#babysitting you in my teen years was enough-

[earako]

Val: So....it's been a couple years now

Ambrosius: ???

Val: Nimona, lil ember, remember that thing we talked about before?

Nimona: The thing....oh...oh! The thing! Right!

Ballister: *just woken up from a nap and going to the kitchen for a glass of water*

Nimona, smiling and turning to Bal and Ambrosius: Abba, Appa can I get a little sibling???

Val, desperately trying not to laugh: Well? I'm not getting any younger boys and I'd hate for Nimona to be all lonely without any other grandkids to play with.

Ambrosius and Ballister, slackjawed, staring at Val and Nimona: I-we-er-huh????

Nimona and Val: *finally burst out laughing*

Val: No but seriously, I want more grandbabies to spoil

[emmyrosee]

Hi! I was wondering if you could do a modern!au sukuna x fem!reader in which they're dating and they're babysitting little yuji for the day, going to the park, grocery store, or whatever, and some old lady thinks yuji is their son and sukuna and reader had yuji as teens so she starts judging, making comments and kinda insulting them for having a kid so young. (but yuji is just sukuna's little brother)

I hope what I said made sens 😅 and feel totally free to ignore my request if you don't want to do it or if you're not taking requests at the moment :)

tw// mean old ladies, insinuations of s3x in teenage years, sukuna talking back, lots of swearing, mentions of death, I wouldn’t normally put warnings but juuuuuuuuuust in case

There’s a scoff that rings out in the air as the last of your footstep passes her. It’s enough to make Sukuna stop on impact. You turn to him, and Yuuji in his stroller looks up to see what the stop is, but Sukuna’s eyes are firm in annoyance, the vein in his forehead pulsing.

“I’m sorry,” he begins, spinning on his heel. “Is there a problem, maam?” His voice dribbles sarcasm, and you feel your heart rate pick up from anxiety.

When you turn to face the old woman, her face is twisted in judgement, wrinkles furrowed deeper than natural as she glares past Sukuna and burrows her sights onto you. A chill shrills down your spine as her cold gaze fixes on you.

“Babies having babies,” she snarls cruelly, and you see Sukuna’s knuckles lighten from the force of gripping the handles. “You couldn’t keep it in your pants, and you couldn’t close your legs, hmm? Reproducing when you shouldn’t be. You ought to be embarrassed.”

You cheeks heat up in embarrassment, but when you look up at sukuna again, his grin is curled devilishly. You sigh, “sukuna, come on-“

“No,” he hisses. “I want to hear what the crypt keeper’s gotta say. One foot in the grave, one on a fucking oil spill and you’re wasting your breath spilling bullshit? You oughta be embarrassed.”

She clutches her chest in offense, “I can’t stand you youths these days, wasting your life on each other, disappointing your parents. Why they’d ever approve of you keeping that sin in the carriage is ridiculous.”

You’re quick to grab Sukuna’s collar and keep him from launching at the lady. He’s not happy about being stopped, he’s practically frothing at the mouth in rage, but at your grip, he stands down.

His mouth however, does not.

“I’m offended people like you even get to breathe my air,” he snarls, and you try to ignore the look the old lady gives you- she looks almost prideful to be getting such a reaction. “That child is not sin, that’s my fucking little brother- and even if it was, if you looked at him and the first thing you thought of was my girlfriend and I smashing, you need to tell your fucking hospice nurse, you pervert.”

“Sukuna-“

“It’s not my fault nor concern that your husband died from an asthma attack your dusty old pussy gave him, but if you ask me, he dodged a fucking bullet because holy fuck if I had to spend my days waiting for you to die first, I’d pull the plug myself.”

“Sukuna!”

“You think you get to sit here and judge my girlfriend, my self, my fucking brother without consequence, you are sadly mistaken. And I sincerely hope that, with the bottom of my soul, that when your decrepit heart finally decides to stop and bless the world by taking your life, no one bats an eye. If this is how you treat strangers with a child, I would love to see how you treat your loved ones. Sit on it and fucking twist, you old bitch.” Then, he flashes her a smile, “have the day you fucking deserve, you twat.”

The woman stares at him, eyes wide and jaw agape. You also, stare at him with wide eyes and an agape jaw, and it isn’t until he wraps his arm around your waist and starts to push the carriage again, that you follow.

“Sukuna,” you say, voice shaky. “Why…?”

“Because no one gets to look at my fucking family in any way other than damn respect,” he growls, fingers digging into your hip from anger. “No one.”

“No, I mean…” you swallow thickly. “Why do people feel the need to be so cruel?”

“The world is cruel,” he says flatly. Then, he sighs and shakes his head, “but I have no issue in putting terrible people in their place. Especially for yuuji. Especially for you.”

You smile softly and lay your hand on his, lacing your fingers with his as they rest on your hip, “we’re lucky to have you then, aren’t we?”

He chuckles, “it’s about time you appreciate it.”

[bitchlessdino]

hello! 🤍 can i request a bad boy type wonwoo having a soft spot for also a cold type reader?

like they always acting so cold towards other people and even both of them acting like they hate each other.

and people are like "oh there is no way they can date", but wonwoo is only kind to reader and viceversa even without them noticing

Oh, and they dont even realized their feelings until reader feels jealous when they saw wonwoo with someone else and thats when they realized about it, but are afraid to said something since reader doesnt know how wonwoo will react

Kinda angst maybe, but fluff at the end

take your time btw! 🤍 it is also totally okay if is not possible, hope you are having an excellent day 🌸

Pairing: wonwoox gn!reader Genre: slight angst, fluff, slice of life Word count: 6.3k tags: mentions alcohol, childhood au, biker!wonu, frienemy!wonwoo, possible love triangle, reader called a bitch, presence of violence and imminent danger, analogy using car wrecks, mc and wonwoo stilling living with their parents as adults because that's normal ok, kinda messy, intimates kisses Summary: Hard to maintain a good acquaintanceship if it started off on the wrong foot, but Wonwoo tries to do just that, no matter how much you resent him from childhood. Now reunited as adults, you're questioning whether your negative impression of him has stuck since being away or have you grown up just enough to realize how much between the two you have changed? author note: this was collecting dust but finally she is here. just in time for wonwoo to be in my bias list 🙂

Tag: @shiningstar-byulxx @misssugarlips @tommolex @hoeforhao @goblinvern @dkakapizzaboy @junhui-recs @svtup @buffhoshi @meowmeowminnie @caratochan @lovebot4han @6969lilithcat @camisun93 @emmmui @toruro @jeonride @novalpha @nvmrljk @feat-sun @tinkerbell460 @aaniag @tacosandbitch

You will never willingly be associated with Jeon Wonwoo. 

His mom had just happened to be someone your mom knew. Someone that she hadn’t talked to or seen in a long time. Long enough to have built their own families and have their kids without realizing it. It was as if they fell back into place. A long-time childhood friendship that quickly rekindled in a grocery store one day. From that day on, your families were inseparable. As long as they were still friends, you’d see each other every day.

“Why would I babysit some weirdo kid? I have better things to do.”

The problem was he wanted nothing to do with you.

When you met him the first time, you were a child barely getting around to a bike without training wheels, and Wonwoo was meeting the first stages of fungal acne. He was a bit older than you were then and his mom had given him the duty to look after you, the neighbor’s kid. The neighbor’s weirdo kid.

His mom bragged to yours about how good of an older brother he was to his younger brother, Seonwoo, but that seemed that seems to be his limit. Having freshly turned a teen, it all made sense. Wonwoo didn’t know you, and all of a sudden in his growing years he’s stuck taking care of a kid he knows by association. Understandably, he’d have that teen angst.

You didn't mean to overhear. You just happened to eavesdrop behind a pillar that day in their obnoxiously nice house when you came across him and his mother talking privately. Admittedly, you hadn’t made the best impression, but you were any kid in their single digits: annoying, talkative, maybe skeptical. But you were a kid. A kid that got their feelings easily hurt.

Despite saying such hurtful words, Wonwoo listened. He treated you with care–consideration almost–following his mother's orders, but you didn't make it easy for him. Every group breakfast, every dinner, every ride to school. You became relentless. You knew how he really felt about your situation after all. Your mind was made up at that point.

If he wanted nothing to do with you, you wanted nothing to do with him. 

“Keep walking.”

Your eyes barely glaze over at the unfamiliar figure before waving off your hand as if dismissing a nuisance, which in this case was accurate. The unsolicited stranger scoffs, getting up from his unwelcome seat, hacking and spitting on the spot on the floor next to your chair. “I don’t fuck with bitches anyway.”

You roll your eyes as you shoo him away with the flick of your wrist again, then feel another unwanted presence join you in your once peaceful solitude. You tightly shut your eyes in frustration before taking a deep exhale, finding silence impossible under your circumstances. “I don’t want to hear it, Jeon.”

“I wasn’t gonna say anything,” you hear Wonwoo arrogantly chuckle, shrugging off the thick leather off his shoulders and setting them on his lap as he takes a seat.

With your back turned to him, you imagine the pristinely lit smile on his face he gives when he’s amused, a rarity in these parts with the exception of you, someone he’s known long enough to recount every blemish that once appeared on your face. He watches you finish the rest of your drink, the bob of your throat shifting before you pull the glass away from your lips. Your resting bitch face is still intact after all these years.

“Good, keep it that way.” 

Wonwoo could have chosen to keep the peace as he said he would, but it was just too easy with you. Even after you’ve left for college and come back, he acts as if nothing has changed. In his eyes, you were still that same angsty kid who always has something snarky to say when he’s around. And man, did he always have just as smart a rebuttal. “It’s just, that was the fifth guy you’ve scared off—course, the guy was a moron—but you like dying alone, Frosty?”

Frosty. The Snowman. Much unlike the jolly creature, however, you were given that name being somewhat of a cold character, particularly to Wonwoo and anything he witnesses face the wrath of your harsh but honest judgment. 

You begin getting up from your seat, scowling at the abhorred nickname, the prediction of this dinner a mistake an accurate calculation. “Should’ve known you’d run your mouth. Tell mom I’m heading to the store across the street.”

Your mother was so proud to have you back home for a period before you’d find a new place again, and she insisted on holding a small intimate gathering at bar type restaurant. That meant sharing the space with other patrons, the Jeons, and unfortunately Wonwoo, who only grew more irritating than you last remember. 

“I’ll tell her, but I’m coming with.”

The caretaker role he was bestowed upon so long ago seems to resonate with him still, insisting on trailing behind you with nonchalance. To which you answer with a brash:

“Fuck off.”

Your eyes go to the back of your skull the nth time tonight before you’re off on your stroll, noticing the annoying scrap of Wonwoo’s heel following behind you after he waves your mom and the rest of the party farewell. You ignore him, darting towards the antique shop that warms your stomach with nostalgia, hearing the wind chimes clang when you enter with a cool musk breeze to follow.

“That all you have to say to me? Even if you hate me, there has to be some…sentiment.” 

You finger through the old hardcovers, eyes scanning over the aged wood of the shelves until they move on to the glossy wood of the cuckoo clocks on the walls. “Not even a little bit, Jeon.”

There’s the breathiness of his scoff that lingers in the musk air. He crosses your arms, the leather rubs loudly against itself. “Well, that’s sad to hear,” he responds, not sounding sad at all.

“Don’t you have an actual sibling to bother? Why are you being a nuisance to me?”

He simply shrugs. “Seonwoo isn’t back from his work-study just yet. Plus he’d be happy to know I kept you company.”

Unlike Wonwoo, Seonwoo was actually tolerable, pleasant even. If you were envious of Wonwoo for anything, it was having a nice little brother like Seonwoo. You weren’t exactly close but he was a nice kid, a lot nicer than Wonwoo anyway, and not at all that annoying kind of nice that chirps every two seconds.

You sigh. “Now that’s actually sad to hear.”

“I knew you’d say that. You always liked him better than me.”

Only because you never liked me in the first place.

“Mmhmm.”

“Oh my god, Wonwoo?”

A shrill voice beckons from the store entrance, an older version of a girl from your adolescence runs towards you both. “I thought I heard your gorgeous voice. Gorgeous face as well as always, how are you?”

Gina also grew up in the same neighborhood you both did and was typically nice, but around Wonwoo, she seemed to lose all train of thought since all her eyes could train on was him. She bats her eyelashes the same flirtatious way several years ago, and instinctively her body is drawn to him like mosquitos to blood, drinking in masculine appearance for all its worth.

If you were anything like her, you’d get it. Wonwoo is an attractive man by society's standards, but the truth of the matter is you can’t stand him. And you know deep down he can’t stand you. His fake politeness isn’t fooling anybody. Okay, that is a lie. His fake politeness doesn’t fool you, but his limitless charm made everyone else weak in the knees.

“Good, good.” He nods cordially, a smile drained from his face only leaving a straight stare, eyes only landing on Gina momentarily before they return to you.

Gina finds his gaze’s target before the light is slightly dimmed from her initially bright eyes. “And you too. Oh gosh, you must’ve got back too. Can you believe we’ve both graduated from college?”

You wonder if she does, considering you did graduate from the same university.

“Yeah, it’s…crazy.” You answer, sounding unintentionally sarcastic.

Gina awkwardly chuckles, eyes back on Wonwoo as if they never left. “All we need is Seonwoo and it’s like the musketeers again, huh?”

Hardly the musketeers when she only ever stalked Wonwoo the entire time. You’re surprised you didn’t find she didn’t follow him all the way to the bathroom too.

Wonwoo’s cold expression is a steel cage that lacks interest. He blindly nods, mumbling “sure,” and not giving any other sign of continuing the conversation.

“Well, you guys should totally make it to my housewarming party. I’m inviting all the other guys from the neighborhood. Invite Seonwoo too! It’ll be a nice way to catch up.”

“We’ll think about it,” Wonwoo answers, giving her another curt nod.

“I’ll be really, really grateful if you did.”

There are stars in her eyes, like a treat is dangling in front of it, that treat being a six-foot body of steel and perfect Wonwoo.

 “Right,” he grunts.

She finally waves you both goodbye before making it past the glass doors with a quirk in her step.

You continue to peruse the rest of the store, picking up that one wooden statue that’s never been sold, or if it has, it keeps getting returned. It makes you wonder if it’s cursed. “Just reject her already and let her move on. Even I feel sorry for her.”

“I’m not ready for the aftermath of all that.”

You really have to unlearn that eye roll of yours. You could tell it’s giving you a headache. “Of course you aren’t.”

“You’re not going, are you? The thing she mentioned?”

“This the first time you met me? Of course, I’m not going. You are?”

He shrugs. “A party never hurt anybody.” 

“Without an address?”

He pulls out his phone with a notification as clear as day, Gina’s Instagram handle ushering him with details of where the party whereabouts. “Who said I didn’t have an address?”

“She really needs to find a hobby.”

Wonwoo chuckles, tucking the phone back in his front pocket. “Ready to head back now? Unless you want to look through the store a second time.”

You groan. “Stop policing me. I’m going home.”

“I’ll take you.” 

You raise your brow. “On your fucking death trap? No thanks.”

He scoffs, crossing his arms, the leather of his jacket speaking out of turn again. “You say that as if people aren’t begging to the back of my Harley.”

“Only people with a death wish.”

That goes on for some time until you make yourself walk the mile before your feet give out. Wonwoo obviously is the first with a smile on his face before he forces you to get the rest of the couple miles on the back of his bike, which was admittedly prettier in person than the photos your mom showed you. 

There’s a bitter taste in your mouth as you get on—no doubt regret—questioning the proximity. “Hold on,” he says, to which you answer, “fat fucking chance.”

Your spiteful words are wasted as you find yourself tugging on him as you speed off on the vehicle from hell on the freeway.

“You’re an asshole!” You scream from your lungs.

“And I told you to hold on!” He screams back, a wide smile on his face you have no way of seeing.

You desperately wrap your arms around his torso, your life flashing before your eyes like a movie. All you hear is the wind in your ears while the traffic lights are hardly visible through your tightly shut eyes. You feel your soul leave your body, thinking nothing but the idea of an afterlife. If there was one good thing about the predicament you’re in, it’d be that he can’t see the terror in your eyes. He doesn’t know how much you want to scream bloody murder.

Before you know it, you arrive home safe and sound, the gas stopping at the curb of your house. He abruptly uses the bike break and you crash against broad shoulders, and you exude bumbling idiocy as you cling to him like a baby with separation anxiety. Oxygen finally enters your brain and you recognize your compromised position, forcing your grip off of him. You unbuckle and shove his helmet into his lap as you get off, a permanent scowl on your face. 

“Fuck you.”

“Glad to see you haven’t changed, Frosty.”

You don’t forget that encounter back then and you never get a chance to with your mom finding any excuse to see the Jeons day after day since your arrival. If that perfect apartment with affordable rent were to drop at your feet at a perfect time just when you so desperately needed it, it’d be now.

“Bring that in over next door. The Jeons will be thrilled to see their fridge stocked. And remember I’ll be gone until the morning.”

“We just gave them homemade wine yesterday. Mom, just because they live next door doesn’t mean we always have to plan to meet. We see them anyway.” You grab the cumbersome container of whatever it was anyway and hold it to your side like like a football, a strained expression on your face.

“You need to understand the value of lasting relationships. That’s why you’re still single, honey.”

You roll your eyes, groaning as you trod off, not wanting to start up another one of lectures why you're in your mid-twenties room with hardly any men in your books let alone in your court. Better off facing Jeon Wonwoo again than that, you guess.

You knock on their familiar white door, awaiting an answer from the other side. Soon enough you hear a masculine voice, but a voice that isn’t quite Wonwoo’s. The boy's fresh face on the receiving end piques your interest, an expression telling of a life of light and ease. Seonwoo stares back at you with a smile before politely waving. “It’s good seeing you! Been a minute.”

You find yourself returning a gesture, relaxing your arms. “It has. Mom wanted to send things over. Again.”

“Of course. Come in.”

You leave the box of goods in their fridge, feeling the presence of the younger Jeon follow behind you like a benevolent puppy. “Did you get in yesterday?”

“This morning. Early flight.”

You grin. “Singapore doing you good, I see.”

“Nothing like home though.”

You softly chuckle, “Yeah, there isn’t.”

Your conversation is cut short with another family coming down the stairs, one that looks ready to leave. They meet your eyes in amusement and his steps begin to falter in turn. “I saw you yesterday.”

“Don’t you dare make a joke about me missing you. It wasn’t funny any of the first five times.”

He’s smug as expected, entertained by the fact you’ve kept count. “I won’t, but it won’t make it any less true.”

You scoff. “Live in reality for once in your life, Wonwoo.”

“I will when you do.” He comes to the kitchen—briefly passing by you to do so and grazing your forearm—to fill a glass of water and downs it, his signature jacket thrown over his shoulders. He let out a refreshed sigh in your direction and put it away as soon as he finished. “I’m leaving now. When you change your mind about missing me, I’ll be at Gina’s party. Might actually find some fun there while you’re at it.”

The door closes behind him dramatically and your attention is right back on Seonwoo, the successful bystander. “Your brother is annoying.”

The young man smiles, finding the nostalgia in that small event. “Reminds me of the good old times.”

“Well, I should get going.”

