”

“Princess-”

“Don’t call me princess.”

“Princess, I know how to play Poker,” amused smirk meeting your stubborn glare, “Although I’m sure you’d make a fantastic teacher.”

“Soup, shots, Poker, and I go to sleep wealthier than I was this morning.”

“It’s only been two minutes.”

“You know what hanger is?”

“Your hanger can wait two fuckin’ minutes.”

“Where are the shot glasses?”

“I’ve been busy cooking dinner.”

“And I’ve been busy deciding whether to call a truce or avoid you for the remainder of my life.”

“How civil of you,” he grumbles, lungs pinching at your bitterness, “Is the truce for the soup?”

“And Poker,” you nod, “And shots,” setting bowls, silverware, and shot glasses beside the stove, “Your money too.”

“You realize Poker isn’t entirely skill based,” he remarks dryly.

“And you realize I’m luckier than most,” you retort, “It’s been five minutes.”

“Tch, serve yourself.”

Heart panging when you serve him too.

Three shots in, and two full games later, you sigh frustrated, sprawled lazy and comfortable on the living room rug, tank top straps loose on your shoulders, flannel pants scrunched around your ankles.

“I’m bored.”

“No, you’re disappointed that I’ve kept my money,” Katsuki chuckles, a new pair of sweatpants hugging his muscular legs, feet tucked neatly under him.

“You haven’t taken any of mine either,” you sniff, toes curling in your fluffy socks, “We’re evenly matched.”

“Technically, I’m a dollar ahead of you,” he grins, waving your dollar with unbearable smugness.

“Technically, that won’t last long.”

“How about,” he raises an eyebrow, “We up the stakes.”

“Calling a truce does not mean playing Strip Poker,” you immediately sit straighter, relaxed pretense dissipating.

“You’re attracted to me,” is his murmured response, his cards set aside, glinting maroon staring pointedly at your lips, “And when did I say anything about Strip Poker?”

“Our parents are dating,” you whisper, burn of vodka in your throat, watching his body for any sudden movement, “And,” swallowing thickly, “You’re an asshole,’ hyper aware of how you lack your usual venom.

“I’m attracted to you,” he rasps, observing the dilation of your pupils, the goosebumps dotting your forearms, how still you are as you hold your breath, “This afternoon,” vulnerability coiling in his gut, “I don’t regret it. Not for a second.”

“Bakugou,” you’re pleading now, dizziness returning, “I… I think I’m drunk.”

“You’re that much of a lightweight?” he freezes, hardness in his voice, “Are you keeping track?”

“You’re not?” is your hushed answer, daring him to surrender his hand.

To admit just how deeply his feelings cut: to reveal the extent of his lust, the weight of his anger — to reveal if, cowering behind his brashness, he holds any semblance of honest affection for you.

Quietly, he folds, “You’ve had three shots in almost three hours,” as you crawl slowly toward him, “And are only a dollar short,” curve of his jaw startlingly handsome, “So you tell me,” his fingertips grazing the heat of your ear, “Are you drunk?”

“I want you,” leaning into his touch.

“Are. You. Drunk?”

Falling into his crimson haze, the last puzzle piece settling into place.

“No,” confession hanging delicate and deliberate between your closing eyes and his faltering pulse, “I’m not, not at all.”

—

Firm hands guide your hips, support your back, tangle into your hair, as you clamber onto Katsuki’s lap, legs wrapping around his waist, warm mouth pressing moist, unsteady kisses across your collarbones.

“You’re stunning,” he whispers, compliments melting one after another into your skin, “So soft,” one hand cradling your neck, the other snaking down to your ass, “So supple,” pinching your flesh, smacking your thigh, feeling your body jiggle on his lap, soaking in your consequent whimpers.

He follows your lead as you slip a gentle finger under his chin, catching his lips with your own, tongue gliding sweet and teasing along his faint glimmer of a smile.

“Let me taste you,” nearly begging, his request pooling hot between your thighs, “Want you trembling beneath me, want you pulling on my hair, stealin’ my breath as you cum.”

You feel yourself falling as he guides you backward, tank top rising, curve of your tits bouncing in the incandescent light.

“Is it too rough?” he asks, boxing you in as he hovers above you, thick biceps on either side of your head, bulge barely brushing your pelvis, “The rug, is it too rough?”

“Taste me,” is your response, tugging at the collar of his shirt, satisfied hum vibrating in your sternum when he collapses—carefully—onto you, your legs wrapping once again around his waist, undulating erratic and petulant into his hardness, “Said you wanted to taste me, so do it,” groaning at the friction of his chest rubbing against your nipples.

“Gotta let me go,” he chuckles quietly, kneading your thigh with subtle strength, “How m’gonna taste you with you grinding on my cock?” thrusting strongly into your rhythm, smirking at your slack expression, “Make up your mind princess, you cummin’ on my bulge, or my face?”

“Your face,” you gasp, releasing him with an indignant glare, “I’m stealing your breath when I cum, remember?”

Harsh laughter tickles your stomach as Katsuki moves languid and lower, his shirt bundled and tossed behind him, thumbs bringing the waistband of your pants with him, kissing the bare crook of your knee as you help him remove them completely.

“Katsuki,” you whine shyly, pussy clenching as his large palms splay your legs, your folds already glistening.

“Katsuki?” reaching for your nipples, twisting lightly to distract yourself from the intensity of his stare, “Is… am I okay?”

Fuck he growls, “You’re more than okay,” spit dripping warm from his open mouth to your clit, “So fucking sexy when you touch yourself.”

And then he’s lapping at your folds, tongue flat and wet as he memorizes your scent, your texture, when you moan sharply, when you groan loudly, and when he’s accidentally veered off course. Your essence mixes with his spit, trickling slow and filthy between your ass cheeks, fingers pulling at his disheveled hair whenever he bites at your thigh, cocky grin disappearing into your heat as your legs quiver. His rhythm solidifies, inaudible praise vibrating every so often onto your swollen clit, your inner monologue turning to outer dialogue while his tongue flicks relentless and steady.

“Shit, shit, shit,” you babble, thighs tightening around him, heel of your hand pressing on his head, urging his tongue to swirl harder, faster, wetter, “Don’t stop, don’t stop, so close, don’t fucking stop, don’t stop,” bundle of nerves pulsing quickly, quicker, quicker, “I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna fucking cum,” spine arching, feet flexing, core weeping with concentrated pleasure, his tongue still tireless, still going, “I’m cumming, fuck, fuck, FUCK.”

Sensitivity writhes through your legs as you finally release him, your slick smeared messy and translucent on his chin, his lips, his cheeks, the tip of his nose, feral shadow in his eyes as he wipes his face on the plush of your thighs.

“M’not done with you,” he mutters, fumbling with his sweatpants till they’re pooled on the floor beside you, “On your knees.”

Scrambling to obey, you roll onto your stomach, ass in the air, pussy queefing at the sudden change in position, eyes wide and unfocused as you glance over your shoulder at his pleased expression.

“Good,” he rasps, parting your creamy folds with a crude thumb, “So fucking good for me, such a fucking slut for me,” spitting on your ass, watching his saliva dribble onto the rug, slipping a rough finger into your pussy, “Good.”

“Katsuki,” you mumble, blushing at the schliick of his finger fucking in and out of you.

“Hm, princess?” he coos mockingly, adding another finger as you yelp, curling them at varying angles until he feels you shudder, “Was that it? Right there? You like when oniisan finger fucks you?”

You wail softly, nodding desperately into the rug, rocking back and forth as he cups your pussy, wet sound of your ass hitting his palm filling the living room.

“What’s it gonna be princess, cumming on oniisan’s fingers, or cumming on oniisan’s cock?”

“Your cock,” you whine lowly, blossoming orgasm halted as he immediately withdraws his fingers, body broad and sweaty as he drapes himself over you.

“Clean them,” he demands, cock nudging against your pussy, “Taste how fucking perfect your cunt is.”

The warmth of your tongue caressing his fingers elicits a long groan from him as he grips the base of his cock, voice a flitting murmur in your ear as he slowly, painstakingly presses into you.

“F-fuck,” he stammers, dominant demeanor faltering as your gummy walls envelop his cock, encouraged by your overwhelmed gulps for breath, your nails clinging to the rug’s tufts.

“Oniisan,” you blubber, eager to fit him fully and tightly, greedy for the bump of his cockhead against the entrance of your cervix, veins dragging thick and swollen as he sinks further into your pussy.

“So fucking needy,” Katsuki grunts, straightening up to watch the rest of his cock disappear into your pussy, “My needy bitch,” balls finally brushing sticky against your folds, “Wish you could see how pretty your cunt is, stretched so pretty around my cock,” pulling out slightly, “You can hear it,” shoving in sharply, jostling your body with a filthy squelch, “Can hear it as I stuff your sloppy cunt,” smirking as you gush around him, “My messy cunt, aren’t you princess? My messy fucking cunt, a hole just for your oniisan,” pounding into you at a rapid, steady pace, “Can’t believe how long we waited t’do this, don’t know how I resisted fucking that prim look off your face,” balls providing friction for your clit as they slap heavy and repetitive with the force of his thrusts, “You’re so fucking beautiful, such a fucking whore for me, wearing that lipgloss, letting me jerk off in your car, sitting your gorgeous ass in my lap, kissing me speechless,” working himself into a frenzy, lost in the suction of your pussy, your constant utterances of Oniisan! and Katsuki! and FuckfuckFUCK! “Where should I cum? Where should I cum? Shit!” his voice fraying, unable to decide between painting your silky walls, rippling ass, or flipping you over once more to coat your luscious tits.

“My cunt,” you whimper, “Wanna feel your cum drooling out of my hole, wanna be your cumdump.”

With a riled snarl, Katsuki spills into your pussy, cock throbbing as he continues thrusting shallowly through his orgasm, his cum leaking from your pussy onto the rug, rough fingers doing their best to collect the mess, smearing your ass, your thighs, your back as he claims you.

“My dirty fuckin’ bitch,” he groans, releasing you abruptly, possessive satisfaction welling in his stomach at the sight of you crumpled and oozing his cum, tampering down the insatiable urge to fuck and stuff and fill you again, again, again, your pussy molded to his cock, forever buried in your mess of a hole, plugged indefinitely to the brim with him.

“We’re definitely doing that again,” you murmur weakly, dimly aware of a warm, wet cloth scrubbing gently at your thighs, your skin prickling with the feeling of drying cum, pussy still dribbling intermittently, cheek burning faintly from what you can only presume is rug burn.

A toothy grin enters your foggy field of vision, familiar drawl all too smug as Katsuki’s narrowed eyes meet your satisfied gaze, “Give me thirty minutes princess,” flicking your swollen clit, grinning wider at your breathy, shocked squeal, “Or do you need until morning?” 

Tender touches guide you to bed, sheets decidedly not the same color as the ones in your chosen bedroom, mattress dipping as you curl into a solid, grounding warmth, unexpectedly gentle arms embracing you, amber and moss lulling you to sleep.

“I love you,” whispered terrified and longing, voice rough and whittled, ruby eyes glittering melancholy in the dark.

I love you too mouthed softly into his skin in return.

[mimicha-arts]

Audiobook, ep 103 (corresponds to s1ep10)

Now eps covers the donghua's plot closely, but sometimes there are small changes, additions and expansions of scenes. This post is a copy of my thread from twitter for the archive.

Friendly reminder, I'm not a native speaker, there is also no subtitles. I'm trying my best, but I can't hear everything and probably made mistakes. Please keep in mind, I wrote it just for reference.

At the very beginning of the scene, the school bell rings, signaling the end of classes. Afterwards, the boy runs to his father and says that he got 100 points for the test, his father promised to buy him a ranger toy for this - his father says they will now go and buy it. After, the girl calls her mother and tells about how well she drew a picture during class with their family, and the teacher noted that it was drawn very well. Mom praises her. QL: Every time after school, he (Cheng Xiaoshi) saw other children being picked up by their parents, and how they returned home together. And he just stood aside and looked at them all alone, feeling envious and lonely. In order to make himself like a normal kid and to blend in with others, he tried his best, but...

Flashback

Kids playing together. Kid 1：Look at this! Kid 2：Take it! CXS：What are you playing? Can I join you? Kid：Em…

Woman：Why are you still here? Go home, go. You don’t know this kid, so why are you hanging out with strangers? Let’s go. Grandma：Nannan (girl’s name), listen to grandma, it’s time to leave. Go home. Grandpa：Don't you dare to play with him. He is a feral child! He has no parents to teach him. How can a child be so uncouth! Woman：Right! So careless, just running here and there, like a disaster

People together： - All right, all right, let’s go - Mom, go - Hurry up!

CXS：You are the feral kids! You are like a disaster, your whole family is a disaster! I don’t want to play with you!

People together： (There is some other phrases I can’t understand)

- What a disaster - At such a young age, you say such dirty words, really disgusting! - Grandma, don't listen to him, it’s so dirty - Hurry, shut your ears - Crazy! Cheng Xiaoshi starts crying.

QL: The neighbors who used to spend time together with him and the friends he played with left him one by one. He was eventually isolated, but I know how afraid of losing everyone he was.

