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shoshiwrites · 2 months

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Prompt requested by @kmk1701d, "a kiss while in close proximity." Thank you so much, Katt! A big bouquet to @junojelli for all things backyard garden, and to @basilone for talking me through at least seven different ?!?! moments ♡ Bucky Egan/War correspondent OC, also on Ao3! Warning here for emetophobia [brief, non-graphic].

september song

A package finds her in Norwich, under the September sun. It’s covered in stamps and ink, pressed haphazard over Evie’s careful hand. Jo carries it out to the back garden, a glass in one hand and the stuffed envelope in the crook of her arm, holding a notebook and novel and pencil besides. It’s optimistic, the amount of things she’s carrying, like she won’t just want to sit and laze under the trees, feel the sun on her face, sip her weak tea.

It’s become a place she goes when she needs something like rest, the oasis that’s hardly one if she thinks about it — the Anderson shelter and the squash blossoms and the cabbages. But there’s the sun on the red brick of the house, the little potting shed, the trees bearing russet apples and the ivy and the last lingering clematis, the scent of it like almonds.

In the summer, the June and July evenings, she’d sit out here with whichever correspondent was staying in the room next to hers, or play cards with the land girls down from Manchester and Hull. Kay had brought drinks out from the kitchen, little cocktails in haphazard glassware sweet-talked out of the housekeeper’s care, Kay’s spectator pumps clacking on the flagstone path.

She slides a fingernail under the lip of the envelope, wincing as the paper snags. Nothing inside seems to be damaged, though. There’s a letter, a packet of photos embossed with the name of a Philadelphia studio, a few more tied with a white ribbon. The ones Angelo took, Evie’s letter explains. Evie’s fiancé — husband, Jo mentally corrects now — is a hobbyist photographer, as much as finances and the war allow. There’s a smaller envelope too, with a few flower petals dried and pressed between. White roses, from Evie’s bouquet.

Guilt washes over her — Evie doesn’t know about William, about the whole awful mess. Nobody at home does. Kay knows, she’d had the front seat to the aftermath, the whiskey thrown up in the bathroom and the thumbnails Jo had bit down to the quick. Kay had brought her ginger ale and brushed back her hair and told her the war needed Jo Brandt, not Mrs. William Merrick. Jo had smiled and told her that was hogwash, but nice hogwash, and then promptly thrown up again.

She hadn’t been able to sour a letter home with it, what seemed like such petty personal news.

The photos, of course, are beautiful. The studio shots of Evie and Angelo, Evie in the suit Jo knows is dove-gray gabardine, light enough for summer, and Angelo with the tie pin Evie gave him the last Christmas Jo shared with them stateside. The family posed in front of the altar, and outside the church. Angelo’s shots are of the reception after, and Evie outside on the sidewalk. The sunlight catching her earrings, the beading on her Juliet cap, filtered through her birdcage veil. There are the hydrangeas in vases, and the table set with a small cake and hors d’oeuvres, the homemade wine, the cousins sat on Evie’s lap. Angela and John asked about you of course, Auntie Jo.

Evie steals the camera for a few, Angelo with his jacket off and shirtsleeves rolled up, looking every inch the man in love. Like he hasn’t always looked at her like that, every day of their lives. Jo feels still, all of the sudden, just now hearing the birdsong over the walls, too caught up in the photos and the love that pours from each word of Evie’s letter. I don’t know if it will still be in fashion, she writes, but you’re welcome to the cap and the earrings. They would look so nice with your hair, Jo. You’d be welcome to the suit too, but I know you have something white planned for the family. William’s family, she means.

She swallows.

They hadn’t gotten to the planning, actually. Nothing beyond what was expected — the church, the white dress, the flowers, the reception back at the house with a dinner. There wasn’t a dress hanging in the closet, only the ring that now lived in the back of a drawer in her desk inside the house. The only official stamp was the engagement announcement in a Philadelphia newspaper. The one that ran months ago. She wonders why no one had pressed them to marry before they had both left for England.

She gathers the photos back into the cardboard sleeve, back into the package. Lifts the envelope of rose petals to smell the faintest scent, and then replaces those too. Leans her head back, thinks of fishing her sunglasses from her trouser pocket. She’s got a haphazard outfit on, the loose trousers and sandals and a button-down with the sleeves pushed up, her watch, her hair hastily pulled back. An outfit for a rare day with no appointments, only the scurrying of a reporter trying to finish something to send off. She’d made her edits in the morning, and gone over some of Kay’s contact sheets after her second cup of coffee. Maybe she hadn’t earned the rest, but it’s too nice of a day to not at least sit out around the lunch hour. She’ll be back in London under rainclouds soon enough.

She’s too uneasy to keep her eyes closed for long, thinking of wedding gowns and absent rings, wondering how she became the type of girl who needed a diamond.

Her mother had a silver band that she wore every day that Jo had known her. Jo guesses there were some things even her father wouldn’t have pawned for drinking money.

After she’d gotten up off the bathroom floor, Kay had told her of a cousin who was married for the fourth time last spring. This time to a count, Kay had said. Something in her eyes told Jo she didn’t think it would last. A few of the correspondents they know in London are divorced, or functionally so. Several unmarried, to various degrees.

She wonders how you become the type of person who marries four times. Did it mean you’d given up on a certain kind of love? Maybe they know something we don’t, Jo thinks.

She doesn’t have too much time to ponder the question. At once she hears the noise of the door behind her, the one from the kitchen out to the garden, and footsteps, and poor Muriel the housekeeper’s voice leading someone back out to Jo in her chair.

“- should be right out here-”

“There she is.” It’s half-crowing, affectionate. “Thank you, Muriel.”

How does he even know- She turns, replaces her tea carefully on a stepping stone. “Major Egan.”

Affectionately annoyed, at the title. “How many times do I have to tell you to call me John?”

She’s not surprised he found her through the front of the house, not surprised Muriel’s smiling affectionately at his back as she closes the door, as he walks over to her.

“Force of habit,” she says. A useful one, one to ought to keep if she knows what’s good for her. For any of them. Like they’re not a hundred miles past that by now. “What brings you up here?” She scans around for another chair, wonders if he’s already refused a cup of tea.

“Oh, I need a reason?”

She stills, suddenly feels her cheeks pink with sun.

“Buck’ll let you write about him,” he says, almost like a non-sequiteur. “Finally agreed.” She’s amused, faintly, by what that agreement might have looked like. He can read it on her face, nods a little along with her. “Just tipped his chin up like this,” he says, on the verge of smiling. “You know.”

“Wonderful,” she says, and there’s not a hint of shadow in it.

He looks at her lap, and her letter, and her book, and her pencil. “I’m sorry, was I interrupting something?”

That almost makes her laugh. Like he’s ever cared about interruption.

“No, I won’t get to a proper reply sitting in this chair,” she says. “Can’t write too well on my legs.”

“Any good news?”

Oh. She can’t lie about it, can she? The photo sleeve still in her hands. “Two dear friends were just married, actually.”

“Fantastic,” he says, the shine out of his voice, but no less sincere. He sounds almost quiet.

Before she knows it, she’s profferring the photo of everyone out on the front steps of the church, Evie squinting beautifully into the sun, Angelo looking at her, his arm around her waist.

“They look happy,” he says.

“Mmm.” She could keep talking, she knows. Maybe she’s afraid of what she’ll say.

He hands the photo back to her, his thumb careful against the edge. “This is a nice place you’ve got here.”

There’s a physical relief she feels, turning to something like the vines and the trees to talk about. Other than the photos. Other than the fact that’s he’s quieter than usual, has been for weeks. When he’s sober, at least. “I just enjoy it,” she says. “Not much help in the garden besides wheeling dirt around.” She can barely keep a window box alive. Her roommates only leave her in the company of plants with their very precise instructions.

“Can the major get a tour?”

She looks up at him, quirks something of a smile, squints over his shoulder in the sun. Like she didn’t just tell him she’s useless in a garden apart from sitting in it. “If I can’t offer you a chair, I probably should.”

He holds out a hand, lets her press heavily down on it as she stands. More than she thought she’d have to. Her things go in the chair where she’s just been sitting, the curve of sun-faded, striped fabric. It’d make a nice picture, Jo thinks. Kay would move a couple of things, maybe take a stray flower and place it to the side for a shot. Her hand feels warm.

She waves a hand over the shelter in self-explanation, watches him nod in seriousness. There’s the little stone path that leads to the back wall, more ivy, the late-season potatoes and heads of cabbage. There’s a rickety little folding chair against the side of the potting shed, and she assesses that maybe she’s the one who belongs in that, and him in the other. He’d have more trouble getting off the ground than she did, though.

There’s a nice slant of shade, too, between the shed and the wall.

“Anything good in there?” He’s nodding towards the shed.

She’s trying not to narrow her eyes. Trying not to think of a hundred things. She’s only ever poked her head in.

Before she can say something — dirt, gardening tools, who the hell knows — he’s taken her hand and ducked under the doorway.

She’s careful not to trip over the step, close to him now inside the tiny shed. There’s a counter bare of seedlings, now that it’s sunny mid-September, a few implements to the side, the back shelf lined with dusty pots and some old glassware, the rich smell of soil.

“Not much to see,” she says, which is a lie too, if you know how to look.

His voice is almost imperceptibly hoarse, and serious. “‘M not really interested in the tour, Josephine. Not anymore, at least.”

Her voice is faint, as his hands find her hips. “Might’ve guessed.” She can’t think about it, the letter or the photos or his voice, the edge of despair, of anger, her own empty hands.

There’s a moment as those own hands find him, the wool of his uniform, as they look at each other in the dim, filtered light. The dirty window. The silent asking, the way she stills, and lets him press his mouth to hers.

She winds back her foot, tries to kick the door shut. The action falls short, just barely, and he huffs a soft laugh against her cheek. Kicks the door back, for real, with his boot. He’s warm, from the sun. She imagines she is, too.

“Did Major Cleven really say we could do a feature-” she starts, and the face he makes is something she’d bottle if she could.

“Start by calling it something else, Josephine,” he says. “You’ll scare him off-”

Now that’s a joke, and she’d smile if she weren’t busy kissing him again, tracing her thumb along his cheek, his jaw, his ear.

Little surface scar-dings against his neck, raised tissue tinged red, and she can’t think about what flak does, how a person can’t be so easily repaired.

He’s pulling her closer, uniform pressed against the thin rayon of her blouse, keeping, she notices belatedly, her hair from a spider’s web behind them.

She tastes the faintest hint of ale in his mouth, against his lip and his mustache, and something else — something sudden and deep and sweet. He’s smiling, and she can see a tiny dark scrap between his teeth. He looks almost sheepish, like a kid caught with chocolate on his face before dinner. “I saw some blackberries on my way over here,” he says. “By the roadside.”

“Bring me any?” She’s smiling.

“Thought you might like to go uh, gather some,” he says, like it’s something he’s trying on for size. Gather. Like this is a novel set in deep summer, and not a war. “Had to see if they were any good.”

Maybe she’s being ridiculous — it’s all for the war, anyway. The squash and the cabbages and the apples and the potting shed revived after a decade and change gathering dust in the back of an old house.

She and her roommates will help Muriel put up the apples soon. Hattie and Nancy, the land girls, had mentioned making pies. Blackberry and apple — it sounds like something her mother would have made.

“Kiss me again,” she says. His mouth is tarter now, the tip of his tongue pressed against her teeth. She half-swallows a yelp as he lifts her to the counter, lets his hands settle back on her hips, trailing his mouth across her jaw. “New calculations, Major?”

“Tactical reassessment.”

A laugh bubbles in her chest, surprisingly heavy. “What’s your objective?”

“Top secret.”

Her fingertips play at the epaulet of one shoulder. “Not too hard to guess.”

“I don’t hear you guessing.”

She pulls him, gently, back to her mouth.

“You needed this,” he says, firm and a question at once. Something in her ribcage sings. “Couldn’t risk you not getting it.”

“Getting what?”

“A good kiss.” She drags her thumbnail gently across the back of his neck, the short hairs there, watches his eyelashes flutter ever so slightly. “Someone else might have, couldn’t risk that, either.”

She leans back a little, still tight in his hold. “Wouldn’t let them,” she says. Breathes, like it’s a secret, like she didn’t just say it out into the quiet.

She wants to stain her fingers picking blackberries with him, his mouth, hers. Hear about the moments he stole as a kid. Share her own. Maybe they can have that here, on a September afternoon.

#mota oc #masters of the air oc #john egan x oc #bucky egan x oc #tw emetophobia #motaverse #jo's tag #shoshi writes #warnings in description #THIS SURE IS SOMETHING #i actually love how much backstory i was able to dig into (ha ha) while writing this #juno is also responsible for the back and forth at the end via us making jokes about These Two

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voraciousvore · 27 days

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Giganterra (Chapter 50)

Prologue/TOC | Previous (49) | Next (51)

Content Warning: Soft, safe vore

Word Count: 2.5k

------ Chapter 50: Reward ------

Chester had a cauldron of thoughts bubbling in his brain that night as he laid down to rest in his room in the castle. He was glad that he resisted temptation and allowed the human woman to survive. However, his stomach was unhappy. He ate a prodigious dinner to fill his capacious gut, but normal food never felt like enough.

He pined for Jackie. He wanted to talk to her, fawn over her, hold her in his hands and his mouth and his belly. Even if it was just once. He wanted her to love him as much as he adored her. He tossed and turned in bed, gnawing obsessively on his mental image of her like a chew toy. He imagined how lovely she would feel against his bare flesh, to snuggle up in bed together, bodies intertwined. He’d keep her safe and warm.

He finally gave up on sleeping and got up out of bed. He threw on some clothes and wandered the silent halls of the castle. At this late hour, nobody was stirring. He crept into the great entry hall, with the tall glass windows, spiral staircases, soaring ceilings adorned with luxurious chandeliers, and long purple banners with the king’s crest. He found himself gravitating over to a wall decorated with a large oil painting.

It was a life-size portrait of King Richard. He glared down at Chester with a somber expression, but the shadow of a smirk lurked on his lips, as if he had a horrible torture planned for him. Chester examined the portrait, with the dramatic shadows, the fierce pale eyes, and silver hair brushed back and topped with a golden crown. His attention drifted to the edge of the canvas, to the gilded frame. He checked the hall, to ensure he was truly alone, before carefully worming his fingers under the thick frame.

He tugged on the painting to peel it away from the wall. It was big and heavy, but Chester was strong. He peeked behind the art piece, only to see a wall of stone bricks: no hollows or empty spaces. However, he wasn’t deterred. He felt with his hands along the wall, searching for cracks or soft spots. Two stones knocked together, giving him pause. He clawed at the loose brick and managed to grip the sides. The brick slid out smoothly, revealing a small secret space. As Millie had promised, the stash was full of sparking jewels.