“You’re going to the party too?”

You shake your head. “Not the slightest bit interested. Just trying to keep myself busy while I’m still in town.”

“Plan on leaving already? You just got here.”

“I can’t live on my parents forever. Need to make a living of my own you know.”

He softly laughs, a warm light enveloping his presence. He always seems to emit pure joy. Like there was nothing that could ruin this kid's day. “Nice to see you haven’t changed. Still self-reliant.”

You can’t help but smile back, “… Wouldn't be me if I wasn’t. I'll see you later, kid.”

You walk back home and go on with the rest of your afternoon by carrying on the duties of a college graduate with no job: endless job hunting. You let yourself go on that way for an hour, already bored by rereading your applicant details and sending in copies and copies of cover letters and documents. Your eyes have started to see stars shooting from either corner, warning signs of mental fatigue.

Shaking the numbing feeling, you shut off your laptop and notice the time on the clock. In the back of your mind, you’re remembering that party Wonwoo ended up going to. These parties weren’t by any means rare, but it had been some time since you let yourself give into environments as such. You said you wouldn't go but in dire situations of weary silences, perhaps it would hurt to take a second in a new subsubspace. Something to take off the edge of the weight of your undetermined future.

Against your initial better judgment, you force yourself out of that house to enter that very party you said you wouldn't go to. So like Gina to make an event over a normal thing like this. You don’t put much thought into what you wear and leave the house and when you arrive late as you were, you are unsurprised by the huge turnout. Five seconds in, you’re already regretting the 10 bucks you paid via UBER to get there.

The house was so Gina. As expected of one of the daughters of the wealthiest families in town. As you enter, all you hear is music, loud and rambunctious voices and laughter, and shouts of barely adults chugging whatever concoction in those house party solo cups. It all quickly reminds you of college and high school, times in your life you were relieved to know were over.

Why did you decide to come again if you knew this was going to happen?

You try ignoring the voices that seem to recognize you, evading and walking through the place for a potential drink to buzz you out of self-consciousness. If you were going to be in a place like this, a drink was warranted by all means.

“Wonwoo, come on!”

Gina’s voice, easily distinguishable, resonates from the other end of the room and sees how her presence bounces like a kite in the wind. You look in the direction of her gaze to find the person she seeks, ultimately having Wonwoo being dragged by the wrist, his hair sweeping the swift breeze of her force.  You were a bit relieved to see him, someone who is more similar to you in ways you’d never willingly admit.

You feel the urge to approach, curious how he’ll handle this one, but intentions all change of a brisk move, changing setting immediately. One second Gina looks up at him with doe eyes that speak longing and ache, another second her arms are looped around his neck and she pulls his lips against hers, massaging against them naturally as if rehearsed. Your feet stop, watching the unsightly scene like it’s a car crash as if in slow motion, taking you only a second to realize he hasn't yet let go.

Slowly then quickly, your chest pulls up like a marionette doll before it drops in a lump, repeating until the sound of your heart is rapidly pounding into your skull. You don’t understand it, but you don’t want to either. Swiftly, you duck back and turn your head in the other direction, having seen enough.

Then panic ensues.

People are harder to brush through than you realize. Colliding each one was like speed bumps in your way of a smooth departure. You were bound to have one person take a drunken offense to your rash movement and there it was: a subtle push that led to a spilled drink that stains the shirt of a man big enough to frighten children if he approached.

“Watch the fuckkk ya goin’!”

You don’t bother with the importance of apologizing or even acknowledging him. You realize it too late when he pulls at your collar back towards him, strangling you at the throat.

“S…stupid bitch can’t even see…fucking ruin my—hic—deink”

Your hands come around his grip, attempting to pry him off. “L-let me go. The fuck?”

“The fuck you say to me piece of shi—ah!”

He finally releases you when Wonwoo appears from behind him, tossing him out like an old ragdoll with no weight. The drunkard comes crashing down to the hardwood floor and before he realizes the cause of it, said cause whisks you away with his gril looping around your wrist.

“You’re going home right the fuck now,” Wonwoo grumbles, dragging you out of other guests' way and right out of the door, once again leading you to his motorcycle. “Bike now.”

“Wonwoo, what the fuck—“

“You aren’t an idiot. You knew what was gonna happen if I hadn’t stepped in. Now get on before fee fi fo fum finds out we left.”

“I’m not getting on that death trap again!”

His glare pierces right through you. “I know you'd rather be at home than here. Especially with the probability of becoming a statistic. Get on.”

He is right for the most part and even you’re seeing through your nonsensical defiance. Reluctantly, you follow his lead, knowing he’s left you with no other choice. You endure another near death experience, this time clutching on to him less resistantly unlike last time all the way back home. It is when you’re at the foot of your door you only realize the keys that were supposed to be in your pocket but left on the kitchen counter instead.

“Shit.”

Wonwoo quickly puts the pieces together. “No key?”

You shake your head, embarrassed slightly over your feeble appearance. “No, and mom won’t be back until the morning so I’m screwed.”

“Alright. You’re sleeping over.”

You scoff looking back at him, wondering whether he’s in the right state of mind to make that call. “You’re kidding.”

“Not unless you’re okay slumbering at the footstep of your door.”

Another choice made of your hands. You discouragingly follow after him as he unlocks the door across the street. Seonwoo was evidently still home with his loafers by the foot of the door but dead asleep upstairs in bed. 

“You take my bed. I’ll take the couch,” he offers nodding in the direction of the living room.

“No thanks, I’ll take the couch.”

He groans, giving that irritated look. “Don’t be difficult and just sleep in the damn bed.”

You huff, strutting over towards the couch. “Sleep in your own damn bed, Jeon. Stop treating me like you’re my babysitter.”

He follows after you, crossing his arms like an annoyed mother, “You’re really gonna be like this?”

“I’m not being like anything.”

“You know what?” He grabs the throw pillow off the couch, “Fine. We’ll share the couch.”

“Excuse me?” Your eyes narrow back at him.

The smug smile on his face says it all, knowing there was no rebuttal to follow. “Neither of us will take the bed, we’ll both will take the couch.”

Before you can argue, he ascends the stairs for more bedding and comes back to toss you a blanket and pillow. He keeps one of each for himself, sprawling on the other end of the massive couch, gesturing you to do the exact same. Cautiously, you mirrored his image, crawling under your borrowed blanket. Despite your feet not touching, you couldn’t help but feel suffocated by the close proximity, forcing you to crunch up your legs and bring your knees close to your chest. 

Wonwoo’s eyes drop in place, nuzzling into his thick blanket. “Good night.”

“Whatever.”

He softly scoffs with a smile, basking in the silence. Meanwhile, there was you, wondering why you listened to his instructions so willingly. You sigh, your eyes glued to the ceiling counting every bump and curve of its textured surface. 

“This is stupid it’s literally 10 pm”

“Sounds like bedtime.”

You peek back at him, his eyes still closed. “You did not go to a party to plan on sleeping at 10 pm.”

“You don’t know what my plans are. Sleep now.”

“I could’ve handled it, you know,” you argue.

“I bet you could’ve,” he responds dryly. “Wasn’t gonna take that risk though.”

“I’m serious…you didn’t have to, especially since…”

“What?” 

“You know,” you take a moment to form the words, “whatever that was with Gina.”

You hear him scoff, shifting on his side of the couch. “Nothing was happening with Gina.”

You let out a parched laugh, in disbelief of the words leaving his lips. “Wow, that lie comes so easy, does it?”

“Believe what you want. It’s not what you think anyway.”

“You’re so…obnoxious,” you sputter.

“Thank you.”

“So when did that happen? You and Gina?”

He huffs hot air out of his nose.“There’s no me and Gina. I don’t know what you saw, but…it’s nothing.”

“You were kissing.”

“You could call it that.”

“For a while,” You add.

“Just enough for her to find closure.”

“And did she?”

“Saved your ass before I could find out.”

You have no response to that and you let the silence take over for a few minutes. After those few minutes, Wonwoo was the one to break the peace.

“You asleep yet.”

“No, it’s not even 11,” you answer exasperatedly. 

“Well, I'm tired.”

“Go to sleep then.”

“You should sleep before I do.”

“Why?”

He shrugs, “I'm supposed to take care of you. It’s what your mom would want.”

“Why? I'm a grown adult.”

“I don’t think an explanation is needed.”

“Ever heard of personal space?”

“Make some smart decisions and I’ll consider it.”

“You’re such a dick,” you grunt, turning away from view.

“I’m only trying to protect you.”

This shit again. You pushed yourself up from the couch to sit up, fuming in his direction. “Because your mom asked. Okay, I get it, but you’re not obligated to anymore because I’m your mom's friend’s kid. Just stop.”

“That’s not why–”

“Stop lying–”

“I’m not fucking lying,” he says matching your stance. His gaze meets yours in anguish, urging you to drop it. 

You scoff, lying back down in a sleeping position with your back turned towards him. “Whatever.”

“...Despite popular belief, I’m actually concerned about you sometimes.”

“I guess…I don't entirely find that hard to believe.”

“Thank you. It’s not like I hate you.”

“Sure,” you answer, voice basted in sarcasm.

“I don’t.” You hear his body shift back down on the couch, finding comfort between the leather cushions.

“Then why are you such a dick.”

He sighs. “Sorry.”

“That’s all you have to say?”

“...Sorry.”

You ponder to yourself, wanting to turn back the clock to the earlier conversation for unknown reasons. You turn your body, seeing how his body mimics your body seconds ago, back turned, eyes closed, and facing the couch. “So if not Gina–”

“There’s no one,” he cuts off, “I mean, I'm not seeing anyone.”

It reassures you. Not that it should’ve. “Okay. I believe you.”

“Okay.”

You’re unsure when you drifted off, you only remember it being mid-conversation that your vision started to blur, followed by darkness and soon the light of the following morning. You wake up in Wonwoo’s house unexpectedly alone, quiet enough to hear the sound of a pin dropping. You enter the kitchen, parched, and you find a plate of food. You approach cautiously, catching a glimpse of the note, immediately catching on to why it was so damn empty. 

Went to get stuff done. Keep yourself entertained for a bit. - Wonwoo and Seonwoo

With an impish grin, you quickly run your fork over and over into the balanced meal and nourish your body, but slow down as your subconscious reminds you of last night's events. It wanders to your impulse to attend a party out of sheer boredom, stumbling upon an unexpected scene, before immediately trying to escape it before you are caught. The kiss becomes a scene stuck on replay, playing the image like a broken record. You did not black out, though you wish you had, considering your uncalled-for badgering of Wonwoo’s relationship status you shouldn’t have cared less about. Yet do.

You try bruising it off if you can help it, quick to leave, and relieved to find your mom home to let you in. Your day begins a new, and with a new day, she already has stuff for you to do. You’d be annoyed if you weren’t so grateful to be let back in home, remembering to grab your keys this time as you left the house again following her request for grocery shopping. 

You drink in the town for the first time since being back, questioning yourself why you hadn’t done it earlier. The block isn’t that different since you left, perhaps more greenery and flowers, but otherwise everything looked the same. Same old town, same old stores, the only thing difference was the people. Fine lines got deeper, toddlers now taller, and you now a stranger. Even the grocery store has changed managers, one adolescent bag boy at a time.

Even long finished with grocery shopping, you’re still wandering the center of town, circling in steps of the alternating tiles of the ground. For a moment, you free yourself from your thoughts, your worries, your ambitions, and live in the moment. It had been so long since you felt like this. You expected the feeling to emerge in college but that had been just another thing on your plate and suddenly you’re reminded of Wonwoo. Knowing him, he’d like this sight of you, proud to see you experience another emotion for a change.

Then your eyes flit back to the scene several meters from you. He reappears in your vision just as he has in your thoughts, only now Gina embracing him, squeezing the life out of him just as the life is squeezed out of your chest. He meets your eyes, his pupils expanding, before lightly pushing the poor girl off of him, but not in enough time to stop you from trying to escape again.

“Hey!”

You ignore him, letting your feet take you where it guides you. You’re blind to the incoming obstacles, brushing past pedestrians, shoulder everybody you meet, and you barely register the busy road before your feet make an unexpected halt. You hear the blaring honks until you’re pulled out, face crashing into their shoulder, arms coming around your in strong enclosure.

“Are you stupid? Why are you running into oncoming traffic?”

You shove him off, heart beating louder in your chest than any bike ride he’s taken you on has, and you’re seething in an emotion that you never expected to be in. Never in this lifetime at least. “Wonwoo just stop. Please.”

“I’m not doing anything. I don’t get why you’re trying to push me away.”

“I’m just sick of this. Of you. I can’t do this.”

“Why? Why? What do you think this is?”

“Just, leave me alone, Wonwoo.”

He sees you trying to walk out on him again and he doesn’t let you. Taking you by your arm, he pulls you towards him, leaving only the width of your forearm as his gaze pierces right through you, brimming with a mix of concern and utter anger. Frustration. Impatience.

If there was one thing about Wonwoo, he may have looked like he came from an anger management class, but he did manage it well. When he didn’t, your feet would feel glued to the concrete, frozen in the fire of his eyes, for once fearing what the man had to say.

“You know what? No. I’m not letting you do this? I don’t understand what’s going on or why you hate me so much–”

“God,” you groan, “it would be so easy if I just hated you.”

“Then what is it? You don’t hate me. You don’t like me. What? I’m wracking my brain trying to understand you–”

You don’t let him finish. You aren't sure what was in the breakfast you had today but you find yourself pulling him by the collar to meet his lips only to push him away in that instant, barely a whisper of his presence in your mouth. You clamp your hand over your mouth before finally treading away shocked by your actions, scurrying away.

He doesn’t follow you and you don’t blame him. You retrieve your once-abandoned groceries from the intersection to then find your way home. Rain is close to follow, drenching from head to toe. As if things couldn’t get any worse.

When you get home, you’re alone once again. The door shuts with a clang and you’re left in your self wallow, regret burning the back of your throat. Your back slid against the wood, a deep exhale expelling from your lungs. “So that’s what’s wrong with me.”

Like clockwork, you feel a knock erupt from the same door. Conceding to whatever was on the other side, you brush yourself up from the ground and turn the knob, only to be taken aback. Wonwoo, wet like made from glass with his locks swept over his head, stands before you panting. On either hand is a bundle of flowers barely protected in the cellophane it came with when he bought them and his cell phone he’s death gripping in his hand, no doubt damaged by the rain.

You blink back at him, lips parting in confusion. “Wonwoo…You’re wet.”

“Likewise.” He invites himself in and sets the flowers on a table nearby, not even for a second letting his gaze stray from yours. “You left me hanging there. Kiss a guy and walk away like he means nothing?”

You shake your head in disbelief, processing this, him. “Why are you here…with flowers?”

“I really do have to spell out everything for you, don’t I?” he responds smiling.

The squelch of his shoes trod in your direction, the invisible string connecting you two shortening. Preventing your evasion, you feel the palm of his hand against your back and your lips crash in a lingering reunion. The squeak of his slippery leather doesn't make it past your ears, distracted by the heat of his lips in the clash of the coolness of his rain-stained skin. 

Your hand crawls up his neck to press him closer, feeling the strength of his arms wrap around you tighter before shutting the front door effortlessly with his foot. He lets you pin him against the door, lips tight bound to yours, and relief settles in his stomach as you show no sign of pulling away. He finds himself whispering a word of gratitude in every language, smiling against your lips. “No more excuses…I’m not letting anyone get in the way. Not even you.”

You finally break out in a smile, brushing it against his lips before reclaiming them, not minding the wet leather.

You spend the rest of the day in each other’s company. You put away the groceries before the room temperature worked against their favor and got yourselves changed out of your rain-dampened clothes, throwing them in the dryer. Even if he lived right next door, you allow him to wear your most oversized shirt after he insisted he should, watching the cotton fabric cling to his broad shoulders with the hem just hitting him at his hip bone.

Man, he’s a large man.

“Kinda snug.”

You scoff, crossing your arms in an attempt to hold yourself back. “You can get clothes next door. You’re just a few steps away.”

He grins, approaching you. “It’s raining…I could get sick.” His long arms land on either of your shoulders, reminding you of that cat that knew too much in a childhood cartoon. “You don’t want me sick…”

“You wouldn’t get sick taking two long strides to your house, Jeon,” you respond, rolling your eyes, unable to meet his.

“But you’d take care of me if I was, right?” 

You roll your eyes, accepting his advances of a hug and feeling his chin fit in the crook of your neck. “Kiss a guy two times too many and he follows you around like a stray cat.”

He grins. “You like it. Don’t act like you don’t. You probably even like my bike and you’re not telling me.”

“Okay well, no. Those are two separate matters.”

His arms wrap around you tighter before reuniting your lips, such tenderness and sweetness in his gaze as he thumbs over the curve of your cheek. “You don’t deny that other thing.”

“I thought was already point blank. You know, when I didn’t push you away, kicking and screaming.”

“Yeah, but,” he shrugs, his cheekbones only getting higher. “Hard to come by something nice from you. I want to hear it.”

You sigh, giving in. “Fine.”

Your head fit between the divide of his chest, hearing a quickened pulse underneath it. You close your eyes as your hand strokes against his back. “I have… feelings for you. Maybe for once good feelings. Just don’t get cocky about it.”

Overwashed with calm joy, he takes you tighter, inhaling the soap in your hair. “Too late.”

[youngbounty]

I don’t think it should be a hot take when I say that Jonathan Kent should never have aged up. This isn’t about who is shipping whom, because I’d be genuinely surprised if even JonJay fans disagreed with me on this.

Let’s actually consider this: if Jon had not been aged up, how would any of his storylines and adventures have changed overall? Sure, yes, there would be a few tweaks, but would Jon’s age have prevented the events of The Legion of Super Heroes, Superman Son of Kal El, Dark Crisis and storylines afterwards. I dare even say it would have made those storylines and Jon’s character so much better.

Let’s go on this rabbit trail here for a second. Even if you liked Son of Kal El and maybe even shipped JonJay. If Jon had never aged up, stayed on Earth age 10, maybe grew to be 11 and met Jay at that point in time, it can go two ways: either Jay would be written the same age as Jon (11 years old) or Jay would still be 18ish and Jon would just have a one-sided crush on an older guy. Either way, the idea would have been more interesting in exploring Jon’s sexuality at a time when he’s just starting puberty. Because he’s young, it would have given room for Jon to grow and develop. Even the Teen Titans under Damian explored his sexuality despite his crush being terrible imo. First love’s are likely to work better if the character is still a child or minor.

The problem comes down to Jon aging up to seven years in a few days. His character is now a shell of what he once was. Jon was already strong and developing. He was becoming his own little person separate from Superman. Hell, if we’re going to talk about making Jon diverse, he was already diverse and dealing with discrimination for being a mixed Kryptonian and human. He was hunted down by a Kryptonian clone of his dad to eliminate any “human impurities.” He was tricked and betrayed by his own hometown, who used alien cow’s milk to “protect him” from needing to be Superboy and as a result had hindered his powers from activating. Evil Tim’s Batman hunted him down to kill him because his human and Kryptonian genetics clashed hard enough for Jon to create a solar flare that was capable of destroying a part of the world. These are issues Jon deals with that are the equivalent of what children of mixed races go through such as health conditions, their own being skeptical of them because of the other half of their race from both sides and often being belittled for being a “half-breed.” Until Jon was aged up, he had to be checked by Batman himself because the Fortress of Solitude and regular human doctors weren’t capable of checking a half Kryptonian and Human child. Then, Jon got aged up and his health concerns and the discrimination conflicts from his own were thrown right out the window.