(Here they placed a flashback that corresponded to the moment with the earthquake when CXS ran to QL’s house) QL: That was the first time, when he, who had always been stubborn, was so frightened that couldn’t put words together. Then I realized how painful it must be for him to say, "I don't want you to care about me." At that time, Qiao Ling understood - these people who came to the photo studio as soon as they heard the news about Cheng Xiaoshi's parents', just wanted to satisfy their curiosity. Their perfunctory concern may be able to hide it from others, but it couldn’t fool Cheng Xiaoshi since he was involved. Children have the purest, the sharpest eyes.  These people themselves had no idea how their sarcastic words could hurt a child's heart. In the following days, Cheng Xiaoshi stopped trying to cater to others and just spent time alone in the photo studio. Sitting alone at the door of the photo studio, watching people coming and going, the liveliness was about other people, had nothing to do with him. Day by day, year by year, the photo studio was becoming more and more dilapidated. Cheng Xiaoshi also grew up gradually, but his life seemed to always have two points and one thread: from the photo studio to the school, and then from the school to the photo studio. He only had one friend, Qiao Ling, by his side.

QL： Before, I was worried whether Cheng Xiaoshi would be able to make friends who truly cared about him… Until that day. That day.

[extremelyblackandwhite]

pairing: dad!bucky barnes x au pair!reader

summary: coney island. break my soul in two looking for you but you're right here. if I can't relate to you anymore then who am I related to?

Sergeant Barnes had taken her advice, something which the other staff who usually came to upkeep the home did not believe. He didn’t take suggestions, at least he hadn’t since he was a child. He was one of those people who’d rather fail on his own accord rather than succeed on someone else’s. He’d just rather be stubborn yet an au pair had had him listening on how to parent his daughter. This had become much more evident when he’d called her somewhere around midday, asking if se could bring Sadie over to the office so he could spend some time with her. She’d never really gone to his office before, she’d never even questioned where it was. Usually a quickly handwritten note stuck to the fridge with a magnet with a just barely understood address. She didn’t know why she had thought he’d have a modest office - nothing about James Buchanan Barnes was modest, and as she stood in front of the glass building that seemed to thrust into the skies forever. In that moment she was afraid she didn’t know who was more in awe of it - her or Sadie who was tightly gripping her hand. 

Everything was ... polished, clean, almost crystalline. If she were to be honest, the building from the inside looking like a private high-end hospital or maybe a really white and sleek restaurant. It was intimidating, it matched the owner and it almost seemed out of place for an au pair dressed in Zara clothing and a toddler in beige clothing carrying a very bright Bluey backpack. 

      - Hi. - she smiled at the receptionist. - I’m Y/N, I’m Sergeant Barnes au pair. He asked me to bring his daughter to his office. 

      - I’ll let him know. 

Y/N looked down at Sadie, slightly shaking her arm to try and calm the little girl down. She didn’t look comfortable, staring at everyone who came in and out with fright. It wasn’t unexpected, she didn’t particularly enjoy strangers and this building was a whole building of strangers.

     - Hey, look who it is! - Y/N turned towards the direction of the sound to see Sam. 

Sam was one of Bucky’s only trusted people, the other owner of the company and honestly the reason why Y/N knew even the slightest of things about Bucky. He’d usually come by the house to play with Sadie when he could, having named himself as the young girl’s godfather despite Bucky’s objections. 

     - That’s the coolest Bluey backpack, Sisi. - he gave her a little twirl. - I’m so jealous. You have to lend it to me sometime. 

     - Y/N got it. - she smiled, proudly taking her backpack off to show it to her godfather. - There is Bluey and Bingo. 

      - Y/N never gets me presents. - Sam joked. - How are you? I heard from the grapevine that you gave Barnes a good old earful. Is he paying you for babysitting him as well? 

      - Maybe he values my opinion. - she teased as Sam placed a hand over his heart feigning hurt. - He’ll tell you off if he sees you hanging around instead of doing whatever it is you two do. 

     - I don’t know, Y/L/N. If babysitting ever goes south, perhaps you oughta join us. Would do well with someone who can get Barnes to change his mind. 

      - Sergeant Barnes is waiting. - the receptionist returned. - He also said he’ll be expecting a meeting with you soon, Mr. Wilson. 

     - Tell him he can keep waiting. - he waved the warning off before squatting down to Sadie’s level. - You go and hang out with dad. Tell me all about it later, Sisi. 

     - Bye, uncle Sam. - she waved with a grin before turning back to Y/N, extending her hand towards her again. 

The two of them followed the receptionist through clear halls decorated with elegant art, tall white and grey pottery as well as several plants which looked as fresh as any seen in nature. Soon, two large black doors came in view in a scene that reminded her somewhat of the entry to Jurassic Park. Perhaps because both housed two beings with terrible tempers. Sadie held onto Y/N’s leg as the receptionist left the two to grasp with who was going to open the door. 

     - Wanna go. - she buried her head in the fabric of Y/N’s trousers. - Please.

     - Sadie ... - Y/N leaned down to pick her up. - Daddy really wants to hang out with you. 

The little girl buried her face in her neck, mumbling about being scared. She couldn’t really blame her, the building was intimidating and even though her father sat on the other side of that door, all the 2 year old could see was a big door in a frightening building. 

     - We’re going in together. You can hold on to me, it’ll be ok. 

     - Promise?

     - Promise. - she smiled down at her before her hand reached to open the door. 

The office was without personality, much different to how Bucky had decorated his house. The office was just as clean as the rest of the building, decorated like any other office in a decoration magazine. Whilst his house was sophisticated, there were dots of personality everywhere from Sadie’s drawings on the fridge, to Bucky’s postcard collection in frames everywhere you’d looked. She wondered for a second, for a millisecond, if he even spent time here and if he did how much time did he spend. It looked too pristine but Sadie didn’t care, her face lighting up as she saw her dad. 

     - Look who it is. - she pointed at Bucky as Sadie jumped onto the floor to run over to her dad. 

     - Daddy, look, Bluey. - she pointed to her backpack. - Y/N gave it to me.

(...)

It was official. Y/N had no clue what to do with her free time. She had done her revision, looked at all her notes, even spent half the afternoon looking through her thesis only to find herself bored. She missed Sadie asking about her thesis, heck, she even missed the sound of the obnoxious children’s cartoons. Therefore, it was not upsetting when she got a message from Bucky, an hour earlier than expected. She walked back into that building with an unshaken confidence, climbing the stairs up to the office. 

     - FAIR! - Sadie rushed from the office to hug her leg. - Daddy is taking us. 

     - It’s Coney Island. If you’re not busy. - Bucky added as he came not far behind his daughter, keeping a trained eye on her so she wouldn’t wander far. - Sadie said she wanted you to come. 

     - What happened to your hair, baby? - she lowered to the 2 year old’s height, finding her hair on a half arranged scrunchie to the right of her head. 

     - It’s fine. - Bucky said nervously. - You like it, don’t you, Sisi? 

     - No. - she pouted. 

     - It’s alright, baby. - Y/N carefully pulled the scrunchie down. - It looks better down anyway. 

    - Thanks. - Bucky mumbled. - I’m not good with hair ... at least Sadie’s hair. 

It was an odd feeling. An odd feeling as he found himself completely at odds with how to look after his child while she just did it so effortlessly. She seemed to know better, better than him and she was a complete outsider. She wasn’t her mother, she wasn’t family yet Sadie followed her like a baby duck, happily telling her what she did. No tantrums, no anything. All she did was extend her little hand towards Y/N and Bucky couldn’t help the little green monster yearning to come out of him. He’d never really questioned what he was sacrificing, he thought it was ok. That’s what father’s did, right? That’s what his father had done and he always seemed to so tuned to his children’s needs. Yet, here he was, not knowing what to do about his own daughter.

He just starred at the spectacle of the fair, the sounds of children and their parents muzzled by his own thoughts. He just wondered, perhaps with some sort of obsession, if this, if who he was, was enough for Sadie. Was he a father or just the man who gave her a home? 

     - Sergeant Barnes? - her voice broke him from a daze he didn’t realise he’d been stuck in from his office all the way to the fair. - Sergeant Barnes, are you alright? 

     - Sorry. - he blinked harshly. - I was distracted. 

     - I gathered that much. - she looked at him from the corner of her eye. - Work? 

     - In a way. - he shrugged. - You’re good with Sadie. 

     - It’s part of my job. - she smiled at him. - You should fire me if I’m not good with Sadie. 

     - Not what I meant. - he continued looking at the aquarium exposition they’d set which was breath taking for little Sadie. - She really likes you. You can do her hair and she asks for you all the time. 

      - Sergeant Barnes, I ...

      - When she’s with me ... - he took a deep breathe, the words getting stuck in the middle of his throat. - When she’s with me she asks for you. 

      - She asks for you as well. - she tried to comfort him. - She’s 2. I wouldn’t dwell on it. 

      - You’re like Mary fucking Poppins. 

      - Or maybe I just give her spoonfuls of sugar. - she joked. - You’re a good dad, Sergeant Barnes. A grumpy one but a good one. 

      - I thought we were done with Sergeant Barnes.

     - Well, I am not done with being called sir. - she looked down at Sadie, pulling her away from the aquarium before she attempted to break the glass. - Why don’t we go on the merry go round? 

      - Fishies! - she pointed back at the fishes. 

      - It’s ok, Sisi. We can get you a gold fish after. 

How they had ended up here, Bucky wasn’t sure. All he knew is that Y/N was holding Sadie’s against her chest, the little girl having dozed off after going on every single ride and tent she could find, while Bucky had his handfuls with big stuffed teddies, two goldfishes (because of course Sadie wanted a fish to keep the other fish company), and a half eaten cotton candy which Sadie had said she would finish home.

      - You sure you don’t need help? - she asked, moving Sadie so she was more comfortably laying against her chest. - I can carry one of the stuffies. 

      - It’s okay. I may have gone overboard with the stuffies. 

      - At least you have a few new fans. - she teased, remembering how some of the mums had fawned as Bucky had easily won any and every fair game to win the biggest teddy available. - I’m sure you’ve increased your popularity. 

      - Did you have fun? - he attempted to change the subject. He knew his effect on women and he did not like to discuss it. Last thing he needed was a relationship to disrupt Sadie’s life. He was no stranger to a one night stand or even to having a few friends with benefits but that’s where it ended. For all Sadie, and even Y/N, were concerned he was a celibate, single man. It was for the best. 

      - As much fun as you can have when you ride the merry-go-round 10 times. 

     - C’mon, you need to have fun. What do you want to do? 

     - It’s okay, Sergeant Barnes. We need to get Sadie home and ...

     - Bucky. - he interrupted her. - It’s Bucky and I asked you what you want to do. Trust me, Sadie’s not waking up any time soon. I want you to have fun as well. 

     - Fine. I want to shoot some cans. 

     - You want to shoot some cans? - he chuckled. - Alright. We can find something like that. 

It wasn’t hard to find something like that. He just found it odd she wanted to do that. Perhaps it was the first thing that came through her mind when he asked her to do something she liked or maybe she had some pent up aggression within her. Whatever it was, Bucky was curious. He didn’t know much about her outside of what needed to be known. He knew she was working on her post graduate qualifications, doing a PhD, but he wasn’t sure on what. She didn’t share much. 

     - Here, let me hold her. - he shifted the things on his arms, finding space to hold his daughter against his hip. Y/N shrugged, handing him Sadie as if she would’ve easily shot the cans while holding the two year old. - Maybe you should ...

     - I got it. - she grabbed the prop weapon, gathering her aim before shooting 5 cans down in a row. 

     - Do you ... do you shoot often? - he looked at her with a mix of confusion and amazement. 

     - Not really. - she said, not taking her eyes off the other 5 cans which she easily knocked down before turning to the guy manning the booth. - Can I get the blue dog plush, please?

     - You’re a good shot. 

     - Is that a compliment, Sergeant Barnes? 

     - I’m a better shot but you’re not bad. - he added. - Come on. We have somewhere else to go. 

     - Are you gonna show me how much of a better shot you are?

     - Don’t need to. Have medals to prove it, Y/N. Besides, I have my daughter here. 

     - Uh ... I think you’re just scared of losing. 

     - Is that so?

     - Yes.

     - Ok. There’s a shooting range about half an hour from my office, I’ll happily show you my skills there. 

     - Can’t perform without your familiar tools? - she crossed her arms. 

     - Oh doll. - he smirked. - I can perform with any tool you choose. 

[sssapplebottomjeans]

okay okay okay one thing I just absolutely love about the relationship between rapunzel and varian and what the show did with them in general is just how perfectly they were set up as mirrors of each other. varian is corrupted rapunzel. rapunzel is what varian could have been

Literally starting from their births, okay, Rapunzel? Born into the royal family, she’s the Princess of Corona, the one and only direct heir to the throne. A day after her birth, she gets stolen from her family, from her kingdom and completely isolated from the world for eighteen years. She’s taught that the world is dangerous, but even in her isolation and loneliness, she finds something that keeps her happy, which for Rapunzel is her art. And she’s good at it, she paints on her walls and nothing bad comes out of it, they’re her freedom when she herself has none.

Then you have Varian. He’s the son of someone who worked in a Brotherhood, someone who was in a close alliance with the king of the Dark Kingdom. Before he was born, his dad left the Dark Kingdom and started a new life in Corona, now with a newborn son. Varian grows up to be a little bit of a teenage hermit. Instead of being taught that the world is dangerous, he’s taught that he is dangerous, the first rumors Cassandra hearing about him is that he is a 'dangerous wizard', which, when we first meet Varian for real, we find out that he doesn't even like being associated with magic. And his biggest hobby is the same thing that makes him an outcast in the first place, his alchemy. His inventions and experiments never work the way they should, but they’re what he thinks is his way out, he’s going to help people with this.