Chester pilfered the hoard, but he was careful to not give in to avarice and take too much. The king might not notice if just a few jewels went missing. He replaced the brick and straightened the painting. King Richard’s portrait glared down at him with the devil in his eyes, but Chester didn’t care. He returned to bed in the servants’ quarters and slept soundly.

He was awakened by his stomach whining for food again. He snuck off to the kitchen to snag a quick breakfast before the royals awakened and he’d have to perform his duties. He watched the chefs hard at work as he munched on an egg sandwich with cheese and bacon. He couldn’t resist sneaking a look at Jackie. The tank next to her was conspicuously empty. She shot back a dirty look with bloodshot eyes. He presumed that she must’ve overheard the king gifting him Iris. She likely assumed that her friend had died in Chester’s belly. He needed to explain what really happened, so she wouldn’t hate him.

After he made his morning rounds, he returned to the kitchen. He pulled Bucky aside. The fat chef huffed at him, but he was certainly in a better mood than the last time they spoke. “What’s this about, Chester?”

“How much would it cost, for me to keep that tender morsel over there? You know she’s my favorite,” Chester inquired. He tried to keep the depths of his emotions secret from the other giant, and played it off like she was just a tasty food item.

Bucky shook his head. “You know they’re not for sale, Chester, as much as it pains me. I can loan her out but that’s it. We’re running low on stock as it is, and we lost another one last night. The king will notice if any more go missing, especially with how ravenous he’s been lately.”

“Dang.” As much as Chester wished he could save Jackie, he didn’t want to incur the deadly wrath of the king. “Well, can I at least buy some time with her?” He revealed a sparkling sapphire in his palm. Bucky eagerly snatched up the treasure.

“Where did you find this?” he questioned, examining the magnificent jewel. “This is a fine piece.”

“Mm. I have my sources,” Chester replied evasively. He moved in the direction of the human tanks.

“Hold up.” Bucky pulled him back and stuck a finger in his chest. “I’ll be watching you closely. Don’t even think about trying to steal her. I’ll have the guards stop you before you even get so far as the door.”

“Of course, of course,” Chester agreed. “I gotcha.” He was disappointed that his fantasy had been so transparent, but he knew he didn’t have a chance of success. Bucky nodded before slapping a vial of anti-digestion serum in his hand. “Enjoy your meal.”

“Thanks.” Chester hurried over to Jackie, his heart skipping with excitement despite the scathing hatred she radiated. When he reached in to grab her, she clawed and bit his fingers with angry venom, shrieking and crying. He ignored her, though he crumbled internally, as he swept her away to the food closet.

“How could you?!” Jackie shouted at him as soon as he shut the door.

“Jackie, you don’t understand-”

“You ATE her, didn’t you? Fucking killed her! She suffered so much; she didn’t deserve to die!”

“Jackie, I-”

“You monster! I thought I could trust you! I see now I was wrong! All giants are just vicious brutes!”

Chester huffed, pinching the middle of his forehead. He needed to shut down her rant. “JACKIE!” he bellowed sternly. She cowered back at the sheer volume of his vocalization, flinching with instinctive terror. He sighed, his expression softening, and spoke to her in a lower tone. “I didn’t eat her.”

“You didn’t? Really?” Her tiny mouth dropped open.

“No. Believe me, I wanted to, but I didn’t. I didn’t trust myself around her, so I brought her to the home of a giant who is friendly to humans.”

“So… she’s alive? And she’s safe?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure this giant can be trusted? I mean, what if-”

“He’s a good man. Better than me. He has another human in his care right now, Millie. They’re both under his protection.”

“Both of them are free of this hell?” Jackie was shocked and amazed. She started crying again, but this time she shed tears of joy, not grief. “Oh, thank goodness! I was so scared for her, and when she didn’t come back, I assumed the worst…” She hugged Chester’s thumb in a rush of emotion. “Thank you!”

Chester blushed, surprised by her reaction. “No problem…”

She snuggled up to his thumb, pressing her face into the soft pads. “I’m sorry I said all those mean things about you. I thought you had killed her in cold blood. I’m so glad she has a second chance. Hopefully she can heal…”

“It’s okay, Jackie. I would say I did it for you, but to be honest…” He paused. “I’m… beginning to see humans differently. It would’ve felt wrong, to eat her. Even though she looked so appetizing…” As if on cue, his stomach grumbled loudly. Jackie released his thumb with a slight shudder at the dreadful sound. Chester gulped. “S-sorry.”

Jackie stared down at the boundless expanse of his belly, before returning her gaze to the cliffside of his face above her. “You really do hunger for humans constantly, don’t you? Yet, you were able to hold yourself back. Not only for me, but for Iris…”

Chester nodded, embarrassed by the ceaseless demands of his colossal body. “Yeah.”

Jackie swallowed. “Do you…” She faltered, struck with a mental block. Chester tilted his head curiously. Jackie forced herself to continue. “Do you... um... want to eat me?”

The hungry giant licked his lips, out of both nervousness and desire. “More than anything.” He forced back the inevitable waterfall of saliva that materialized at the suggestion. Jackie cringed slightly as she watched his massive throat pulse. “But I wouldn’t ask that of you.”

“Well…” Jackie fiddled shyly with her fingers. “I want to thank you personally for saving Iris. This is the only way I can that would feel… meaningful…”

Chester blinked and searched her face closely. His heart palpitated faster. “You really mean that?” Jackie looked down, examining the ravines in his palm, and nodded. “Don’t feel like you have to for my sake, Jackie. I appreciate the gesture, but I wouldn’t expect that from you.” She nodded again, still avoiding his eyes. The giant lit up with exhilaration. “Well... if you’re really okay with it… don’t mind if I do.”

Chester resisted the urge to snap her up and swallow her instantly, since he understood he needed to ease her into it. He doused her with a drop of potion, causing her to flinch. He gently rubbed it in with the tip of his finger, heartened when she didn’t recoil from his touch. Ever so gently, he raised her up to his lips and allowed her to explore them with her fingers to get comfortable.

A shiver of delight ran through him at the light tickle of her hands on his lower lip. Passion inflamed his body, a hot desire that extended beyond just his belly. He pursed his lips and gently kissed her, pressing her down to his palm without squishing her flat. His breathing deepened as he savored her tender, delicate, juicy form. Lovingly, he nibbled on her thin limbs, rubbing them with his tongue.

Jackie willed herself to be brave as the slick, bony surfaces of his teeth brushed her arms. The dark cave of his mouth loomed above her, dripped on her, red and humid and alive. She found it difficult to recover from her emotional whiplash, from hating Chester’s guts to owing him for saving Iris. He was a good man, better than she initially believed. As she bathed in the heat of his breath and saliva, nearly smothered by his carnal hunger, a strange feeling of blissful calm overtook her fear. The tension seemed to drain out as she was cradled in his massive palm, with the soft creases and ridges of his skin on her back like a comfy mattress. She felt she would be safe with him; she could trust him.

“Jackie,” the giant murmured. “I don’t know how… but somehow… I’ll find a way to get you out of here, like I did Iris. I refuse to abandon you. I… I love you.” With that promise, he wrapped his lips around her and enveloped her fully into his mouth. She slid over the ridge of his teeth onto his tongue, a squishy carpet of muscled meat. His spit pooled around her, soaking her like a warm bath. Jackie settled in, allowing all her woes to fade away as she rocked on the waves of his tongue while he tasted her. The immense tongue curled around her like a thick, fleshy blanket as the giant sucked and slurped on her. Rather than the usual fright and disgust at being inside a mouth, Jackie felt soothed, even comfortable, in the wet warmth. She was happy that Iris and Millie could be free. She was happy that she could make Chester happy, after he’d saved them. She was useful for once, even desirable. She could finally shed her heavy burden of guilt that had weighed on her conscience for so long as she watched Iris wither away. She finally had a chance to be happy; she had hope for a better future.

Chester rolled her gingerly back to the base of his tongue and waited, hoping she would get the hint. He didn’t want to scare her by swallowing her suddenly. Jackie sat up and peered over the precipice of his tongue, down into the infinite depths of his throat. The shaft dropped into darkness, like the inside of a deep well. A current of air passed in and out with the motion of his massive lungs. Jackie dangled her legs into the fleshy tunnel and allowed herself to slide inside. The slick meat walls caught her, compressed around her, and pulled her down. She let her body go limp and folded her arms to her chest. The pressure wasn’t quite so intense if she didn’t fight the overwhelming swallowing force. She closed her eyes and listened to the giant’s booming vitals as she passed through his chest. The passage was tight and slimy, allowing her to slip smoothly into the hotter confines of the giant’s gargantuan body. Soon enough, she plopped into his stomach.

By now, she had been in a few different giant stomachs, so she wasn’t so afraid. The acid, harmless to her skin, bubbled and boiled like a hot jacuzzi. The inner walls stirred the gurgling contents, along with Jackie, in frothy whirlpools in a steady churn. She leaned into the wrinkled folds of the lining and relaxed. She was safe, hidden away from huge hands snatching her up, the horrors of the outer world, the cruelties of the other giants in the kitchen and dining room. Here, she could remain undisturbed, protected by Chester.

Being eaten really wasn’t so bad, when Jackie felt she had control and willingness in the situation. When she wasn’t forced, or teased and terrorized and threatened, the negative feelings of fear, disgust, and despair wouldn’t spoil the unique experience. It was intimate, to be deep inside another being’s body, and she liked bringing joy to Chester and showing her gratitude to him. She knew he cared about her and was trying his best to be better. Maybe someday, he’d even find a way to smuggle her out. For now, though, she made herself at home in his warm belly.

Chester caressed his belly lovingly. He was amazed that Jackie had finally allowed him to eat her. She felt better inside him that he had ever imagined in his wildest wet dreams. Best of all, she didn’t appear to be distressed; her weight, small but significant, rested in his core and filled his stomach with sublime pleasure, better than any inanimate meal could sate him. He wanted to keep her inside him forever.

Chapter 51

Tag List: @maybeiamdownbad @tinycoded360 @yummynomms

#g/t vore #gt vore #vore writing #vore story #vore stories #v.ore #v/ore #v0re #soft vore #safe vore #endosoma #v0r3 #nonfatal vore #tw vore

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foxymoxynoona · 1 year

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After the Applause (Ch. 5)

Header and linebreaks by @awrkives

Single Dad Jimin x Female OC

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

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

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“So now you’re ghosting him.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Correct, but it still feels… weird.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“About Namjoon?”

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

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

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

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

“Should have fallen in love with someone else.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ok, can you ask Appa? He doesn’t know I snuck over here.”

“Sun-young, you’re going to get me in trouble,” Hanbyul teased, but let Hudu slip around her so they all walked together back to the Park apartment. Jimin seemed to have just realized Sun-young was gone. His panic shifted to relief and then apparent frustration in the span of a second at the sight of Hanbyul and she wasn’t sure what to make of it.

“Sunnie, you can’t keep inviting yourself over to Hanbyul’s place. She has a life of her own.”

“It’s ok. I don’t mind if she tags along today, I’m just grocery shopping.”

“My friend Jungkook was supposed to take her all day but he had something come up this morning, so she’s going to hang out at the studio with me until he can get her.” Jimin turned away and Hanbyul could see the stress squeezing his shoulders as he gathered things into his bag. Hanbyul wondered if Jungkook’s delay came from partying a little too hard at the concert he went to last night; he had mentioned the show to her in one of their casual chats but he hadn’t invited her and if she was supposed to invite herself, she had missed the memo. It wasn’t very admirable if he’d been supposed to take Sun-young and had to bail because he was hungover.

“Ok…” Hanbyul said slowly, because she didn’t want to undermine Jimin’s plan but she also really didn’t mind. She tried to convey this with her expression, but he just tilted his head and looked concerned. “Um…” She glanced at Sun-young, then went close to Jimin and whispered, “I don’t want to interfere, but I really don’t mind having her with me. Jungkook could pick her up from my place later.” When she glanced over her shoulder, Sun-young was a painting of someone pretending not to know what was going on, meaning Hanbyul’s whisper had not been quiet enough.

Only as Jimin responded did she realize she had remained uncomfortably close to him and shifted quickly away. It might have looked like a small jump.

“I don’t want to keep taking advantage of your generosity. You don’t have to keep babysitting my daughter. Or at least let me pay you.”

“I’m not a babysitter and I don’t want to be paid,” Hanbyul argued. “I’ll put her to work. She can earn her keep by helping me with my groceries.”

Sun-young nodded eagerly and agreed, “I don’t mind helping!”

Jimin caved with a sigh, “All right, fine. But this is the last time, and I’ll buy you dinner in exchange. Is it ok for me to give Jungkook your number so he can meet up with you later?”

“Yes, sure, of course,” Hanbyul nodded because for a moment his offer to buy her dinner had trailed across her field of vision in a bolder, italicized font.

Except he didn’t mean for a date.

And just as quickly, she realized that Jimin giving her number to Jungkook might prompt his friend to off-handedly mention they’d been talking on a dating app, and she didn’t want to look like she’d been hiding it, so awkwardly she blurted out, “I’ve met him. I mean, we talk sometimes.”

Jimin froze, obviously confused.

“I thought you didn’t know him?”

“Since I said that. I mean, I don’t know him well, we’ve just talked a few times. A week. I mean, sometimes we talk about… things.” Good, Hanbyul, really normal. Sobyul would be shaking her by the shoulders if she could see this.

“Oh. You mean here in the building? Or… you already have his number?”

“I don’t have his number,” she clarified, but didn’t stop herself in time. “We just message on a dating app we’re both on.”

“Oh.”

“It’s just casual. Casual conversation, I mean. But we haven’t traded numbers…”

“Um… ok… you know what, maybe I’ll just come back to check on Sunnie and I can hand her over myself, I should be able to take a break around that time.”

“That seems like a lot of trouble. It’s not a problem for him to get her from my place.”

“Ok, yeah,” Jimin nodded, equally as amenable to this, like they were both trying to politely open the door for the other one and no one would walk through the door. “I’ll tell him. And I’ll tell you when I know what time, maybe like two? Or maybe I’ll be able to swing back. I’ll let you know either way. Or maybe he’ll message you directly, I don’t know.”

“Ok, but it’s really fine either way.”

Sun-young suddenly took Hanbyul’s arm and said pointedly, “Bye, Appa. See you tonight.” Hanbyul let herself be pulled from the apartment, but made it to her door before realizing Hudu hadn’t followed them. Jimin came not far behind, bags over his shoulder and Hudu in his arms.

“I wish I could take him to my dance clinic today,” Jimin laughed. He already seemed more relaxed. He accepted several kisses from Hudu, handed him over, and waved at Sun-young, who gave her appa a big hug since she’d won.