My point is that Jon’s character arc and conflicts were thrown out the window the moment he aged up. Sure, there are some good comics with Jon here and there like Tom King’s Super Sons’ Adventures in Babysitting, but for the most part, Jon’s character has been reduced to a clone of Superman. Whatever happened to Jon’s personality that came from his mother like his stubbornness, tamper and sassiness? Whatever happened to that Jon that led a bunch of demon dogs he rescued to save his parents? Whatever happened to the boy that went Emo over accidentally frying his pet cat to ashes?

I guess Jonathan Kent truly died in that volcano when he was sucked into a wormhole.

[lesbian-for-arthur-morgan]

Hello! Love your work!

Can you do headcanons for Hosea with a daughter? (Or child if you'd prefer gender neutrality)

She's his kid with Bessie, and I was wondering how the two would be, growing up in the gang, how he'd be as a father, how she'd be with the other members, whatever you'd like to write!

As for her age, I'm thinking young adult during the events of the game, maybe John's age too

Thank you!

Hosea with a Child

Gender Neutral language!

Genre: Fluff! Some angst - No game spoilers Featuring: Dad!Hosea, Platonic John, Platonic Arthur Warnings: Mentions of death and grief

AN: I hope you like these! I really enjoyed writing this request it was so cute and fun to think about Hosea as a dad raising a kid in the gang <3 Thank you so much

---> Requests are open! Check out my guidelines if you have any questions!

<><><><>

Childhood Years:

According to Hosea, you were the only good thing he had ever done with his life.

Being his only child with Bessie, you were spoiled as much as he could afford. As an infant you were given the warmest blankets, the softest toys, and the most attention he could give you.

That short period of time where he left the gang was around the time that you were born after him and Bessie’s wedding. He wanted to give you a proper childhood away from the hardship of the life of an outlaw.

As he said himself, though, the life just draws you back in.

When he went back to Dutch he brought you and Bessie with him.

Hosea worshiped and adored you. Everything he did in the gang he convinced himself was for you and Bessie.

He told you the story of Robin Hood as you grew old enough to understand stories before bedtime. He’d sit you in front of the fire and smile as you gazed up at him in wonder while he told the tale of the hero who stole from the rich to give to the poor.

During the earlier years of the gang, when they still stole for the good of others in one way or another, you always thought of Hosea as Robin Hood - he was a hero to you.

You started calling Dutch “Uncle Dutch” and considered many other members of the gang as family.

You were only eight when Arthur was brought in to the group. You followed him like a shadow and it warmed Hosea’s heart to see you trying to play with another kid (even though Arthur was fourteen by this time - he was still the youngest person for you to hang around).

Since Hosea eventually started viewing Arthur as a son, you viewed him as your badass older brother.

Teen Years:

By the time you turned fifteen, you were expected to start contributing to the gang. Most of the time you were just a pickpocket. Hosea didn’t want you robbing trains or putting yourself in any real danger, and Bessie wouldn’t allow you to do anything that could taint your soul (as she would put it).

For a while you were just quick and sneaky.

Arthur watched over you whenever you went into town to grab a few coins and watches from the people walking through the streets just in case anyone caught on to your act and you needed assistance.

You whined to Hosea that you felt like he didn’t trust you to take care of yourself since Arthur was always babysitting you, Hosea said he’d figure something out. He knew you could take care of yourself, of course.

He fixed it by telling Arthur to be sneakier while he was watching you.

Once you turned sixteen, Hosea started taking you on hunting trips with him. He wanted to make sure you could take care of yourself and your mom in case anything happened to him.

“Give a man a fish, he’ll eat for a day. Teach a man to fish, he’ll eat forever.” He’d say on nearly every hunting trip the two of you went on.

“But we’re hunting deer, Pop, not fishin’.” You’d correct him and he’d just wave his hand in the air as if to dismiss you. “Same concept, kid.” He’d retort.

At seventeen, John joined the Van Der Linde gang. It was the first time there was someone exactly your age near you daily that you got to interact with.

At first, John was following Arthur around like a puppy and it made you so jealous. You complained to Hosea about it, you said John was taking your brother from you and it wasn’t fair.

Hosea laughed lightly whenever you dramatically groaned and whined and told you to give it time, John would become your friend as well.

Hosea was right of course, as always. After a month or two the amazement over Arthur Morgan wore off and John became a great friend of yours.

The two of you bickered a lot, though. Being the same age and all, you were constantly at each other’s throats.

Bessie always said that you and John were like an old married couple. That comment caused you two to look at each other gag over dramatically.

Young Adulthood (around the events of the game):

When your mom, Bessie, died a part of you died with her. Hosea might as well have died too.

For a year, he never left his bed and when he did it was only to grab another bottle of whiskey to drown his sorrows in.

Some days were better than others during he grieving, but there were weeks that would go by when he couldn’t bear to look at you.

You had Bessie’s eyes and her smile. You had all the best parts of Bessie and seeing her in you but not seeing her made Hosea’s heart shatter all over again.

During this time you depended on Arthur and John to be your rocks. They were the ones who kept your focus away from the black hole of grief eating away at your insides. And during the days that the grief was too much to handle, they pat your back and held your hand while you let yourself rot away in bed.

Some nights John would come to see you when he couldn’t sleep and the two of you would cry over Bessie until you drifted out of consciousness.

Everyone felt her death deeply.

As time goes by, your wounds have healed as have Hosea’s. He sobered up and after a long crying session where all you two did was hold each other and reminisce over Bessie, you were a family again.

During the events at Blackwater, you were Hosea’s first priority. He got you packed and to safety as fast as he could once it was time to flee.

In that huge snowstorm on your way east, Hosea gave you his extra jacket and gloves to keep you warm. You rode in the wagon with Abigail and Jack, huddling with them for warmth and assuring them that John would be okay and back soon.

For a while after Blackwater, Hosea refused to let you out of his sights. After what happened with Bessie and the chaos that was that whole situation, you were the only thing he lived for. He couldn’t have anything happen to you.

You didn’t complain, either. You didn’t want to be away from him for a while. You were terrified during Blackwater, terrified you’d lose him or John or Arthur. You let him baby you and watch over you like a hawk as long as it gave his mind peace.

At Horseshoe Overlook, you went hunting with Hosea as often as you could. It was like a tradition for the two of you.

“Give a man a fish,” He’d start his lecture on the importance of learning survival skills and you’d have to stifle a groan and a laugh.

You’d probably heard that phrase nearly a million times at that point. He always said fish, too. Never changed it for whatever you were hunting.

Hosea wasn’t only your father, but your best friend. He was the best person you knew despite his occupation, and you adored him with your entire being.

He wasn’t technically a good man, but he was a great dad.

<><><><>

I hope you enjoyed these!! Thank you for reading

[moonshynecybin]

#thinkin about teen dad marc…. like diplopia year…. <- say more callie

eye got. SIX asks about this lmao. but anything for you elle ofc. required reading on this is @yekoc’s vale knocks marc up in like 2013/14 post found here go read it (AND THE REPLIES !!! ). foundational text.

but in this one. vale is jerry springer voice NOT THE FATHERRRR. which i think would make his specific commitment issues significantly weirder and more complex. and marc MUCH more neurotic lmao. he has a baby to look after !!! AND he’s doing death defying stunts !!!

so marc either gets a girl pregnant and keeps the baby or gets knocked up and keeps the baby. choose your own adventure. he’s a teen. diplopia year cwaziness. fully like. i am injured and may never race again which i can’t fix instantly and easily so i’m going to HAVE THIS BABY. tries to #win at teen pregnancy. and marc is part of a VERY tight knit little family so once he gets better he absolutely carts that baby all around the world and inside the garage. (which. he comes back because he both wants to and HAS TO. marquez family finances already depended on him, now you add a tiny sweet infant into the mix that he is responsible for. marc is already psychotic about winning because of natural competitiveness and the aforementioned family pressures this would literally make him worse. crazier.) babychamp t-shirts new meaning. bouncing her on his knee in the box in 2012 BIG ASS baby ear protectors. santi very seriously explaining shit about tire pressure to the side. kissing her little cheek in parc ferme.

and vale. meets this baby/toddler. LOVES this baby/toddler. and as his relationship with marc takes shape it’s a little different! marc’s i’m old for my age complex is 9000x more pronounced but VALE’S i’m young for my age complex is toooooo… so it’s weirder. yes they start fucking but it’s also like. less often. less free time more baby time they don’t hang out at bars as much but every time vale sees marc he gets to hang out with a hot person he likes and sometimes he gets to be goofy for a leedle baby that he is RAPIDLY gaining affection for. marc leaves her with vale (HUGE TRUST. THE BABYSITTING LIST OUTSIDE OF FAMILY IS LIKE TWO PEOPLE.) when he goes to the bathroom and vale reaches over to grab her favorite toy (bugs bunny plush iykyk) without thinking and it’s like oh. oh no. like he spends enough time with her that he KNOWS HERRRR… doesn’t have the rigidity of the fuckbuddies dichotomy because they hang out so often WITH the baby so he can’t write the whole thing off as much. truly what do you do if you love and want to coparent a child. but are also exceedingly scared of commitment and growing older. well.

anyways vale is a freak so he turns that over in his head for a bit. scared 2 death. chews on that for a while. but when it really gets too deep for him is hmmmm ranch visit. when marc rocks up with his toddler (hot pink tiny bike for her that goes 1mph. baby pecco and luca and franky braiding her hair.) lethally adorable in a too big yellow vr46 hat that makes vale’s chest feel like RIBBONS.) and then marc races vale like he’s going to DIE. for NO reason. in a fun vibey recreational session. and vale’s fucking in it now!! every time marc takes a corner too fast his heart seizes up and marc’s daughter flashes in his brain (the baby curl of her hair and the way she reached for marc laughing from the crowd last race…) ans cold sweat breaks out across the back of his neck because if something happens to marc then—

so he pulls back. still waves to her in parc ferme. still makes stupid faces to make her laugh (feels like he’s FLYING. feels like WINNING.) and does grabby hands with marc on cooldown laps (eye ALSO think he doesn’t realize that his marc feelings are a separate entity for the baby feelings lmao. like that he would be worried about marc regardless. the baby is a good excuse here…) but. it’s interfering with his focus. he has to win his tenth. he can’t be coparenting this kid (she’s turning FOUR he’s been giving her bday presents for THREE YEARS NOW.) and worried about marc like that because marc is a competitor. and marc doesn’t feel that way anyways. marc is a bastard to him on track. marc is crashing all the time (WITHOUT VALE THERE. he hears about marc’s summertime hand injury and is like haha. and the baby was WERE. who is HOLDING HER??). and suddenly uccio is at his door and marc is a saboteur. and he’s getting older and he’s slower and jorge is GOOD and that’s— that gives something for vale to grab on to. to self destruct this before it can implode by itself. to make sense of all of this.

and afterwards— after sepang and their text thread drying up and everything. she still runs up to vale allll the time… finds him in the paddock tugs on marc’s hand until he lets her go… and vale always picks her up spins her around sends her back to her dad… still gets her a bday gift… marc watching with a sad smile on his faceeeee… vale DOES get over things faster in this universe because he wants to be more involved for babychild but. it’s rough there for a while when vale is still lying to himself and marc is creating RIGID structures for who he lets in to his daughter’s life because she STILL asks him to call vale so he can read the bedtime story because marc does NOT do the voices right… and he CANT CALL HIMMMM

[harmoniouseclipse]

Woe fankids be upon ye

Doing a little series where I took some ship requests on my instagram to make them fankids, this one is for me tho (jeanlisa to kick it off whoo 🙌🏻) The lineup so far is Cytham, Kavetham, Lionfish (aka Freminet x Gaming aged up probably idk how old they are canonically), Cynonari, Jealuc, and Beiguang, and feel free to send me some other pairings you wanna see (as long as they are legal pls otherwise I will ignore it 👎)

I'm gonna ramble about some headcanons and lore for them under the cut, continue with caution bc I'm insane

These two are my brainrot rn, don't even joke lad. And I wanna tell yall their name meanings too bc I like them a lot 🥹 Zephra's means "west wind" derived from Greek, and it's the feminine version of Zephyr. Tyrian was a type of purple dye used by the Ancient Phoenicians, huge huge HUGE thanks to my pookie bear @miothefish for helping me out with his name!!! Also he has Lisa's butterfly earring and you can't see bc of the angle but Zephra has the rose that went in her hair holding her ponytail <3

I'm also making a massive family tree for the characters as a go along, and just the jeanlisa tree is taking up half of the canvas bc of the KoF and Sumeru characters since Cyno is their uncle and the rest of the gang are their honorary uncles 😭 I'll be posting that once the series is done/all the requests are finished/I run out of ships and otps I enjoy

Here's an alternative version with some more info on most of the characters I wanted to briefly mention in their relation to them; Tyrian likes calling Eula his aunt too even though she was never really considered one for them so it's kind of like her unofficial title she pretends to dislike but she loves it and dotes on Tyrian 🤭 She and Diluc also helped train Zephra with a claymore and Diluc kind of became a parental figure to her in her teen years after Lisa's passing 🥺 She also feels like she's outshined by Jean and that she's not smart or powerful enough to follow in Lisa's footsteps (something that Lisa wouldn't want anyways bc it led her to her death 😔) rip zephra she's just like me fr

And yeah some Kaeya angst bc he's still going thru it I fear, and Jean is single mombossing but she's worried for zephra which me too dawg, im afraid to say she might be cooked 😦 Zephra is also kind of like a weird mix of Lisa when she was her age and Jean, where overall she's well-mannered and kind but she can be competitive and feel the need to push herself too much and pull a few strings to get what she wants from time to time. Tyrian is a ray of sunshine tho, he has not yet witnessed the horrors 💔 I do think that Jean is also a lot easier on him than her mom was with her so that also helps. He's very shy tho and wants to stick with Zephra or Razor most of the time, and they both have some nasty tan lines from going out with Razor and Klee and Fischl a lot 😔 Cyno also freaking loves them and dotes on them and Tyrian is getting a TCG addiction because of it smh, Cyno is also one of Zephra's favorite people and when she's in Sumeru she stays with him and Alhaitham (bc in my universe they are married ough I love cytham)

And (I think?) Klee physically and mentally ages slower than humans so I think she'd be technically 9 or 10, and Zephra is left with babysitting duty most of the time if she's home on break or smth 😭 Klee really looks up to her tho

Also, I wrote Tyrian's last bullet point like he was super young when Lisa died, but I think he was around 7 so he actually remembers Lisa better than I intended it to sound, he was just younger than Zephra (who was 11 at the time) and just didn't have as much time with her as Zeph did, but his most fond memory of Lisa was reading with her and she probably taught them some potion-making skills too.

I think there will be some abyss angst in here too at some point, since I hc Lisa to be probably an Abyss Lector/Harold (I forget which is which) um so thinking that Zeph and Tyrian experiencing some not normal things happening and Jean doesn't know what to do since Lisa also didn't really know what that dog in her was until it was too late 😔 That's what Kaeya's for tho since he's like the heir of the abyss???? Go off king. Also some touchy ragbros angst bc Kaeya is scared for Zeph knowing how close she is with Luc and he doesn't want him to push her away because of her being from the abyss or smth (they mostly made up but it's still a fear in Kaeya's mind both for him and Jean's kids)

I think that's all I wanted to touch on for now?? Mainly just thinking about domestic fluff and angst all the time now 🥺 Zeph not being able to be open with Jean bc she feels like a disappointment but Jean would literally actually die for her and shes proud of her no matter what ough im going to lose my freak dawg guess who my favorite fankid is it's super hard ik

Send me asks or dms or whatever for more ship requests!!! I'm having so much fun with this dawg 🫶🏻

[withacapitalp]

Cocaine Bear AU

BLAME THE SERVER DO NOT BLAME ME

Part Two

“Steeeeeeeve, why are you forcing us to do this?” Dustin groaned, letting his head droop down against his chest as they continued to plod through the woods. 

“Because you guys can’t just sit in my living room every day playing Dragons and Danger with all the curtains drawn,” Steve replied cheerfully, not losing the spring in his step despite the fact that all seven of the kids following him were giving him the evil eye. 

“You know what it’s called. Besides, we don't sit in your living room every day,” Mike complained. 

“Yeah, sometimes we sit by the pool!” El tacked on, adjusting the straps of her bag as she spoke. 

Steve rolled his eyes, shaking his head with a far too fond smile. He turned so he was facing his charges, putting his hands on his hips as he raised a brow. 

“We agreed that you guys would spend one afternoon a week getting fresh air as long as I agreed to babysit you this summer,” He reminded them, quickly checking to make sure they were actually just bellyaching. They looked annoyed and sweaty, but none of them were breathing too hard, and their cheeks were flushed, not pale. 

No heat exhaustion, just lazy fourteen-fifteen year olds who wanted to hide in the house all day long. 

“We only agreed to that because we figured you would forget,” Max muttered, continuing to carefully pick her way over the rocks along the trail, “Or you would be too busy,”

“Since when am I ever too busy for my favorite brats?” Steve asked rhetorically, flipping Dustin’s cap off as the teen walked past him. Dustin growled at him and waved a hand somewhere in Steve’s direction. 

Truthfully, Steve had been too busy for them the past few months. Between starting his community college courses, keeping both of his part time jobs, and continuing his training as a paramedic, he had barely had time to sleep, much less entertain a bunch of high schoolers. 

But now that all of their classes were on break, it was the perfect time to catch up and show them that he meant to keep his promises to them. It was going to be a good summer. Starting with this hike. 

He had it all planned out. They would go up to the peak of blood mountain, eat some lunch, and he would take them for ice cream in town afterward as a reward for sticking it out. It wasn’t exactly a beginner’s trek, but the kids were tougher than they looked. They could handle it. 

“How about this- the first one to get over the crest of the next hill gets to take the beemer for a spin around the parking lot of the school tonight?” Steve offered. 

Instantly all of their previous annoyance vanished. Quick as a flash Erica kicked her brother’s shin, taking out her biggest competitor, and they all began to scramble away from Steve and towards the hill. Lucas hung back rubbing the spot on his leg that she had hit. 

“Son of a-”

“Unless you wanna put a dollar in the jar when we get back you’ll stop that sentence right where it is,” Steve said in a warning tone. Lucas pouted from where he was kneeling, screwing his face into a scowl. Steve contemplated for a second before offering up a hand and a compromise.

“I’ll let you practice tomorrow after basketball practice when it’s just us,” Steve said, breaking into a smile as Lucas grinned up at him and eagerly accepted Steve’s hand. They walked up the rest of the hill together, listening to the others screaming at each other from the other side. 

Steve opened his mouth to tell them to knock it off- he was going to give them each a little bit of driving time if they wanted it- but he was cut off when a body barreled into his stomach. Steve’s arms came up to wrap around the other person automatically, catching Will in a hug as he buried his face into Steve’s chest. 