So, comparing that, I do believe that Varian is a sort of mirror to Rapunzel. Both placed in similar positions (albiet Rapunzel's more extreme) with similar choices, but with different outcomes and reactions. Rapunzel’s a direct heir to the throne, Varian’s not an heir to anything but he comes from a line of people that worked for the king. Rapunzel was stolen from her kingdom, Varian was born into this new kingdom, his dad was the one that left. Rapunzel was forced into isolation against her will; Varian chose it and continues to choose it in pursuit of something better. The world is dangerous to Rapunzel, Varian is dangerous to himself and the people he cares about the most. Rapunzel is happy because of her art and it’s her freedom. Varian is happy with his alchemy yet it’s why he’s an outcast. They’re mirror images of each other, and I think Varian figured that out first.

Even their personalities are similar in that they’re both hopeful, excitable, energetic, they talk a lot, they want to please their parental figure(s), they want to change the world but there’s limits set in stone that keep them from achieving that, they’re stubborn as fuck, impulsive and don’t listen to what people say unless it’s someone they really value the opinion of.

She still has a family, he doesn’t. (The sad thing is, I don't think he realizes that Rapunzel has already lost Gothel, and for eighteen years, Gothel was her 'mother') She’s respected, he’s not. And he gets that “oh. If she’s just like me but *better*, then I know how to make her tick.” So he tries to trap her mom in the amber, he’s going into this fully intending on murdering her mom in the same way his dad died just in case her hair doesn't work, (keeping in mind that Varian has confidence which ultimately led to his downfall, so whether he was completely sure Rapunzel's hair would work or not would make a big difference) which in that case- then the roles are completely flipped for a second. Now Rapunzel is the less extreme of the two. Rapunzel indirectly left Varian’s father to die, Varian pours the amber on her mom himself. And then he says it himself, “Sorry, Princess! We were in this together, but if I can’t have a happy ending then neither can you.” “It’s not enough until you endure the same amount of pain and agony I have!”

It’s all about corrupting this version of himself that has what he wants, the family that will always support her, (which we know is wrong. Fred and Ariana don’t justify everything she does, and Fred especially has made decisions about Rapunzel that really are just questionable at the best of times) the kingdom that will respect her. It’s trying to bring her down to his level, so maybe she’ll finally understand, cuz a lot of his conflict up until this point has been that nobody really listens to him, his dad, Rapunzel, or the kingdom.

I'm getting more into headcanon territory here but I would make an argument that Rapunzel realized how similar they were only when they were face to face in the final battle of SOTSD, and i would also argue that when she drives the last spike in his automaton, that's it's also a promise to herself that she will never become like how he was then, angry and bitter and jaded, an attack that's also destroying that small part of herself... also thinking that her destroying the automaton and not hurting Varian was part of that promise. Cuz she never really hated him. And even if she did, that promise to herself would've also been, "to be merciful, to not hold onto anger and grief, and give those who act out of pain and desperation another chance."

...aka the exact opposite of what Varian did.

Butttt that's diving into headcanons, plus. i'm sleep deprived atm and really don't feel like editing it SKDJGHJDG

The show already makes so many parallels between them and i think one of my favorites is the dream sequence in The Quest for Varian

It just…. So many feels. IMAGINE IF THEY HAD DONE MOON VARIAN, PLS SUN MOON LIGHT DARK HOPE GRIEF

[laurark]

2023 Wrap Up

A strange year that was both long and short. The main lesson to learn from 2023 is the same lesson I have been learning every year since I was 6 years old: Things happen if you try!

 I spent a lot of time this year hitting my head against a wall, or rather healing from an RSI that caused making art to become really fraught. I could bear the wrist pain in order to do my favorite thing (drawing!!!) but then the pain stuck around after I had clocked out for the day and was making dinner. It would go like this: I want to make pasta sauce using canned tomatoes, but using a can opener is so painful now that maybe I should just do something else. The onions and garlic are already cooking in the pan though, what can I pivot that to? I felt like the biggest dunce in the world. I worked my way into being cursed, I deserved it.

I have this craving to just commit to a big art project, like a graphic novel, and keep my head down working on it. Having all my time devoted to work feels a bit like doing penance, like earning my bread. But I look at the world and I know I cannot draw my way out of this. I can’t write my way out of this. I can’t post my way out of this. I am unprepared for what I need to do to earn a better tomorrow. But I am prepared to learn.

I changed up my desk ergonomics and my wrist healed. Thank you to the huge desk easel that I stole from my parents’ house. It’s ugly, heavy, stained, and I keep banging my elbows on its sharp corners. It sucks but it saved my life. Do not resist making your workspace uglier if it might help you! 

Making The Influence and participating in the ShortBox Comics Fair was a huge work highlight this year. I’m so grateful I can make a work with dark themes and have it be understood and appreciated. The encouraging response to The Influence did a lot to kill the bad faith reviewer in my mind. Things are possible if you try!

I started painting again and I really love it. I’m trying to just follow the image-making. Painting is play to me and I want it to remain so. I feel myself itch to turn it into some kind of profitable thing, to make it palatable, but I’m trying to resist so it remains a place of experimentation. 

I also wrote a short novel. It’s awful. I just re-read it and it’s so bad, but reading it makes me happy. It needs serious reworking to be a proper novel, but I did technically cross the finish line and write the whole story. It was very refreshing and informative to branch out like this, even if I don’t think this particular example is fit for human consumption. Earlier in my life I was so stubborn about ONLY working in comics but now I’d like to pursue whatever path I can to have a creative career. If you try!

I had a great time tabling at Short Run this year. Two different people came to my table and told me they came to the show specifically to see my table. One person said Bug Boys was responsible for facilitating “many special moments” with them and their niece. I don’t want to forget about moments like this. It means a lot to me. 

It occurs to me as I type out this year’s accomplishments, they’re mostly things I did at home alone. I haven’t rejoined the world after COVID in a meaningful way, the way I hoped I would during lockdown. It comes naturally to me to make up excuses to stay home, keep my head down, watch how things play out before joining in. That attitude does me a disservice. It isolates me. When other people are only in the screen, they become hypothetical. It’s not right to live this way, but it’s comfortable to me. It feels “safe” after COVID, even though it’s not safe. I know I need to change this. 

It feels sick and strange to be blogging in my safe little apartment during a time of bloodshed. To flip through my planner and think of my future while others starve is obscene. My entire life was obscene in this fashion. It’s my responsibility to sit with this feeling and do something with it.

Here’s to a better 2024. We can do it, we can try. 

In love and solidarity, 

Laura K.

[ladykailitha]

All My Roads Lead Back to You Part 8

Hello! We get an actual resolution with no cliffhangers, but a lot of backstory revealed. Also, Harri gets his temper and stubbornness from all his parents (his two dads AND the surrogate ;)). Really, the poor boy never had a chance.

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3 Pt 4  Pt 5 Pt 6  Pt 7 

***

Eddie and Harri looked at each other in shock.

“Dad!” Harri hissed.

Eddie held up his hands in surrender. “She didn’t even give me a chance to respond!”

Harri huffed. “I guess. But I swear to god, if you Yoko this shit up, I’ll post the baby pictures of you Grandpa Wayne kept on your Insta.”

“Hey!” Eddie protested. “It’s not my fault, okay!”

“Yeah?” Harri asked. “Uncles Jeff and Gareth gonna agree to that? Because now that I know who they were talking about, they’ve been telling you to let it go since before Papa died.”

Eddie frowned. “There’s more history there then you know.”

“So tell me!” Harri yelled, getting to his feet. “What is so fucking bad you can’t talk about it? Not to me, not to Uncle Jeff, and certainly not to Papa. So what aren’t you tell me?”

Eddie glared at his son. “I can’t tell you.”

“Not this fucking NDA shit again!” Harri growled getting in Eddie’s face. “Just own up that nothing happened.”

Eddie lifted up his shirt. “Does that fucking look like nothing happened? Huh? Does it? Because this is end of the list of shit I can’t talk about. There is so much I know. So much that I still have fucking nightmares about it. And when I told Steve that I was in love with him, he told me I couldn’t be. That it was the trauma of what we’ve been through!”

“Twenty years ago!” Harri snapped back. “Don’t you think he might have changed his mind? God damn, Dad! He still has your ring!”

Eddie took a step back. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Harri glared at him. “The hell you don’t.” He marched into the studio, Eddie fast on his heels.

“I don’t know what the hell you think this will prove,” Eddie growled.

Harri pulled two pictures off the wall. One featuring Corroded Coffin on a torn up sofa in Grandpa Wayne’s old house and the other all them around the table signing their contract. In both photos you could clearly see Eddie’s right hand. In the first picture there was a silver and grey gem stone ring and it was gone in the second.

“I always wondered about that conversation you had with Grandpa Wayne about that ring,” Harri said. “It was right after Papa’s funeral and I asked you what happened to it. I said it was really pretty. You told me that you lost it. Do you remember what Grandpa Wayne said? Because I do.”

Eddie glared at his son, lips pursed.

“He said that it was bullshit and that you knew exactly where it was,” Harri continued. “And that all you had to do was go get it back if you wanted to.”

He turned the pictures around so Eddie could see them. “You gave Mr Harrington that ring. Why, that I don’t know. But I do know I saw it two days ago on Mr Harrington’s right ring finger. And you can lie to me again about it or you can tell the truth so we can fix this. Whatever it was between you. Because Uncle Jeff liked the dude so much they remained friends for years. And we both know he hates people.”

Eddie sighed, taking the picture of the one on Wayne’s couch. “I told him that maybe if he didn’t feel that way about me then, that might change. And I gave him the ring as a promise. He could give it back to me only if he returned my feelings.”

He ran his fingers over the image of Brian and sighed. He then touched the part of the picture that showed the ring. “He never returned it, so I thought he’d thrown it away, sold it, pawned it off. Whatever. I don’t know how I feel about him keeping it.”

Harri nodded. On the one hand, Steve kept the ring, meaning it was important to him, but on the other, it meant he hadn’t returned Eddie’s feelings. “At least you know you’re still important to him, Dad. And maybe that’s all that really matters.”

Eddie nodded. “Call your friend. Tell her I’ll do it. I’ll befriend that bastard.” He looked at Harri a moment. “Maybe don’t say it exactly like that.”

Harri laughed and shook his head. “Yeah, yeah. I’m not that stupid. After all I got my smarts from Papa.”

“Hey!” Eddie protested.

*

By the time Edie got home, she was wrung out, physically and emotionally. She was glad that Harri called. Of course she was. But the whole thing was becoming more trouble than it was worth.

All she wanted to do was flop on her bed and ignore everyone until dinner. But it was not be. Standing in her living room, softly chatting with Aunt Robin was Vivian Knightly, super model extraordinaire.

Viv was tall and statuesque, with legs that went on for miles. She had dark skin and full, red lips. Her long, black hair was braided into hundreds of small braids, decorated with colorful beads. She wore a bright yellow sundress with a white belt.

In short, she made everyone else in the room dowdy by comparison.

She turned when she heard the door. “Hello! You must be Edie! It’s nice to meet you in the flesh, at long last.” She stuck out her hand so gracefully that it made Edie want to snort. How this elegant woman got with her absolutely uncoordinated giraffe of an aunt, she never could figure out.

Edie took her hand and shook it. “It’s nice to meet you, too.”

“You’re home later than usual,” Robin said. “Everything all right?”

Edie nodded. “Just had drop off the music we’re practicing over at our guitarist’s house.”

Robin’s eyebrows shot up. “And this wouldn’t be your new guitarist would it?”

Edie rolled her eyes. “Yes, Aunt Robin. Harri Munson is a good friend, a good guitarist, and good artist. Anything else you’d want to know? Blood type, height, weight, dating status? For the record he’s single. And no, I don’t know his sexuality any more than he knows mine. We’re not that close yet.”

Robin grimaced.

Viv stepped into the breech. “I bet he’s cute though. You got a picture of him I can see?”

Edie raised her eyebrow. “I’m a lesbian.”

Viv laughed. “Me too!”

Edie rolled her eyes again, this time with more humor. She pulled out her phone and scrolled through her pictures. She showed her the photo of Harri and Mandy with their arms around each other.

“He is cute,” Viv said. “In that awkward teenage way. I’ll bet he’ll grow into his dimples.”

Robin looked over her shoulder and then scoffed. “He looks just like his dad, and his dad so didn’t grow into them.”

Edie put her phone away. “Yeah, it’s a bit eerie how alike they look.”

Robin laughed. “Sure, little miss carbon copy of her dad.”

“I am not!” Edie protested, just as her dad walked in.

Viv looked back and forth between them. “Nope, sorry babe. I’m going to have to side with Robin on this one.”

Steve looked at all of them in confusion. “What’s going on?”

“Dad,” Edie said with all the put upon nature of a teenager, “please tell these lovely ladies I am not a carbon copy of you.”

Steve blinked. “Honey, I love you and I can tell you’ve had a rough day at school...”

Edie’s eyes went wide and she threw her arms in the arm. “Not you, too!”

Steve grimaced. “Sorry. But it drove Addison nuts how much you look like me. Even as an infant.”

Edie’s lip twisted as she grumped.

Steve pulled her in for a hug. “Why don’t you go hang out in your room until dinner? De-stress a bit, okay?”