Hanbyul still didn’t understand whether Jungkook was going to call her or just show up or if Jimin was going to insist on coming for some reason. It seemed clear he was surprised to learn she and Jungkook had been talking on a dating app and the fears Hanbyul had that Jimin would feel betrayed or upset about it grew larger. But he didn’t have a right to be against it, so he must just have been surprised? It wasn’t like she was dating Jungkook! But she had gone on four dates and slept with Namjoon… The coffee with Taehyung hadn’t been a date though… right?!

As soon as her door closed, Sun-young slid her backpack off and said with all the gravitas of a child of Park Jimin, “It’s time, unnie. I need your help.”

Jimin teetered sideways in his chair, laughing so hard his chest ached. The guilty party –Taehyung– sipped his water and tried to play it cool as the rest of the table crumbled around them. Yoongi covered his face, Young-geul rubbing his back and wiping her eyes. Jungkook showed off the roof of his mouth, head thrown back. Namjoon pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head and tried to play it cool while Seokjin slapped both their knees. Hoseok curled up, bright smile swallowing his face.

And Sun-young sat on her knees in her chair and demanded, “What is it? What’s so funny? Tell me!”

“No no no.”

“Ah, when you’re older…”

“It’s just a joke about babies,” Jimin assured her. “You’ll get it after the baby is born.”

Sun-young pouted, playfully annoyed at being left out, but not for long. She leaned against Young-geul’s arm and asked her if she could feel the baby kick yet, even though that was months away. Yoongi and Young-geul’s announcement had brought everyone together at the noodle house tonight, closed early for the ad hoc celebration. Even if she didn’t understand most of the jokes, Sun-young was happiest of all, the sweet sunshine princess basking in the attention from her uncles and aunt while also openly thrilled about “not being the only kid soon.”

“Maybe more of you should have babies,” she said, crossing her arms and quirking her eyebrow in a way that felt too grown up as she looked around the table. It set them all off again.

“Jiminie, your daughter is bullying me,” Jungkook laughed. “Just because I’m not married!”

“You aren’t married because you date too much!” Sun-young said. It didn’t actually make sense, and probably she didn’t really understand what she was saying anyways, but it succeeded in getting the laughs she’d been angling for. Jimin couldn’t believe he’d made such a funny kid. She was really in rare form tonight. He didn’t think she’d been in this good a mood in… well, he couldn’t remember since when, except for the concert.

“When did your daughter turn into an ajumma?!” Seokjin laughed. “No, don’t look at me, you hellion! Don’t come for me next! I have a serious girlfriend, she’s just working right now!”

“I haven’t met her yet so is she real?” Sun-young demanded. Seokjin crumpled into laughter, insisting she was real, he promised.

Her eyes slid over Namjoon next and he defended, “Me too! I’m sort of seeing someone! But I’m not going to have kids, Sunnie-girl, I’m just happy to be an uncle. Who could ever compare to you?”

Sun-young was pleased by this and stopped bullying her uncles, which of course Jimin would never have interfered with. At moments like these, he felt less terrible about his choices as a father, because whatever mistakes he might make, Sun-young actually was surrounded by love. The loss of her mother was grievous and maybe he was cruel to not let his parents have more of a hand in raising her, maybe having a bunch of his player, unmarried friends around all the time as her uncles wasn’t the traditional way you raised a daughter, but she was so immensely loved, and she knew it.

“So this someone you’re seeing…” Taehyung prodded Namjoon and wiggled his eyebrows. Jimin was curious too; none of them had heard of Namjoon dating someone.

Immediately he clammed up and waved them off, “It’s early, it’s not serious or anything yet. She’s nice but, you know, I’m not in a rush to get anywhere and she works a lot too so it’s just– oh, actually, she lives in your building, Jimin.”

“Really? What floor?” Jimin asked, mostly to be polite, because it was a pretty large building. But actually he did know a lot of the residents, at least in passing, because he tried to always be polite and friendly to the people who lived around him, so maybe he did know her.

He didn’t get his answer though, because Jungkook had so urgently needed to show Taehyung something on his phone that he knocked a drink over, the Cola forming a river across the table around the boulders of their bowls and plates.

“Wha, what are you doing that for?”

“Hey, are you a kid?”

“Hey, I’m a kid and I didn’t spill anything!” Sun-young defended. “How embarrassing, Uncle!”

“Sorry, sorry, I’m so sorry,” Jungkook laughed, not looking very sorry about it as Taehyung read something on his phone. Jimin desperately wanted to know what it was; clearly something not ok for Sunnie’s ears because Taehyung laughed and passed it to Hoseok, who passed it to Jimin, and slowly it made the rounds.

[dan]: hey had a great time at the concert last week but I left something at taehyung’s but I don’t have his number

Hoseok seemed to know what it was because he was laughing but Jimin’s mouthed question “what did she leave??” just had Jungkook and Taehyung both gesturing that they’d tell him later. Something naughty. Jimin laughed but felt a twinge of envy. Sexcapades. Oh, to have them. Not that he wanted to actually re-enter the dating world and meet people and do that whole thing. But the two of them, Namjoon, Hoseok, they all did what they wanted, when they wanted to. Were they young for their 30s or was he so old?

He wasn’t being totally fair. He knew they’d each gone through their own heartaches and crushed dreams. He’d heard the drunk confessions when he and Subin were so happy, how they envied him his wife and child and stable home. Taehyung had been engaged and she had not given back the ring he’d spent a year’s savings on. Hoseok’s divorce had been rough and not even a little amicable. Jungkook seemed to have permanently given up on serious relationships after discovering his long-time girlfriend’s long-time infidelity. Namjoon seemed to waver on whether he wanted anything serious or liked independence more, but ten years ago he’d been so serious with a guy that Jimin and Subin had taken bets on whether they’d come back from their Seychelles vacation married. Instead they’d come back separated and Namjoon never had given the details of what happened, at least not to Jimin.

Selfishly, Jimin was thrilled Yoongi and Young-geul were having a baby. For so long, he’d been alone as the parent of the group. He looked forward to giving smug advice and compassionate support as they navigated those brutal first years together. He hoped he could enjoy it through them and not feel renewed grief at the partner no longer with him, at the ache of those hazy memories of a time when they’d been young and exhausted and happy beyond belief.

Now said cause of that exhaustion rocked in her chair and giggled at Taehyung spelling something out, pretending she wouldn’t be able to understand it.

“I can spell,” she cried. “I’m very smart!”

“Oh yeah? What am I spelling? F-O-W-V-N-E-T-R–”

“That’s not even a word.”

Jimin grinned at the close way Yoongi and Young-geul watched Sun-young, obviously now envisioning their own futures more clearly. He was happy for them.

But it was also getting on closer to bedtime, and so as much as he loathed to break up the family dinner, he needed to get Sun-young home so she’d have time to do her homework and get some solid sleep before another week. Who knew what new battles would arise? Jimin was already tired. He’d eaten too many noodles. Happiness let him set down his burdens for a moment and it was hard to pull them back up. He didn’t want to.

Sun-young remained the source of all energy as she hugged everyone goodbye, and skipped along beside Jimin for the first few minutes of the walk home. But her energy seemed to drain the closer they got to home, and Jimin could practically feel the storm brewing. He didn’t know if it was better to ask her if something was up or just wait for her to speak first. He hoped she was dreading homework now, or maybe just sad the fun dinner had ended.

“A new baby in the family is going to be fun, huh?” he asked as they entered the building.

“Do you want more babies?”

“Uh…”

“I mean did you want more than just me.”

“I never thought more about it,” Jimin mentioned. “You were so perfect, I hadn’t thought about a second child yet.”

“Did Eomma want more?”

Jimin felt the question like a jab in his chest but answered evenly, “Maybe. We hadn’t decided.” The answer was too cruel to confess right now: yes, Subin had wanted another, and they had only just begun to talk about it when…

Jimin figured those thoughts were the source of Sun-young’s tamer movements as they arrived home and slid into their evening activities. Jimin had the boring part of his dance studio to address: checking and confirming schedules for the next month, looking through any flags from the accountant since he farmed that work out now, familiarizing himself with the overall breakdown of last quarters’ finances. He had tomorrow morning to get it done but it would be nice to get ahead, especially since Sun-young would be working on her own homework anyway.

They set up their work stations at the kitchen table, which Jimin thought was sweet because lately Sun-young took her homework to the desk in her room and only emerged if she needed help with something. Begrudgingly.

He hadn’t even opened the calendar software on his laptop before Sun-young stood from her chair, spun her school laptop to face him, and cleared her throat.

“You need help?” he asked. Maybe he wasn’t going to get any of his own work done tonight after all. The way they taught math now had changed and nothing made him feel stupider than having to figure out this new math way and teach her to get the same answer he could have gotten without a thought using his own method.

Sun-young pointed to the laptop, where the bright purple screen had white text that read: Science & Your Daughter, Why You Should Allow the Pursuit.

Jimin stayed very still except for his gaze sliding to Sun-young. She swallowed, clearly nervous, and pressed a button on a small black clicker in her hand. The slide advanced.

“10 Facts about Women in STEM,” Sun-young read out loud, her voice wavering nervously. “One: STEM stands for Science Technology Engineering and Mathematics.”

“Yes, thank you.”

“Two: About 30% of scientists in the whole world are women and most of them are in life sciences. The higher you go in achievement, the fewer women there are. This is because science fields and the patriarchy make it hard for women to feel welcome or like they can advance in a career like this. Do you want to be like that?”

Jimin bit back his bemused grin and asked, “Do you know what the patriarchy is?”

“It’s a system of oppression where men are the standard and women are inferior and mainly good for having babies and taking care of the house.”

Jimin’s eyebrows raised and his lips pursed, because he had not taught his daughter that, and now felt a deep guilt that he probably should be talking to his daughter about patriarchy.

“Who gave you that definition?”

“Please save your questions for the end,” Sun-young said and this time Jimin had to press his hand to his mouth to keep from laughing. But it wasn’t at her. The desire to laugh came from a deep churning mixture of pride and awe.

“Three: A study in the United States in the 90s showed that around middle school girls start to think boys are more intelligent than they are. The study thinks this is because boys show better uh… spatial… um, the ability to like, look at and learn about objects. This is because little boys are encouraged to build and climb and break things, while little girls are encouraged to play with dolls or play house. And to dance.”

She waited. That was clearly supposed to be a big beat. Jimin nodded to show he was listening.

The rest of the ten facts were not necessarily anything he didn’t know, about the numbers of women in Korea dropping out of STEM programs, the fact that programs were underfunded especially at co-ed schools, and a slide listing famous female scientists and their achievements. Marie Skłodowska-Curie, Chien-Shiung Wu, Ada Lovelace, Katherine Johnson internationally. Cho Yoon-kyoung, J. Sook Chung, Kwang Hwa-Chung, and more, domestically. Jimin was embarrassed to admit he didn’t know any of the names except Marie Curie. When he asked why her name was different, Sun-young excitedly told her that it was better to use her whole name “because of something about Poland and where she came from or something… I don’t know, it’s history, we’re here to talk about science, Appa.”

“How long is this presentation?” he asked when she clicked to the next slide: Science In My Life.

“Shhh,” she shushed him, and then walked him through a few slides with more pictures than text. Pictures of children in a science classroom, or at a science fair. “The science club meets twice a week after the final bell to learn more about different types of science and to do experiments. There’s also a science fair in the autumn where we can do projects to compete for prizes. We don’t have much money to buy the materials for our science experiments and there’s also a science summer camp that we want to do but not everyone can afford it and we don’t want anyone to miss out so we need to raise money for that. I had a lot of ideas and there’s a meeting with parents this week to decide which one to do.”

Jimin opened his mouth because he thought that was the point Sun-young wanted to discuss, but she continued to the next slide, a picture of her and her friend Boyeon posing in the classroom with their arms around each other and a bunch of rocks on the table in front of them.

“I want to be in the science class because I like science. It’s all about asking questions and finding out the answers. Sometimes nobody in the whole world even knows the answers yet, or sometimes we thought we knew the answers but then someone else discovers a new thing and it changes everything,” she explained and Jimin watched with amazement at the passion that poured from his daughter’s mouth. “I like how science teaches you how to find out the things you don’t know. It makes it less scary not to know things.”

“What about the things that no one knows? Like… are there aliens?” Jimin asked. He immediately regretted the teasing, but it was because his mind was overwhelmed right now.

“Well maybe I’ll be the one to figure it out!” Sun-young fired back and Jimin couldn’t stop the automatic nod. Yes. His daughter could be capable of something like that, he could see it now.

“What kind of science do you like?” he asked, even though she’d told him to hold questions until the end.

“I don’t know. I like rocks,” she admitted. “But I like the reactions too.”

“Chemistry?”

“Yeah, seeing how when you combine things they make something else or do something else. The volcano was really cool. But space is cool too. And so are animals and dinosaurs. That’s called um… paleontology. I don’t know what kind of science I like the best but that’s why it’s a good idea to let me do science club now because I can explore a lot of things and then I’ll know what I want to do as I get older.”

Jimin nodded with this, almost feeling like he was having an actual adult conversation with his daughter, and pointed out, “But that’s exactly my concern. You’re young to already make major life decisions. You’ve worked so hard at dance. If you quit now, you’ll be behind if you change your mind.”

Sun-young clicked to the next slide: What about dance? Jimin laughed, he couldn’t help it, and Sun-young gave him a more confident smile.

“As you can see on this slide, Science Club meets on Tuesdays and Thursdays. That would mean I can’t make it to my ballet class and my hiphop class.”

“You wanted to take that hiphop class.”

“But Uncle Hobi teaches the same hiphop class on Wednesdays.”

“Which is when you have your progressing ballet technique class.”

“I don’t want to do ballet,” she said, pointing to the bullet that said this on the slide. “It’s my least favorite dance and it takes the most time. Auntie Young-geul is a great teacher and that’s why I’ve enjoyed my ballet classes at all but I know it’s not the style for me. I don’t want to be good at ballet. I do like hiphop, and my jazz class is ok too.”

Jimin listened to this. It wasn’t a surprise to him though. He was the one who had pushed Sun-young to take the advanced ballet class, and she’d done it because she liked to be good at things, and she liked to make him proud, but he’d known for a long time her heart wasn’t really in it. Ballet would be the hardest one to catch up in if she changed her mind, and there would come a point where she wouldn’t be able to, she would miss the physical changes that ballet wrought in dancers before puberty. Her turnouts would never be quite as good, her flexibility would be slightly behind, no matter how hard she worked. That had been exactly Subin’s regret about ballet. She had started too late to ever be great, as much as she loved it, as beautiful as Jimin knew she’d danced it.

At the same time, ballet required so much. Those same physical changes that made dancers beautiful to watch left them with aches and pains behind the scenes. It required such massive physical commitment to succeed, and here was Sun-young saying not for the first time that it was not what she wanted for her life or her body.