“What’s wrong?” Steve asked, his heart hammering in his chest as Will didn’t answer, just continued to hang onto Steve in a death grip. 

“What happened?!” He asked the rest as they ran over, still screaming. It was hard enough for him to pick up sounds when it was just one of them, but when they all talked over each other, it was nearly impossible to pick up words inside the wall of sound. But what he did hear made his entire body break out in chills. 

Blood. Hanging. Body. 

“Max,” Steve barked, choosing the kid who was most likely to keep calm and still talk when under this much stress. She understood immediately and shouted to get the others quiet.

“There’s a body in a tree,” She said, looking painfully terrified, “He’s hanging from a bunch of wires? And it’s like, totally bloody.” 

“Mike, El, take Will,” Steve ordered, unlatching the boy from his middle and placing him in between his twin and his best friend. 

The three of them collapsed to the ground in a huddle, muffled sobs coming from the boy in the middle as the other two began to comfort him. Steve’s heart went out to Will, but as much as he wanted to stay right where he was and take care of Will, he knew someone else needed him more right now. 

“The rest of you stay right where you are,” He snapped, hurrying away as his mind slipped into EMT mode. If the person was still alive, they needed triage as soon as possible. 

If they weren’t alive…well he didn’t want his kids to have to see that again. 

“We can help,” Dustin started to say, but Steve cut that idea right off. 

“Stay here!” He yelled over his shoulder, knowing that he only had a few minutes before they inevitably ignored his orders and came over anyway. 

The sight on the other side of the hill was gruesome, to say the least. There was a pretty clearing at the bottom, soft tall grass dotted with wildflowers, but it was marred by splatters of dark red blood all over the place, and the body swaying in the wind. 

He was hanging by a…a parachute? 

Steve’s sneakers kicked up dust as he ran the rest of the way, shoving two fingers against the guy’s neck. A pulse. Thready, and too fast, but there. 

Steve let out an unconscious sigh, looking at the man’s face. His eyes were shut, and his skin was pale, but he was still breathing, and that was a good sign. There was a nasty cut along his arm, and his shirt was ripped in multiple places, but nothing appeared broken as far as Steve could see. There was no way to know about any potential internal damage, but Steve could figure that out after he got him out of the tree. 

And the guy was kind of cute. That wasn’t as important, but his brain filed that away anyway. 

“Is he dead?” A quiet voice came from behind him. 

Steve whirled around to see all of the kids staring at him with wide eyes. 

He had a couple of choices here. He could send them back the way they had come and ask them to flag someone down to call the police. He could take them back himself and leave the guy alone, hoping that nothing happened to him, or he could do the thing that made the most sense, even though it was the most daunting. 

“Not yet,” Steve said, making a decision, “Dustin, give me your knife. Let’s get him down and back to my place.” 

[ghcstao3]

I dont know if you take requests but?? You had an alive riley family headcanon post with teeen joeseph and man i would really like to see more of that (bonus if theres ghostsoap during it)

i can definitely do that!! (and i also encourage you to check out this drabble from @snootlestheangel that was inspired by the original post. very wholesome stuff)

-

Simon often likes to wonder if Tommy thinks he’s funny for putting his little brother on babysitting duty.

Granted, it’s not exactly babysitting anymore—Joseph’s twelve, for Christ’s sake—but Simon has to know what exactly has Tommy snickering when he dumps the kid on his uncle’s doorstep for the weekend.

Because everything at least starts normal—they set up the extra bedroom, Joseph asks about Simon’s latest missions (all questions replied to with embellished half-truths or flat-out “classified”s, as per usual), they order in for dinner because he’s supposed to be the fun uncle as opposed to the one on Beth’s side of the family.

All of it starts normal. Which has Simon on edge, even if it’s only his pre-teen nephew at the centre of his worries.

It takes a few days before Simon figures it out.

And it’s all because he somehow ends up with his sergeant unexpectedly at his front door, because of course Johnny couldn’t be bothered to call ahead and check it wasn’t one of those rare times Simon was busy while on leave.

So here he is.

Anticipating disaster as Johnny introduces himself to Joseph—both having heard of the other, but no more than in vague statements and short stories and never enough to get a real first impression.

“I’m John,” the sergeant says, friendly enough, “I work with your uncle.”

“John?” To Joseph’s credit, he does sound in some genuine awe, as far as a twelve-year-old can manage. “Woah—like the captain?”

“Uh.” It’s the first time Simon has ever seen Johnny rendered speechless. “Not quite.”

Simon ruffles Joseph’s hair. “He’s not old enough, Jo.”

Joseph narrows his eyes at Johnny. Simon recognizes the cogs turning just too late and is entirely powerless to stop it.

“Well,” Joseph starts, “you look old enough.”

Ah.

“Joseph—“

Johnny snorts, though he does bristle almost imperceptibly—stands straighter, folds his arms over his chest. “‘S’fine, LT. I can take a joke.”

"Can you?" Joseph interjects. The way he tilts his head in that sort of smug way tells Simon exactly why Tommy had been so happy to rid of the kid for a few days.

He's finally reached that age, it would seem.

Johnny frowns down at the kid—though down may be an overstatement, as even at twelve Joseph has surely gotten the Riley height gene—almost with that same sort of analytic look to his face that he wears when disarming particularly complex bombs. Simon gets it; he's just as unequipped to deal with this.

"...I think I can," Johnny says slowly.

This reply appears satisfactory enough to Joseph, being that he nods and marches away to plant himself in front of Simon’s TV until he gets bored.

Because Lord knows Simon has things to discuss with Johnny.

Namely the smart-arse nephew he apparently has to apologize for.

“Right wanker you got on your hands,” Johnny remarks as soon as Joseph is out of earshot. “I’m nae even thirty. Old, my arse.”

“He’s usually well-behaved,” Simon mutters.

Johnny raises an eyebrow. “That so? ‘Cause I ken his uncle and I cannae say the same about him.”

Simon only rolls his eyes, then. Asks Johnny if he plans to stay for dinner because Simon doesn’t have enough ingredients for three, if so.

But it just continues, after that.

When Johnny manages to pull up a team photo because Uncle Simon doesn’t take photos, Simon is lovingly told that it doesn’t make sense anyone is scared of him because his mask looks like a last minute Halloween costume bought at Poundland the night of the 31st.

Then offhandedly Joseph is commenting that Johnny’s mohawk, mildly grown out and unruly as a cause of his own time off, makes him seem like a middle-aged dad trying to reminisce on his days in a failed, mediocre secondary school rock band as a way of mitigating his mid-life crisis.

The list goes on over the next day and a half, and while it’s never anything overly mean, it just… throws the two of them for a loop when this twelve-year-old is randomly insulting the most minute things in between normal conversation. Well-behaved conversation.

Johnny is long gone by the time Tommy returns to retrieve his son, but that doesn’t stop Joseph from blabbering about Uncle Simon’s friend, less-cool John—and isn’t it just so fun for Simon to have to explain his not-just-friendship, but-also-nothing-more relationship situation to his older brother—while also picking on his father’s outfit in the same breath.

The kid’s become an absolute menace.

Simon’s afraid for what thirteen might bring.

[warringwarrioridiot]

hi i dont know if you take requests im so sorry if you dont but can you do like immagine if kokushibo adopts a 16 year old and they try to take her away cause they think he kidnapped them and they try to jump cause she just cant stay away from him (can be any gender sorry if this sounds dump or idk)

OGHDHSHSUS OMG OMG MY FIRST KOKU REQUEST

*happy feral Italian noises*

YOU BET YOUR ASPHALT ILL DO THIS!

Platonic Kokushibo with Teen! Fem Reader.

C-Warnings: Mentions of Kidnapping, Running away, Fem reader, I don't have a lot of Koku images so bare with me, shitty home life, language, etc.

__________________________________

You came from a shitty house, and I mean shitty. (Talking about constant fighting and shit)

So you ran away from home, not being able to take the nagging and guilt-tripping anymore.

You stumbled upon Kokushibo, and immediately realized you were going to die.

You were just about to embrace the bittersweet feelings of death when

*Shink*

Long story short, Kokushibo couldn't bring himself to kill you, and he didn't know why. (He still doesn't.)

Kokushibo offered to take you in, and lets just say that you made a good choice saying yes.

He managed to find an abandoned house nearby, where he provided essentials and a warm home, something you barely remember having.

__________________________________

Kokushibo is actually a very good dad, being able to cook and teach you things.

He refrained from eating people in front of you, not wanting to scare you away.

You obviously knew he was a demon, but he still refused.

You genuinely cared for him, and he cared for you.

Unfortunately, the shitty family from before didn't realize that you ran away, and assumed you were kidnapped.

So they searched for you, aka paid someone else to search.

I told you they were shitty.

Now Kokushibo, being the Chad he is, didn't want to traumatize you by killing the hired searchers. (is that a word? Idk)

Instead, he took you and ran down to another abandoned house, and managed to keep the same warm household you and him shared.

Now remember, this is fem reader, so you have a thing called a POOSAY, and a period.

And he kinda freaked out inside, not really understanding what to do-

Bros face was just 🗿

But he grew his balls back and figured it out, thank God.

__________________________________

When Muzan found out about you, it made Koku melon panic, but the smooth criminal himself was just like:

"Just do your job, and nothing will happen to her."

Aka, Muzan favs him, and probably trusts him enough to do his job.

Bro is very suspicious of Douma being around you.

He's genuinely afraid that Douma might hurt you, or worse.

Same thing with the Mutated Baby, Gyokko.

(Kokushibo was cracking up inside when you called Gyokko that.)

He trusts Akaza, knowing he won't lay a hand on you due to his own morals.

He maybe lets him and Nakime babysit you when he's not around.

(dunno about the others)

in the end, Kokushibo's an excellent dad. I don't think you wanna know what happened to your shitty family.

__________________________________

[foxymoxynoona]

After the Applause Ch. 8

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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Taehyung and Jungkook were annoyingly chipper from the moment they walked through the door. Jimin hadn’t even invited Jungkook, but both of these guys were the type to let themselves in, maybe without a knock, and help themself to whatever was in your kitchen before you even got home from work. Mostly he loved it. 

“Where’s my daughter?” Jungkook called. 

“That’s not how babysitting works!” Sunnie shouted back down the hall, just like she did every time Jungkook made this joke when he came over. 

“Let me live, Sun-young. That’s no way to speak to your appa-for-an-evening!”

Jimin grinned at their antics but focused on his reflection in the mirror, straightening his collar, tugging his sleeves into place. He brushed at his hair, smile sliding away. It was such a harsh contrast. Totally different. He worried he looked… sickly. Did it look greasy? He ran his fingers through it like usual, but it fell back into the center part. Maybe he should have left it longer… or gone shorter to start? It was risky to change his appearance so much right before a first date, wasn’t it? This was a pretty drastic change and if even he was having a hard time with it…

“Do you need a pep talk?” Sunnie asked from the doorway.

He plastered on a smile and laughed, “No. Why would I need a pep talk?”

“You look worried.”

“Is it the hair?” Taehyung asked over her head.

“Why? What’s wrong with my hair?” Jimin quickly asked, fluffing it again.

“Nothing’s wrong,” Taehyung laughed. “It looks good. Great, even! But you keep messing with it.”

“It’s so different,” Jimin admitted.

“Different isn’t bad,” Sunnie wisely reminded. “I think it looks nice!” He almost asked if she was glad, because her schoolfriends had made that comment about his blond hair, but decided against it. That was not a factor in his decision, and he didn’t it was on her mind either as she smiled so nicely at him. 

He drew a deep breath and agreed, “I think it looks nice too. I’m just… nevermind.”

“Nervous?” Sunnie asked.

“No no, I’m not. I don’t want to talk about this,” he said and waved his hands to get them to clear out of the doorway so he could leave the bathroom.

“It’s ok to be nervous before something big.”

“It’s not big, it’s…” Just Hanbyul, he thought, but that was both true and not true. It was “just Hanbyul” –nice, supportive, easy-going Hanbyul. He enjoyed spending time with her and now he’d have the whole evening with her undivided attention. But at the same time, it wasn’t just anything, it was a date. There was a point to hanging out this time: hopefully to earn a second date. And a third and a fourth and– suddenly the future overwhelmed him. What was he rushing into, going on a date? He barely had stability with his daughter!

A knock on the door made them all turn. 

Jungkook snickered, “Is she coming to pick you up?”

He didn’t think so but worried their date was already starting with a miscommunication. He crossed quickly and threw it open, ready to apologize that he wasn’t quite ready yet, he needed a few more minutes to debate his visual choices–

Seokjin stood on the other side, looking wide-eyed and surprised, like Jimin was the one who had shown up at his house unexpectedly. 

“Didn’t you go yet?” Seokjin gasped. “Are you late? When did you change your hair?”

“I’m not late, I’m about to go. What are you doing here?”

“We’re having a party and there will be dancing,” Sunnie giggled as Seokjin slid past and caught her when she jumped up for a flying hug. “Don’t worry about us, Appa. Have fun on your date! Don’t forget the flowers!” She had helped him pick them out on the way home when they passed a vending machine with bouquets inside and he’d audibly gasped, realizing he had almost forgotten.

“Why do you need three babysitters? This is trouble.” All four blinked at him and he sighed, “Whatever, I don’t have time for this. I have a date to get to.”

“Hey I came over so there would be an adult here,” Seokjin defended, which everyone promptly ignored. 

“Yeah, get going,” Taehyung ordered. “Don’t keep her waiting.”

“Women like men who are on time,” Sunnie agreed with an emphatic nod of her head.

“What do you know about women?” Jungkook demanded.

“I’m a woman!”

“Someday,” he snorted. “Don’t rush it, mini-Mochi. You’ll make us all feel old. You can’t get married until I am.” 

Jimin couldn’t help but think the same thing, that she was getting too drawn into something grown up like “dating”. What if knowing too much about his dating life was making Sun-young grow up too quickly? He really ought to be hiding all of this from her, he kept thinking about that, about how devastating it was going to be for Sunnie if dating Hanbyul didn’t work out. Little girls shouldn’t know their dads were going on dates, right? He didn’t want to risk her getting hurt.

Well it was too late now. She knew and was exuberant about it –unless this was all excitement about an evening with her uncles, which was entirely possible. Jimin gave up on getting an answer as to why all three of them had come. He hadn’t asked for this, so he wouldn’t feel guilty about their unpaid babysitting. He’d only asked Taehyung! Probably it meant they were planning to play games after Sun-young went to bed. 

“Be good,” he called over his shoulder.

“He means all of you,” Sun-young teased, then let out a shriek of laughter as Seokjin tossed her onto the couch so Taehyung could get the remote first. 

Jimin felt a little jealous to leave. That lasted until he closed the door, flowers in hand. He grinned as Hudu’s barking sped closer to Hanbyul’s door when he buzzed, then the thud of the pup jumping against it. He could only make out the murmur of Hanbyul’s voice and felt his heart dip in his chest. Ah, he was really this excited, huh? It wasn’t even really nerves, though he licked his lips and ran his hands through his hair and fidgeted which could all appear so. Maybe he was a little nervous. But really, truthfully, he was just really excited to get to spend the evening with her.

“Sorry,” she said, swinging the door opening and flinching as Hudu tried to escape her hold. “Am I late? I’m not late, am I?” She shook her head as a lock of hair escaped her updo and fell across her forehead and Jimin resisted the impulse to reach out and brush it back. 

“Is Hudu coming with us?” he asked instead, hoping it sounded smooth because his brain shut down regarding anything else. She had a red cardigan on over her red dress; even though the dress reached her knees, she looked incredibly sexy. He was stupefied. 

“Oh my god your hair!” she gasped.

“I’ve never seen you in that color before,” Jimin said before realizing what she’d said, seconds before she did what he had not been brave enough to do and reached up to touch. 

Jimin would have stayed frozen for the rest of the night if she’d kept playing with his hair, but Hudu took the opportunity to try and claim a kiss, which made Hanbyul cry out in pain as his little feet scrabbled against her chest. 

Without thinking, Jimin pressed his hand to cover her chest and protect it, just as she turned to toss Hudu back into the apartment, resulting in Jimin sliding his hand across her chest and accidentally cupping her breast.

He gasped and pulled his hand away, stammering, “Ah, sorry, I–” Hanbyul shut the door and looked up at him with obvious alarm. Horrified, he waved his hands and said again, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to… touch…” In trying to explain, he made an unfortunate squeezing hand gesture.

Hanbyul pressed her hand to her cheek and laughed, “I didn’t think you did. It’s all right.” Jimin felt like it was a pretty offensive start to the date, and the moment of awkward silence that followed made it worse. He didn’t know what else to say. He was stuck on how stunning she looked, bold and bright in a way she did not usually dress, classy as always, like she knew how to command a date or a boardroom or anything else she wanted to command. By contrast Jimin felt rather rumpled now. He’d stylishly tucked in only half of his black and white button-up but now worried it looked too casual, or like he’d done it by mistake. Was she thinking that, that he wasn’t stylish enough to go to a company dinner on her arm?

“I just locked my key in my apartment,” she said, voice level so it took a moment for him to register what she’d actually said. 

“You what?”

“I closed my door… my whole purse is in there still,” she said, holding her hands out to show they were empty. For another moment they just stared at each other. It wasn’t like her, so far as he knew, to be forgetful like that. In a way it put him at ease. Was she just as nervous and excited about this as he was?!

“You look incredible,” he said, because he couldn’t wait any longer to say it. “Even without your purse.”

“Thank you. Your hair really does look nice,” she said, her gaze focused on it while his resisted the pull of the red fabric running down her body.

“Yeah? I wasn’t sure… I’ve been blond for so long.”

“What made you change it?”

“I don’t know… I just felt like it was time for a change –uh, should I call the landlord?”

“Yes– wait! Don’t you have my–”

“Oh yeah I have a key from when I was checking on Hudu!” he realized. “Wait here please.” She didn’t actually need to wait there although he figured it was better not to parade her through his apartment where three of his friends and Sunnie would leap at the opportunity to pester her. He avoided their questions on his own, claiming to have forgotten something as he dug around the bowl of coins and keys by the front door until he found the one belonging to Hanbyul.

“Sorry, I should have returned this,” he admitted, setting it in her palm.

“I’m glad you didn’t or we’d spend our date waiting for the landlord,” she said, bowing politely before pushing the door open and disappearing inside “Thank you, one moment please.”

It was more than one moment. At almost five minutes, Jimin was almost ready to fear she’d gotten cold feet when she appeared again, murmuring to Hudu before sliding out the door, this time with her black purse over her shoulder. He didn’t know what had taken her so long to find her purse but decided not to ask. He remembered Subin telling him that, how women had to be allowed to have some mystery to them.

Damnit, he didn’t need Subin giving him advice right now.

And yet it was darkly comforting, the idea that Subin would be in his mind. It didn’t depress him at all, it instead made him feel calmer and cooler as he pushed the elevator buttons with Hanbyul ramrod straight beside him. He had loved Subin and she had loved him, and she would want him to find happiness again, because he knew in his heart he would have wanted the same for her. It was hard, being lonely. 