This is why Edie loved her dad. He could tell she wanted escape the social interaction and gave her an out. She kissed his cheek and with a promise to chat with Robin and Viv later, she went to go nap.

*

When she came back downstairs for dinner, Robin and Viv had gone out to dinner and it was just her and her dad.

“They’ll be back later,” Steve explained as he handed her a large plate of spaghetti. “I just wanted it to be us for dinner.”

Edie nodded and dug into her food with gusto. Steve was good cook and he knew his daughter’s comfort food.

“Rough day at school?” Steve asked, gently.

Edie sighed and stabbed at her plate. “A little. Things got a little awkward with Harri today.”

“Ah.”

Steve pushed his food around and Edie nudged him with her shoulder. “Come on, eat.”

He took a couple bites before he spoke again. “I didn’t mean to make things awkward with your friend.”

She bumped him again. “Hey, it’s not your fault.”

Steve scoffed. “No, no. It really is. I was an ass.”

“You were a teenager after a fucking earthquake,” Edie reminded him. “And he was asking you to uproot your life so soon after wasn’t fair either.”

Steve looked at her and raised an eyebrow. “And who told you that?”

“Harri,” Edie admitted with a wince. “Minus the barracks language his dad used to describe the incident.”

Steve laughed. “Yeah, I can only imagine. Eddie always did have the most colorful language.”

“You really liked him, didn’t you?” Edie said jumping down from the barstool and grabbed both of their empty plates to put in the sink.

“Yeah,” Steve mumbled. “I was just too stupid to realize it until after he went to LA.”

Edie began washing their dishes. “So why didn’t you follow him?”

Steve stood up and grabbed a wash cloth to wipe down the counter. “Because I learned that if I listened to loud noises I would lose all the hearing in my left ear. And that included plane rides and metal concerts.”

“Oh.”

Steve ran the wash cloth under the tap and laid it flat to dry. “Dustin set out to create earplugs that would allow me to do both and accidentally invented a better hearing aid.” He chuckled and shook his head. He leaned up against the counter and folded his arms.

“It took him another couple of years to make the earplugs,” he said softly.

“In time for Brian Martin’s funeral?” she asked, putting the dishes into the sink.

Steve nodded. “Too bad I didn’t get to use them then. But I’ve used them on every flight since.”

She hummed in agreement. “Is that why you married Addison? Because you couldn’t be with Mr Munson?”

Steve sighed. “I wanted him to be with someone who could go to his concerts, to cheer him on from backstage and that couldn’t be me.”

Edie dried off her hands. “Shouldn’t he have a say in that?”

He chuckled. “Probably. But remember, I was young and stupid.”

She hummed in agreement and he swatted at her playfully.

“I’m sorry it didn’t work out between you,” Edie said quietly.

Steve straightened up and gave her a hug. “It’s okay. I got you out of the deal and I’d say that was worth it.”

Edie hugged him back tightly. “I know. I just want you to be happy, Dad.”

He kissed the top of her head fiercely. “I know, honey. I know.”

***

Part 9  Part 10 Part 11  Part 12  Part 13 Part 14  Part 15  Part 16 Part 17  Part 18  Epilogue

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[budgiesunset]

Hi! Can I request Ari x reader where she has a similar injury and he’s helping her through it? Maybe she’s feeling really down and lonely and he just talks with her

You go I go || Ari Gibson x Reader

Summary: after going to stairway with summer you end up in a hospital bed unsure if you will ever be able to surf again and your boyfriend is right by your side.

���️Warnings⚠️ Almost drowning, paralyzed, not proof read, like 1 swear word

AN: Sorry for the wait there’s been a lot going on. Anyways hope you enjoy!

“Hey summer, what are you doing?” You said as you approached her after watching her interaction with Honey.

“Nothing don’t worry about it.” She responded and continued to get her surf board out of the car. You continue to lean against the car and as she closes the boot (trunk for non-aussies) you lift up your surf board showing her.

“I know you’re going to surf stairway, so I’m coming with you.” You said before walking off. “What! No YN I can’t let you do that. Ari would kill me if he found out!” She tried to pull you back but you continued.

“Summer I know you probably don’t see it but you are one of my best friends so if you surf stairway, I surf stairway too.” She knew she wouldn’t be able to change your mind for the short time that she knew you she learnt very quickly that you are very stubborn.

“ok, come on. If we’re going to do this we have to leave now.” And with that you both took off towards stair way. But unknown to you where two things one was that your boyfriend was also on his way to stair way and two you had just made a big mistake that would soon make you wish you never went.

**

After a very long and exhausting hike to stairway you finally made it. You were waxing your board when you heard steps behind you. “Hello boys.” You heard Summer say as you turned your head to see your boyfriend Ari and his best friend Marlon.

“Summer? YN? What are you doing here?” Ari called out you held your board tight to your side decoding it would be best if you let Ari and Summer work this out but she remained quiet. “you talked to Margo didn’t you? What did she tell you?” He continued. “This is crazy” he said when he still didn’t get a response. Summer started looking down the cliff and when you looked to you saw just how far a jump it was and you started to get nervous.

“Let’s all just go home.” Marlon spoke up. “Yeah we’re going home. Come on YN, Summer? SUMMER!” Ari started screaming when Summer threw her board into the water. You took a deep breath and followed her actions.

For the few seconds that you were in the air you heard Ari and Marlon screaming out after you guys. You hit the cold water and then you felt it. A sharp stab in your back. At first you thought it was from hitting the water but when you tried to swim you couldn’t.

You couldn’t even tell which way was up and which was down. Your vision was blurry from the water but then you realized you were running out of air.

You felt light headed blackness started to crowd your vision the last thing you saw before you passed out was Ari reaching for you.

**

It had been a week since the incident and you hadn’t talked to anyone with the exception of your parents and the doctors. Summer and Ari tried reaching out but you didn’t want them to see you like this. You felt weak and so stupid for jumping.

Your parents had tried to get you to talk with Ari but you always declined. You knew he would understand of course he would he went through the exact same thing but you couldn’t bare to look at him. He tried to stop you and you didn’t listen, you saw his scar and you promised him that you wouldn’t go jumping at stairway and you did anyway.

You heard a knock at the door interrupting your thoughts. You couldn’t really get out of bed to see who was at the door when you jumped you didn’t go out far enough so when you entered the water there where a bunch of rocks waiting to welcome you. And you ended up paralyzed from your legs down but the doctor said that you would be able to learn how to walk again as soon as your stitches heal.

“Hello?” You could recognize that voice anywhere you didn’t know what he was doing here but you knew that you would have to face him sooner or later.

“In here.” You called back and soon you were staring at your boyfriend. Ari. “Hey Ari.. How are you?”

“Seriously!.. You almost died and you’re asking me how I am?” He yelled causing you to flinch slightly at his voice. “You promised me you wouldn’t surf Stairway. You almost died I had to pull you out of the water! and now you’re fucking paralyzed! Did they tell you that if you had been under the water for a few more minutes you’d be dead!” You froze they didn’t tell you that.

He must have seen the look on your face because his expression softened. “I’m sorry I shouldn’t have raised my voice” he spoke softly as he sat done next to you wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into his chest holding you tight.

“I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry. I shouldn’t have gon-“ You started but Ari shushed you “Stop it’s ok. You did it for Summer. And no matter what I’m always going to be here for you. I love you” he said kissing the top of your head.

“I love you too”

[beanghostprincess]

Pudding and Usopp should be friends me thinks. Usopp hears about everything that happened to Sanji on WCI and is fully prepared to hate her guts no matter what anyone says and then it’s slightly mad at himself when he actually likes her. I have a very specific image of Sanamipu bff dynamic in my head I can’t really describe but I’m having it. The type of people who think of themself as some of the more sane people in the group and sure, they get the idiot ball just a tiny bit less often when they are all together and snarking, but when they get it they slam dunk it so hard the entire court shatters.

I AGREE COMPLETELY!!!!!!!!! This would be so funny, too 😭 (Making this Sanusona as I always do) Usopp finds out about what happened back on WCI and he hates Pudding. Sanji keeps telling him to see it from a different angle. That it wasn't really Pudding's fault and she was being manipulated by her mom. That she actually helped them in the end. But Usopp doesn't like her- Not only because she did what she did, but also because he can't stand the way Sanji talks about her. Ngl, I think Usopp isn't a jealous person, but he is very insecure and Sanji being fond of the girl he almost ends up marrying makes him a bit sick. But, yeah. Final saga, they rescue Pudding, and she meets the Strawhats. Usopp is fully prepared to be her worst enemy no matter what! But- But she's actually really nice? And cute? And really, really funny? And he can't hate her. He tries to be angry at her but she's cooking sweets for everyone and even though she has this weird on-and-off personality when it comes to Sanji... She has a good heart. But Usopp keeps pretending that he hates her because he's a proud idiot and he won't admit he was wrong about her. Sanji just tells him to get his shit together already and enjoy their time together because otherwise, he'll regret it (funny that he's the one saying that as if he wasn't equally as stubborn. That frustrated Usopp more). I think Pudding would actually make amends with them, you know, since I doubt Nami and Luffy could forgive her that easily. But they end up getting along with her when she apologizes (when Sanji isn't around because if he is in front of her she'll end up yelling without wanting to). Usopp doesn't buy it. I mean- He does buy it. He just doesn't want to. So Pudding talks to him in private and explains her situation and apologizes and says she understands if he doesn't want to forgive her. She almost marries his boyfriend, after all. And she has hurt him in multiple ways. And she has broken his heart. It's understandable if Usopp wants to hate her so bad. But the guy is soft against that and Usopp believes people can change. Besides, he knows what being insecure about your appearance and status is, especially if it has to do with a parent. So they end up getting along. The same thing happens with Nami, actually. Imagine trying to forget what Pudding did to their cook. Nami is going feral cat mode against her. If looks could kill, y'know... But! But she saw with her own eyes how Pudding helped them out and she knows what it feels like. To act like somebody you're not. And yeah, okay, the girl might be a little bit insane but it could be worse. And when she's acting like a normal person, she's a sweetheart. So Usopp ends up befriending her quickly, while Nami accepts her and embraces her friendship, but not without the typical "But I swear, if you do anything remotely bad to him again I am not hesitating to electrocute you and throw you overboard. Understood? Understood. Glad we had this chat, bestie". So, uh, yeah- At least they're friends now.

And let me tell you-- It's chaotic. Sanji thought he would be devastated if they didn't get along, but now that they do... Sanji is losing his mind. They're all crazy. He's living his dream, you know. His dear Pudding is friends with his partners. Great. Yeah. Uh. Pudding is teaching Usopp how to use a revolver, which makes sense since he is a sniper and he's curious about guns. That makes sense. But she's also telling Nami manipulation tactics and the navigator couldn't be happier. And you might think that's it, but then you have Usopp showing off his abilities and Nami giving tangerines to Pudding so she can make sweets with them. Which is adorable and cute and Sanji loves every second of it, but it's like they planned this to make him go insane. His poor heart can't handle this. He's going to die. They're a menace to society. Honestly? An unstoppable trio. They manipulate, gaslight, and Sanji malewifes. If they don't like you and you have something they want they probably will steal that from you using either manipulation, burglar tactics or, you know, a gun. Perfect trio. They're also Sanji's protection squad. And also they're the ones who scold him when he doesn't behave. He's a bit scared of them but like, in a good way? And they also look after him a lot so it's alright. And besides, Sanji is kind of like their knight in shining armor too because he gets extra violent if something happens to any of them.

Isn't it just,,, Such a cute picture to imagine Sanji and Pudding cooking while Usopp and Nami work on their own things at the dining table while they keep them company? I find it cute,, They're all a bit crazy but it's fine.

[foxymoxynoona]

After the Applause (Ch. 5)

Header and linebreaks by @awrkives

Single Dad Jimin x Female OC

SUMMARY: Jimin doesn't know how he would have made it this far after the shattering of his world without the support of his thoughtful, generous, helpful neighbor. Hanbyul has lived next to hottie Jimin and his adorable daughter for years now, long enough to remember the wife he was so devoted to and lost far too young. With each safely ensconced on their side of the brick wall of the Parks' grief, it will take an enterprising little scientist to set the stage for a second chance at love.

CW/tags: grief, prior loss of spouse/parent, comfort, explicit sex, secondhand embarrassment, sort of love triangle/web/rat's nest, fluff, cursing, dating apps, fuckboy friends, dancer Jimin, stubborn dad Jimin, stubborn pre-teen daughter, miscommunication, pining

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“So now you’re ghosting him.” 

“No! I’m not ghosting anyone,” Hanbyul insisted, burying her face in the shredded throw pillow on the couch. Despite Hudu’s lifelong grudge against all throw pillows, she bought new ones every time her family came to visit in an effort to make her place look nice, only for him to shred them within days.

“You had sex with him and then you never talked to him again.”

“It’s only been a few days!” Hanbyul defended. “He’s only messaged me once.”

“Because he’s waiting for you to respond because clearly he abides by the proper messaging etiquette. And before you even say that he took a week before, didn’t his mom die or something?”

“She didn’t die, she was just in the hospital… I have family too. I’ll just say you had the baby…”

She could practically see her sister’s aggrieved sigh as she snarked, “Yes, lying, great foundation for a relationship.”

“But I can’t have a relationship with him.”

“Why not? Jimin’s not waiting for you.”