Jimin felt his eyes prickle with tears. Sun-young was still so young, but wasn’t she old enough to make some decisions like that for herself? She sounded so mature right now. So certain. Jimin wanted what was best for her, but how could he tell her she had to do this, and in ten years, twenty, she’d still be unhappy and in pain, all because he wouldn’t listen to her when she was nine?

“Hoseok teaches the same hiphop class on Wednesdays and Thursdays,” Jimin pointed out. “If you dropped the PBT class, you could do hiphop Wednesday instead.”

Sun-young’s mouth dropped open and her eyes lit up. It was impossible to miss.

“Isn’t that what you were proposing with this powerpoint?”

Sun-young clicked to the last slide, which read Time for discussion and collaboration.

“Unnie said the best results are when we work together,” Sun-young explained, and slid into her chair like he was relieved to be through the presentation. “Do you think he’d let me switch to the other class?”

“I do… Are you asking to quit all dance or just ballet?” Jimin asked, slow and careful in an effort to really hear her this time.

“I want to do science most of all. That’s Tuesdays and Thursdays and sometimes the weekend. But if I have a science thing on Saturday then you don’t have to worry about me at all while you’re working. And the summer camp. But you don’t have to pay for camp, that’s why we’ll do the fundraiser too!”

“And dance…?”

“I like dance and I like that I tried a lot of different kinds. I like hiphop the most, and jazz is fun. I don’t really care about tap or ballet. But it’s like a science experiment where I got to try a bunch and work really hard at them and learn what I like,” Sun-young said. “I know you’re worried I’ll regret quitting. If I keep doing a little dance, then it’s less change all at once.”

It was such a smart observation from his daughter and Jimin felt himself floating again with pride. He couldn’t say she wasn’t thinking about this, she clearly was thinking about it a lot. He was amazed, actually, by just how maturely she was thinking about these things.

“So if you did Science Club on Tuesdays and Thursdays… we’ll have to figure out a way for you to get to the dance school afterwards because I’ll be teaching my classes so I can’t pick you up after your Club. Then you do the hiphop club on Wednesday. And still jazz/tap on Friday?”

Sun-young had the air of an adult as she said, “We can try it and if it’s too much, I don’t mind dropping jazz/tap.”

“Ah, I see.”

“And I’ll still go to the studio with you all the time,” Sun-young continued. “I can do my homework there like I already do when you’re working and help clean up after your classes.”

Jimin leaned back in his chair, thoughtful. He hadn’t fully realized that part of his fear until she basically said it. It wasn’t just that science was a step away from what he knew, it was that she’d be spending less time at the dance studio too. She wouldn’t have as many or maybe any numbers in recitals. The dance studio had been the center of their family for so long, and the idea Sun-young’s world would no longer center around it –and him– was terrifying.

She might change her mind in a year or two. She might regret this. She might be angry he let her walk away.

“It sounds like you have thought about this a lot,” Jimin said.

“I did! I know it’s not a small thing to stop doing something I’ve worked so hard at. But I want to do science and I don’t want to do dance as my whole life like you do.”

“Like your eomma did too.”

Sun-young’s gaze fell to the tabletop as she answered, “I know.” Jimin felt bad to have made the comment, it was just what came into his mind. This was a connection with Subin too. That made it even harder to let Sun-young loosen it.

“You talk about rocks the same way she talked about dance,” he said to soften his accidental jab. “Your face lights up the same way, you look just like her.”

“Really?”

He nodded, “Yeah. She didn’t know anything about science or math, even less than me. She always knew she wanted to dance, even younger than I did. The only studio near her when she was a little girl was ballroom and she begged her parents to let her do it. She was really good. In middle school they let her start taking the bus to a dance studio the next village over that had ballet and jazz.”

“Do you think she’d be upset if I quit dance?” Sun-young asked, her voice so quiet and uncertain. The fire of a moment ago faded.

“No,” Jimin admitted, because he felt like it was true. Maybe the real Subin would have been, maybe she’d have had the same reaction and dilemma Jimin had. Maybe she would have a hard time letting her daughter quit the thing she herself had fought so hard for. But the Subin who, in his mind, had lived and grown with them in the years since Real Subin’s death, was full of nothing but love and support for their daughter, and she would be proud of anything Sun-young did. “I think she would be proud of you for seeing something that you want and being so insistent about it, even when I told you no. I’m proud of you for doing that.”

“Really?”

“It wasn’t right of you to sneak around or lie to me and… I’m sorry I made you feel like you had to. I can understand that science is something you really want to pursue and when you win the Nobel Peace Prize, I want you to thank me, not say that I was someone who stood in your way with the patriarchy.”

Sun-young’s smile grew. She leaned closer to him, her little hands resting on his arm.

“I worry that if I let you quit dance, you’ll regret it, and resent me later for not pushing. But I think you’ll resent me if I don’t let you pursue your interest in science too. So the choice is yours, Sunnie. If you want to quit ballet, or tap, or hiphop, or all of it. And I’ll still love you and be your appa forever, even if we don’t have dance in common–”

“Appa!” Sun-young shrieked and threw herself at him, arms around his neck, her little body fully in his lap. He realized she hadn’t done that in a long time; he couldn’t remember the last time she’d sat in his lap, but he was glad now that it hadn’t been the last time. That he hadn’t missed it. He was grateful she’d chosen that moment to hug him, so she wouldn’t see the tears that finally spilled over, overcome by the gravity of this moment in their life, in her life and whatever the future of it held, in their relationship that would hopefully forever be a big part of it.

This was going to be a big change. Change was inevitable. Maybe not all change had to be bad.

Jimin fidgeted in his seat. In a sea of business suits and trendy peacoats, his youthful ripped jeans and fuzzy-collared coat stood out, his blond hair as strange as a foreigner’s. He’d seen several askance looks in his direction from other parents. Often before that had made him feel some kind of way, to know they so quickly dismissed him. He’d had comments before, plenty, about his hair, his profession, his single father status –as if that was something he chose. Despite the front he put on about it for Sun-young so she wouldn’t grow up worried what others thought, it often did impact him beneath the surface. Sometimes it was hard to ignore the fear that they could see deeper, that maybe the distance of her classmates parents wasn’t based on appearances but because they could see his fears to be true: that he wasn’t a good father, that he didn’t know what he was doing, that he didn’t belong here with the other parents.

Today, though, he was unbothered. Sincerely. He did belong here, because Sun-young belonged here. He watched in awe as she took her turn explaining her fundraiser idea.

“I think we should do a bake sale and a science demonstration,” Sun-young explained, standing at the front of the classroom in front of all the other kids and parents in attendance. So many of the other children had mumbled, or whispered their ideas for their parents to share, or said nothing at all, but when Miss Kwan called on Sun-young she had marched right to the front of the classroom with all the confidence she had displayed on the stage at dance.

“What do you mean by demonstration?” Miss Kwan asked.

“I mean… not every kid can join the science club or maybe they don’t even know what the science club does. We could present the kinds of things we already do in Science Club or in science class but do it next to the table we’re selling things at. We can take turns leading experiments and invite people to join from the audience sometimes. That way people can eat their cookies or rice cakes while learning about the science stuff we think is so cool, and maybe they’ll realize they think it’s cool too. That’s what I think. We could even present some of the work we did in class so we don’t have to do brand new projects so it’s not too much work. That’s my idea.”

She bowed her head, then walked casually back to her seat, grinning ear to ear even before Jimin leaned down to whisper, “Your idea is amazing.”

“I know.”

Several other students and parents put forth ideas too, many of which Jimin thought were far beyond the means of a science club with only twelve members ranging from seven to ten years old. He wasn’t surprised at all when Sun-young’s idea floated to the top. She perched on the edge of her seat as students got sidetracked from the other ideas to instead brainstorm the science experiments they could do as a demonstration to fill a couple of hours for the bake sale.

“We could even sell baked things at school on a Thursday and tell people to come see the Science Demonstration and more baked goods on Friday,” Sun-young suggested. “Clubs don’t meet on Friday so people will have time.”

Jimin couldn’t say anything. He was too gob-smacked just watching his daughter take on such a forward role in this room. She’d always been a confident little girl, not shy even among adults. He supposed that came from growing up so free around adults, and maybe, he liked to think, from being used to an audience from a young age. But what he hadn’t really witnessed first hand until her powerpoint presentation was just how intelligent and thoughtful she was in an academic setting, too. Sitting beside her at this meeting in which he said nothing except to support her, Jimin felt his decision to let her choose for herself solidify.

Sun-young was only nine, and still learning and growing in many ways. But she was a smart, good girl. She was going places, and it was his job as her father to help her get there, not to direct her where he wanted her to go. She had cited all those daunting statistics about how few women worked in science and the obstacles they faced. Different obstacles than her mother had faced when she’d decided to pursue dance against her parents’ wishes and open her own dance studio, and yet similar. He had married a powerful woman and they had made a powerful daughter and Jimin choked up watching Sunnie in action. She was already so much more than he and Subin could ever have dreamed of.

After the meeting –where Sun-young’s idea was agreed on as the best fundraiser option– Miss Kwan approached Jimin while Sunnie chatted with her science club friends.

“I’m so glad Sun-young is able to join the club,” Miss Kwan told him. “She’s such a bright child and so eager to learn. As a teacher it can be hard to get the class enthusiastic about the things I need to teach them, but she’s always leaning forward and I think it’s motivating for her peers.”

Jimin had already felt emotion rising and had to blink it away quickly as he thanked her, “I’m proud to hear you say things about her like that. She’s incredible, isn’t she? I think she already knows more than I do about science subjects. I’m going to have to work to keep caught up!”

“I’m sure she appreciates your support no matter what form it takes. That’s a mark of a strong foundation at home, she’s really a testament to what a loving supportive family you have,” Miss Kwan told him. “I did want to confirm though, she did just sign you up for baked goods… and given the miscommunication before… is this all right with you?”

Jimin laughed and looked at the clipboard in Miss Kwan’s hand, where Sun-young had written: “Park Sun-young and Park Jimin, Rice cakes, we make the best.”

“She’s right,” he chuckled. “We really do. My parents own a rice cake shop. I never expected my childhood making rice cakes would raise funds for my daughter’s science club…”

Miss Kwan’s smile felt particularly bright as she remarked, “Isn’t that wonderful? We can never predict what comes next except change, but history can help us in ways we didn’t expect.”

“Don’t tell me you’re starting a history club too…”

“No no,” Miss Kwan laughed. “Teaching and science club are enough to fill my time! Not that those are the only things I do –and I do love them dearly. I do other things in my free time besides science… but history is not my strength…”

Jimin leaned in just enough to seem conspiratorial as he confessed, “Mine either. It’s mainly dance for me these days, although I do brush off my math skills when I have to run payroll.”

“Yes, Sunnie mentioned you own your dance studio. That’s… impressive.”

“An impressive amount of work,” he beamed. “Thank you.”

“Miss Kwan? Perhaps we can see the sign-up sheet…?” another parent asked. Miss Kwan apologized to both the mother and to Jimin, and left his side to show them.

The meeting otherwise over, Jimin called for Sun-young to head home. In a show of support, he had asked Hobi to cover his evening class tonight so he could attend the parent meeting. It felt strange to just head home. Almost as strange as it was to realize Sun-young didn’t fuss a bit about having to leave, or walking next to Jimin, or the way he playfully tugged on her braid.

“Your teacher said a lot of good things about you,” he told her.

“I know, I’m a really good student. She said being curious and eager is better than getting top marks.”

“Both are good,” Jimin teased. He caught Miss Kwan’s eye over Sun-young’s head as they left the room and quickly turned away. The eye contact tied him back to their discussion a few minutes before.

Was Miss Kwan flirting with him? He didn’t want to think it, ashamed that his brain thought an attractive, unmarried woman would automatically be flirting. They’d been talking about his daughter, and Miss Kwan was her teacher. But she’d also remarked on things she did outside of school… was that a hint?

Miss Kwan was young and beautiful and intelligent, all wonderful traits. She was pleasant. But he hadn’t meant to flirt back, if that’s what she thought; it hadn’t occurred to him at all to think of her as a potential date. He worried if he’d given the wrong impression. He wasn’t thinking about dating anyone right now. His daughter wanted to be a scientist and was dropping most of her dance classes after the recital. Wasn’t that enough change at once?

It felt like an overwhelming amount of change and yet he was swept up in it. Sun-young continued to talk about Science Club, now onto an experiment they were doing growing crystals with different kinds of minerals, including salt and sugar, to see what formed. It was interesting, but more interesting was listening to the way Sun-young spoke. As an experiment, he took her hand, and she did not pull it away.

Jimin felt those emotions well up again. Had all the acting out just been a symptom of Sun-young’s unhappiness? He hadn’t understood her, and so she’d pulled away, and now that he was listening she could be close again? It had taken him too long to figure it out. That was a great cause of shame to him. He hoped he was doing the right thing now. He was doing his best.

Subin would have figured it out more quickly. Subin would have listened. Miss Kwan had said Sun-young was a testament to a loving home, but was that true? He thought Sun-young was remarkable despite his fumbling. He hadn’t realized how important this was to her even though she’d directly told him.

This thought hung over his head as they wrapped the evening up at home. Sun-young did her homework without complaint and went to bed easily, with a big happy hug before he turned her overhead light off.

Once he was sure she was in for the night, Jimin sat on the sofa and cried. Too many things hit him at once: his own failings with Sun-young; the guarantee that he would fail again in the future as he struggled to navigate her adolescence; the loneliness in that; the injustice that his partner wasn’t here for it; the injustice that Sun-young didn’t have a mother to guide her; the tragedy that Subin didn’t get to see the incredible young woman her daughter was becoming.

What was wrong with him? This had been a happy day. A wonderful evening with his daughter. But suddenly old familiar grief and guilt crashed down on him and he felt like he was drowning. He was too alone. It was his own burden to bear, he couldn’t call someone about it, he wouldn’t know what to say anyway, but he felt like he was drowning in it.

Then someone knocked at the door.

***

Hanbyul wasn’t going to wait long if nobody answered the door; she knew it was late and likely Sun-young was already asleep and possibly Jimin too. They definitely would already have eaten, but she thought if she gave them the dish tonight, they would have it to heat up tomorrow. Besides, she hadn’t seen Sun-young since Saturday and knew the parent meeting had been this evening but didn’t know how the conversation between father and daughter had gone. Hanbyul might owe him a big apology for overstepping…

The door swung open and Hanbyul stiffened in surprise at the pink hue to Jimin’s face. It looked like he had just splashed water, but his eyes were red, so she was pretty sure he’d been crying. He looked like he’d been crying.

“Are you all right?” she asked, stepping forward with unbearable concern.

Jimin cleared his throat and nodded, “Yeah, yes. Just washing my face for the night.”