He’d managed to win over an amazing woman years before. Maybe he could pull it off again.

“Is it true that lightning doesn’t strike twice?” Jimin asked. Hanbyul looked understandably confused by the question. “It sounds like one of those things that people say but it isn’t actually true.”

“If only Sun-young was here, she might know,” Hanbyul suggested with a smile. 

“Maybe I’ll look it up– no, I won’t,” he decided, pulling out and then slipping back his phone. It would be a strange thing to do on his date. 

“Look it up,” she insisted. “Otherwise I’ll be thinking about it all night instead of…”

“Instead of me?” Jimin laughed. “Damn, science is really out for me, huh? First Sunnie, now you… What does science have that I don’t?”

He adored Hanbyul in that moment so strongly he held his breath, for the way she played along with him, tapping her chin and thinking out loud, “Hm… well… science can cook.”

He laughed and whined and argued, “But science can’t… dance, science can’t… uh… open the door for you.” He did so.

“Well, technically you used physics to–”

“Science is all questions, Hanbyul,” he interrupted. “No answers, just guesses and maybe you’re right, maybe you’re wrong.”

“I have a lot of questions about you too,” she countered. “Guesses, but no answers.” 

He failed to think of what to say to that, just froze facing her, mouth open, ready for words that didn’t appear. He was not usually so easily flustered into silence. What did she mean by that? She had answers about him. 

“You have answers,” he tried. “I am the answer.”

“To… what hypothesis?”

“Woah woah, simple words please, Sunnie is the scientist, not me.”

“What question are you the answer to?” she asked, such a coy question, surely her mind was thinking the same things. Who is the right person for me? Who cares for me? Who could I see myself building a life with? Who do I want to see at the end of the day and wake up next to and call over a minor inconvenience or majorly good news? 

He was getting carried away. He would have felt worse about it if her face didn’t turn such a deep shade of pink as she looked shyly away. That made him want to melt at her feet.

“Who is buying you dinner tonight?” he suggested to save them both, and pulled out his phone to order a car.

“Did we say that? I thought I could pay this time…” she murmured and he pretended not to hear.

**

“How’s your food?” Jimin asked, knife and fork pausing on his steak as he waited for Hanbyul’s answer.

She was mid-bite and covered her face to chew more quickly before she could answer, “Yes, it’s very good.”

“My friend recommended this place so if it’s bad… you can tell me and I’ll take you somewhere else.”

“It’s good,” she assured him. He had already told her that, that Yoongi recommended it after Jimin told him he wanted to take Hanbyul somewhere nicer for the date than Yoongi’s restaurant, and how Yoongi had said they’d probably just end up at his place anyway. 

Hanbyul thought Jimin just wanted her to know he’d brought her somewhere nice on purpose, which was sweet. She appreciated it, even though she was definitely going to insist on paying. This was the 21st century and he had a child to raise and she thought she might make more money than him, though she wasn’t sure. Maybe that wasn’t true. She sure wasn’t going to ask! But still, she thought it very important for him to know that she was the type of modern woman who met someone halfway in a relationship. Of which she had limited experience, perhaps, certainly nothing to the level of marriage but still. It was the principle. 

Her answer was honest: the food was very good. Yoongi had chosen well. The restaurant was beautiful, the atmosphere romantic, Jimin had chosen a fantastic red wine which Hanbyul drank too quickly. It felt fake to be sitting in a place like this with Jimin. Not that a man had never brought her to a Japanese steak house before, but it wasn’t what she had envisioned with Jimin. Maybe she should have dressed nicer, but she’d really thought the dress might be the right balance of sexy and safe for her. Maybe Jimin would expect someone fashionable, so she wanted to try. She wasn’t unfashionable usually, right? Her sister had helped her pick out the dress over a video call months before but it had never felt like the right time to wear with Namjoon so it had just been hanging there, waiting for tonight.

“Hanbyul?”

“Hm?” She’d missed whatever he said and sipped her wine to cover her embarrassment. It wasn’t that her mind kept wandering. It was just that he was talking so much and she couldn’t think of anything to say. Since the moment she’d begun to dress tonight, she had the feeling she was preparing for a job interview. Yes, she’d secured the date but that was just the interview. She needed to demonstrate she was mature and responsible and reliable and a good influence for his daughter, and also fun and sexy but not too sexy, and engaging… she was not doing a good job being engaging. Her flustered attempts at jokes probably seemed like she was trying too hard because she was. 

Maybe he didn’t notice though. He’d transitioned from the latest music he’d heard and wanted to incorporate into the next recital –not the one coming up, but the one he’d dance in next– to movies.

“I’ve been watching movies lately,” he said. “The movies that I’ve been watching… well, not many. Maybe three, I watch at night while I’m folding laundry or working out after Sunnie goes to sleep.”

“Oh? Anything you enjoyed?”

“Ah… this one, I don’t remember what it was called…” He trailed off and took another bite of his steak. He glanced at her plate and she sensed he was about to ask her how it was again but then caught himself. He took a sip of his wine too and this time paused, waiting, clearly for her to choose a topic.

“Um…” No, she shouldn’t say um. “I need to take Hudu to the vet soon.”

Instantly Jimin’s face shifted to concern as he gasped, “Oh no, is something wrong?”

“Oh. No, just for grooming –his nails are too long and he needs some shots.”

“Ah, you scared me,” he laughed. “How would you feel if I said that? I need to take Sunnie to the doctor soon.”

“Sorry, that would scare me!” she admitted. “I just meant… I don’t know what else to talk about.”

“I’m not very good at conversation. Maybe I’m talking too much,” he sighed with a shake of his head. Hanbyul didn’t think either of those things was true at all. “I do that when I’m nervous.”

“Why are you nervous?” she asked without thinking it through. 

He looked at her in surprise and then laughed, “It’s my first date with you, did you forget?”

“I definitely didn’t forget I just… don’t know what you have to be nervous about,” she said, attempting to sound casual through the giddy jump of her heart. “I mean, you’re so charming.”

He immediately latched onto that and leaned forward, chin in his hand as he pressed, “I’m charming? You think so?”

“I agreed to the date, didn’t I?”

“I charmed you into it. I was worried you might see through it. I’m a nervous wreck. I’m not good at the whole–”

He gestured and she didn’t know what that meant but could honestly say, “That’s what’s so charming about you. You’re sincere. You care so much.”

“I do,” he conceded. “That’s why I never could have been ready to date if it was anyone but you.”

“Why is that?” She was afraid it would show on her face how impossibly thrilled this made her. Really? Only her? That couldn’t be true. 

His grin was the sort that made your heart start, the type of beautiful smile that if she knew him any less she would think was just a play. He had to know the power of that smile, he had to be doing it on purpose. But she could see the way it paired with a softness around his eyes, a slight self-conscious squint.

“You’ve seen the confusing mess I can be and it didn’t already chase you away so maybe…” he looked at the ceiling in thought. “Maybe it can be ok if I talk too much or the restaurant isn’t good or it rains on our walk home.”

“I wouldn’t hold the rain against you. And if the food is bad, we’ll just wind up at your friend’s restaurant,” she pointed out.

“That’s true, we can.”

“But the food is really good. And if you talk too much when you’re nervous, that’s good, because I get quieter when I’m nervous, and that way we can still have a nice conversation.”

“Maybe a little one sided.”

“Maybe a little one-sided,” she agreed with a laugh. “Until we get on a topic I’m passionate about and then maybe you’ll– be bored–” She broke off, realizing with a start his hand had been creeping towards her’s on the table only because it suddenly pulled away. Her heart flipped. Had he been going to hold her hand and stopped, or was she misunderstanding? Maybe he’d only been reaching for his cup on the wrong side. Still, she kept her hand there, even though it felt too far forward. She was curious. She would have loved for him to take her hand, even if it made eating awkward. But maybe she’d misunderstood and that was too forward. She expected things might move slowly with him and that was perfectly alright.

He didn’t act like he’d just tried to hold her hand, just lifted his glass and insisted, “Ok, let’s hear it. What things are you really passionate about?”

“Me? Um…”

“Gender equality,” he said. “Hudu.”

“Yes, yes.”

“Winter.”

Again she nodded.

“What else? I feel like so much of my time with you has been demanding your attention for things in my life. I want to know so much more about you.”

“I’m not that compelling,” she tittered self-consciously.

“I think you are.” Now it was her turn to look surprised and he actually flushed and pressed his hand to his forehead, crying, “Sorry, was that too blunt? You looked so surprised!”

“I’m not used to someone saying anything like that to me.”

“Why do you think I asked you out?” he teased. “You think I find you boring but kissed you anyway? Ah, it’s a good reminder though, I feel more confident now that you’ve reminded me you can be ridiculous too.”

“Jimin! I would never be ridiculous,” she joked, crossing her arms. “I have good reason for my nerves.”

“Tell me one good reason.”

“What if you’re scared away by something I say?”

“Like you have a crazy passion? Ok, tell me what it is, I’ll let you know if I can handle it.” He sat up straight, hands down on the table, body so serious and stiff but he was having a hard time keeping a straight face.

“Snakes.”

“You’re lying,” he said, instantly curling in.

“I’m not, I think they’re very interesting!”

“Snakes are– ok, maybe it’s time to get the bill–”

“Jimin!” she laughed and tried to nudge him under the table. His joking and pretense of standing up had made several people look over, but Hanbyul didn’t feel self conscious about it at all. In fact she felt a little proud that people would see her here with this handsome man smiling and having a good time with her. 

“Do you really like snakes?”

“I’ve only actually ever seen them at the zoo, never up close,” she admitted. “But there are some really interesting blogs about them I read if I can’t sleep.”

“You’re kidding.”

But she wasn’t and when she shook her head, he laughed and sighed, “Ok tell me what else. What other snakes do you have in your pockets? If Sunnie finds out she’s going to ask to get a pet snake.”

“Does she like snakes?”

“She likes anything you like, I think,” he suggested. 

“I don’t think so. She has such a beautiful mind of her own. We do like some of the same things though.” 

“Sorry, I was trying not to bring her up much tonight– oh, yes, I think we’ll take the dessert menu,” Jimin answered the waiter. But what he’d said struck Hanbyul, so as soon as the waiter left, she pressed him on it.

“What did you mean just now? You’re trying not to mention Sun-young?”

“I didn’t bring you on a date to just talk about my kid the whole time.”

“But I don’t mind at all! It’s all right if you need a break from being Appa but really, Jimin, I love to hear about her, you don’t have to worry you’ll talk to much about her.”

“I guess that’s true... It’s not like you don’t already know I have a daughter.”

“I figured it out,” she joked. 

“Probably because you watch so many crime documentaries, hm? That’s how you figured it out?” 

“How did you know that?” she gasped, sure she had never told him that.

“I figured it out,” he smirked. “You’ve mentioned a few times that you were jumpy after watching one. Don’t watch things that scare you, Hanbyul!”

“I like the solved ones where you get to see everything start to make sense. I don’t like the unsolved ones though, those keep me up at night.”

“And then you have to read snake blogs to calm down,” he laughed.

“Yes, but that’s a very normal interest though!”

“Snakes and crime documentaries,” he snickered. “And Minnie Mouse–”

“I hate that you saw that.” She covered her face. “How embarrassing.”

“Why? It was cute. Do you like Minnie Mouse?”

“She’s all right. To be honest I always liked Hello Kitty better, but my eomma had this idea that my sister and I needed to like different things, so she’d buy my sister Hello Kitty and me Minnie Mouse which made everyone in my family think I like Minnie Mouse, so…”

“Hold on, let me make a note of this, prefers Hello Kitty,” he joked, pretending to type it on his phone. “Your family doesn’t know that?”

She frowned, realizing, “I know that makes me sound like a pushover. I did tell my eomma when I was younger but then at some point, I didn’t want to seem ungrateful for gifts. It’s the thought that counts.”

“I wasn’t thinking that at all. I think of it as you were being thoughtful towards your family, but I,” he gestured, “would want to give you the thing you really want.”

“I don’t think you need to take notes on that,” she said, then heard herself and quickly reached for her glass of wine. It’s you. She couldn’t imagine ever being disappointed with anything Jimin gave her, simply because he took the effort to think of and get something for her. But really she’d been thinking something way more embarrassing: if I have you, what else is there?

“What sort of gifts do you like?” she countered to recover.

“I don’t think you need to worry about that,” he quickly dismissed. “Food and how well you get along with my daughter, that’s all for me.”

“There has to be more. What do you consider really romantic?”

He looked up in thought and the lights reflected in his eyes. They looked darker with his darker hair, the line of his brow looked heavier, his lips looked so much more pillowy with the contrast. Hanbyul could have said plenty before about how much she loved his blond hair, how natural and handsome the color suited him, but Jimin with dark hair managed to be even more stunnnigly handsome. She hadn’t been able to resist touching his hair earlier and wished she could do the same again. Maybe his hair color stood out less now in a restaurant full of dark hair but it made his natural good looks even more obvious. 

“To me it’s really more about the thoughtfulness and the effort,” he said. “So if I buy someone a bag, I want a gift they like so they know I have space for them in my mind, that the things they care about are important to me too. But there’s no physical gift to unwrap that means as much to me as when someone is there for you. That’s romance to me.”

“Yes,” Hanbyul said, awed by him. “Yes I think that too.”

“Like when you were there with Sunnie when I was so sick. I’ll never forget that.”

“It wasn’t a burden at all. She was much easier than you cleaning up after Hudu,” she countered.

“It really feels like we understand each other,” he said, but low under his breath, like it wasn’t entirely meant for her to hear. Her heart fluttered. She felt that way too, and it gave her confidence to relax slightly. Even if they weren’t used to a situation like this –a fancy dinner just the two of them– that was the part they could get used to in time. 

The dessert menu arrived, but when they didn’t either one see anything that called to them, they agreed to go elsewhere. Hanbyul insisted they split the check when it came, only to learn Jimin had already secretly paid for it and wouldn’t even explain to her how he’d managed the magic trick, because she hadn’t left the table since the beginning and neither had he.

“Then I’m buying dessert,” she insisted as he held the door for her. “And probably the next two dinners…”

Laughter bubbled out of him as he teased, “Ah, already planning more dates with me before this one is even done? I must be doing all right.”

“Yes, I think so,” she assured him. She poked him in the side and insisted, “We’ve known each other for a while. We can be casual with each other, you don’t have to hold the door for me.”

“On the contrary, Hanbyul, I used to feel casual with you, and now everything feels much more serious.”

“Don’t let it. It’s just me, friendly neighbor Hanbyul.”

He laughed, “You’re going to haunt me with that until old age, huh?” and stopped himself just before he poked her back. He missed her look of regret. She was hungry for his touch and didn’t want him worried there was a formal boundary like that; hadn’t she just said that? But maybe it was about his comfort, and she would respect that.

“Yes, I think I might,” she admitted, deciding to stick with verbal teasing. It was a joke, but a hopeful one: that they might have a future that extended far into old age.

She was too distracted to notice the movement of his hand until his fingers had brushed hers, a gentle question she answered by sliding hers through. His hand was warm, almost sweaty, despite the cool night air. She would have liked to say something clever or coy but found all thoughts left her mind as they walked down the street holding hands.

“Cake or ice cream?” he asked, the only question to break the silence during their walk.

“Cake.”

They found a sweet cafe further down near the park where conversation flowed more easily, like they were settling more into this unusual scenario. It was just a little challenging without Sun-young there to tug them forward, that was all, as Jimin told himself. But they picked different cakes and tried each, and he felt more confident here with how the lights sparkled in Hanbyul’s eyes when two samoyeds sauntered over to demand some pets, and once she was talking about Hudu, Jimin forgot to feel nervous at all.

“It was fate,” she explained about her meeting with Hudu. “Someone carried him in from the rain with the box his previous owner had put him in. He was so little, I couldn’t imagine how anyone could just abandon such a sweet boy like that, so I took him in.”

Jimin stopped himself before making what felt the very obvious comparison to himself and Hudu. Hanbyul had a soft spot for blond boys with big brown eyes who looked at her with adoration, was that it? He felt like she’d pulled him in out of the rain too. 

She paused only briefly when he took her hand, then continued her story about Hudu. He understood how much easier it was to talk about their babies; stories of Sun-young poured from him as well as they sat close together across the cafe booth. It was so quiet and casual that Jimin found himself beginning to doubt his plans for the rest of the evening.

“I think we need to change our date,” he admitted once they’d sat over empty plates long enough.

Hanbyul’s mouth opened so slightly that Jimin nearly leaned over to kiss it, she looked so soft and pretty. 

He resisted and quickly clarified, “I had planned to take you to a club so we could finally have our dance but I don’t really feel like sharing you with a noisy space right now.”

The flush on her face was so pretty that Jimin decided he needed to flirt more boldly with her, even if he felt nervous about it. She ducked her head and lifted her glass but it was empty. Cute cute, he thought. Then,

“Ah, I have an alternate idea though.”

“Ok…”

“Don’t be so nervous,” he laughed. “It’s a bit of a walk, is that ok?”

“I have nowhere to be, if it’s not too late for you.”

“Sun-young is probably in safe hands. She’s got three babysitters tonight so… maybe I should check in actually…”

He waited until they were outside and walking close together before he sent a group text, figuring someone would see it. Within minutes Seokjin had replied telling him to get off his phone, that wasn’t how you impress a woman, and to stop worrying about Sunnie, she was asleep. Then Taehyung and Jungkook berated Seokjin for not letting them answer with something funnier. At this point Jimin slipped his phone into his pocket and took Hanbyul’s hand for the third time now. 

“Everything ok?” she asked when he didn’t volunteer anything.

“Hm? Oh yeah, everything is fine. She’s asleep.”

“Maybe I should have sent Hudu over too for the company.”

“You could have! My friends would love Hudu. Do you think he’s lonely? Do we need to head back?”

Hanbyul looked like she regretted her joke and insisted, “No no, I  think he’s probably enjoying being king of the apartment for a few hours. Maybe he’s getting into mischief. He’s so smart, he knows how to cover his tracks, so I won’t find a purse he chewed up or an empty food bag for days or weeks and then he pretends like he has no idea how it got beneath the bed.”

“Ah, he’s so smart,” Jimin agreed. “Unless you’re the one eating your snacks in your sleep, and he’s really innocent.”

“Don’t let him convince you!” Hanbyul laughed.

“Are you sure you don’t eat snacks in your sleep?”

“Or chew purses?” she giggled and it was music to his ears, that giggle. He brought her hand to the inside of his elbow and pressed his other hand over it, because just holding hands didn’t feel close enough. He felt like he floated along beside her. He’d never dreamed he could feel this way about a woman again. 

He worried she was getting tired just when they reached the studio, dark inside except for a couple emergency lights that were always on upstairs.

“Is this ok?” he asked her.

She dropped her voice to a whisper and joked, “Are we allowed to be here?”

He whispered back, “I have it on good faith with the owner that it’s ok.” He unlocked the gate and pushed it up, then the door and held it open for her to enter.

“You’ve been here before, right?” he asked. 

“Just that time I dropped Sunnie’s bag off. Maybe another time I walked her here… not really inside.”