“Ugh why are sisters such….” Hanbyul trailed off, not wanting to actually call her a bitch even jokingly but perfectly happy to let her sister fill in the blanks. Leave it to Sobyul to take nothing away from Hanbyul’s whole sordid tale except he’s great at sex and loves his mom? Lock it down.

“I’m just honest because I love you. So Kim Namjoon and Park Jimin know each other, so what? They don’t seem to be close friends anyway, so what does it matter? And even if they were, there’s nothing between you and Jimin that you need to protect. He’s not your boyfriend or your ex, he’s your neighbor.”

“Correct, but it still feels… weird.”

“Nobody knows about your crush but me. It’s not like they know by looking at you. Crushes come and go. You’ll get over it. It’s not a reason not to pursue something with Kim Namjoon, who you do like, right?”

“I… do…” Hanbyul rolled onto her back. And then onto her front. And then onto her back again, restless and uncomfortable. She didn’t know how to explain any of this. She didn’t want to make herself look even more pathetic to Sobyul by admitting that she thought her feelings for Jimin ran much deeper than a crush. She didn’t want to make her sister realize she was stupid for not being so sure about her feelings about Namjoon. He was objectively an amazing guy, but was she really into him? Or was she just lonely? Or desperate to fall for someone who wasn’t Jimin, who actually had an interest in her. That sounded awful! But even worse, she couldn’t bring herself to voice that naive little dream: what if Jimin changed his mind about me and did care about me someday? Would he date someone who had dated his friend?

She was mortified by her own thought, and yet she couldn’t let go of it. At least she ought to mention to Jimin she was seeing a friend of his, right? As a courtesy? But then she ought to also mention she and Jungkook still talked in the app sometimes. Just sporadically. And that when she’d run into Taehyung on her way taking Hudu out yesterday he’d walked her for a little bit. To get a coffee, actually. Which he had insisted on paying for. 

No, she knew she didn’t need to disclose these things. Maybe a secret part of her wanted to, wanted to see if Jimin would be bothered. If he cared at all.

But he wouldn’t. It wasn’t fear of rejection that kept her from admitting it, because rejection was a certainty; it was that she didn’t want reality to squash the fantasy once and for all.

“Just tell him,” Sobyul said, as if she’d been reading Hanbyul’s mind.

“About Namjoon?”

“Tell Jimin that you have feelings for him, and see what he says,” Sobyul insisted. “It’s the only way you’ll ever know.”

Hanbyul felt that familiar pang of horror at the idea, but slightly dulled this time. Rather than making her want to hide under the bed, this time it made her grit her teeth. Yeah, she would know then, wouldn’t she. There would be no more mystery. No more hope. No more guilt. And if he didn’t, she was free to date any of his friends, right? He might feel weird about it for her to move onto his friend, but whatever, it wouldn’t be his business anyway, right? If he was a gentleman, he wouldn’t mention her confession to his friends. He would admit it maybe someday in the far distant future. As they confessed all their remaining secrets the night before their wedding or something.

Unless he thought she was being creepy and only dating them to be close to him…

“Why does something like this have to happen to me?” Hanbyul sighed. “Why can’t it just be easy?”

“Should have fallen in love with someone else.”

“I didn’t say I was in love,” Hanbyul stammered out as her sister just laughed and then groaned and shifted the conversation into a rundown of her pregnancy symptoms. As if she wanted to dangle in Hanbyul’s face this path she might never have. Namjoon’s profile had said  directly that he wasn’t interested in having children. Hanbyul loved children, but was not so set on it that it would be a dealbreaker not to, so it hadn’t stopped her from answering his message. 

Although maybe that was only because she had Sun-young in her life. While she was in no way a mother to Sun-young, the girl was so precious to her, maybe it fulfilled some of that for her. It also made her realize how incapable she would be as a mother. How did anyone figure out how to raise a child?! If she didn’t ever have children, she wouldn’t need to. But maybe she did want them, and someday when Jimin met someone and Sun-young didn’t need Hanbyul so much, maybe then she would regret if she had chosen a relationship that wouldn’t provide the opportunity. It all felt so unknown. She knew she adored Sun-young, but a child of her own in a life she couldn’t imagine just seemed… fake and unimportant.

She ended the call with Sobyul not long after and flopped her arms and legs further askew on the sofa to really wallow. Did she really want children or was she just trying to find ways in which Namjoon wasn’t right for her so as not to confront the possibility that Namjoon was great and her only real reason not to continue dating him was due to her unreciprocated feelings for Jimin? 

Hudu lifted his paws to the side of the couch and slapped at her arm, whining.

“I already fed you,” Hanbyul sighed. He did it again, not the bells that meant he needed to go outside, he just wanted attention or food or treats. “Go get your toy. I’ll tug. Go on.” He whined again and she began to think he could actually understand her conversation with Sobyul or read her mind and was trying to drag her out of her own wallowing.

A knock at the door made her think instead that he had predictive powers. Hanbyul sighed and pushed up from the couch. She needed to go grocery shopping anyway and if it was someone she didn’t want to deal with, she could use that as an honest excuse. She wasn’t great at lying otherwise, which made her whole situation that much more dire!

Sun-young waited on the other side of the door, her little face eagerly upturned as she begged, “Can I stay with you today?”

“What’s going on? Sure, but I do need to go grocery shopping. Want to come along?”

“Ok, can you ask Appa? He doesn’t know I snuck over here.”

“Sun-young, you’re going to get me in trouble,” Hanbyul teased, but let Hudu slip around her so they all walked together back to the Park apartment. Jimin seemed to have just realized Sun-young was gone. His panic shifted to relief and then apparent frustration in the span of a second at the sight of Hanbyul and she wasn’t sure what to make of it.

“Sunnie, you can’t keep inviting yourself over to Hanbyul’s place. She has a life of her own.”

“It’s ok. I don’t mind if she tags along today, I’m just grocery shopping.”

“My friend Jungkook was supposed to take her all day but he had something come up this morning, so she’s going to hang out at the studio with me until he can get her.” Jimin turned away and Hanbyul could see the stress squeezing his shoulders as he gathered things into his bag. Hanbyul wondered if Jungkook’s delay came from partying a little too hard at the concert he went to last night; he had mentioned the show to her in one of their casual chats but he hadn’t invited her and if she was supposed to invite herself, she had missed the memo. It wasn’t very admirable if he’d been supposed to take Sun-young and had to bail because he was hungover.

“Ok…” Hanbyul said slowly, because she didn’t want to undermine Jimin’s plan but she also really didn’t mind. She tried to convey this with her expression, but he just tilted his head and looked concerned. “Um…” She glanced at Sun-young, then went close to Jimin and whispered, “I don’t want to interfere, but I really don’t mind having her with me. Jungkook could pick her up from my place later.” When she glanced over her shoulder, Sun-young was a painting of someone pretending not to know what was going on, meaning Hanbyul’s whisper had not been quiet enough.

Only as Jimin responded did she realize she had remained uncomfortably close to him and shifted quickly away. It might have looked like a small jump.

“I don’t want to keep taking advantage of your generosity. You don’t have to keep babysitting my daughter. Or at least let me pay you.”

“I’m not a babysitter and I don’t want to be paid,” Hanbyul argued. “I’ll put her to work. She can earn her keep by helping me with my groceries.”

Sun-young nodded eagerly and agreed, “I don’t mind helping!” 

Jimin caved with a sigh, “All right, fine. But this is the last time, and I’ll buy you dinner in exchange. Is it ok for me to give Jungkook your number so he can meet up with you later?”

“Yes, sure, of course,” Hanbyul nodded because for a moment his offer to buy her dinner had trailed across her field of vision in a bolder, italicized font. 

Except he didn’t mean for a date.

And just as quickly, she realized that Jimin giving her number to Jungkook might prompt his friend to off-handedly mention they’d been talking on a dating app, and she didn’t want to look like she’d been hiding it, so awkwardly she blurted out, “I’ve met him. I mean, we talk sometimes.”

Jimin froze, obviously confused.

“I thought you didn’t know him?”

“Since I said that. I mean, I don’t know him well, we’ve just talked a few times. A week. I mean, sometimes we talk about… things.” Good, Hanbyul, really normal. Sobyul would be shaking her by the shoulders if she could see this.

“Oh. You mean here in the building? Or… you already have his number?”

“I don’t have his number,” she clarified, but didn’t stop herself in time. “We just message on a dating app we’re both on.”

“Oh.”

“It’s just casual. Casual conversation, I mean. But we haven’t traded numbers…”

“Um… ok… you know what, maybe I’ll just come back to check on Sunnie and I can hand her over myself, I should be able to take a break around that time.”

“That seems like a lot of trouble. It’s not a problem for him to get her from my place.”

“Ok, yeah,” Jimin nodded, equally as amenable to this, like they were both trying to politely open the door for the other one and no one would walk through the door. “I’ll tell him. And I’ll tell you when I know what time, maybe like two? Or maybe I’ll be able to swing back. I’ll let you know either way. Or maybe he’ll message you directly, I don’t know.”

“Ok, but it’s really fine either way.”

Sun-young suddenly took Hanbyul’s arm and said pointedly, “Bye, Appa. See you tonight.” Hanbyul let herself be pulled from the apartment, but made it to her door before realizing Hudu hadn’t followed them. Jimin came not far behind, bags over his shoulder and Hudu in his arms.

“I wish I could take him to my dance clinic today,” Jimin laughed. He already seemed more relaxed. He accepted several kisses from Hudu, handed him over, and waved at Sun-young, who gave her appa a big hug since she’d won. 

Hanbyul still didn’t understand whether Jungkook was going to call her or just show up or if Jimin was going to insist on coming for some reason. It seemed clear he was surprised to learn she and Jungkook had been talking on a dating app and the fears Hanbyul had that Jimin would feel betrayed or upset about it grew larger. But he didn’t have a right to be against it, so he must just have been surprised? It wasn’t like she was dating Jungkook! But she had gone on four dates and slept with Namjoon… The coffee with Taehyung hadn’t been a date though… right?!

As soon as her door closed, Sun-young slid her backpack off and said with all the gravitas of a child of Park Jimin, “It’s time, unnie. I need your help.”

Jimin teetered sideways in his chair, laughing so hard his chest ached. The guilty party –Taehyung– sipped his water and tried to play it cool as the rest of the table crumbled around them. Yoongi covered his face, Young-geul rubbing his back and wiping her eyes. Jungkook showed off the roof of his mouth, head thrown back. Namjoon pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head and tried to play it cool while Seokjin slapped both their knees. Hoseok curled up, bright smile swallowing his face. 

And Sun-young sat on her knees in her chair and demanded, “What is it? What’s so funny? Tell me!”

“No no no.”

“Ah, when you’re older…”

“It’s just a joke about babies,” Jimin assured her. “You’ll get it after the baby is born.”

Sun-young pouted, playfully annoyed at being left out, but not for long. She leaned against Young-geul’s arm and asked her if she could feel the baby kick yet, even though that was months away. Yoongi and Young-geul’s announcement had brought everyone together at the noodle house tonight, closed early for the ad hoc celebration. Even if she didn’t understand most of the jokes, Sun-young was happiest of all, the sweet sunshine princess basking in the attention from her uncles and aunt while also openly thrilled about “not being the only kid soon.”

“Maybe more of you should have babies,” she said, crossing her arms and quirking her eyebrow in a way that felt too grown up as she looked around the table. It set them all off again.

“Jiminie, your daughter is bullying me,” Jungkook laughed. “Just because I’m not married!”

“You aren’t married because you date too much!” Sun-young said. It didn’t actually make sense, and probably she didn’t really understand what she was saying anyways, but it succeeded in getting the laughs she’d been angling for. Jimin couldn’t believe he’d made such a funny kid. She was really in rare form tonight. He didn’t think she’d been in this good a mood in… well, he couldn’t remember since when, except for the concert.

“When did your daughter turn into an ajumma?!” Seokjin laughed. “No, don’t look at me, you hellion! Don’t come for me next! I have a serious girlfriend, she’s just working right now!”

“I haven’t met her yet so is she real?” Sun-young demanded. Seokjin crumpled into laughter, insisting she was real, he promised.

Her eyes slid over Namjoon next and he defended, “Me too! I’m sort of seeing someone! But I’m not going to have kids, Sunnie-girl, I’m just happy to be an uncle. Who could ever compare to you?”

Sun-young was pleased by this and stopped bullying her uncles, which of course Jimin would never have interfered with. At moments like these, he felt less terrible about his choices as a father, because whatever mistakes he might make, Sun-young actually was surrounded by love. The loss of her mother was grievous and maybe he was cruel to not let his parents have more of a hand in raising her, maybe having a bunch of his player, unmarried friends around all the time as her uncles wasn’t the traditional way you raised a daughter, but she was so immensely loved, and she knew it. 

“So this someone you’re seeing…” Taehyung prodded Namjoon and wiggled his eyebrows. Jimin was curious too; none of them had heard of Namjoon dating someone.

Immediately he clammed up and waved them off, “It’s early, it’s not serious or anything yet. She’s nice but, you know, I’m not in a rush to get anywhere and she works a lot too so it’s just– oh, actually, she lives in your building, Jimin.”

“Really? What floor?” Jimin asked, mostly to be polite, because it was a pretty large building. But actually he did know a lot of the residents, at least in passing, because he tried to always be polite and friendly to the people who lived around him, so maybe he did know her.