“Oh. Well, I won’t interrupt long, but I made extra and thought you could enjoy it tomorrow. I put instructions for how to heat it up on the post-it.”

“Ah, you didn’t have to do this,” he said but took the dish from her. “You’re too good to us.”

She grimaced and admitted, “I thought it could be something of an apology too, in case i overstepped with Sun-young…”

“Did you?”

Hanbyul froze, realizing that maybe Sun-young hadn’t actually gone through with the powerpoint after all. The hesitation must have clued Jimin in.

“Oh, you mean the powerpoint. Do you want your clicker back?”

“If you have it…” she said with another grimace. “I’m sorry if I overstepped. I had suggested before that she speak with you about it when you were both calm –about Science and dance I mean– and she asked if i could help her make a presentation like I do for work.”

Jimin motioned for her to step inside as he carried the dish to the kitchen, asking over his shoulder, “She talked to you about all this? That I was being unreasonable?”

“She didn’t say that. But she knew this was a big… change.” His hands were full, so she reached around him to open the fridge. It was distressingly empty inside. Obviously Sun-young was well fed and well cared for, but Park Jimin did not keep a well stocked refrigerator. “She wanted advice on how to show you’ve thought something through and have a discussion about it.”

“We had a discussion about it,” he nodded. “She had a well researched presentation. And now, she and I are on the hook to make rice cakes for the Science Club’s fundraiser. Which was also her idea. Both of those things. She is full of ideas, that daughter of mine.”

Hanbyul wasn’t surprised to hear that; Sun-young had told her the idea as well, asking for feedback.

She didn’t bother to hide her endeared smile as she agreed, “She’s a smart girl, Jimin. She’s really amazing.”

Jimin leaned against the counter and nodded, but looked away from her. The sniffle gave it away. He laughed as he wiped a tear from his cheek.

“She really is, isn’t she?”

“Oh. Um…” Hanbyul felt electric with panic. She hadn’t meant to make him cry, but aso guessed that if he had been crying before she came in, it wasn’t her fault. Why had he let her in then?! Now she was here though and didn’t know whether to offer to stay or offer to leave. “Um, is everything all right? Or…?”

“Sorry. I’m sorry, I…” He rubbed his forehead and gave her a helpless look. “It just hits me sometimes.”

“Was it a hard day?” Hanbyul asked, not sure what else to ask. She didn’t know what he meant by it and didn’t want to say the wrong thing.

Jimin sighed, “No. It was a great day. It would make more sense if I fell apart on a bad day, huh? We’d been having a lot of those, as you unfortunately know –but now I hear myself say that, and what the fuck is wrong with me? I want to complain about too many bad days? Subin would kill to have more bad days with us.”

Hanbyul felt her heart drop into her stomach. Maybe she ought to have guessed that by it Jimin meant grief, but he’d never really spoken to her about it before. He’d mentioned Subin, sure, and alluded to grief about losing her. But he’d never said anything so raw and vulnerable as that, nor so tragic.

“I’m so sorry,” she murmured. “It’s not fair. But it’s also ok to recognize a bad day…” She didn’t know what she was saying, and worried it was just going to be offensive. Her heart throbbed to see him so upset and she felt desperate to find the magic words to make it better, but obviously no such words existed. She couldn’t fathom the kind of loss he had endured.

He nodded, and sniffled, like he was really making the effort to hold himself together. Hanbyul wondered what he would do if she let him know it was all right not to. He could cry if he wanted. She could stay or go. He didn’t need to hide himself on her account.

“Today was a good day,” Jimin said. He swallowed, like he could shake off the bad feelings. “Sunnie and I did talk about her presentation. We agreed that she’s going to drop most of her dance classes after her recital and explore her interest in science because it’s what she wants to do. And I can’t deny her that, not when she’s so excited talking about science club, and dance is… is my thing. It was Subin’s thing. Maybe it’ll always be a part of Sunnie or maybe it won’t, but forcing her to dance won’t keep Subin here and I know Sunnie and I can find other things to connect us. I’ll make sure of it. It’s a huge change but I’m making peace with it. I can learn to make volcanoes!”

“I’m glad it went well,” Hanbyul said softly. She wanted to support. She didn’t want to interrupt. She could actually see the tears come back into his eyes, giving them an other-worldly shimmer.

“Sorry,” he laughed, sadly, and swallowed hard again. “I didn’t expect to get hit with it today but watching Sun-young and seeing how well she’s growing and changing… Someone told me that grief is like a ball in a box and there’s a button in the box, and every time the ball hits the button, you feel the grief of loss all over again. In the beginning it’s constant, there’s never a break, but over time the box gets bigger, so the ball bounces around and it doesn’t hit the button as much. But sometimes it still does, just out of nowhere.”

Hanbyul had heard that too. As far as she knew, a woman on Twitter had made the analogy, Lauren Herschel, and that the ball got smaller, not the box bigger, but she wasn’t about to correct him. The idea was the same, and she understood, even if her experiences with grief were for elderly grandparents and a pet rabbit. The grief of those had still felt like they would swallow her.

“But I don’t feel like I’m a ball in a box, I feel like… Sometimes I feel like grief is a swarm of bees inside of me. Sometimes they’re asleep but other times they’re buzzing and banging around and trying to escape, and if I even open my mouth they’ll come pouring out and I’ll just fall down, an empty husk, so I have to keep these bees inside of me even though the buzzing makes me feel like my skin is going to tear apart. But what if the grief is the only thing holding me up?”

Hanbyul’s eyes widened. It was such a tragic and visceral mental image. She didn’t know what to say, but knew her, “Woah,” wasn’t enough.

He continued anyway, “And other times grief feels like a pile of boulders rolling onto my chest, a new one with each breath, each one making it harder to draw the next. The guilt…”

“Jimin…”

He blinked and wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand.

“But who am I to complain about grief? Because I get to be here, I get to see Sunnie grow, I get to drink my coffee with milk and run through the rain and sit in a warm window, and see how my favorite dramas end. I get to stub my fucking toe on the bookcase –it’s still purple!-- and get annoyed trying to change my phone plan with a very unhelpful agent and worry about… about the weather and climate change and what planet I’m leaving my daughter to grow up in and whether it was even the right choice to have a daughter into this world and yet I can’t imagine my life without her…” He choked on his sob but the words somehow squeezed past anyway. “It’s selfish of me, isn’t it? I just grieve what I lost. I lost my wife, my first love, my partner. But Subin lost all of this, the good and the bad. And Sunnie lost her mother –and that’s not fair to her. She needs her mom, she needs her mom so much more than she needs me–”

“That’s not true,” Hanbyul said. “It’s awful she lost her mother, but the opposite wouldn’t have been any better and that’s not fair to you or her. She needs you too.”

“I know she does, I know you’re right and she does, but she shouldn’t have only gotten one of us. Every time things are hard I think about how much easier they would have been with Subin still here. I’ve spent three years now trying to accept the fact that she’s never going to be there beside me when I wake up, I’ll never fall asleep next to her again, I’ll never get a text from her asking me to grab more milk or toilet paper. I’ll never argue with her about who lost the remote, or whether a trip to Disney Tokyo is worth the money and how old Sunnie should be if we go. I won’t get to vacation with her, or see Sun-young off to college and wonder what we’ll do with ourselves– I lost my wife and I lost the future I dreamed of with her.”

“I’m so sorry, Jimin.”

“But it’s selfish. Because at the end of the day, I know I can still do those things. I can meet someone new. I’ll never stop loving Subin but she’s gone and I know there are amazing people in the world and maybe I can find that joy and love again but she can’t. Why do I care so much more about my own pain than I do about all the things she’ll never get to do?”

Hanbyul hated to see him eaten up with guilt like this. This was beyond her, but she couldn’t stand for him to berate himself for such understandable feelings.

“It’s not that you care more, you just feel your own loss. She’s not worried about those things now. She’s at peace, and maybe she’s watching you and Sun-young from somewhere else, whichever you believe.” He gave her a look she couldn’t understand, so she added, “Ok, and she’s probably pissed because it sucks. It’s not fair. All of these things can be true at the same time but I don’t think you need to hold onto guilt. You didn’t choose to lose her and if she loves you and Sun-young as much as I think she did, she would want you both to chase joy with open hearts. Even the joy of taking things for granted, or being frustrated or annoyed or happy or sad.”

“I feel like I’m starting to forget her,” Jimin admitted in the smallest, quietest, saddest voice. “The Subin I think of when something is hard –oh, she would think this, she would react that way… I don’t think it’s the real Subin anymore. Sunnie and I are growing and changing but Subin ended then and this idea I carry forward of her… it’s not her. I don’t know how she would have reacted to Sunnie wanting to give up dance. It feels like one more way we forget Subin, when I already feel guilty for thinking about… I mean, that I don’t just keep a constant vigil for her. That I’m living without her. I’m doing it even though it felt impossible three years ago. It’s another step away from the family we used to be and I know that has to happen but… it’s just…”

Hanbyul dared to reach for his hand, and hoped it wasn’t inappropriate. She hoped he didn’t read anything into it, or feel uncomfortable, this was not in any way an attempt to push her own feelings. But right now her friend was grieving and needed support and she didn’t know the words to say but hoped by holding his hand, it could help.

He looked down at their hands and nodded and let out a shallow, shaky breath, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to break down like this in front of you. It was a good day.”

“Please, it’s ok! I don’t mind at all. I’m honored that you know you can share your feelings with me. I’m honored to be here for them. I just wish I had a real way to help it not hurt so much.”

“Time,” he scoffed. “That’s all there is.” Then added, “But you do help in a real way.”

“You don’t need to reassure me–”

“No, I mean, you really do. Thank you. Thank you for being someone my daughter can talk to when her appa is struggling to listen. Thank you for helping her with the powerpoint and taking her seriously.”

“You don’t have to thank me for that.”

“I do. I can’t be everything for her, no matter how much I love her. Subin can’t be here and most of our close friends are young single guys who don’t know anything about being a girl growing up. But I shouldn’t be crying about my dead wife to you and I can’t just call you every time she has a girl question I don’t know how to answer.”

“Sure you can,” Hanbyul argued. “Why not? I’m just down the hall. She’ll probably come ask me anyway, and I’m glad.”

“It’s not your job–”

“Because it’s not a job. I love Sun-young. I’m here for whatever she needs. And whatever you need, listening or dinner to reheat or a dog to cuddle.”

“What I need…” He trailed off, and shifted his position but didn’t drop her hand. They were still standing in the quiet kitchen. Hanbyul loved kitchens. It felt like a place of safety and warmth to her. She could understand why Jimin would unburden himself in one. “I have a hard time thinking about what I need. How can I think about meeting someone new when I’m like this?”

She hadn’t realized he was thinking or talking about someone new, she had just meant what he needed as a friend, and it made her choke on her words a bit, “Like what?”

“I don’t know when the ball will hit the button. I don’t know when the bees will escape. It feels like it’ll always happen. I don’t think I’ll ever be a whole person to give to someone else,” he said.

“What does that mean, be a whole person? You’re a whole person.”

“It doesn’t feel like it. I’m… fractured. I’m missing pieces here and there.”

“Then you’ll find someone who loves you even with those missing pieces,” Hanbyul insisted. “You’re wonderful, and your grief is just a part of you because your wife will always be a part of you and Sun-young. I really don’t think you’ll have a hard time finding someone who accepts that too, when you’re ready.”

“It’s so complicated to even think about that kind of thing. If I want to open myself up to that, if Sun-young deserves someone in her life, but sometimes I’m still going to have a day of grief… I feel like I have to wait until all my grieving is over, but will that ever happen?”

“I don’t know what I’m talking about,” Hanbyul admitted. “I’m not the right person to give advice but I just think that you and Sun-young deserve to be happy, in whatever way makes you happy, and still recognize how important your wife was in your lives. I’m not saying you have to rush into dating or anything,” she said, proud of herself that she could be the kind of friend she wanted to be for Jimin as they talked about it. Her compassion for him made her invulnerable to any of her own feelings right now, those were tucked away. This wasn’t about her and she didn’t feel the need to make it about her. “I just think the heart can hold a lot of things and people at once, even love and grief. Even how wonderful your life was with your wife, and how wonderful the future with your daughter will be.”

Jimin nodded, still holding her hand, his other scratching his neck and tugging on his ear. She hoped he didn’t notice how clammy her hand was. Maybe she should separate from him and wipe it off before he noticed. Was she awful to be excited to hold his hand right now, even just in a friendly way?

He reached for her other hand and squeezed them both.

“There was a time I couldn’t even imagine having more good days than bad,” he said. “You remember me back then, I think.”

“I do.”

“And now I have more good days than bad, and I don’t spend every day crying or consumed with survivor’s guilt. I thought I knew what the future looked like, and then Subin died. But I didn’t actually know what the future held anymore than I do now. It can’t be known.”

Hanbyul nodded, following and not quite following at the same time.

“I’m lucky to be here. I’m lucky to have such an amazing daughter.” Hanbyul nodded her agreement. “And I’m lucky to have such a good friend too. Thank you.” He squeezed her hands again and then dropped them.

Hanbyul instantly flushed at the simultaneous praise and distancing. Not that she had thought he was alluding to her with his mentions of maybe finding someone, but she saw the vulnerability now as proof that he saw her as a friend and nothing more. And yet she was also flattered to be a friend now, no longer just ‘neighbor Hanbyul’. The heart could hold many feelings at once.

“You don’t have to thank me. You both are easy to love,” she assured him.

“I’m sorry my daughter and I both leaned on you in the same week–”

“Stop that.” She glared and he grinned.

“You deserve the world. Thank you for the food. I’ll bring you rice cakes when we make them.”

Hanbyul agreed that would be wonderful, and didn’t linger a moment longer as she felt Jimin needed privacy now. It was incredible he had shown her so much of his grief. Called her a friend. She was genuinely warmed by it all.

I’m not asking for the world, she thought. She ought to take the advice she had given Jimin: recognize that her feelings for him might always have their place in her heart, but she couldn’t spend her life living for someone who wasn’t able to be that for her. Hadn’t she said exactly that?

But for tonight, she could hug Hudu and feel a little sorry for herself alongside her compassion for Jimin as the ball hit the button in her own box. It was a different box than Jimin’s grief for his wife, but it was Hanbyul’s and she held it close.