“Well, welcome to my other pride and joy, my second child,” he told her, flipping on lights as they went so she wouldn’t be scared in the dark. He wasn’t. He could walk this place blindfolded and only trip if one of the students had left their bag or shoes strewn about, which often did happen. He tried to see the place through her eyes as he led her around but couldn’t imagine what the big empty studios would look like to a non-dancer. Probably just big empty rooms. He began to worry that this was a dumb thing to do, bringing her here.

“You and your wife opened this place, right?” she asked as they entered the private back studio, his favorite one, where he’d intended the tour to finish.

Jimin froze, a flash of regret grabbing his shoulders. Shit. Yes. Yes they had and now he turned slowly to her, realizing he had brought her to a place that was meaningful to him and his late wife, to dance, which had been the uniting factor with him and his late wife.

“I… yes…”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to mention her if it’s… if that’s too painful or upsetting!” Hanbyul rushed out. “I just meant to get my Park Jimin history straight!”

“It’s not that I’m expecting you to– that I’m searching for a replacement for her or anything,” he rushed out just as quickly.

“That’s good because I really can’t dance!”

“I didn’t bring you here to… I’m sorry, I didn’t even think that it might make you uncomfortable to be here,” he apologized, flicking the light off and nudging her back towards the door. “I wasn’t thinking, I’m sorry.”

“No, you don’t need to be sorry, and we don’t need to go!” Hanbyul insisted, gently nudging him the opposite direction. She tried to reach the light but couldn’t find it, her hand searching along the wall as she insisted, “I’m not upset by that, truly.” She flicked the light switch but it was the lights around the mirrors rather than the overheads –admittedly a more romantic atmosphere anyway.

“Jimin,” she said, and he swallowed, bracing for whatever she had to say, aware of the much larger space between them right now than at any point during their walk. “I’m not… bothered or afraid or upset by the fact that you had a wife who you loved and she was taken from you. I’m heartbroken that you had to endure that kind of loss but I don’t feel like I’m competing.”

“You aren’t,” he said quickly. “And my feelings for her are in the past.”

Hanbyul gave him a gentle smile and pressed, “I don’t think they have to be. I’m certainly not the expert here but I think our hearts are big enough to love many people in many different ways throughout our lives. Ga Subin is someone who I greatly admire for who she was to you and Sun-young. I feel nothing but kind things for her, except regret that she didn’t get to have more time with you and your daughter. You don’t have to try and erase her from your life to make space for me. I hope you don’t feel that way.”

“I just don’t want you to feel like… like I’m comparing you two, or that I wish you were her. You’re two different women to me.” He stepped closer to her, hoping she could feel the earnest truth of his words. “I do wish I’d had more time with her, but I didn’t. I will always miss her, and you’re right, I can’t erase her even just for Sunnie’s sake but… but meeting you, getting closer to you, feels like you opened a door I didn’t even know was there, to a new future that I… I look forward to very much.” He lifted his hand, brushing his fingers against her jaw, overly aware of the way her mouth opened that soft small way again. 

“That’s… good. I’m glad to hear that.”  

“You can’t understand how much being with you has healed my heart,” he continued. “I’ll always carry the scar of Subin but you are such a big, bright, warm space in my chest that everything feels beautiful again. I’m so glad I knocked on your door that time Sun-young was sick.”

She hadn’t expected that reference, and let out a quiet laugh, “I’m glad you did too. I was happy to help.”

“I didn’t even know you well yet but from that moment on you made me feel like everything could be all right, like I could be happy again. I’m sorry it took me so long to reach the point I realized truly what you are to me. I didn’t think I could possibly earn a new future like this.”

“Don’t be,” she insisted, longing for his kiss. “You needed the time. I don’t resent that at all. It gave me time to make sure of what I really want too, if I think I can be who you and Sun-young deserve. I’m no Ga Subin and I won’t pretend to be but–”

“You’re my beautiful neighbor Hanbyul,” he grinned and leaned in, whispering millimeters from her lips, “who I’m head over heels for.” The longed for kiss captured Hanbyul’s heart as much as she’d expected it to, flooding her with warmth from scalp to heels. She bunched her fingers in the fabric of his shirt, feeling like she needed to grab something or she’d be swept away in him. There was no one else in that kiss but them, she didn’t feel at all like she was second, even here in this business he and his first love had built together. She had no doubt Jimin’s heart was big enough, only disbelief and honor that he’d pulled her into it. 

Mostly, though, she was just lost in the softness of his lips and how perfectly they danced with hers. 

“Ok,” he murmured, slowly backing up but tugging her with him. “Let’s dance?”

“I really don’t know how.”

“I saw you in the club, you were sexy.”

“I was drunk.”

“Well, I can make us some drinks too,” he grinned and then really did pull away. 

She crossed her arms and demanded, “Do you hide alcohol in your dance school!?”

“Not usually but we only have adult classes in this studio and sometimes we have a little night cap after rehearsal,” Jimin said, “Like last night.”

“The performance is coming up, right? You and Sunnie are both performing?”

“Sunnie’s last ballet recital,” he sighed.

“She’s staying in hiphop though, isn’t she?”

“Yes, that’s true. That’s a good way to look at it, I shouldn’t be so down about it,” he admitted, unlocking a cabinet in the back corner and pulling out two bottles of cider and a bottle of Tequila. “Which do you prefer?”

“Cider,” Hanbyul quickly answered. “Tequila would be a very different sort of night.”

“Hm, what sort of night would that be?” he teased, but locked the Tequila back inside. The story Hanbyul told him as they sat on the floor against the mirrors, sipping their cider, was not the sexy tale he clearly expected. It involved a company dinner she felt obligated to attend, tequila shots she felt obligated to partake in by her boss, and an intern holding her hair back as she puked on the walk home. 

“No tequila for you, got it,” he laughed. “But for the record, I’m the kind who will hold your hair back and bring you a glass of water and bufferin.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

“Will you come to the recital?” he suddenly asked, backtracking. It occurred to him suddenly that he hadn’t asked and shouldn’t assume she would, just because it felt so obvious to him that she ought to be there. He might be getting ahead of himself, slotting her mentally into his life so quickly.

“Of course I will, if I’m invited.”

“You’re invited. I’ll save a seat for you and dance my best to impress you.”

“I’m sure I’ll be impressed no matter what,” she admitted, already feeling it go to her head –the cider, the idea of watching Jimin dance on stage, the suggestion he was dancing for her. “When did you know you wanted to be a dancer?”

Listening to Jimin talk about his passions was like watching the sunrise. Hanbyul was transfixed. She regretted that she didn’t have some beautiful passion to talk about in the same way, and missed completely the way he watched her when she talked about what felt like such meager ambitions next to his. She wasn’t saving lives or adding beauty to the world through her work, but she had pride in what she did professionally and pleasure in her culinary endeavors outside of work.

Jimin suddenly looked stricken and asked, “When is your interview again?”

“The first round is next week.”

“Ah. You’ll do great. When is the next round?”

“Well I have to make it through the first.”

“You will,” he insisted.

“I hope so but…”

“But nothing,” he insisted. “Do you want to dance now?” He felt bad to cut her off, but he didn’t want to go further down what could be the one fly in the soup. Hanbyul deserved this better position, he had no doubt about that, even though getting it would take her away just as they were getting started. He hadn’t been thinking about that, flying high on the updraft of this budding relationship. 

Well. The interview process would take weeks, maybe even months, and when she got the job… well, they’d figure it out. They’d figure something out. 

She took his hand and let him pull her to her feet, but wasn’t prepared for the way he swung her around into his arms. She clutched his arms, gasping and giggling. His smile dazzled her as he pulled her close to keep her steady and swayed her a few steps in each direction, bemused when she tripped over herself to keep up.

“This is already embarrassing.”

“I don’t think it’s embarrassing,” he argued. “I like you hanging onto me.” 

“You’re the most graceful man in the world and I’m like a baby duckling.”

He smiled so broadly he worried it would make his face ghastly and pressed it into her shoulder to laugh, “A baby duckling in a Minnie Mouse shirt–”

“Don’t tease me about my pajamas!” she complained and Jimin was sure his heart was going to explode. The urge to kiss her more was overwhelming but he’d rather be overwhelmed than overwhelm her, so instead he just steadied her on her feet and continued to shuffle her around into a simple two step, even though this was not the kind of dancing he’d had in mind. It made the fabric of her dress swirl; he hadn’t realized that. He was going to have to be so respectful to avoid glimpsing panties if he spun her.

“Don’t we need music?” she asked.

“Can’t you hear it?” he asked, and pulled her closer so he could hum, then softly sing a slower version of a song he loved, “All this is no coincidence. / Just just by my feeling, the whole world is different from yesterday. / Just just with your joy / When you called me / I became your flower / As if we were waiting / We bloom until we ache.”

She caught him by surprise with her kiss and he smiled into it; it was like she’d read his mind.

“I didn’t know you sang so beautifully,” she murmured. Then, “I also can’t do that.”

“Sunnie warned me.”

Her spluttering laughter resulted in her head against his shoulder as they swayed. He laughed into the silky strands of her hair. It broke the moment in a way and forged a new one, less frighteningly soft but just as intimate. Joyful. Blooming.

“I’ll put music on,” he suggested as they stepped apart.

“Are there more ciders?”

“How many ciders do you need to dance with me like you did in the club?” he teased and tossed her the keys to open the cabinet.

“At least eight…”

“No, did you really drink that much!?”

“I don’t know, I’m just taking stock of my nerves…”

He adjusted the dance music coming through the speakers and then gestured her closer, though she slid another bottle of cider into his hand instead of her fingers. 

“How did you open these?” he asked, because the bottle opener was still on the ground by the mirror.

“I have some talents too.”

“I want to know your talents,” he grinned. “Show me with the next one.”

So she did, laughing at his amazement as she used one bottle to pop the cap off the other. 

“How strong are your fingers?!” he cried, grabbing her hand as if looking for a secretly embedded bottle opener.

“Strong, I guess… I type a lot?”

“You type a lot and it gave you– our hands are almost the same size. Mine are small but strong but–”

“It’s just a trick. I’ll show you.”

“Hanbyul. Were you a big party girl?!”

“I was not,” she admitted. “But I used to drink a lot of beer just with dinner…”

“Really?! Beer?”

“I don’t know, there’s this kind of beer, I really liked the taste of it!”

They split this third bottle between them, both the light side of tipsy and giggling and moving more freely around the studio by then. Jimin wasn’t looking to be drunk and she declined another, but he couldn’t deny the thrill of knowing she trusted him with herself like this.  He liked the way it freed her up to move, swaying this way and that around him. He’d do this with her, again and again over time, until she felt comfortable dancing uninhibited with him, even without cider. He didn’t mind. He wouldn’t have even pushed except for the way she seemed to so wholeheartedly enjoy herself, dancing along to the music, sliding through his arms, winding her arms above her head. She was definitely not as awkward or rhythmless as she made it sound, only lacking in confidence. Jimin looked forward to helping her build that confidence. He was thrilled at the prospect of something he could give her in exchange for all she gave him.

It was nearing midnight and their dancing had grown quite a bit more intimate, nudged there by the close music, the sugary aftermath of the cider, and Jimin’s hands sliding more pointedly around her hips. He’d squeezed and she’d turned into him, pressing her face against his. 

“I think you’re a beautiful dancer,” he murmured.

“You’re drunk.”

“Not on two and a half ciders,” he argued. 

“You must really like me then,” she giggled and he nodded, nose brushing hers, “I do really like you. What you said is true.”

“You aren’t going to be too hung over for your rehearsal tomorrow, are you?”

“I’m not thinking about tomorrow at all,” he admitted. “It doesn’t matter. It’s worth it dancing with you.”

“This is the best club I’ve been to.” She stopped herself from saying anything further that might be stupid or embarrassing. I can’t believe I caught the eye of the hottest guy here. Her head swam from all the spinning and dancing and she knew she was hitting the unflattering side of sweaty but Jimin’s moves around her made her feel graceful and beautiful. The whole thing made her feel young and stupid and free in the best way possible and she hoped it was just as fun an escape for him too, this kind of date with her. There was something really freeing about being able to let loose like this and know with absolute certainty she was safe.

“Next time we’ll go to a museum,” he said.

“Next time?”

“Next date. Will you go with me?”

“Yes, but I’ll plan it.”

He nodded, then let the brush of their noses turn into a kiss. His hands slid down her side and a spark in the back of his mind urged take it further; you’re alone here; you could have even more than this with her. He wanted it, he did, but the tipsy yearning was not enough to make him rush anything with her. They were different now than they’d been yesterday, but he wanted to savor every step of the way with her. Even the suggestion of sex with her made him shudder with nervous anticipation, but it wouldn’t be tonight. He wanted to be sober and present and certain he could be good for her in the moment, sorely out of practice as he was. 

“What are you thinking?” she asked, because he was being so quiet and looking at her with this gaze like he wanted to consume her. She might have been projecting though because she most definitely wanted to be consumed by him.

Not that he was about to tell her his thoughts, and only ran his hands down her sides again as he slid around behind her to catch his breath, then lifted her silky hair from her neck just to see if it would be ok for him to kiss her there–

Heavy footsteps on the stairs made them spring apart and then the studio door flew open and Hoseok leapt through with a crowbar. Hanbyul only gasped sharply as Jimin leapt in front of her.

Hoseok promptly dropped the crowbar and demanded, “What are you doing here?” then let out a peal of nervous laughter.

“Why do you have a fucking crowbar?!” Jimin cried. 

“I was walking by and saw the lights on and thought someone broke in!”

“And you were going to brain them yourself?” Jimin huffed. He marched forward and took the crowbar and shook it, scolding, “Call the police, if you’re worried, don’t put yourself in danger over the studio! It’s only a building. So what if someone broke in to dance.”

“Yeah well…” Hoseok didn’t seem to have anything to say to that, just went suddenly quiet, gaze sliding from Jimin’s flushed face to Hanbyul’s. “I see.”

“You see nothing,” Jimin joked, then waved his hand and corrected, “No, no, you see me on a date that was going very well before you interrupted.”

“Hi Hanbyul,” Hoseok called. She had her mouth covered with her hand and just gave a small embarrassed wave.

“Recreating the club with no competition this time,” Jimin explained further. “So… go.”

Hoseok laughed and nodded, “Yeah yeah, I see that, ok. Make sure he treats you with respect, Hanbyul! Goodnight you love birds!”

Jimin delivered a playful kick to Hoseok’s backside as he scurried from the studio, his own heart still racing from the shock of the interruption. He’d have to scold Hoseok again tomorrow too. How dare his close friend risk potential injury just to investigate potential burglars?! And what burglars turned on music as they worked anyway?

“Sorry,” Jimin said, drawing close again, but now the music seemed too loud and Hanbyul had stopped dancing and seemed uninclined to start again.

“It’s ok. We probably should get home anyway, it’s late and I promised Sun-young I wouldn’t keep you out too late,” Hanbyul admitted.

“What?! She said that?” he cried, voice overly loud as he turned the music off so suddenly his ears rang.

Hanbyul shirked her shoulders and assured him, “It was cute. She’s such a sweet girl, Jimin. She told me to have fun on our date and not keep you up too late or you’ll be cranky tomorrow for your rehearsal.”

“Ah…”

“It kind of felt like she wanted me to know she’s ok with us going on a date,” Hanbyul admitted. “I didn’t know she knew but I guess you told her.”

“She’s very happy about it,” he told her. “She threatened me with a powerpoint if I didn’t ask you. Oh, uh… I hope it’s ok that she knows,” he realized. “I just couldn’t really hide it because she was so–”

“It’s completely your call, you know what’s best and I’ll just follow your lead. But you’re welcome about the powerpoints! That skill will be useful in school as she gets older,” Hanbyul insisted at his teasing.

“Yeah and god knows I don’t know how to make a powerpoint. It’s a miracle I ever get funding for this place.” He picked up their bottles and Hanbyul hit the lights when he gestured.

“Well you’re so charming to the patrons,” she reminded. “When you run into them at clubs.”

“Ha!”

“Maybe next time I can help you with a pitch,” she added. “So you don’t have to flirt in the club. Just an offer!” 

“With your business brain and my charm…”

She laughed at it too. He couldn’t tell if she’d sobered up or not been as affected by alcohol as he had thought. He didn’t actually know how well she held her cider, but she seemed peaceful and content as they rinsed the bottles out in the kitchenette off the office, and set them in recycling. He let her pull the gate down because she asked to, giggling when he grabbed it at the last second so it wouldn’t hit the ground too loudly.

“Oops.”

“Yeah, I’ve got a thing or two to teach you too,” he teased. 

Their hands found each other’s again on the walk home in mostly silence, companionable and quiet after the loud music in the studio. Even though there had been no crowds, Jimin felt tired, as if he’d truly come from the club. He supposed dinner, dessert, and dancing was a decently long first date. 

Hudu must have thought so too because he ruff ruff ruff grumbled when Hanbyul opened the door, kicking his back legs like he was threatening to pee right there in the hallway. Jimin insisted on walking out with them since it was so late, uttering his sincerest apologies to Hudu along the way. Their neighborhood was good and he wasn’t actually worried about Hanbyul meeting with trouble, but he wanted the satisfaction of kissing her goodnight at her door, knowing she was safely inside for the night.

When her lips lingered on his, he brushed her hair behind her ear and took a good long look at her face.

“You’re very charming, Jimin,” she murmured.

“I tried really hard to charm you,” he admitted with a broad grin. “I’m glad it worked. I’m rusty.”

“I don’t think that’s true. I think it’s natural. I bet you’ve been charming everyone since you were a child.”

“Hold onto that as you get to know me more,” he pleaded without any real fear behind it. She’d already seen him at his lowest, at his worst, and all before he’d even asked her out, yet she’d agreed to the date. 

“If you’re cranky tomorrow tell Sun-young it wasn’t my fault,” Hanbyul returned and for the hundredth time Jimin wondered if it was really ok to feel this happy, this fond, this close to someone so quickly. It was only their first date and shit, he was already in deep. 

He drew a deep breath once her door was closed, trying to find his head again. He couldn’t. He headed for his own apartment, braced for whatever ribbing his friends lobbed at him, because he was too high in the clouds to be bothered by it.   

Jimin was actually the one who had thought of the perfect demonstration for Sun-young; his daughter’s thrill that he was taking this serious and being involved would have been impossible to miss. 

“Tsuyoshi is cleaning coins,” Sun-young informed Hanbyul as they sat at the kitchen table surrounded by posterboard, construction paper, marker, punch out letters, and eggs. “Siwoo is drawing faces on balloons so people can give them salt and pepper beards. Sora is doing balloon rockets.”

“It’s a diverse list of demonstrations,” Hanbyul managed to get in through Sun-young’s excited nonstop chatter. She’d recited the whole list of demonstrations from memory before finishing with,

“And I’m sucking an egg into a bottle! It was Appa’s idea.”

“I’m full of great ideas,” Jimin agreed, though his attention was mostly on his laptop as he stood at the kitchen counter, ordering the supplies they needed for the rice cakes. 

“I just need to practice with the matches,” Sun-young said, picking up the box.

Hanbyul’s eyebrows raised as she asked gently, “Will you be doing that part or an adult?”