He didn’t get his answer though, because Jungkook had so urgently needed to show Taehyung something on his phone that he knocked a drink over, the Cola forming a river across the table around the boulders of their bowls and plates.

“Wha, what are you doing that for?” 

“Hey, are you a kid?”

“Hey, I’m a kid and I didn’t spill anything!” Sun-young defended. “How embarrassing, Uncle!”

“Sorry, sorry, I’m so sorry,” Jungkook laughed, not looking very sorry about it as Taehyung read something on his phone. Jimin desperately wanted to know what it was; clearly something not ok for Sunnie’s ears because Taehyung laughed and passed it to Hoseok, who passed it to Jimin, and slowly it made the rounds.

[dan]: hey had a great time at the concert last week but I left something at taehyung’s but I don’t have his number

Hoseok seemed to know what it was because he was laughing but Jimin’s mouthed question “what did she leave??” just had Jungkook and Taehyung both gesturing that they’d tell him later. Something naughty. Jimin laughed but felt a twinge of envy. Sexcapades. Oh, to have them. Not that he wanted to actually re-enter the dating world and meet people and do that whole thing. But the two of them, Namjoon, Hoseok, they all did what they wanted, when they wanted to. Were they young for their 30s or was he so old? 

He wasn’t being totally fair. He knew they’d each gone through their own heartaches and crushed dreams. He’d heard the drunk confessions when he and Subin were so happy, how they envied him his wife and child and stable home. Taehyung had been engaged and she had not given back the ring he’d spent a year’s savings on. Hoseok’s divorce had been rough and not even a little amicable. Jungkook seemed to have permanently given up on serious relationships after discovering his long-time girlfriend’s long-time infidelity. Namjoon seemed to waver on whether he wanted anything serious or liked independence more, but ten years ago he’d been so serious with a guy that Jimin and Subin had taken bets on whether they’d come back from their Seychelles vacation married. Instead they’d come back separated and Namjoon never had given the details of what happened, at least not to Jimin.

Selfishly, Jimin was thrilled Yoongi and Young-geul were having a baby. For so long, he’d been alone as the parent of the group. He looked forward to giving smug advice and compassionate support as they navigated those brutal first years together. He hoped he could enjoy it through them and not feel renewed grief at the partner no longer with him, at the ache of those hazy memories of a time when they’d been young and exhausted and happy beyond belief.

Now said cause of that exhaustion rocked in her chair and giggled at Taehyung spelling something out, pretending she wouldn’t be able to understand it.

“I can spell,” she cried. “I’m very smart!”

“Oh yeah? What am I spelling? F-O-W-V-N-E-T-R–”

“That’s not even a word.”

Jimin grinned at the close way Yoongi and Young-geul watched Sun-young, obviously now envisioning their own futures more clearly. He was happy for them.

But it was also getting on closer to bedtime, and so as much as he loathed to break up the family dinner, he needed to get Sun-young home so she’d have time to do her homework and get some solid sleep before another week. Who knew what new battles would arise? Jimin was already tired. He’d eaten too many noodles. Happiness let him set down his burdens for a moment and it was hard to pull them back up. He didn’t want to.

Sun-young remained the source of all energy as she hugged everyone goodbye, and skipped along beside Jimin for the first few minutes of the walk home. But her energy seemed to drain the closer they got to home, and Jimin could practically feel the storm brewing. He didn’t know if it was better to ask her if something was up or just wait for her to speak first. He hoped she was dreading homework now, or maybe just sad the fun dinner had ended.

“A new baby in the family is going to be fun, huh?” he asked as they entered the building.

“Do you want more babies?”

“Uh…”

“I mean did you want more than just me.”

“I never thought more about it,” Jimin mentioned. “You were so perfect, I hadn’t thought about a second child yet.”

“Did Eomma want more?”

Jimin felt the question like a jab in his chest but answered evenly, “Maybe. We hadn’t decided.” The answer was too cruel to confess right now: yes, Subin had wanted another, and they had only just begun to talk about it when…

Jimin figured those thoughts were the source of Sun-young’s tamer movements as they arrived home and slid into their evening activities. Jimin had the boring part of his dance studio to address: checking and confirming schedules for the next month, looking through any flags from the accountant since he farmed that work out now, familiarizing himself with the overall breakdown of last quarters’ finances. He had tomorrow morning to get it done but it would be nice to get ahead, especially since Sun-young would be working on her own homework anyway.

They set up their work stations at the kitchen table, which Jimin thought was sweet because lately Sun-young took her homework to the desk in her room and only emerged if she needed help with something. Begrudgingly.

He hadn’t even opened the calendar software on his laptop before Sun-young stood from her chair, spun her school laptop to face him, and cleared her throat.

“You need help?” he asked. Maybe he wasn’t going to get any of his own work done tonight after all. The way they taught math now had changed and nothing made him feel stupider than having to figure out this new math way and teach her to get the same answer he could have gotten without a thought using his own method.

Sun-young pointed to the laptop, where the bright purple screen had white text that read: Science & Your Daughter, Why You Should Allow the Pursuit.

Jimin stayed very still except for his gaze sliding to Sun-young. She swallowed, clearly nervous, and pressed a button on a small black clicker in her hand. The slide advanced.

“10 Facts about Women in STEM,” Sun-young read out loud, her voice wavering nervously. “One: STEM stands for Science Technology Engineering and Mathematics.”

“Yes, thank you.”

“Two: About 30% of scientists in the whole world are women and most of them are in life sciences. The higher you go in achievement, the fewer women there are. This is because science fields and the patriarchy make it hard for women to feel welcome or like they can advance in a career like this. Do you want to be like that?”

Jimin bit back his bemused grin and asked, “Do you know what the patriarchy is?”

“It’s a system of oppression where men are the standard and women are inferior and mainly good for having babies and taking care of the house.”

Jimin’s eyebrows raised and his lips pursed, because he had not taught his daughter that, and now felt a deep guilt that he probably should be talking to his daughter about patriarchy.

“Who gave you that definition?”

“Please save your questions for the end,” Sun-young said and this time Jimin had to press his hand to his mouth to keep from laughing. But it wasn’t at her. The desire to laugh came from a deep churning mixture of pride and awe. 

“Three: A study in the United States in the 90s showed that around middle school girls start to think boys are more intelligent than they are. The study thinks this is because boys show better uh… spatial… um, the ability to like, look at and learn about objects. This is because little boys are encouraged to build and climb and break things, while little girls are encouraged to play with dolls or play house. And to dance.”

She waited. That was clearly supposed to be a big beat. Jimin nodded to show he was listening.

The rest of the ten facts were not necessarily anything he didn’t know, about the numbers of women in Korea dropping out of STEM programs, the fact that programs were underfunded especially at co-ed schools, and a slide listing famous female scientists and their achievements. Marie Skłodowska-Curie, Chien-Shiung Wu, Ada Lovelace, Katherine Johnson internationally. Cho Yoon-kyoung, J. Sook Chung, Kwang Hwa-Chung, and more, domestically. Jimin was embarrassed to admit he didn’t know any of the names except Marie Curie. When he asked why her name was different, Sun-young excitedly told her that it was better to use her whole name “because of something about Poland and where she came from or something… I don’t know, it’s history, we’re here to talk about science, Appa.”

“How long is this presentation?” he asked when she clicked to the next slide: Science In My Life.

“Shhh,” she shushed him, and then walked him through a few slides with more pictures than text. Pictures of children in a science classroom, or at a science fair. “The science club meets twice a week after the final bell to learn more about different types of science and to do experiments. There’s also a science fair in the autumn where we can do projects to compete for prizes. We don’t have much money to buy the materials for our science experiments and there’s also a science summer camp that we want to do but not everyone can afford it and we don’t want anyone to miss out so we need to raise money for that. I had a lot of ideas and there’s a meeting with parents this week to decide which one to do.”

Jimin opened his mouth because he thought that was the point Sun-young wanted to discuss, but she continued to the next slide, a picture of her and her friend Boyeon posing in the classroom with their arms around each other and a bunch of rocks on the table in front of them.

“I want to be in the science class because I like science. It’s all about asking questions and finding out the answers. Sometimes nobody in the whole world even knows the answers yet, or sometimes we thought we knew the answers but then someone else discovers a new thing and it changes everything,” she explained and Jimin watched with amazement at the passion that poured from his daughter’s mouth. “I like how science teaches you how to find out the things you don’t know. It makes it less scary not to know things.”

“What about the things that no one knows? Like… are there aliens?” Jimin asked. He immediately regretted the teasing, but it was because his mind was overwhelmed right now.

“Well maybe I’ll be the one to figure it out!” Sun-young fired back and Jimin couldn’t stop the automatic nod. Yes. His daughter could be capable of something like that, he could see it now.

“What kind of science do you like?” he asked, even though she’d told him to hold questions until the end.

“I don’t know. I like rocks,” she admitted. “But I like the reactions too.”

“Chemistry?”

“Yeah, seeing how when you combine things they make something else or do something else. The volcano was really cool. But space is cool too. And so are animals and dinosaurs. That’s called um… paleontology. I don’t know what kind of science I like the best but that’s why it’s a good idea to let me do science club now because I can explore a lot of things and then I’ll know what I want to do as I get older.”

Jimin nodded with this, almost feeling like he was having an actual adult conversation with his daughter, and pointed out, “But that’s exactly my concern. You’re young to already make major life decisions. You’ve worked so hard at dance. If you quit now, you’ll be behind if you change your mind.”

Sun-young clicked to the next slide: What about dance? Jimin laughed, he couldn’t help it, and Sun-young gave him a more confident smile.

“As you can see on this slide, Science Club meets on Tuesdays and Thursdays. That would mean I can’t make it to my ballet class and my hiphop class.”

“You wanted to take that hiphop class.”

“But Uncle Hobi teaches the same hiphop class on Wednesdays.”

“Which is when you have your progressing ballet technique class.”

“I don’t want to do ballet,” she said, pointing to the bullet that said this on the slide. “It’s my least favorite dance and it takes the most time. Auntie Young-geul is a great teacher and that’s why I’ve enjoyed my ballet classes at all but I know it’s not the style for me. I don’t want to be good at ballet. I do like hiphop, and my jazz class is ok too.”

Jimin listened to this. It wasn’t a surprise to him though. He was the one who had pushed Sun-young to take the advanced ballet class, and she’d done it because she liked to be good at things, and she liked to make him proud, but he’d known for a long time her heart wasn’t really in it. Ballet would be the hardest one to catch up in if she changed her mind, and there would come a point where she wouldn’t be able to, she would miss the physical changes that ballet wrought in dancers before puberty. Her turnouts would never be quite as good, her flexibility would be slightly behind, no matter how hard she worked. That had been exactly Subin’s regret about ballet. She had started too late to ever be great, as much as she loved it, as beautiful as Jimin knew she’d danced it.  

At the same time, ballet required so much. Those same physical changes that made dancers beautiful to watch left them with aches and pains behind the scenes. It required such massive physical commitment to succeed, and here was Sun-young saying not for the first time that it was not what she wanted for her life or her body. 

Jimin felt his eyes prickle with tears. Sun-young was still so young, but wasn’t she old enough to make some decisions like that for herself? She sounded so mature right now. So certain. Jimin wanted what was best for her, but how could he tell her she had to do this, and in ten years, twenty, she’d still be unhappy and in pain, all because he wouldn’t listen to her when she was nine?

“Hoseok teaches the same hiphop class on Wednesdays and Thursdays,” Jimin pointed out. “If you dropped the PBT class, you could do hiphop Wednesday instead.”

Sun-young’s mouth dropped open and her eyes lit up. It was impossible to miss.

“Isn’t that what you were proposing with this powerpoint?”

Sun-young clicked to the last slide, which read Time for discussion and collaboration.

“Unnie said the best results are when we work together,” Sun-young explained, and slid into her chair like he was relieved to be through the presentation. “Do you think he’d let me switch to the other class?”

“I do… Are you asking to quit all dance or just ballet?” Jimin asked, slow and careful in an effort to really hear her this time.

“I want to do science most of all. That’s Tuesdays and Thursdays and sometimes the weekend. But if I have a science thing on Saturday then you don’t have to worry about me at all while you’re working. And the summer camp. But you don’t have to pay for camp, that’s why we’ll do the fundraiser too!”

“And dance…?”

“I like dance and I like that I tried a lot of different kinds. I like hiphop the most, and jazz is fun. I don’t really care about tap or ballet. But it’s like a science experiment where I got to try a bunch and work really hard at them and learn what I like,” Sun-young said. “I know you’re worried I’ll regret quitting. If I keep doing a little dance, then it’s less change all at once.” 

It was such a smart observation from his daughter and Jimin felt himself floating again with pride. He couldn’t say she wasn’t thinking about this, she clearly was thinking about it a lot. He was amazed, actually, by just how maturely she was thinking about these things.

“So if you did Science Club on Tuesdays and Thursdays… we’ll have to figure out a way for you to get to the dance school afterwards because I’ll be teaching my classes so I can’t pick you up after your Club. Then you do the hiphop club on Wednesday. And still jazz/tap on Friday?”

Sun-young had the air of an adult as she said, “We can try it and if it’s too much, I don’t mind dropping jazz/tap.”

“Ah, I see.”

“And I’ll still go to the studio with you all the time,” Sun-young continued. “I can do my homework there like I already do when you’re working and help clean up after your classes.”