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#jimin ff #jimin x oc #park jimin fanfic #dad jimin #bts fanfiction #bts fluff #jimin smut #jimin fluff #jimin fic #jimin fanfic #single dad jimin #after the applause

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taekeofyourclothes · 1 year

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you keep me open. (for)

pairing v x reader conspectus "you're the only one who's holding me down..." a true blue tale between two beautiful hearts that wanted the best for the other word count 0.6k words notes inspired by szas' open arms :")) extremely pessimistic and negative beginning - SLIGHT ANGST ... be warned! this is a work of fiction but feel free to relish in the delusion lmao, look out for grammatical errors and possibly confusing structuring of sentences - my english is still fair so please go easy on me lol. please don't distribute my writings without my consent dearests!! feedback and criticisms are welcome and read well <3

at the back of your mind, there'll always be that voice repeatedly reminding you of how worthless and pathetic you come across. thoughts that'd revoke the smile on your face and dissolve your passionate outlook on the world, it was a conundrum - having plentiful ambition yet lacking the capacity to obtain even a miniscule taste of your dreams. you could even say it was paradoxical for it truly was - however, all of these insecurities and uneasiness.. they all seem to dissipate each time taehyung was around, he'd ease all your worries somehow as if they never were there every damn time.

and the more he continued to be next to you had you in a world of no more worrying about how you came across, it had you living in heaven on earth and you couldn't be more grateful. and it's so wonderful to look back on how back then you'd be choking on all these impossible ideas of yourself - ones that forced to put you in a high above everything else pedestal that nobody asked of you but yourself, ones that said you had to look a certain way that your hair had to look like this and your body should look like that when in truth the only people who'd give a single care about that was nobody. and god, it took you so long to realize that - but thank god, for helping you see it finally just with a little help from a loving friend like taehyung.

it was funny now but it warms your heart in pride how you went from that dark place in your life to getting back on your feet and freeing yourself of the chains that held you back from your truest self and you were glad alright to have him help you out with this journey, who would've thought it to go this way? it went from him talking to a brick wall to slowly hearing your silent voice hoping to be heard and him encouraging you to speak up to the brick wall with time breaking and being brought down to being together. you were worth it, he'd say - the man always had a way with his words. he scared off all your fears and proudly helped you carry all of your emotional baggage, he eased your heart to let you let yourself be open - it all came from a safe place, he loved you from the start and you loved him more. infact, you loved taehyung so so much - you had to open up yourself to the reality that he deserved better.

the idea baffled him, you were already the best. you were the one for him, you were the love of his life, and you were y/n - his forever ride. and you were so heartbroken to see that but you had to let him go, "don't push me away y/n... please." he begged on his knees teary-eyed, you tried to stand him up but taehyung wouldn't budge and so you had to kneel with him and hold his face to assure him.. "i'm not.. tae, you? i.. come on, i could never push you away.." you shake your head in full honestly looking deeply into his eyes where you could read how he'd lost you but he didn't.. he could never lose you.. "i'll always be here.. but you deserve more." he shook his head at that his eyes now spilling out tears so dissapointed in himself seeing you feel this way about your love, but he understood - this was who you are, he always did even if it didn't want it, because this wasn't about him. though it didn't hurt him to try say "you're more than e-enough, y/nie" he did his best not to stutter and smile knowing there'd be nothing to change your mind.. and nothing would, you love taehyung so much and it'll destroy you to see him get the love that he deserves but that was fine, you could say that's the greatest love of all... letting go.

this was for the best.

#taekeofyourclothes #taehyung x y/n #taehyung x reader #taehyung imagine #taehyung fluff #taehyung angst #kim taehyung #taehyung drabble #taehyung fanfic #bts #bts taehyung #v #thv

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uniquevoidflowers · 1 year

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Got something out!!! Finally!!! It's not the continuation but that is coming up next. Angst is really heavy.

Legend jolted when the stone floor beneath him crumbled, and he was falling. He landed heavily on a different set of cold ground. “Ow! What…where am I?” He said with a groan.

He saw Time, Hyrule, Twilight, Warriors, Four, Wind, Wild and Sky standing there.

"What... what's going on? What... what the hell are you guys doing here?!" Legend yelled.

They didn’t seem to hear him, they just stared at a coffin. Inside the vet saw…himself...?! Legend stiffened. "What... Am I…is that me?"

“I’m glad he's gone." Warriors sighed looking at the coffin.

Legend turned to face the captain. "Warriors, tell me. What is going on here?"

Nobody seemed to hear him speak. "Legend was just a nuisance who brought everyone down. He was a liability." Time huffed.

"Are you kidding me right now?! I'm standing right fucking here and you're discussing me as if I'm not even here! I feel like I'm in a nightmare! What is wrong with you people?" Legend yelled. He was so overwhelmed at the sudden hatred that he felt like he couldn’t breathe as tears pricked at his eyes.

"The vet was always so mean. I'll never miss him now that he's dead." Wind shrugged, his usually expressive face twisted into a deadpan.

"Can someone kindly explain to me why I'm being treated like the bad guy here and why that thing inside that coffin looks like me?" He asked, frustrated.

Why did the sailor of all people have to say that? Nobody seems to hear him still. "I am disgusted to have him as a predecessor. I'd rather have Time.” Hyrule’s face was scrunched up with only hatred.

"Enough! Someone talk to me! Someone answer me, damn it!" He yelled.

It felt like he was talking to a brick wall. "Please... just tell me what's going on! What's this about? Am I going insane?!" His head spun just thinking about it.

He felt like he was trapped inside an insane asylum when he knows he's not insane, he feels very much sane and healthy and their words were driving him towards madness. The vet suddenly tried to slam his fists into the ground but his hand phased through it. Gasping he realized he was a ghost. He was dead. Everybody was now talking about how much they disliked him when he was alive. "Legend ruined everything." Four sighed, his eyes icy blue.

He felt sick at that point. He put his head in his hands, and struggled not to cry. “No…no….this can’t be…I’m…dead? Tell me right now that I’m. not dead and this is all some kind of evil dream.” Legend demanded.

But this seemed very real. Why else would everyone be suddenly ignoring him? "He was such a jerk. He pretended to care about me or some shit." Twilight rolled his eyes.

Ouch. He couldn’t take it. Tears began to form in his eyes as he glanced around at his friends, they were all speaking and talking in their own little bubble that had felt like they were excluding him, as if he was the villain despite the face he feels like he’s done a lot to save them all. “By The Three…how could any of you say those things about me when I’ve saved you all so so many times? Have you forgotten?! Have you forgotten that I always put you before me every time? I... I care about all of you!" Legend cried out.

He felt invisible. "I just wish it was sooner that he had died. It was satisfying to see him die." The veteran was surprised to hear Sky, Sky of all people saying that. Everyone nodded in agreement.

He was so beyond hurt. To have been standing there and listening to everything they were saying, especially knowing that they’re speaking the truth - that he was a jerk…that he did push his loved ones away…It had hurt so so much. “So…so…you all really think I’m that…all those things?” His voice sounded so small. “Do…do you hate me?”

Nobody…Still nobody heard or acknowledged what he had said. "I always hated him. He was so picky to cook for, so rude. And when I dared to offer him a hug he'd shove me away. Glad I don't have to do that anymore." Wild sighed.

"That asshole." Twilight hugged the cook, like the cook was the one needing the hug.

Legend was crying silently. He knows he was a jerk, he knows they had good reasons to feel that way…but there had to have been some kind of misunderstanding. Was he really deserving of the hate from all his loved ones? “Do…do you all really hate me that much?” Legend asked weakly.

He was afraid to hear their answer. "Let's just move on already, we're wasting time talking about that stupid hero, if you could even call him one." Warriors glared at the corpse of the vet.

His head buried even lower at hearing Warriors’ comments.

“Stupid hero…”

Those words hurt more than the others. He had done so much to help them all, and that’s all they had to say about him? Stupid hero. Why did he even try to fight? "And he'd whine about not being able to sleep. Ha! What a loser." Hyrule laughed coldly.

That one had hurt even more. His eyes watered again. “Loser? That’s…that’s all I am to you people?” Legend questioned.

He almost started to believe them. “I don’t understand…did none of you even care about me when I was alive?” He tried, the image of that making his heart burn.

"Remember that time we cared for him when he was sick and he punched Wars and got upset? Later he blamed it on delirium but he's just a pathetic jerk. I wanted to leave him to die right then and there." Twilight recalled, scowling.

Each time the veteran had heard these things, his own words and actions and their reactions towards them, he left more and more worthless. Like he truly did make everyone’s lives worse. His heart ached with misery and anger. “You…you all felt like this about me…?” His voice cracked.

Had he been that much of a disappointment and never realized it his entire life? That’s a really hard pill to swallow. "Should we even tell his Zelda or Ravio about his death?" Four murmured, eyes switching to a hue of purple.

Hearing those words made his heart sink to his stomach. They had been considering to not tell them? But also, he had let Zelda and Ravio down. "Nah, they don't need to hear that. They're better off without him anyways. We'll just tell them Legend left them to go do his own selfish little things. That's what he was...selfish." Sky shrugged.

Legend felt like he could crumble into a million pieces at any given moment. Hearing his friends and loved ones say these things… “I…I was selfish wasn’t I? Did I ever even make them happy?” Legend whispered.

Why couldn’t the vet see it before? Why didn’t anyone ever call him out on his selfish behaviour? Was he truly that oblivious to everything until it was too late? "Cheers to an adventure without the selfish and jerk of a veteran hero!" Time announced.

They all cheered.

The hoarder had felt like his heart just got punched. They didn’t see it. No one saw it. He’s just a selfish jerk to the chain. All he’s done, all that he’s accomplished…it didn’t even register to them. All he could do then was stand there quietly while they mock him and talk down about him, about their hatred for him. “But…but..why don’t they see…” He said quietly to himself as tears streamed down his face.

They all moved on and started discussing new battle plans. Nobody mentioned the veteran, nobody cared that he was dead. They left his body to rot. It was like to them he had never even existed in the first place. He felt utterly alone. “I’m…I’m. not dead.” He insisted.

“I have to be alive.” But deep down, he had also felt like he was as good as dead.

He was just…he was completely invisible. Was he really just that much of a screw up? Was he not good enough? Even when he had tried so damn hard? "Ah this strategy is way better! Legend took up a lot of space, we should've let him die awhile ago. But noooo the goddess didn't want him to die. I'm glad she freed us from him now." Warriors rolled his eyes.

He felt his stomach churn. He felt so alone. And he felt as if maybe all those things he was accused of being, had truth to them. Maybe…Maybe he was as selfish and stupid as everyone made him out to be. Maybe no one really did need him. But he hoped that wasn’t the case. "This battle strategy is way easier without Legend!" Four laughed happily as he destroyed monsters later on.

He slumped. “What…what did I ever do…what did I ever mean to any of you? Why…why did I think people cared about me…?” Nobody heard his barely audible whisper, his lonely and painful sobs.

'You're a failure.'

'You were a liability'

'They have reason to hate you'

The veteran hero was so incredibly hurt. “Do... do any of you at least care about me at all...?" He prayed that someone would speak out, that they would have something kind to say.

But in his heart he knows no one will. This couldn’t be real. No one on this earth is that cruel…right…?

Nobody talked about Legend for months. Each day they acted like he never existed in the first place. They were able to move on really quickly. When Malon, or Zelda, or Ravio asked, they lied about the vet. He was already so hurt, so wounded…but to have the people he cared about turn a blind eye? To make an effort to speak ill of him as if he was the most awful presence, rather than a guy that cared and did his best? “This isn’t fair.” He told the air around him.

He just wanted to be noticed, to be heard, to be seen.

Were all these heroes correct to say all these things? "They're... they're right aren't they...?" Tears had flowed down his pale tear struck face once he had seen his mistakes.

He was a horrible, horrible man and he realized that way too late. He felt a sudden anger at the Goddess Hylia. He’d obeyed her over and over again, and this is what he got? “Why?” He wailed.

“Why would you do this to me?! This isn’t fair! This isn’t right! Why don’t you recognize that?!” He cried out, to someone.

'Selfish' The vet’s mind supplies. 'You’re selfish.’

He’s had enough of this. All those years of being a hero…it meant nothing. Nothing! And he, himself, was at fault for it. He had made everyone’s lives worse. He sunk further into misery and shame.

______________________________________________________

“Hey, buddy wake up.” Someone roused Legend.

He shot up, sobs already coming out of his throat. Warriors was there, concern clear in his eyes. “What’s wrong?” The captain asked.

His mind nagged him over and over again that Warriors didn’t care. “Make it stop!” Legend wailed.

“Whoa, calm down there.” Warriors urged, looking uneasy.

“Y-you hate me.” Legend accused, recalling the venom in the man’s voice.

“Shhh, no I don’t. I would never.” Warriors soothed.

Legend lets the captain hold him. “Do you want to talk about it?” Warriors asked.

“No.” Legend murmured.

“Why don’t I give you a journal then? You can write those things down and I promise you, no one will read it if you don’t allow them to.” Warriors suggested.

“Okay then…” Legend sniffled.

He spent the next few days scribbling down the dream, disregarding the concern and wariness the others felt.

#unique writes #whumptober 2023 #whumptober #lu legend #lu warriors #lu time #lu wild #lu four #lu sky #lu twilight #lu wind #lu hyrule #Legend Angst #ao3

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bardcore-jaskier · 2 years

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♡ Jaskier rant/vent ♡

Hiya, here is a long ass rant/vent about my Netflix Witcher frustrations with how the show-runners are treating Jaskier's character. Because even though I love the books and games, I couldn't give a rat's ass about the changes Lauren made to the witcher plot. Because if it were to be adapted into a show following the source material word for word, page for page, it wouldn't be worth watching because I already know the damn story. It's refreshing to see these changes, new ideas etc. But ofc, I do still have a bone to pick with them.

The venting part:

Ok, so you know how in my bio it says that this is a Jaskier centric blog and that Jaskier deserves to be loved? Yeah, that's because I'm salty AF, the saltiest motherfucker on Earth right now. Because the way Netflix or...mostly Lauren treat Jaskier as a character on this show is atrocious! A beloved fan favorite they intend to milk but know not how, using him instead as nothing other than comedic relief and the occasional tool to move the plot in a certain direction.

They're stingy with his character development, with his screen time, with complexity. When we see him in pain it is later dismissed, as if it never happened. Where are his bruises and burns from Rience's torture? He was bleeding from his mouth, he had probably taken a few punches to his face. And Rience held his flame to Jaskier's fingers for at least five seconds, the heat of which compares to a lit match, nobody could walk away from something like that without second degree burns that would take many weeks to heal. And in Jaskier's case? Walking around with an exposed wound like that, touching things all the time, crawling across a dirty floor under the table when the witchers were fighting Voleth Mier? He realistically should have had a serious infection by now.

Also, tell me I am not the only one who noticed this, and I ask myself this quite often: Why OH WHY does it seem like the ONLY people who enjoy Jaskier's company, his presence, him in general, are the audiences he performs for and the elves? Everybody else seems to either shit on him the moment they see him or keep him around because he's loyal and amusing.

Idk about you, but I don't take kindly to the fact that the only character to treat Jaskier with respect and dignity in season 2 was Yennefer. Although THANK FUCK for Yennefer, I fucking LOVE her so much! But yeah.....