“I know how to light a match! I did it once.”

“When did you do it once?” Jimin immediately demanded, attention suddenly grabbed.

“One time.”

“With which uncle?”

“How did you know I was with an uncle?” Sun-young asked, then giggled and said, “I’m not a snitch.”

“Where did you learn ‘snitch’?! What is happening here?”

It was clear Sun-young got a kick out of trolling her father, and Hanbyul smiled to see the way they poked and teased and giggled with each other. It was a much happier relationship than Jimin had feared the shift away from dance might leave them with. Likewise, Hanbyul was just as relieved to find herself in the Park apartment today with nothing changed just because she’d gone a day with Jimin two days ago. Only two days! In a way everything had changed but in the way she had feared, nothing had. She’d made dinner to bring over like she had before, and Sun-young had begged to listen through Mango Crush’s new album while they started homework, and now the album was finished and they were only just getting to the science demonstration part, though they had another week and a half to finish the poster board with science notes and mater the experiment.

The difference was that Jimin’s hand brushed her back when he passed her in the kitchen, and she had a hard time not looking bashfully away any time he caught her eye, and didn’t his lips look extra kissable tonight?

But everything with Sun-young was normal, even though she knew they’d been on a date. She hadn’t said anything about it and the last thing Hanbyul would do was push. She was just glad to be here and things could go at whatever pace the Parks thought was right.

“Ok, Appa, you can light the paper and show us how to do it.”

“You’re the scientist here, not me,” he teased. 

“I know but you’re my assistant so you can do the dangerous part. I’ll allow it.”

“Ah, thank you, I appreciate it, the honor is all mine.” He bowed, then closed the laptop and pulled a chair over. 

Hanbyul playfully turned her undivided attention to him, propping her chin in her hand and giving him an expectant look like she was front row at a show.

“Let’s see the magic,” she demanded.

“It’s not magic, unnie, it’s science. Oooh that’s a good line,” Sun-young gasped. “I’m going to say that right after. Let me write that down.” She had a lined notebook with “DEMONSTRATION SCRIPT” written on the top line and used a fat marker to write down her own words, mumbling, “I’ll put it in order later.” The seriousness with which she approached this was beyond adorable.

Hanbyul vaguely remembered this science experiment from her school days but not enough to remember the way it worked. She’d just dutifully boiled and peeled the eggs like Jimin asked –well, she had offered after he had complained about how hard it was to get the shells off and shown her his butchered attempt. He’d looked so amazed when she’d shown him the trick with vinegar and cold water while Sun-young marched around the house pinching her nose. His hand had pressed against her lower back for just a moment before he’d pulled it away before Sun-young could see.

“Ok walk us through it,” Sun-young told Jimin. “I’ll take notes.” She looked quite the little scientist with her marker posed over the notebook.

“What you see here are three hard-boiled eggs with their shells removed. They’re real eggs. See? Here, touch the eggs,” Jimin said, holding the bowl around. Sun-young gave him a skeptical look, to which he explained, “You don’t want the audience accusing you of tricking them with fake eggs.”

“What kind of fake eggs look like that?”

“I don’t know, but people will doubt what they can’t believe. A true magician knows to get the audience bought in.”

“It’s science, not magic,” Sun-young repeated.

“Touch the eggs, Sunnie.”

She gave the eggs a good slap and giggled when they jiggled. Even though Hanbyul had peeled them herself, she dutifully touched the eggs and nodded.

“Oh yes, I see, very real.”

“Don’t encourage him,” Sun-young sighed and Hanbyul bit back her laugh.

“You have to work the audience for a demonstration just like you do for a dance recital,” Jimin admonished. “Now see here how the eggs do not fit into the glass bottle.” He took one and set it on the rim of a bottle. Sure enough, the egg just rested there, clearly too big to fit through the mouth.

Hanbyul scratched her neck and looked away, bemused by her own internal inappropriate narration. Oof. 

To say her thoughts about Jimin had been a little on the flushed side since the way he’d run his hands up and down her body, the way his lips had dragged against hers, the way their bodies had spun and swayed in what felt more graceful and intimate than it probably looked –well, it had been a sweaty weekend, temperatures unusually high outside for this time of year, so she couldn’t be blamed. It was either Jimin’s fault or mother nature’s.

“These are simple strips of paper. Nothing exciting. But what if I told you I can use a strip of paper to get the egg into the bottle? How do you think I’ll do that?”

“I already know,” Sun-young sighed when Jimin waited for suggestions.

“It’s called audience involvement,” he told her.

Sun-young turned to Hanbyul and asked, “Is that what you do?”

“Hm… it depends on the audience and what I’m trying to accomplish. But yes, getting audience input can be a good way to make sure they’re invested. You have to be prepared to move it forward in case no one suggests anything though, a lot of time audiences are shy.”

“Excellent point,” JImin barged ahead. “I won’t leave you in confusion any longer. Watch as I take this paper and light it on fire!” The way he emphasized fire made Sun-young erupt into giggles. “Er, assistant Hanbyul, can you hold the paper? Maybe we should get a lighter instead of matches…”

Hanbyul held the paper by the end as he struck a match and held it to set the end aflame, then quickly took it from her hands and dropped it into the bottle where it began to curl and smoke. He plopped one of the eggs on top and all three leaned in to wait and watch. 

“I think we’re supposed to be saying what’s happening,” Sun-young reminded.

“Oh right. Yeah, rewind, we should say… this is an experiment about air pressure,” Jimin said. “There’s air pressure pushing down on this egg on the bottle, but there’s also air within the bottle.”

Suddenly the egg slurped through the bottle with a ‘pop’.

All three erupted in cheers and applause as if they hadn’t known exactly what was going to happen. There really was something magical and cool about it, the egg now hidden from view in the smoky haze circling inside the bottle.

“I think you can just explain what we saw now,” Hanbyul suggested. “And then maybe do it a second time so people who are interested know what they’re watching. That way you get the surprise and the explanation.”

Sun-young nodded and tapped her marker, “I like it, I like it. So explain what we saw, Appa. I don’t understand this one yet but I need to know everything so I can take questions.”

“Ok, there is air within the bottle and what we want to do is create a vacuum within the bottle that will pull down on the egg while the air pressure above is pushing down on the egg because that pull creates uniform pressure on the egg –well, back up, we should say first that if you try to smush the egg into the bottle, it will just smush the egg, because you’ll be applying uneven pressure on the egg wherever your fingers press and the air within the bottle is resisting, pushing up on the egg,” Jimin said.

“Maybe we should have a second bottle where I do that first,” Sun-young suggested. “I can just smush the egg so they see it for themselves.” 

“Good idea. So here, a vacuum of decreased air pressure inside the bottle will pull on the whole egg, tugging it down in one piece.”

“How is the fire making a vacuum though?” Hanbyul asked.

“If I remember correctly, the air expands and pushes up around the egg, that’s why we saw it wobbling and the egg acts like a stopper so more air molecules can slide in. It means there are fewer air molecules now inside the bottle than above. And the fire does burn some of the oxygen molecules up.”

“We have to be sure,” Sun-young said, very seriously. “We should research.”

“I want to watch it closely again and see the wobbles,” Hanbyul added.

Sun-young made a face and asked with concern, “How do we get the egg out now though?” She lifted the bottle and tilted it to the side, blowing as the smoke cleared and the scorched paper tumbled out but the whole egg rolled around inside.

“Oh you’re going to like this part, but an adult has to do it,” Jimin said, taking the bottle from her. “We do the same thing, we need the air pressure in the bottle to be stronger than outside. So watch this.” He lifted the bottle to his lips and Sun-young and Hanbyul both stared transfixed as he blew a lungful of air into the bottle, which rocketed the egg into his mouth. He spit it out as they howled with laughter.

“If you just do a little air, it’ll ooze out but it’s funnier to pop it out fast,” he explained.

“Unless you choke yourself in front of everyone,” Hanbyul laughed. 

“That will still be funny,” Sun-young admitted. “We can talk about science safety if that happens and how it’s not smart to use air pressure to shoot an egg into your mouth.”

“Thank you, I love to be made an example of,” Jimin chuckled. Then he held his hands out and asked, “Well, what do you think, will that work? Sun-young you can present and I’ll be your assistant who does the dangerous parts while you explain what’s happening.”

Sun-young looked to Hanbyul, who agreed, “It’s pretty cool. I bet everyone will remember it.”

“Yeah, I like it.” Sun-young gave them a determined nod. “Ok let’s write a script and we have to explain the whole thing on the poster board and I need another bottle and I think we’ll need more eggs too. Appa, you can check with Miss Choi to make sure we’re allowed to use fire but I think it’s ok as long as you’re doing it, because sometimes she uses fire for things too.”

“We have our marching orders,” Jimin laughed and began to explain the science again, slowly, so Sun-young could write it down. His foot nudged Hanbyul’s beneath the table and she glanced at him, cheeks warmed by his look. Just as he began his explanation though, his phone rang.

“Who is it?” Sun-young asked, straining to see the phone.

“Not for you! It’s Halmeoni,” he added before rising from the table to answer, “Eomma! How are you?” 

Hanbyul tried not to listen and just focus on recalling Jimin’s words for Hanbyul. She’d met Jimin’s mother before, a very nice woman who clearly adored her son and granddaughter. She loved how familiar Jimin sounded talking to his parents, who he clearly had a good relationship with. Mostly his side of the conversation was too simple to eavesdrop on anyway, but he didn’t leave them wondering for long.

As soon as the call ended he explained, “Well, Halmeoni and Harabeoji want to come next weekend to help us make the rice cakes and then stay all the way through your demonstration and our recital.”

“YAY!” Sun-young cheered, leaping onto her knees in her seat. This didn’t seem surprising to Hanbyul at all, that they would want to come for their son’s and granddaughter’s dance performance. 

“And um, your other grandparents want to go to both as well,” he said, which had Sun-young just nodding as she continued to write. Hanbyul noted the glance he sent her direction but wasn’t sure what it meant –unless, she realized, it meant he thought it was actually not a great idea for her to attend a family event just yet.

Which made total sense! This romance between them was new, and it made perfect sense that Jimin might not be in a rush to introduce her not only to his own parents, but for Ga Subin’s parents to see him starting something new with another woman. It was most important for Sun-young to have her supportive grandparents there; that was more important than anything.

Though the subject dropped then, Hanbyul was quick to bring it up again much later in the evening, after they’d taken a family walk to let Hudu toilet and then watched an episode of a cartoon to let Sun-young decompress from homework, and then Jimin hugged and kissed her on the other side of teeth brushing and a shower. 

“I think she’s already asleep. Science really wears her out,” Jimin announced as he returned to the dining table where Hanbyul had just finished tidying the leftover homework supplies.

“I added a sticky note to the eggs in the fridge that says ‘Do Not Eat’ so you don’t forget,” she told him.

“Thanks but you didn’t have to do all this cleaning up.”

“And leave it for you after you put her to bed? It’s not a big deal,” Hanbyul assured him.

“Well thank you–”

“Just like it’s not a big deal if you’d rather I sit out the recital and science day,” she quickly added just as his hand touched her arm. “I completely understand, with your parents and Ga Subin’s parents joining.”

“Ah…”

“Of course I would love to support you both but I really do understand.”

“It’s very early,” he mused.

“Exactly, we’ve only been on one date.”

“I had hoped our second date could be this weekend but it won’t be possible to hide that from my parents.”

Hanbyul nodded and insisted, “I completely understand. There’s no rush, I can plan our second date for after your parents have gone home.”

“No, I mean…” His face screwed up adorably, and then his expression shifted and he asked, “Do you think it’s too early? It’s too early, right?”

“I…”

“I mean, it’s only been one date. It’s too early,” he decided, looking to the side.

“If you have any doubts about it, there’s truly no reason to rush the introduction,” Hanbyul insisted.

“I don’t have doubts about it,” he admitted. “But is that crazy? I mean, my parents have met you before. They thought you were lovely. They’d be happy to spend time with Sunnie while you and I have a date, it would just mean telling them that I’m dating you and I just wonder if it’s too soon for you to want to– if it would make you feel overwhelmed that we’ve gone on one date and I’m already telling my parents about our… relationship.”

“Won’t Sun-young say something anyway?” Hanbyul suddenly realized.

Jimin slapped a hand to his forehead and laughed, “Yes, probably. I didn’t think about that…”

“I’m not afraid of you telling your parents,” Hanbyul assured him, though there was certainly a thread of fear laced through the fluttering in her chest. What if they liked me as your neighbor but not your girlfriend? He hadn’t said she was his girlfriend, and the word was suddenly too bright to look at. She felt important in his life and close to him and she didn’t need a label–

“It’s ok if I tell them you’re my girlfriend?” he asked, head dropped so that he looked up at her through his eyelashes, as if he needed to seduce her to convince her!

“Am I your girlfriend?” she stammered out, startled by his directness. 

“Ah, am I rushing you?” he cried and looked so frightened by it that Hanbyul rushed forward to grab his hands.

“Our timeline is all crazy,” she told him. “I don’t feel rushed, but I do feel a little crazy.”

“Me too and I just don’t want you to feel like I’m rushing you into something that you aren’t ready for –there’s no pressure here, Hanbyul. I can even tell my parents to mind their own business if you’d rather I don’t use the 여 word yet… Yeah, let’s just– I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be springing this on you so fast,” he apologized, even bowed a little to her.

“Jimin, stop. I came into this knowing we’d be a little out of order. I came into this with eyes open. I just don’t want you to feel like you have to rush into anything to keep my attention –I mean, I’ve been pining for years at this point, I can be patient.” She meant it as a joke but it wasn’t a joke and immediately she realized she had said too much. 

He laughed and pressed his hands to her face and kissed her forehead, murmuring, “Ah, Hanbyul, you’re the funniest woman I’ve ever met.”

“No one ever thinks I’m funny!”

“Have you really been pining for me? Tell me more.”

“Absolutely not.”

He slid his arms around her, pulling her tight against his chest, and sighed, “What a lucky man I am.”

She hated to potentially dump water on the moment but still felt a niggling concern and pressed, “Well even if you’re comfortable telling your parents that you’re seeing someone and even introducing me as that someone, what about Sun-young’s other grandparents? I wouldn’t want to make them uncomfortable either.”

To her relief, Jimin did not let go. Just rested his cheek against her hair and considered this.

“I think it will be harder for them, because just like Sun-young growing up, it’s proof life is moving forward without Subin,” he admitted. “If you do want to go –and I do want you there, to be clear– I’ll talk to them before so that they aren’t surprised, and even if it’s hard on their hearts, I think they will quickly see how good you are to Sunnie, and how much she adores you.”

“I don’t want to make things harder on grieving parents.”

“If you’re uncomfortable with them, I don’t want to push you. Maybe just… think about it. And I’ll talk to them so they know and then at least everyone is aware.”

“All right, that sounds right. There’s time to think about it.”

“A whole week and a half,” he joked.

“How long is that on our timeline?”

“Months,” he snickered, and dropped his mouth to hers. Hanbyul wondered for how long each kiss would feel like the first time and thought it might always feel that way, her heart might always flip like that when his fingers brushed her jaw, angling her face. 

Jimin suddenly sprang back and Hanbyul didn’t understand why until she spied Sun-young standing on the other side of the table. She hadn’t even heard the girl approach but Jimin had and now scratched his cheek and did his best to look like they hadn’t very obviously just been kissing.

“I just want some water,” Sun-young said. 

“Oh, um… ok, sure, let me… get that for you…”

“I can get it myself,” she said, and then kept her gaze on them as she shuffled past to the kitchen, her lips pursed into a tight-lipped smile. They remained frozen as she clanked around the kitchen, pulling a cup from a cupboard, ice from the freezer, filling it with water. Hanbyul thought she might be intentionally taking a long time, furthered by the playful way she suddenly poked her head out of the kitchen before stepping out.

“Ok,” Sun-young said, shuffling slowly past. “Goodnight, Appa. Goodnight, unnie.”

“Good night, Sun-young.”

She glanced over her shoulder one more time, mouth pursed again like she was just checking to see what they were doing. They listened to her shuffling steps down the hall and then heard her door close.

“What a brat,” Jimin laughed, the breath rushing from his lungs.  

“I’m sorry, I didn’t even hear her–”

“Yes because she didn’t want us to hear her,” Jimin assured her. “She’s going to be teasing me about this for days, I know it.”

“Well… I do think she takes after you in a lot of ways,” Hanbyul told him, which only made him laugh harder, and then box her into another hug.

“Maybe so.”

“Hudu and I had better go.”

“Ah, where is he?”

Hudu had been quiet and unobtrusive the whole evening, alternating between lounging on the rug with his toys or sleeping on Sun-young’s feet. Calling him now did nothing, but a quick search eventually revealed him curled up on a pile of clothing in Sun-young’s room, sound asleep. He just stared at Hanbyul when she tried to coax him out, until Jimin snuck in –Sun-young was already snoring– and carried him out.

“What a relief our kids get along,” he grinned and handed Hudu over. 

“The two of them might have planned this all from the beginning,” Hanbyul suggested, which Jimin could only nod to. He walked her to the door, a hand familiarly on her lower back, and kissed her there one more time –quicker this time, since Hudu immediately tried to join in, licking the underside of their chins and setting them both to laughing loud enough to wake up a neighbor.

Then he watched her until she was safely in her apartment, heart hammering in her chest, Hudu marching off, clearly peeved to have been disturbed from his comfortable nap. 

She’d expected the timeline to be weird, but had Jimin really asked her to be his girlfriend two days after their first date? She thought she’d agreed but wasn’t sure if she’d made it clear that her answer was unequivocally yes. Had he understood that, or was that part of what he wanted her to think about?

Part of her had thought that going on a date with Jimin would finally let her settle, that after she finally got to kiss him her pining would relax and things could be simple and comfortable. Being at their apartment for dinner had almost convinced her of it. But Hanbyul had never felt so spun up in her life, never more excited about seeing what the next day might bring. Her sister was going to flip, and at the rate things were moving with Jimin, she’d better call her soon!

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[ange1sang]

a little to the left

2.6k words, gallavich + brief appearance from liam

; canon compliant/post season 11, domestic gallavich, hurt/comfort, trauma, dissociation, vomiting, gentle mickey milkovich

Most days Ian doesn't notice them. The blanks, the disconnect in his mind, the gaps in his memory like potholes in a road filled with oil slick and rainwater. They've been there since his late adolescence, weaving their way into his consciousness and embedding themselves into the membranes that separate his brain from his skull, so that he's used to them. He doesn't have to notice them, not when he can get by just fine without acknowledging them. But that's only on most days. 

Some days the blanks are deep and pitch black, tripping him up or even swallowing him whole. His mind becomes a black hole, everything in disarray and stretched, twisted, deformed until it's all unrecognisable. His childhood is a jumble of scenes from a movie watched on a drunken night, parts of it covered with lumpy, expired Wite-Out and others blotted with blood, smeared and dirty. The confusion makes his head pound and bile rise in his throat. For the longest time he didn't connect the two things. He's been having depressive episodes since he was seventeen, always accompanied by aches and nausea, and it was easy to lump the blanks and gaps in with everything else the depression brought on.