Jimin leaned back in his chair, thoughtful. He hadn’t fully realized that part of his fear until she basically said it. It wasn’t just that science was a step away from what he knew, it was that she’d be spending less time at the dance studio too. She wouldn’t have as many or maybe any numbers in recitals. The dance studio had been the center of their family for so long, and the idea Sun-young’s world would no longer center around it –and him– was terrifying. 

She might change her mind in a year or two. She might regret this. She might be angry he let her walk away.

“It sounds like you have thought about this a lot,” Jimin said.

“I did! I know it’s not a small thing to stop doing something I’ve worked so hard at. But I want to do science and I don’t want to do dance as my whole life like you do.”

“Like your eomma did too.”

Sun-young’s gaze fell to the tabletop as she answered, “I know.” Jimin felt bad to have made the comment, it was just what came into his mind. This was a connection with Subin too. That made it even harder to let Sun-young loosen it.

“You talk about rocks the same way she talked about dance,” he said to soften his accidental jab. “Your face lights up the same way, you look just like her.”

“Really?”

He nodded, “Yeah. She didn’t know anything about science or math, even less than me. She always knew she wanted to dance, even younger than I did. The only studio near her when she was a little girl was ballroom and she begged her parents to let her do it. She was really good. In middle school they let her start taking the bus to a dance studio the next village over that had ballet and jazz.”

“Do you think she’d be upset if I quit dance?” Sun-young asked, her voice so quiet and uncertain. The fire of a moment ago faded.

“No,” Jimin admitted, because he felt like it was true. Maybe the real Subin would have been, maybe she’d have had the same reaction and dilemma Jimin had. Maybe she would have a hard time letting her daughter quit the thing she herself had fought so hard for. But the Subin who, in his mind, had lived and grown with them in the years since Real Subin’s death, was full of nothing but love and support for their daughter, and she would be proud of anything Sun-young did. “I think she would be proud of you for seeing something that you want and being so insistent about it, even when I told you no. I’m proud of you for doing that.”

“Really?”

“It wasn’t right of you to sneak around or lie to me and… I’m sorry I made you feel like you had to. I can understand that science is something you really want to pursue and when you win the Nobel Peace Prize, I want you to thank me, not say that I was someone who stood in your way with the patriarchy.”

Sun-young’s smile grew. She leaned closer to him, her little hands resting on his arm.

“I worry that if I let you quit dance, you’ll regret it, and resent me later for not pushing. But I think you’ll resent me if I don’t let you pursue your interest in science too. So the choice is yours, Sunnie. If you want to quit ballet, or tap, or hiphop, or all of it. And I’ll still love you and be your appa forever, even if we don’t have dance in common–”

“Appa!” Sun-young shrieked and threw herself at him, arms around his neck, her little body fully in his lap. He realized she hadn’t done that in a long time; he couldn’t remember the last time she’d sat in his lap, but he was glad now that it hadn’t been the last time. That he hadn’t missed it. He was grateful she’d chosen that moment to hug him, so she wouldn’t see the tears that finally spilled over, overcome by the gravity of this moment in their life, in her life and whatever the future of it held, in their relationship that would hopefully forever be a big part of it. 

This was going to be a big change. Change was inevitable. Maybe not all change had to be bad.

Jimin fidgeted in his seat. In a sea of business suits and trendy peacoats, his youthful ripped jeans and fuzzy-collared coat stood out, his blond hair as strange as a foreigner’s. He’d seen several askance looks in his direction from other parents. Often before that had made him feel some kind of way, to know they so quickly dismissed him. He’d had comments before, plenty, about his hair, his profession, his single father status –as if that was something he chose. Despite the front he put on about it for Sun-young so she wouldn’t grow up worried what others thought, it often did impact him beneath the surface. Sometimes it was hard to ignore the fear that they could see deeper, that maybe the distance of her classmates parents wasn’t based on appearances but because they could see his fears to be true: that he wasn’t a good father, that he didn’t know what he was doing, that he didn’t belong here with the other parents. 

Today, though, he was unbothered. Sincerely. He did belong here, because Sun-young belonged here. He watched in awe as she took her turn explaining her fundraiser idea. 

“I think we should do a bake sale and a science demonstration,” Sun-young explained, standing at the front of the classroom in front of all the other kids and parents in attendance. So many of the other children had mumbled, or whispered their ideas for their parents to share, or said nothing at all, but when Miss Kwan called on Sun-young she had marched right to the front of the classroom with all the confidence she had displayed on the stage at dance. 

“What do you mean by demonstration?” Miss Kwan asked.

“I mean… not every kid can join the science club or maybe they don’t even know what the science club does. We could present the kinds of things we already do in Science Club or in science class but do it next to the table we’re selling things at. We can take turns leading experiments and invite people to join from the audience sometimes. That way people can eat their cookies or rice cakes while learning about the science stuff we think is so cool, and maybe they’ll realize they think it’s cool too. That’s what I think. We could even present some of the work we did in class so we don’t have to do brand new projects so it’s not too much work. That’s my idea.”

She bowed her head, then walked casually back to her seat, grinning ear to ear even before Jimin leaned down to whisper, “Your idea is amazing.”

“I know.”

Several other students and parents put forth ideas too, many of which Jimin thought were far beyond the means of a science club with only twelve members ranging from seven to ten years old. He wasn’t surprised at all when Sun-young’s idea floated to the top. She perched on the edge of her seat as students got sidetracked from the other ideas to instead brainstorm the science experiments they could do as a demonstration to fill a couple of hours for the bake sale. 

“We could even sell baked things at school on a Thursday and tell people to come see the Science Demonstration and more baked goods on Friday,” Sun-young suggested. “Clubs don’t meet on Friday so people will have time.”

Jimin couldn’t say anything. He was too gob-smacked just watching his daughter take on such a forward role in this room. She’d always been a confident little girl, not shy even among adults. He supposed that came from growing up so free around adults, and maybe, he liked to think, from being used to an audience from a young age. But what he hadn’t really witnessed first hand until her powerpoint presentation was just how intelligent and thoughtful she was in an academic setting, too. Sitting beside her at this meeting in which he said nothing except to support her, Jimin felt his decision to let her choose for herself solidify.

Sun-young was only nine, and still learning and growing in many ways. But she was a smart, good girl. She was going places, and it was his job as her father to help her get there, not to direct her where he wanted her to go. She had cited all those daunting statistics about how few women worked in science and the obstacles they faced. Different obstacles than her mother had faced when she’d decided to pursue dance against her parents’ wishes and open her own dance studio, and yet similar. He had married a powerful woman and they had made a powerful daughter and Jimin choked up watching Sunnie in action. She was already so much more than he and Subin could ever have dreamed of.

After the meeting –where Sun-young’s idea was agreed on as the best fundraiser option– Miss Kwan approached Jimin while Sunnie chatted with her science club friends.

“I’m so glad Sun-young is able to join the club,” Miss Kwan told him. “She’s such a bright child and so eager to learn. As a teacher it can be hard to get the class enthusiastic about the things I need to teach them, but she’s always leaning forward and I think it’s motivating for her peers.”

Jimin had already felt emotion rising and had to blink it away quickly as he thanked her, “I’m proud to hear you say things about her like that. She’s incredible, isn’t she? I think she already knows more than I do about science subjects. I’m going to have to work to keep caught up!”

“I’m sure she appreciates your support no matter what form it takes. That’s a mark of a strong foundation at home, she’s really a testament to what a loving supportive family you have,” Miss Kwan told him. “I did want to confirm though, she did just sign you up for baked goods… and given the miscommunication before… is this all right with you?”

Jimin laughed and looked at the clipboard in Miss Kwan’s hand, where Sun-young had written: “Park Sun-young and Park Jimin, Rice cakes, we make the best.”

“She’s right,” he chuckled. “We really do. My parents own a rice cake shop. I never expected my childhood making rice cakes would raise funds for my daughter’s science club…”

Miss Kwan’s smile felt particularly bright as she remarked, “Isn’t that wonderful? We can never predict what comes next except change, but history can help us in ways we didn’t expect.”

“Don’t tell me you’re starting a history club too…”

“No no,” Miss Kwan laughed. “Teaching and science club are enough to fill my time! Not that those are the only things I do –and I do love them dearly. I do other things in my free time besides science… but history is not my strength…”

Jimin leaned in just enough to seem conspiratorial as he confessed, “Mine either. It’s mainly dance for me these days, although I do brush off my math skills when I have to run payroll.”

“Yes, Sunnie mentioned you own your dance studio. That’s… impressive.”

“An impressive amount of work,” he beamed. “Thank you.”

“Miss Kwan? Perhaps we can see the sign-up sheet…?” another parent asked. Miss Kwan apologized to both the mother and to Jimin, and left his side to show them.

The meeting otherwise over, Jimin called for Sun-young to head home. In a show of support, he had asked Hobi to cover his evening class tonight so he could attend the parent meeting. It felt strange to just head home. Almost as strange as it was to realize Sun-young didn’t fuss a bit about having to leave, or walking next to Jimin, or the way he playfully tugged on her braid.

“Your teacher said a lot of good things about you,” he told her.

“I know, I’m a really good student. She said being curious and eager is better than getting top marks.”

“Both are good,” Jimin teased. He caught Miss Kwan’s eye over Sun-young’s head as they left the room and quickly turned away. The eye contact tied him back to their discussion a few minutes before. 

Was Miss Kwan flirting with him? He didn’t want to think it, ashamed that his brain thought an attractive, unmarried woman would automatically be flirting. They’d been talking about his daughter, and Miss Kwan was her teacher. But she’d also remarked on things she did outside of school… was that a hint?

Miss Kwan was young and beautiful and intelligent, all wonderful traits. She was pleasant. But he hadn’t meant to flirt back, if that’s what she thought; it hadn’t occurred to him at all to think of her as a potential date. He worried if he’d given the wrong impression. He wasn’t thinking about dating anyone right now. His daughter wanted to be a scientist and was dropping most of her dance classes after the recital. Wasn’t that enough change at once?

It felt like an overwhelming amount of change and yet he was swept up in it. Sun-young continued to talk about Science Club, now onto an experiment they were doing growing crystals with different kinds of minerals, including salt and sugar, to see what formed. It was interesting, but more interesting was listening to the way Sun-young spoke. As an experiment, he took her hand, and she did not pull it away.

Jimin felt those emotions well up again. Had all the acting out just been a symptom of Sun-young’s unhappiness? He hadn’t understood her, and so she’d pulled away, and now that he was listening she could be close again? It had taken him too long to figure it out. That was a great cause of shame to him. He hoped he was doing the right thing now. He was doing his best. 

Subin would have figured it out more quickly. Subin would have listened. Miss Kwan had said Sun-young was a testament to a loving home, but was that true? He thought Sun-young was remarkable despite his fumbling. He hadn’t realized how important this was to her even though she’d directly told him. 

This thought hung over his head as they wrapped the evening up at home. Sun-young did her homework without complaint and went to bed easily, with a big happy hug before he turned her overhead light off. 

Once he was sure she was in for the night, Jimin sat on the sofa and cried. Too many things hit him at once: his own failings with Sun-young; the guarantee that he would fail again in the future as he struggled to navigate her adolescence; the loneliness in that; the injustice that his partner wasn’t here for it; the injustice that Sun-young didn’t have a mother to guide her; the tragedy that Subin didn’t get to see the incredible young woman her daughter was becoming. 

What was wrong with him? This had been a happy day. A wonderful evening with his daughter. But suddenly old familiar grief and guilt crashed down on him and he felt like he was drowning. He was too alone. It was his own burden to bear, he couldn’t call someone about it, he wouldn’t know what to say anyway, but he felt like he was drowning in it.

Then someone knocked at the door.

***

Hanbyul wasn’t going to wait long if nobody answered the door; she knew it was late and likely Sun-young was already asleep and possibly Jimin too. They definitely would already have eaten, but she thought if she gave them the dish tonight, they would have it to heat up tomorrow. Besides, she hadn’t seen Sun-young since Saturday and knew the parent meeting had been this evening but didn’t know how the conversation between father and daughter had gone. Hanbyul might owe him a big apology for overstepping…

The door swung open and Hanbyul stiffened in surprise at the pink hue to Jimin’s face. It looked like he had just splashed water, but his eyes were red, so she was pretty sure he’d been crying. He looked like he’d been crying.

“Are you all right?” she asked, stepping forward with unbearable concern.

Jimin cleared his throat and nodded, “Yeah, yes. Just washing my face for the night.”

“Oh. Well, I won’t interrupt long, but I made extra and thought you could enjoy it tomorrow. I put instructions for how to heat it up on the post-it.”

“Ah, you didn’t have to do this,” he said but took the dish from her. “You’re too good to us.”

She grimaced and admitted, “I thought it could be something of an apology too, in case i overstepped with Sun-young…”

“Did you?”

Hanbyul froze, realizing that maybe Sun-young hadn’t actually gone through with the powerpoint after all. The hesitation must have clued Jimin in.

“Oh, you mean the powerpoint. Do you want your clicker back?”

“If you have it…” she said with another grimace. “I’m sorry if I overstepped. I had suggested before that she speak with you about it when you were both calm –about Science and dance I mean– and she asked if i could help her make a presentation like I do for work.”

Jimin motioned for her to step inside as he carried the dish to the kitchen, asking over his shoulder, “She talked to you about all this? That I was being unreasonable?”