Like sure thing, Geralt evidently trusts Jaskier a lot, he is obviously fond of him, but to be honest I haven't seen enough of that fondness on screen to get the impression that their friendship is just like their bromance in the books. In season 1 they only show us scenes of Geralt barely putting up with Jaskier, ignoring him, insulting his singing (which is basically Jaskier's core, his life, his everything, it's what he lives and breathes for), barely admitting to their friendship out loud and then blaming Jaskier for everything that went wrong in his life! Like dude, I know Jaskier isn't exactly a pure and innocent cinnamon roll, I'm aware that he is a slutty little trouble magnet who can sometimes talk too much, but he is also a good friend! Even with whatever little screen time he gets, he is every inch the good friend that Dandelion is in the books!

In season 1 it's very clear that he cares, he asked Geralt if he's ok, he said "Talk to me", he tried to help Geralt deal with Borch's fake death, he offered Geralt an opportunity to go on a vacation, because he gives a fucking damn about him. Even in Cintra, when he asked Geralt for a favor, aka guard him, he made a comment about rubbing chamomile on his body, aka most likely massaging Geralt's sore arse muscles after a hunt.

But Geralt? Just the bare fucking minimum, saving Jaskier's life a few times, a few fond smiles here and there, otherwise looking rather uninterested in Jaskier's life. A brick wall that barely says anything nice to him. Or well, looks like talking to him in general is a chore.

And season 2? Whoooo boy! Jaskier still cares! Though he has to pry basic human decency out of Geralt in that jail cell at Oxenfurt:

- "We don't have time, we need to go"

- "Are you sure? Because the last time we saw eachother, you basically told me to fuck off, remember? And you left me on a mountain!"

- "Jaskier.."

- "Don't fucking Jaskier me, I'm talking to you, this is how this works!"

Jaskier still makes do with Geralt's pathetic arse "I need your help" and leaves EVERYTHING in his life behind to be there for Geralt. He left his Sandpiper smuggling business, he didn't even get to pack a bag, trailing after Geralt like a loyal dog, still wearing the shirt he was tortured in, with his dried blood on it, because Geralt needed his friend.

Thankfully Geralt seems to be doing better by Jaskier in the second season, but not nearly enough to be enough! I mean, Geralt came for Jaskier only when he needed something from him, didn't apologize to him until Jaskier hinted at the problem (Via discussing Yennefer's betrayal, she's been pushed into a corner, she's desperate, it's why people do stupid things and SAY stupid things). And Geralt's apology was shit, because he didn't offer it until Jaskier had accidentally guilt tripped him into it. And Jaskier? Yeah, no, he might have forgiven his friend for the Mountain, but he is still human, he's still got feelings and knew he deserved an apology. However, right there and then it clearly wasn't the right time, whatnot with Geralt's apology being too simple and nonchalant, not nearly serious and earnest enough to undo the hurt that had given birth to Burn Butcher Burn. Not to mention the dwarves being within earshot and the dangerous mission ahead. Which is why I understand why Jaskier brushed off Geralt's pathetic attempt at making amends with a joke.

When I was watching the Rare Species episode of season 1, the expression on Jaskier's face after getting shouted at by his best friend honestly broke my fucking heart. So when season 2 aired, I started binging it with high hopes of getting to see Geralt apologizing, them becoming friends again, Geralt being a better friend to Jaskier while also being badass as shit with his child surprise, battling monsters etc. But I did not expect it to fall so flat and I did not expect for LITERALLY EVERYONE to treat Jaskier like absolute dog shit. INCLUDING THE SHOW RUNNERS!

Geralt was basically using Jaskier for his loyalty, the dwarves found Jaskier's presence as the most annoying thing ever, Ciri literally fucking ignored him in all of their scenes together, the show-runners fucking forgot that Jaskier was tortured and filmed every scene with Joey in it as if Rience never happened, then for some dumb reason Lambert fucking had to be more of a prick than necessary, effectively alienating Jaskier with one single word, when that man had done nothing to deserve it!

FUCK!!!

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raviposting · 2 years

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I posted 9,446 times in 2022

312 posts created (3%)

9,134 posts reblogged (97%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@the-maidofmischief

@capinejghafa

@ginnxtonic

@alexisrosemullens

@wyvanvck

I tagged 9,444 of my posts in 2022

#y yo a queue - 5,470 posts

#911 fox - 1,001 posts

#tagged 💜 - 619 posts

#tv: moon knight - 584 posts

#stranger things - 580 posts

#succession - 436 posts

#flashing gif tw - 329 posts

#the umbrella academy - 293 posts

#shadow and bone - 270 posts

#wwdits - 231 posts

Longest Tag: 140 characters

#(and we never saw chris’s crush so there’s no confirmation there’s no statement and that’s just! idk i don’t have the words but i like it bc

My Top Posts in 2022:

Someone: Hey, you okay?

Me: Noir had his face and his voice stolen from Soldier Boy both metaphorically with the movie deals and literally with their fight. Soldier Boy not only put him down at every turn, but Noir went from Earving, a clearly outspoken man who wanted to visibly be a Black hero to a masked silent supe who is now labeled as Homelander as “representing all races” because nobody cares enough to know who’s under the mask. Noir dedicated his entire life to Vought out of principle and then because he had to, and partly because of Homelander, only for him to find out it was all a lie. He imagines feeling comforted like he felt comforted as a child, probably one of his last few safe spaces he remembers. The mascots are his way of having friends because nobody actually cares to know him as a person, Homelander is content with having a brick wall to project his emotions onto with no thought on Noir’s emotions, and Noir is just scared and sad and lonely and wants comfort, and he just needs a friend, a real genuine friend.

Me: Haha nothing hbu :)

4,439 notes - Posted June 30, 2022

Arthur: Hey bro, what do you want to eat?

Khonshu: KILL HIM

Steven: A bagel

Khonshu: NO! CRUSH HIS WINDPIPE!

Steven: Two bagels

5,799 notes - Posted April 6, 2022

Absolutely love the thought that Marc spent two days LITERALLY killing people and then went back to Steven’s apartment to find Gus the fish dead and presumably went “oh fuck” and started running around town trying to find a goldfish that only has one fin for Steven. I know that man was wishing he could just murder someone instead because it would be easier.

6,141 notes - Posted March 30, 2022

I see our “Colin is draining Laszlo to make him more boring” theories and I see them respect them understand them but counterpoint: Laszlo has always been deeply boring, we’re just realizing it more now as he hangs out with Colin.

He has the horrible band with Nadja that nobody likes, he’s the one with actual human friends where they do? Normal behavior? He runs off and lives a regular human life, Nadja watches his porn and thinks it’s painfully boring, he stops an orgy and ruins the mood by talking about how much he loves her.

Love Laszlo. Dude has been boring since season 1.

8,439 notes - Posted July 27, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Ben when his Sparrow siblings who he’s known for his entire life get horrifically murdered: Oh no. Anyway -

Ben when his deranged Umbrella siblings who he’s berated and known for like two days don’t invite him to the bachelor party:

12,272 notes - Posted June 23, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

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cyborg-hephaestus · 1 year

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December 31, 1997

After careful consideration, I've made the decision to make addendums to my scientific log, specifically detailing my feelings on various subjects. In other words, this is no longer just a scientific notebook, but a diary as well.

I decided to do this after re-reading my old notes at the end of the year: on a more emotional level, I've had a lot of things to think about and get off my chest for a long time, and now that I have a clear view of things for the first time in...God, years, it felt like a good opportunity to do so.

(And on a more pragmatic note, my feelings and experiences kept leaking into my notes anyway: maybe this way I can keep the science and venting somewhat separate.)

I was re-reading my old notes in the first place because I wanted to get a sense of where I am in my research compared to where I was last year, but...as I read, it stopped being about the science and more about who I was then, and what my life was like.

One year ago, I was at Notre Dame International High School in Paris: I was sitting in my dorm room staring out the window, not unlike how I am now. But back then, I was still rooted firmly in denial, sticking to my guns with my inventions, and nobody ever knocked on my door. All the other boys went about their day, walking down the halls, avoiding me like the plague.

(Then again, there WAS that period where I became interested in cultivating viruses, so maybe it wasn't all undeserved.)

There's this idea that you can't understand your own misery until you have some distance from it, when you are no longer feeling it. Only then can you look back and understand exactly how you felt at the time. And I think there's truth to that, because I had no idea how to parse the fact that I WAS utterly miserable. I had nothing else to compare it to: I only had one other feeling to compare it to, and I was trying so hard not to think about it that I ignored it.

But now...

As I'm writing this, I can hear Quentin and Victor through the wall: Victor's blathering about his horse Neighthan again (honestly, I love the name, but I don't think I can ever tell Quentin that), and Quentin is humoring him: he's been reading a lot about magic lately, so I imagine he's sat at his desk doing it. He seems so serious lately: I should do something to cheer him up. (Maybe a late Christmas gift?)

(Victor is my friend. No matter what else he might be, he's my friend. I remind myself that, when I wake up dreaming about fire, brick-red skin, and a lashing tail.)

Ruaraidh was in my room earlier, while I was putting the finishing touches on the Sunlight Grenade and confirming it for active use: he didn't say a word, just came in and started playing his guitar. I needed a little contextual explanation, but he didn't want to talk: he just wanted to be with me. I took a break and got my violin, and we played a little together: no structured songs, just some light jamming. Just enjoying each other's company.

I saw Louis in the halls yesterday: our conversation was brief, but we discussed what we'd been doing since the dorm attack. I discovered he'd been learning how to shoot a crossbow: when I offered to add a firebomb attachment to some of his bolts, he politely declined, but I saw a look in his eyes like excitement: maybe I'll offer again once I get some free time.

(On further reflection: it might have been fear. Totally possible. Maybe I'll rethink my offer.)

I also had my conversation with Imogene a week ago: I should've thought through my approach a little better, I think. She's right: with Sarah still an enemy needing to be taken down, she can't afford to remember her as a friend, that makes sense. Still, I think she did appreciate me coming to her: I hope I can keep her safe, she's been through way too much. (Still mildly embarrassed that she thought I was confessing to her: not that she's not pretty, but that's completely impossible. Glad we were able to establish friendship, though!)

One year ago, I was sitting in my dorm room in France, surrounded by nothing but cold metal and plaster walls. I was safe, but I was alone.

Today, I'm sitting in my dorm room in England, surrounded by woods that might be full to bursting with vampires...and rooms full of friends. MY friends.

And I might never be safe again, what with the vampires and werewolves and lizards (oh my!), but...I'm also not alone. People want to be with me, seek out my company, appreciate what I do and how I do it, and...I never could have imagined it, but it's wonderful.

I have friends now, real friends, who are depending on me. And I will kill every vamp in this country if I have to, to keep them safe.

Bring it on, Sarah Ellis, you goddamn leech. I'd say I'll burn you alive, but you're not alive anymore. Burn you undead, then.

End log.

#shadows over mossvale #personal journal #reese anthony langston

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arthropoda-artistry · 2 years

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Nobody needs to know. Nobody knew for over a decade

Not even me, the brick walls of denial and misbeliefs hiding the truth.

What happened was wrong. What happened was wrong, and

According to my parents I should have known better

At age six, I should have known better, should have used words I hadn’t learned yet

Instead of the fists I had learned to use. I used my fists because

Words were ignored, words like “no,” “stop,” “don't."

Words still haunt my nightmares, sentences, declarations.

Nobody needs to know; not when the danger is over

The victim is presumed to not remember.

Nobody wants to know - ten years after

I find myself researching psychosis, wondering if I’ve lost my mind

As the brick wall of denial is dismantled, as fanfiction taught me the basic truth

Incest is wrong. He shouldn’t have touched me, shouldn’t still want to

But he does. He does, although he’s learned not to use his words,

Just his eyes, watching. Just insisting on seeing the ID card, the proof

I’m an adult, I can stop this at any time. This is my fault, I don’t think, as I hand

Him the card and don’t think. As he leaves for the bathroom, I don’t think.

As he spends too much time in the bathroom, I wonder, but I don’t let myself ask.

Nobody wants to know what I think. Nobody wants to know what I feel.

Nobody wants to know what happened, which is fine because

Nothing happened. I’m fine. Nothing happened yet

His eyes haunt me, everyone is watching, staring, looking at me sexually because

I’m prey and the entire world is a predator. I’m six years old in the backseat

And my parents tell me to stop torturing my brother. I’m torturing myself now

Twenty-two years old, with friends this has nothing to do with,

They don’t want to know. Please don’t tell them.

They’re lucky enough to have never had eyes on them watching that way, don’t give them my nightmares.

Nothing happened, which means they’re allowed to not care.

Nothing happened, so I should not be traumatized

Afraid of the fact I have to see him in two months, afraid of the fact

That nobody wants to know what happened because nothing happened this week

Besides looks and my own inference that he masturbated to the picture on my ID.

Nothing happened besides the fact that even outside of my family, I’m not

Supposed to talk about it, to tell anyone, to have anyone know enough to tell me

I’m not at fault. I don’t deserve this. Going home shouldn’t take courage.

Nothing happened, nobody told me they didn’t care. Nobody had to,

The implication was clear enough behind the statement

They can’t help. I want more than they can give.

I’m a bad person; I’m angry. I’m furious. I want to spite them

Tell them anyway, tell them they are nobody. They are nobody

And this is nothing, this is what nothing feels like, looks like.

I don’t exist because of them. It doesn't matter. I’m invisible.

I can’t exist beyond those eyes pinning me to the couch.

I’m nothing happened, I’m nobody caring, nobody wanting to know

Nobody terrified, nobody traumatized, nobody asking for more than he deserves.

I know what I deserve. Hands, eyes, an older brother’s love.

Nothing happened to me. Nothing happened that I didn’t deserve.

I’m tired of being nobody, of nothing happening every nightmare.

I’m exhausted, and I’m the only one who cares.

I’m writing because otherwise I’d tell them they don’t care

I’d make the quiet part loud and then they would have the opportunity to say

What I’m sure they’re thinking: I only talk about it because I want it.

I could stop this at any point. I could always avoid going home.

I only think they’d say these horrific words because I can’t

Stop myself from thinking the truth. They don’t care about me.

Only three people do, and they’re the three that let nothing happen.

I had an opportunity to make myself matter, to make this someone else’s business

And I threw it away because I was convinced that they were

Waiting for an opportunity for nothing to happen, to make me an object.

Nobody needs to know. Nothing happened.

I’m not an object, not objecting, nothing to see here.

I’m not asking for help. I know I outstayed my welcome.