But he's older now, taking medication and watching his routine so that the depression rarely rears its ugly head anymore, yet the days of darkness, confusion and agony persist. They come when he least expects them, when he has a day full of errands to run with his brother or a day he's promised to spend babysitting his niece or nephew. He goes through the motions the way he's taught himself to do on even the hardest days, but it feels like wading through raw sewage in nothing but his boxers, grime and filth splattered against his thighs and clinging to the inside of his nose. He barely survives it, throwing up everything he eats, sometimes before he can reach a toilet bowl, and crawling into his bed deaf to the worried murmurs of his husband. 

It takes him years of survival, white-knuckled and tense-jawed, before it begins to make even a little sense to him. 

"Hey, Ian."

Liam's voice pulls Ian's attention from the comedy rerun he and a sleepy Mickey are watching on the TV. He looks to where his youngest brother is sitting at their kitchen table, school laptop illuminating his face and an old, chewed-up pen in his hand. 

"What's up?" Ian asks, lifting a hand to run his fingers through Mickey's hair. His husband grunts softly, pressing his face down against Ian's shoulder. Liam takes a breath, hesitating before he speaks again.

"You know the club you worked at?" he asks. Ian feels Mickey tense against him, and has to stroke his thumb against his forehead to keep him from cussing at the kid.

"Yeah, what about it?" Ian asks, trying to keep his voice lighthearted. "You aren't thinking of getting a job there, are you?"

"No," Liam says quickly, grimacing at the suggestion. Ian feels something in his chest relax. "I'm writing a paper on CSA for my psych class - you think it'd be okay if I interview you? Interviews get us extra points."

"CSA?" Ian asks, raising an eyebrow. Liam hesitates again, looking sheepish and guilty all of a sudden. 

"Childhood sexual assault," he clarifies after mulling it over for a long minute. The second the words leave his mouth Mickey lifts his head from Ian's shoulder and glares at the teen.

"Write a paper on those fuckin' drooling dogs or something, man," he says, which would be funny if it weren't for how his jaw clenches once the words have left his mouth. "Leave your family outta that shit, we got enough people lookin' at us like social experiments already."

"Right," Liam mumbles, but his eyes don't move from Ian, who feels his face stiffening like concrete. "Okay, sorry."

"Nah, it's fine," Ian whispers, his voice barely audible even though he tried to speak normally. He turns his head away from his brother, back to the TV. The blue light of the screen suddenly takes on a purple tinge, spotlights moving against the inside of Ian's eyelids and illuminating dark, dirty floors soiled with bodily fluids and pills that had been crushed beneath someone's shoe. His veins throb in his arms, skin suddenly too tight for his flesh, like he's waking up with a bad hangover, dry-mouthed and disoriented.

"Ian."

He feels his lips forming a frown on his face but they don't belong to him, invisible fingers pulling down the corners of his lips to turn him into a sad mime. Mickey's hand, warm and rough cups his cheek. He blinks and the dirty floor disappears, replaced with worried blue eyes and dark, furrowed brows.

"Hey. Baby."

"I'm fine," his reply comes, automatic and without thought, before he even thinks the words. Clearly, this does nothing to soothe Mickey, eyes darting around Ian's face. His thumb rubs Ian's temple, stroking the vein that feels like it's about to burst. "I'm... I'm fine."

Mickey draws in a sharp breath, looking like he's ready to scold him, but he doesn't say anything. He shoots Liam a brief but withering look, before leaning in to kiss Ian's forehead. 

"Okay," he mumbles, and slumps back against the sofa, but not without guiding Ian's head to rest against his shoulder. 

Ian's chest is tight and aching, but he's fine. He's totally fine.

When he wakes up the next morning it's to Mickey yelling from the kitchen.

"Ian! You want coffee?"

He stiffens in their bed, his husband's voice sounding foreign. 

"Ian?"

No, it isn't his husband's voice. It's the name. Ian. He squeezes his eyes shut and tries to recall the last time he heard that name, but all his mind can offer are broken, fragmented memories of strangers whispering Curtis or Clayton or Benjamin in his ear, their breath hot against his skin. The familiarity of the names is soothing and torturous all at once, and before he knows what's happening his stomach is squeezing, pushing. He sits up but barely manages to lift his head from his pillow before a stream of weak, beige-green liquid pours from his mouth, puddling on the sheets and dripping down his chin. He stares at the pool of vomit, gears moving in his head like he's looking at an old friend. 

"Hey, man, you want coffee or-"

Mickey's voice stops just as abruptly as his movements, the man standing in the bedroom doorway like a statue. Ian turns his head to look at him, the small movement dizzying, and feels that same squeeze in his stomach. This time he has the foresight to move his hands, catching the little mouthful of hot, caustic stomach acid in his palms. 

"Ian, c'mon, don't do that," Mickey whispers, approaching slowly and taking hold of Ian's wrists. He allows himself to be manoeuvred, watching as the vomit sloshes from his palms and lands on the bed sheets. The name on Mickey's lips makes Ian's skin prickle, and he curls into himself. He's too big for it to really work, but he must have been small enough once. Must have been small enough to fold into himself like an ashen baby bird, all skin and bone and ruffled feathers. He tries to curl into himself further, trying to remember where the instinct comes from, but all he sees is a bottomless pit. Panic curls around his throat like barbed wire. "Come on, you gotta wash your hands. I can help you."

"No, I..." Ian mumbles, his own voice startling him. He stares down at his palms, feeling fabric against his skin. Expensive fabric, yarn woven into fine cotton with 2% spandex, fabric he's never been able to afford, not even on his wedding day, but that he must have touched at some point. Blearily, he looks at Mickey, meets his worried gaze through thick tears that refuse to pour down his cheeks even as he blinks over and over. His breath catches in his throat. "I don't feel right."

"That's okay. I got you," Mickey reassures him. Lips press against his forehead in a sweet kiss. "Come on, babe. It's okay."

Mickey takes his hands, not recoiling or frowning when the still-warm vomit touches his skin. He smiles, soft, small, scared, and helps the redhead stand up. 

"You're fine. I got you," he repeats, and kisses the dense patch of freckles on Ian's shoulder. The touch is familiar, and this time the familiarity is comforting without also being nauseating. He holds on tight to Mickey until their hands are under the running water of their bathroom tap, and as soon as their palms are separated he finds himself leaning into the other man, curling up again, trying to make himself smaller. He can feel Mickey watching him, gauging his condition, taking in his expressions and reaction to every little touch. "You're okay, Ia- baby."

Ian looks up, looks at Mickey's wet lashes when he bites back the name on the tip of his tongue. He doesn't understand why or how, but Mickey always knows what to say and, more importantly, he always knows what not to say. He drags in a deep breath that doesn't really reach his lungs and drops his head so he can hide his face against Mickey's shoulder. Hiding. Even if he can't seem to think of much right now, he knows he's good at hiding.

"Sorry I threw up," he mumbles into Mickey's shoulder, which makes his husband chuckle.

"I've seen you puke before, man," Mickey says. "That fuckin' sushi Debbie made us all eat last year? Playing drinking games with Sandy?"

Ian recognises the memories like the face of a quiet classmate in a yearbook - he can place them in the right environment, but can't picture them doing anything, not even opening their mouth to say 'present' for attendance. He winces, the effort of  trying to pull forth images he knows are there making him dizzy.

"C'mon," Mickey whispers, turning off the tap. "Let's get some breakfast in you. Pepto Bismol with your meds maybe."

"Wait," Ian pleads, not ready to open his eyes and face the world yet. Not when he can't remember his place in it. Again, Mickey takes it in his stride. He pulls Ian into a hug that's firm enough to ground him and gentle enough to remind him that Mickey loves him. The reminder is enough to ease the jelly feeling in his joints just a little, Mickey's thumb moving back and forth against his shoulder blade like it's all he's ever wanted to do, and Ian takes a deep breath. The just-woke-up smell on Mickey, a smell that he knows he's always loved, even if he's never been sure why.

"I love you, man," Mickey murmurs sincerely. Ian relaxes just a little more.

"I love you too."

The day goes by slowly, every bit of it like pulling teeth. He downs his medication and food Mickey gives him even though his stomach twists nervously with each swallow. They watch cartoons on the sofa and Mickey smokes through a pack of cigarettes before dinner, his eyes flicking back and forth between Ian and the TV so often that he must not be getting any of what's on the screen. The vigilance is comforting, a reminder that he really is sitting on their sofa and not just dreaming up the four walls around him, so he doesn't mention it to Mickey. 

By the late afternoon he's falling asleep, tired just from keeping his eyes open and his food down. He lays his head on Mickey's lap, nose pressed into his husband's thigh and shuts his eyes when fingers immediately find their way to his hair, running through his curls and brushing stray hairs from his forehead. 

"You wanna head to the clinic tomorrow, check your meds?" he asks.

"Maybe," is all Ian can muster the energy to say. Mickey hums, thumb rubbing his brow bone.

There's a long pause, long enough that Ian almost falls asleep, before Mickey speaks up again.

"You did good, Ian."

Ian. The name finally sounds familiar again. No bile rises at the sound of it and there's no ache in his chest as he tries to place it. Relief washes over him, icy and overwhelming, and pulls him under. 

The next day he wakes feeling disoriented but not nauseous. His head is on Mickey's chest, his heartbeat steady and reliable where it thumps against his cheek. He takes a deep breath in and lifts a hand to trace a fingertip along the tattoo of his name on his husband's skin, his heart fluttering the same way it used to when they were kids and Mickey would show up at the corner store looking for him. His body feels like his own again, every organ, capillary and freckle back in its rightful place. 

He makes coffee while Mickey sleeps in. He knows after a day like yesterday that Mickey must've been up half the night, watching him sleep as though his next breath might not come, and feels a little guilty at the thought. When he carries two mugs of coffee back to the bedroom and a pack of Oreos pinched between his teeth, Mickey is waiting for him, a smile on his lips.

"Morning, mister," he grumbles, voice sleep-rough in a way that makes Ian giddy. Ian drops the Oreos on the bed and leans in for a kiss, hungry for Mickey's touch more than anything else.

"Good morning," he replies, handing Mickey his mug and settling in next to him.

"You feelin' okay? Wanna hit the clinic after breakfast?" Mickey asks cautiously, watching Ian's expression for any telltale signs that he's hiding something.

"Nah, I'm... I'm okay," Ian mumbles, shrugging. "I don't know what was up yesterday, it was like everything was a few inches to the left or something. I couldn't remember shit."

He looks at Mickey and smiles at the crease between his worried brows. 

"I'm okay now, Mick. Seriously."

Mickey grunts, frowning in a way that lets Ian know he's sorting his thoughts into words that make sense. They're halfway through their coffee before he's ready to speak, but Ian doesn't mind the waiting. He doesn't mind much when it comes to Mickey these days, at least not as much as he claims to.

"Y'know, Svetlana had days like that," he says, slow and unsure. "She'd get pukey and shit, couldn't hold a conversation... It was weird, 'cause she was always so fuckin' headstrong y'know? Seein' you like that..."– Mickey pauses, reaches out to cup Ian's cheek for a moment and rubs his thumb over the freckles on his temple. –"Maybe you should see a shrink, talk about the stuff that happened at the club."

Something clicks in Ian's head at the mention of Svetlana, all of the blanks, disconnects and gaps in his mind making a little more sense now.

"Yeah. Maybe," he sighs, and turns his head to press a kiss to Mickey's palm. "Thanks for not freaking out."

"Anytime," Mickey says with a small, worried smile. Just a couple of years ago Ian would've felt guilty for being the cause of his worry, but he understands it now. They're husbands. They're always going to worry about each other. 

"I love you," he tells Mickey, which earns him one of those shiny-eyed smiles he adores with all his heart. 

"Love you too, Red."

Maybe tomorrow he'll book himself an appointment at the clinic. Today though, all he wants to do is make up for the time he lost yesterday.

[moomeecore]

spent a good portion of the last few days babysitting my little cousins who are between the ages of 0 and 6 (theres 4 of them but i wasnt with all of them the whole time), and im just thinking like. i think people overdramatize how "annoying" kids are. like i rarley get annoyed with small children. teenagers, absolutley - but little kids? it kind of befuddles me how people can "hate little kids"when they are so sweet and well intentioned and devoid of negative intent. like its so hard to get mad at someone who is just a little guy that is so in awe of the world and everything in it. like ? yeah sometimes its annoying when theyre loud, but not more annoying than when adults and teens are loud. honestly. its often less annoying. again, hard to get mad at small children when they are so well intentioned and so unaware of so many things. they have such a bare bones concept of what is causing issues for other people...and the great thing is if you explain it to them theyre a lot more receptive to it than adults tend to be. as someone with severe auditory sensory issues, im well experienced with asking adults to stop doing things that are making noises that are causing me intense physical pain, and they tend to get up in arms about it. they have an entitlement that children honestly dont. a lot of people think of children as entitled, but when i tell my 6 year old cousin "hey, could you please stop kicking the wall, that makes my headaches worse, and that makes me sad" or "could we take a break from listening to music, im starting to feel overwhelmed" or something like that, they either do the thing i asked or they dont but they just politley ignore me about it instead of getting defensive and angry and insulting me. and if the second thing happens you can just go to plan b, which is finding something that they like, and drawing their attention to that, so they stop doing the thing that was annoying. i think a lot of people who think all children are entitled and annoying maybe do too much yelling at children and not enough talking politley to them and explaining why they want them to do certain things. it does wonders to just tell a child, "please stop, thats making me sad." or "i know youre having fun, but can we do a different activity for a little while?". i think theyre more receptive to this sort of thing than adults because theyre so early in the process of "figuring out how the world works" that they are openly accepting of the idea that they sometimes need to learn new things! they dont feel threatened by the idea that theyre in the wrong, unless you make them, by being mean to them about it. and so if you just dont be mean to them about it, it works out in the end.

[thousand-winters]

Alright, I've let it settle and I think, other than Tamika being the leader of the rebellion against Strex, and the Boy's temporary guardian, there's thematically another reason why she's fitting to be one of the three people the Boy ended up with in that little babysitting/hostage situation.

Obviously, Tamika has grown a lot since Year 2. Cecil himself has expressed his grumbly disappointment at times that she's no longer that bold kid, leader of her own teen militia, that was always quick to fight against any threats to the town. She's a Council Member now, after all, and she can't dropkick her problems anymore, she has to actually try to be diplomatic and reasonable.

Now, of course Tamika was very different from Strex and the Smiling God adherents because it's not like she was just going around commiting acts of violence randomly or because that pleased her. She was a fighter, yes, but her actions always had a motive and the motive was usually "someone is trying to cause chaos and hurt our town". But even so, we're talking about a past of violence and forceful actions. It was always for a good cause, but you can't deny there was violence.

She's been said to struggle with the difference between who she used to be in that sense and who she's trying to be now, and I think that's where she resonates with Kevin/the Boy.

The comparison is obvious if we think about Kevin and Desert Bluffs and the wild amounts of violence happening there. Like I don't know about you but when I think about Desert Bluffs, my first thought is the sun, and my second thought is blood. Violence with a smile and cheerful tone is still violence.

But that's not what I find interesting about this comparison. Remember Triptych? Remember who was leading the rebellion against Strex Corp in Desert Bluffs? Remember who was physically trying to stop them from taking over his town, just like Tamika?

Kevin.

It's so interesting that the Boy seems to be a younger version of Kevin who's intent on starting anew. He rejects what past Kevin has had to deal with, the expectations. If I recall correctly, this is also something Tamika herself brings up in Council Member Flynn, how who she wants to be has changed from what others has always expected her to be.

"Everyone wants something from me. I only want to want something for myself.” (240 - He is holding a knife)

Despite the fact that he carries a knife the whole episode, he doesn't seem to know what to do with it, and he doesn't figure out what he is 'supposed' to do with it until the next episode.

Interestingly enough, the Boy expresses that he wants to pull out thoughts memories and emotions with the help of the knives, and while he later rationalizes this means he has to kill adult Kevin, I think part of it is the fact he's getting his memories, his trauma, his story of violence. He wants to get rid of all of that but he's struggling to reconcile with what he has to do in order to manage this, and in doing so, he falls back into what's familiar for him.

Trying to get rid of violence through violence.

It's a more complex matter than the ones Tamika usually dealt with, but the parallels are there.

[theliterarywolf]

Hey, you don't think that future generations are royally fucked, do you? I mean, is it really too late to educate our kids for the real world. I sure hope not.

It depends on several factors, really: the school a teen goes to, the teachers a teen has, and parental/guardian involvement.

Because, look at me: before getting hired at my current virtual teaching job, I was at a private school that crowed about presenting opportunities and strict tech-focused curriculum for disenfranchised students.

The wi-fi would go out every other hour, the school didn't have enough computers for the students, and teachers (myself mostly) were constantly told that our curriculum was 'too hard'.

When, in actuality, it was just trying to get students used to meeting the technical length for a paragraph (200 words).

And then, of course, parents and guardians have to take some initiative with their students' learning; I'm sorry, even the most passionate educator can only do so much in the few hours a day they have with kids when they're just going to go home and have none of the parameters established in school reinforced at home.

There's a reason why there's the growing schism between educators and parents/guardians: because the prior's core job is supposed to be educating and preparing students' with applicable career and citizenship skills. Yet too many parents, particularly in the U.S., send their students to school thinking that it's basically government-sponsored babysitting.

So, of course, that schism has allowed the lazier of administrations and educators to come in, throw their hands into the air, and say 'well, the kids don't care anyway; why not just let them use ChatGPT and AI and just push them along to the next grade?'

Because, the way that things are going, the young adults graduating out of American high schools in the coming years aren't going to have half of the rudimentary skills that young adults graduated with ten years ago, allowing job gaps that will gladly be occupied by foreign graduates, and then the ouroboros of 'all the good jobs keep going to foreigners' will continue so on and forever ad nauseum.

[celestial-alignment]

My Dragon Ball Masterlist

Lucky. Rated General Audiences. 100 words. Gohan reflects on how his life had turned out--for the better. Drabble inspired by this adorable art by the talented @dbzsenpai

The Talk. Rated Teen and Up Audiences. 4,250 words. Gohan is fourteen years old and needs an adult to talk to him about... girls.

Balance. Rated General Audiences. 1,647 words. Krillin doesn't understand why this Goku kid can't balance on a rock, or why he is fascinated with the moon.

Last Hope: Vegeta! Rated General Audiences. 3,523 words. It took a highly specific set of circumstances for this to happen. Vegeta had to babysit Goten.

Strong Enough. General Audiences. 2,740 words. A short fic focusing on Gohan dealing with his dad never coming home after the defeat of Cell.

That's My Purse, I Don't Know You! General Audiences. 1,790 words. Miss Janet is faced with a stranger trying to take Pan again, this time he claims to be her grandpa.

Rebound. Explicit. 8,458. After breaking up with Yamcha at the 23rd World Tournament, Bulma is reeling and looking for a revenge rebound. A grown-up Goku just so happens to be available. (Gobul)

Another Talk. Mature. 3,999. Gohan's over 18 now. He has a girlfriend, the world is at peace, and his dad has returned to life. It's time he had the talk about losing his virginity. (Follow up to The Talk.)