“She didn’t say that. But she knew this was a big… change.” His hands were full, so she reached around him to open the fridge. It was distressingly empty inside. Obviously Sun-young was well fed and well cared for, but Park Jimin did not keep a well stocked refrigerator. “She wanted advice on how to show you’ve thought something through and have a discussion about it.”

“We had a discussion about it,” he nodded. “She had a well researched presentation. And now, she and I are on the hook to make rice cakes for the Science Club’s fundraiser. Which was also her idea. Both of those things. She is full of ideas, that daughter of mine.”

Hanbyul wasn’t surprised to hear that; Sun-young had told her the idea as well, asking for feedback. 

She didn’t bother to hide her endeared smile as she agreed, “She’s a smart girl, Jimin. She’s really amazing.”

Jimin leaned against the counter and nodded, but looked away from her. The sniffle gave it away. He laughed as he wiped a tear from his cheek.

“She really is, isn’t she?”

“Oh. Um…” Hanbyul felt electric with panic. She hadn’t meant to make him cry, but aso guessed that if he had been crying before she came in, it wasn’t her fault. Why had he let her in then?! Now she was here though and didn’t know whether to offer to stay or offer to leave. “Um, is everything all right? Or…?”

“Sorry. I’m sorry, I…” He rubbed his forehead and gave her a helpless look. “It just hits me sometimes.”

“Was it a hard day?” Hanbyul asked, not sure what else to ask. She didn’t know what he meant by it and didn’t want to say the wrong thing.

Jimin sighed, “No. It was a great day. It would make more sense if I fell apart on a bad day, huh? We’d been having a lot of those, as you unfortunately know –but now I hear myself say that, and what the fuck is wrong with me? I want to complain about too many bad days? Subin would kill to have more bad days with us.”

Hanbyul felt her heart drop into her stomach. Maybe she ought to have guessed that by it Jimin meant grief, but he’d never really spoken to her about it before. He’d mentioned Subin, sure, and alluded to grief about losing her. But he’d never said anything so raw and vulnerable as that, nor so tragic.

“I’m so sorry,” she murmured. “It’s not fair. But it’s also ok to recognize a bad day…” She didn’t know what she was saying, and worried it was just going to be offensive. Her heart throbbed to see him so upset and she felt desperate to find the magic words to make it better, but obviously no such words existed. She couldn’t fathom the kind of loss he had endured. 

He nodded, and sniffled, like he was really making the effort to hold himself together. Hanbyul wondered what he would do if she let him know it was all right not to. He could cry if he wanted. She could stay or go. He didn’t need to hide himself on her account.

“Today was a good day,” Jimin said. He swallowed, like he could shake off the bad feelings. “Sunnie and I did talk about her presentation. We agreed that she’s going to drop most of her dance classes after her recital and explore her interest in science because it’s what she wants to do. And I can’t deny her that, not when she’s so excited talking about science club, and dance is… is my thing. It was Subin’s thing. Maybe it’ll always be a part of Sunnie or maybe it won’t, but forcing her to dance won’t keep Subin here and I know Sunnie and I can find other things to connect us. I’ll make sure of it. It’s a huge change but I’m making peace with it. I can learn to make volcanoes!”

“I’m glad it went well,” Hanbyul said softly. She wanted to support. She didn’t want to interrupt. She could actually see the tears come back into his eyes, giving them an other-worldly shimmer.

“Sorry,” he laughed, sadly, and swallowed hard again. “I didn’t expect to get hit with it today but watching Sun-young and seeing how well she’s growing and changing… Someone told me that grief is like a ball in a box and there’s a button in the box, and every time the ball hits the button, you feel the grief of loss all over again. In the beginning it’s constant, there’s never a break, but over time the box gets bigger, so the ball bounces around and it doesn’t hit the button as much. But sometimes it still does, just out of nowhere.”

Hanbyul had heard that too. As far as she knew, a woman on Twitter had made the analogy, Lauren Herschel, and that the ball got smaller, not the box bigger, but she wasn’t about to correct him. The idea was the same, and she understood, even if her experiences with grief were for elderly grandparents and a pet rabbit. The grief of those had still felt like they would swallow her.

“But I don’t feel like I’m a ball in a box, I feel like… Sometimes I feel like grief is a swarm of bees inside of me. Sometimes they’re asleep but other times they’re buzzing and banging around and trying to escape, and if I even open my mouth they’ll come pouring out and I’ll just fall down, an empty husk, so I have to keep these bees inside of me even though the buzzing makes me feel like my skin is going to tear apart. But what if the grief is the only thing holding me up?”

Hanbyul’s eyes widened. It was such a tragic and visceral mental image. She didn’t know what to say, but knew her, “Woah,” wasn’t enough.

He continued anyway, “And other times grief feels like a pile of boulders rolling onto my chest, a new one with each breath, each one making it harder to draw the next. The guilt…”

“Jimin…”

He blinked and wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand. 

“But who am I to complain about grief? Because I get to be here, I get to see Sunnie grow, I get to drink my coffee with milk and run through the rain and sit in a warm window, and see how my favorite dramas end. I get to stub my fucking toe on the bookcase –it’s still purple!-- and get annoyed trying to change my phone plan with a very unhelpful agent and worry about… about the weather and climate change and what planet I’m leaving my daughter to grow up in and whether it was even the right choice to have a daughter into this world and yet I can’t imagine my life without her…” He choked on his sob but the words somehow squeezed past anyway. “It’s selfish of me, isn’t it? I just grieve what I lost. I lost my wife, my first love, my partner. But Subin lost all of this, the good and the bad. And Sunnie lost her mother –and that’s not fair to her. She needs her mom, she needs her mom so much more than she needs me–”

“That’s not true,” Hanbyul said. “It’s awful she lost her mother, but the opposite wouldn’t have been any better and that’s not fair to you or her. She needs you too.”

“I know she does, I know you’re right and she does, but she shouldn’t have only gotten one of us. Every time things are hard I think about how much easier they would have been with Subin still here. I’ve spent three years now trying to accept the fact that she’s never going to be there beside me when I wake up, I’ll never fall asleep next to her again, I’ll never get a text from her asking me to grab more milk or toilet paper. I’ll never argue with her about who lost the remote, or whether a trip to Disney Tokyo is worth the money and how old Sunnie should be if we go. I won’t get to vacation with her, or see Sun-young off to college and wonder what we’ll do with ourselves– I lost my wife and I lost the future I dreamed of with her.”

“I’m so sorry, Jimin.”

“But it’s selfish. Because at the end of the day, I know I can still do those things. I can meet someone new. I’ll never stop loving Subin but she’s gone and I know there are amazing people in the world and maybe I can find that joy and love again but she can’t. Why do I care so much more about my own pain than I do about all the things she’ll never get to do?”

Hanbyul hated to see him eaten up with guilt like this. This was beyond her, but she couldn’t stand for him to berate himself for such understandable feelings.

“It’s not that you care more, you just feel your own loss. She’s not worried about those things now. She’s at peace, and maybe she’s watching you and Sun-young from somewhere else, whichever you believe.” He gave her a look she couldn’t understand, so she added, “Ok, and she’s probably pissed because it sucks. It’s not fair. All of these things can be true at the same time but I don’t think you need to hold onto guilt. You didn’t choose to lose her and if she loves you and Sun-young as much as I think she did, she would want you both to chase joy with open hearts. Even the joy of taking things for granted, or being frustrated or annoyed or happy or sad.”

“I feel like I’m starting to forget her,” Jimin admitted in the smallest, quietest, saddest voice. “The Subin I think of when something is hard –oh, she would think this, she would react that way… I don’t think it’s the real Subin anymore. Sunnie and I are growing and changing but Subin ended then and this idea I carry forward of her… it’s not her. I don’t know how she would have reacted to Sunnie wanting to give up dance. It feels like one more way we forget Subin, when I already feel guilty for thinking about… I mean, that I don’t just keep a constant vigil for her. That I’m living without her. I’m doing it even though it felt impossible three years ago. It’s another step away from the family we used to be and I know that has to happen but… it’s just…”

Hanbyul dared to reach for his hand, and hoped it wasn’t inappropriate. She hoped he didn’t read anything into it, or feel uncomfortable, this was not in any way an attempt to push her own feelings. But right now her friend was grieving and needed support and she didn’t know the words to say but hoped by holding his hand, it could help. 

He looked down at their hands and nodded and let out a shallow, shaky breath, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to break down like this in front of you. It was a good day.”

“Please, it’s ok! I don’t mind at all. I’m honored that you know you can share your feelings with me. I’m honored to be here for them. I just wish I had a real way to help it not hurt so much.”

“Time,” he scoffed. “That’s all there is.” Then added, “But you do help in a real way.”

“You don’t need to reassure me–”

“No, I mean, you really do. Thank you. Thank you for being someone my daughter can talk to when her appa is struggling to listen. Thank you for helping her with the powerpoint and taking her seriously.”

“You don’t have to thank me for that.”

“I do. I can’t be everything for her, no matter how much I love her. Subin can’t be here and most of our close friends are young single guys who don’t know anything about being a girl growing up. But I shouldn’t be crying about my dead wife to you and I can’t just call you every time she has a girl question I don’t know how to answer.”

“Sure you can,” Hanbyul argued. “Why not? I’m just down the hall. She’ll probably come ask me anyway, and I’m glad.”

“It’s not your job–”

“Because it’s not a job. I love Sun-young. I’m here for whatever she needs. And whatever you need, listening or dinner to reheat or a dog to cuddle.”

“What I need…” He trailed off, and shifted his position but didn’t drop her hand. They were still standing in the quiet kitchen. Hanbyul loved kitchens. It felt like a place of safety and warmth to her. She could understand why Jimin would unburden himself in one. “I have a hard time thinking about what I need. How can I think about meeting someone new when I’m like this?”

She hadn’t realized he was thinking or talking about someone new, she had just meant what he needed as a friend, and it made her choke on her words a bit, “Like what?”

“I don’t know when the ball will hit the button. I don’t know when the bees will escape. It feels like it’ll always happen. I don’t think I’ll ever be a whole person to give to someone else,” he said.

“What does that mean, be a whole person? You’re a whole person.”

“It doesn’t feel like it. I’m… fractured. I’m missing pieces here and there.”

“Then you’ll find someone who loves you even with those missing pieces,” Hanbyul insisted. “You’re wonderful, and your grief is just a part of you because your wife will always be a part of you and Sun-young. I really don’t think you’ll have a hard time finding someone who accepts that too, when you’re ready.”

“It’s so complicated to even think about that kind of thing. If I want to open myself up to that, if Sun-young deserves someone in her life, but sometimes I’m still going to have a day of grief… I feel like I have to wait until all my grieving is over, but will that ever happen?”

“I don’t know what I’m talking about,” Hanbyul admitted. “I’m not the right person to give advice but I just think that you and Sun-young deserve to be happy, in whatever way makes you happy, and still recognize how important your wife was in your lives. I’m not saying you have to rush into dating or anything,” she said, proud of herself that she could be the kind of friend she wanted to be for Jimin as they talked about it. Her compassion for him made her invulnerable to any of her own feelings right now, those were tucked away. This wasn’t about her and she didn’t feel the need to make it about her. “I just think the heart can hold a lot of things and people at once, even love and grief. Even how wonderful your life was with your wife, and how wonderful the future with your daughter will be.”

Jimin nodded, still holding her hand, his other scratching his neck and tugging on his ear. She hoped he didn’t notice how clammy her hand was. Maybe she should separate from him and wipe it off before he noticed. Was she awful to be excited to hold his hand right now, even just in a friendly way? 

He reached for her other hand and squeezed them both.

“There was a time I couldn’t even imagine having more good days than bad,” he said. “You remember me back then, I think.”

“I do.”

“And now I have more good days than bad, and I don’t spend every day crying or consumed with survivor’s guilt. I thought I knew what the future looked like, and then Subin died. But I didn’t actually know what the future held anymore than I do now. It can’t be known.”

Hanbyul nodded, following and not quite following at the same time.

“I’m lucky to be here. I’m lucky to have such an amazing daughter.” Hanbyul nodded her agreement. “And I’m lucky to have such a good friend too. Thank you.” He squeezed her hands again and then dropped them.

Hanbyul instantly flushed at the simultaneous praise and distancing. Not that she had thought he was alluding to her with his mentions of maybe finding someone, but she saw the vulnerability now as proof that he saw her as a friend and nothing more. And yet she was also flattered to be a friend now, no longer just ‘neighbor Hanbyul’. The heart could hold many feelings at once.

“You don’t have to thank me. You both are easy to love,” she assured him.

“I’m sorry my daughter and I both leaned on you in the same week–”

“Stop that.” She glared and he grinned.

“You deserve the world. Thank you for the food. I’ll bring you rice cakes when we make them.”

Hanbyul agreed that would be wonderful, and didn’t linger a moment longer as she felt Jimin needed privacy now. It was incredible he had shown her so much of his grief. Called her a friend. She was genuinely warmed by it all.

I’m not asking for the world, she thought. She ought to take the advice she had given Jimin: recognize that her feelings for him might always have their place in her heart, but she couldn’t spend her life living for someone who wasn’t able to be that for her. Hadn’t she said exactly that?

But for tonight, she could hug Hudu and feel a little sorry for herself alongside her compassion for Jimin as the ball hit the button in her own box. It was a different box than Jimin’s grief for his wife, but it was Hanbyul’s and she held it close.

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