#poetry #tw incest #dissociation #i want to not be alone

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oh-no-a-whovian · 2 years

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My Top Posts in 2022:

Two more lonely people Part 6

NSFW 18+

Summary: “should we fight this?” “Si.” “I don’t know if I can” “neither do I”

Pairing: Bruno Madrigal x fem werewolf! reader

Warnings: age gap (Y/N is 24 and Bruno is 50) swearing, any others let me know please.

Word count: 3598

Masterlist PT1 Next

The chirp of crickets and your mother’s snoring echoes in your ears as you lie in your plush bed, staring at the ceiling since sleep refuses to take you. The curtains wave slowly like an oceans tide as the wind flows into your room, cooling your skin and the soft blankets around you.

Your mind keeps replaying it over and over, stirring the feeling in your gut without remorse, making you wet for a man not even here. He wants you too. He was in you, holding you up as you rode him in the clear flowing water, his eyes hazy with lust and moans filling the air. You doubt it’s love but you’re fine with that. You resigned yourself to never having that a long time ago. As long as you can have his body, you don’t need his heart.

You were worried about him as you walked with him back to casita. His mind was a mess the whole walk and once you were close enough the construction area he ran off, saying he needed some time. A couple of your neighbours that were working on casita nearby had watched him race off into his tent and looked at you quizzically. You just shrugged at them and walked away, it’s none of their business.

You didn’t see him for the rest of the day, even though you sought him out with your eyes among the others working on the build. He clearly found a spot nowhere near you. You understand why. He was freaking out, doing every little superstition he could to try ward away misfortune. You had to watch as he freaked out about every little bad thing that could happen as a result of what happened.

You just couldn’t bring yourself to worry. You love that family like they’re your own, each one a member of your pack that you would die for, even Alma. You especially care about Dolores and Isabela, and you care what they’d think about it. But don’t you have the right to have what you want if it’s in your reach? Is it really so wrong?

Leaves rustle outside your window as the curtains billow into the room again, revealing the waning moon hiding in the clouds to your wide eyes. You thought the sound outside to be just the wind, until the movement of the curtain stops and the noise of the bushes below your window continues.

You hop out of your bed and pad silently to the window, your head tilted at the sound as you pull on a thin robe. Nobody commits crime in Encanto, they know better, especially after the fucker who killed his wife a few years ago. You were told to escort him to the mountains and make sure he climbed and left Encanto forever. Well… for a brick he flew pretty good.

You doubt it’s a criminal outside your window, probably just a curious kinkajou or… Bruno falling on his ass… you huff out a laugh at the sight of him, staring up at you with wide eyes cause you scared him as you pulled open the light fabric curtain.

“For someone who spent ten years in living in walls you’re not very stealthy.” You whisper, hiding your smirk with one hand as you offer the other out the window, helping him up and in.

“Well, uh heh there’s no bushes inside walls.” He says quietly as he stumbles through the window into your room, nearly falling onto his face.

“mmmm well you’re not wrong” you plant your hand on your hip, watching him with a smirk and a raised eyebrow, though you’re sure he can’t see much in the dark. You can see him clearly though. The warmth on his cheeks, his flustered fidgeting, the silver strands in his hair catching the moon light, you can see it all. “To what do I owe this midnight visit?”

“Well, heh funny thing… I was in my cot trying to sleep but I couldn’t stop thinking about um earlier, at the river, with you. I keep going back and forth about all the reasons I know this is wrong and all the things you said, telling me that it shouldn’t matter…” as Bruno rambles you smile at him, taking his hand to guide him to your bed so he can sit. You listen to every word as you play with his curly locks of hair, watching as he finds far too many words for his thoughts. “I really don’t know what side is winning but I can’t stop thinking about it and then I think about what it actually is. Is it lust, my loneliness from being in the walls for so long or is it something more? Then it just repeats, and I don’t know what to do. So, I thought a walk might help clear my mind, but then I just ended up here…”

“Trying to put a label on it this soon huh?” you joke, regretting it immediately as you watch new insecurities flow in behind his eyes. Shit “look, Bruno.” You start. “What do you want this to be?”

“I don’t know” he mumbles. He looks so lost as he stares into your eyes through the darkness of the room.

“Then don’t try to name it yet.” You tell him, tucking a lock of his hair away from his face. You aren’t sure if you want to tell him that it can’t be more. You’re a monster, it can’t be more. This could never lead to marriage or children. No one would approve because of the ages difference, let alone no one would ever want what you have in their blood line anyway. It’s like a disease and one wrong move could spread it. like a teething child biting someone at the wrong time. Probably should have thought of that before letting him paint your insides with his seed.

“Okay” he breathes. You listen to his heart race, echoing into your ears, and watch as his hands fidget together. You can sense every little change in his body as he gets excited by your proximity. You can feel the heat radiating off of him, and the tiny shifts he makes to ease the sensation in his pants. Fuck you want him so badly.

“Can I kiss you again?” you ask as his warmth beside you stirs your body to life.

“Yes! I mean yes” he says a bit too loud, toning his voice down to mask his excitement.

“you’re adorable” you huff with a massive smile, leaning into him, and pressing your lips to his. Your right hand sits high up his thigh, your thumb rubbing small circles at the inseam of his pants. He moans delightfully into your mouth as you deepen the kiss, but you pull back, shushing him by pressing your finger to his chapped lips. You’re sure your smile is practically predatory as you push him back onto the bed, swinging your leg over his to straddle him, pinning him to the plush surface with his hands above his head. “Are you able to be quiet for me?” you hum in his ear as you grind your heat against his hardening length, teasing him with the tiniest bit of friction.

He nods fervently, his mouth falling open with a silent moan as he moves his hips up to meet yours.

“good” you kiss him roughly, the hairs on his chin scratching yours, leaving little red marks in their wake. You release your grip on his hands and trail the soft pads of your fingers down his sleeve covered arms. You can tell he’s trying hard to not make a sound as he watches you slide down his body in the darkness, the moon light barely illuminating the room.

You lift his ruana and shirt away, exposing his tummy and the waist band of his pants. A thin layer of soft dark hairs trails down from his chest and disappears into his pants, tiny silver hairs present even there. Pressing your lips to his hip bones, you work on removing his pants, tugging at his belt.

Once you got him free you dive in, teasing and licking and sucking, leaving him a desperate mess for half an hour. Taking him to the brink then pulling back just a little, testing the waters. His hard cock delicious in your mouth as you lave your tongue along the length. He fucking loved every second of it, silently begging for more when you pinned his hips to the bed.

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220 notes - Posted January 22, 2022

Two more lonely people Part 5

NSFW 18+

Summary: “should we fight this?” “Si.” “I don’t know if I can” “neither do I”

Pairing: Bruno Madrigal x fem werewolf! reader

Warnings: age gap (Y/N is 24 and Bruno is 50) Hope yall are ready for those lemons. PinV. Wrap it up! Some self-hate. Any others let me know please.

Word count: 5030

Masterlist PT1 Next

You feel refreshed and lively as you wake in the grass near casa Madrigal, not far from Bruno’s tent. You couldn’t exactly have exactly gone home still in wolf form. You couldn’t risk being spotted, not when the gift from casita excuse won’t hold while the others don’t have theirs.

You stretch your arms above your head, arching your back so only your head and butt are touching the ground, moaning in pleasure at the stretch. The early morning birds fly above as you stare at the blue sky as the sun starts to rise. Good thing no one from town has come up to casita for another day of building yet. God knows what they would have said if they caught you napping in the grass, especially if you were still in wolf form.

It felt amazing to run again after two weeks of barely leaving your bed. The feeling of wind in your fur and dirt under your paws again was amazing. And the fact that shifting seemed to fix what was broken is a bonus, you can actually help rebuild now. You had to fight yourself though, when the urge came to just howl into the jungle.

“Not sure lying in the grass is the best idea.” Bruno’s voice rings out, drawing your attention back to the ground, making you sit up to look at him, a big smile on your lips. “Fire ants aren’t pleasant.”

“I got a face full of them a couple years ago, so I’ll have to agree with you.” You laugh, taking his offered hand to stand.

“Oh heh… how’d you manage that?”

“let’s just say running recklessly through a jungle isn’t the smartest thing.” You tell him brushing a few leaves from your hair and skirts.

“are you… feeling better?” he asks, his little chuckle at your words making you smile.

“yeah. It almost feels like nothing was broken in the first place.” You explain. “should have shifted two weeks ago.” You yawn as you rub the sleep from your eyes.

“W-why are you here so early?” he asks, squinting as he realises no one else working yet. To be honest, you’re surprised he’s even awake, most won’t wake for another hour. The only reason you are is because your body had shifted back into human form. Dios you’re glad you keep your clothes unlike in some werewolf stories, otherwise this encounter would have been awkward.

“didn’t leave.” You shrug, wandering off toward the construction, spotting the rat that seems obsessed with you, cleaning itself on some rubble. It’s not the first time you’ve slept under the stars.

“Wait you slept here?”

“couldn’t risk being spotted by anyone in town. They think it’s a part of the gift after all.” You roll your eyes, lifting the rat to put on your shoulder and turning to the man. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t fond of the rat that keeps climbing onto your head. “It was either here, or somewhere among the trees.”

“oh” he replies as he fiddles with his fingers.

You stand together in silence for a moment. Would it be weird if you asked him if wants to get breakfast together? What way would he take it? what way would you mean it?

“I was gonna go and get something for breakfast…” you start “would you… maybe like to join me?”

“Uh mmm. I think it’d be better if I just get started for the day.” He tells you, pointing to the structure with his thumbs as he starts to back away. “Y-you know, there’s still a lot of work to be done and it isn’t going to do itself.” He laughs nervously.

“ok” you try to ignore the disappointment as he rambles on about why he can’t. “Maybe I’ll bring something back.” You nod, your smile disappearing once he turns the corner.

You’re really starting to hate this pull you have toward him, especially when you think he might feel it too just to literally run away.

You breathe out a sigh, squeezing your eyes shut as you try to push away the feeling welling inside. Your mind keeps telling you that you’re being too much. That he doesn’t actually want the attention you’ve been giving. You get it though, you’ve been told many times that you show affection like a dog, jumping on and cuddling your friends like you hadn’t seen them in years. Doll and Isa have been perfectly happy with adopting it, but others have simply told you to calm down.

The rat on your squeaks in your ear, watching you curiously as it sniffs at the air. “Looks like it’s just you and me huh?” you say to the rat as you start your trek home.

~~~~~~

Bruno POV

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303 notes - Posted January 15, 2022

I’d rather be yours

18+

Summary: captured and kept as an elite’s plaything for months after the fall of Master chief and the UNSC Infinity, you’re finally saved.

Pairing: Master chief x fem reader

Warnings: swears, implications of imprisonment, implications of perverted alien. Please say if there’s others!!!

Word count: 1751

Masterlist

You’re trying so hard not to look miserable, you refuse to give these fuckers the pleasure.

You watched as Master chief was thrown into the icy depths of space and declared dead to all. An elite had grabbed you from your lab aboard the Infinity and taken you away on his ship, declaring you, his pet. You wonder if Chief would have saved you if he was still alive. You definitely wouldn’t have been a pet for six months if he was, you are sure of that.

You wish he was still alive. He was powerful, a hero to humanity and you’d developed a massive crush on him over time and fuck, watching him die hurt.

The elite as he goes about his business, ensuring everything in his hidden stronghold is up to par as you sit on the plush surface he’d placed for you, watching his move closely. You don’t remember his name, though you don’t really care to. you’re pretty sure it’s written on the damn collar around your neck so he can settle with that. He’s never gonna hear you say it.

The bastard is definitely a pervert though, going by the barely there outfit he decided to keep you in, reminiscent of an outfit from an old earth movie. You hate being what’s basically a whore for his eyes only, but what else could you do?

He rarely leaves you alone, too concerned that you’ll try something to escape. At least you think that’s why. He refuses to speak any English even though you know he knows it. You’ve told him many times that you are a scientist and not a soldier, but he doesn’t care, instead treating you like a big cat in captivity, nice to look at but best not to let it out of your sight or it’ll tear you apart.

After the first two months of being stuck in the stronghold, kept on a tight lease, you stopped fighting. You’d fought every day and fuck you were tired by that point. You’d bitten him, shouted at him until your throat was sore and all you gained from it was an electric shock. You had to try something else. Gain his trust until you could free yourself. No one else was gonna save you.

Alarms start blaring through the speakers and the alien looks up, glaring at the screens to spot the cause. Last time you’d heard the alarms, some soldiers were trying to take the outpost and were brutally slain.

“Lock down the strong hold! We cannot let them gain this location!” he shouts over the comms before rising to his feet, grabbing your arm and dragging you to your cage. Shouting things in his own language you could only dream of understanding. “stay” he growls at you.

“Like I have a choice.” You say as the lock clicks shut.

You try desperately to get a glimpse of what he’d spotted on the screen. Hoping someone has finally come to save you. You’d honestly started thinking there were no more humans left on the ring. Too many reports of captured troops and bases making your heart sink. You really thought that everyone was dead and that you were the last.

You huff and sit down on your cot, unable to see anything on the screens from your cage, resigning yourself to waiting. You’d try asking who has come to kick their asses, but you know your ‘owner’ would never answer. No one has full conversations with their pet after all.

You lie down on the uncomfortable surface, staring at the ceiling as you listen to the explosions outside the facility and the screams of distress from grunts over the radio. They’re getting what they deserve, each one of those bastard aliens out there. You just hope whoever it is will find their way in here and give that bastard elite what’s coming to him.

Each minute of gunfire drones on painfully slow but eventually it all goes silent. The screams, the explosions, the gunfire, even the sound of machinery seems to die out. The silence is almost painful, making your ears ring as you wait in hope.

Please save me. Please save me. Please save me!

A massive explosion rocks the building and the door to the room flies through the air past you with a grinding screech, as sparks shoot out from the force. The elite jumps from his chair, shouting what you’re sure is foul language as he raises his gun toward the smoke.

“Show yourself demon” he demands, stepping toward the smoke, ready to fire. You glance between the smoke and the alien with a furrowed brow, your hands now gripping the bars of your cage as you watch with bated breath.

You’ve only ever heard Chief referred to as demon. As far as you’ve heard he’s the only one they did. Is it too much to hope he survived the destruction of the infinity?

A noise echoes through the hallway as a sliver cord zips through the air, latching onto the alien’s chest. Before your eyes the armor you were so hoping to see appears from the smoke, his fist smashing into the elite’s jaws. They stagger together and the sound of plasma rounds fills the air, leaving burn marks upon the walls and narrowly missing your cage. the last six months will be for nothing if this encounter kills you first!

You don’t say a word as they fight, not wanting to distract your savior and be the cause of his death. The elite gets the upper hand though, as his four fingered fist collides with Chief’s green helmet, knocking him to the ground. Instead of taking advantage of his downed state, the alien races to your cage, ripping open the door and pulling you into his arms. Bastard must have realized there’s no way to kill the Master Chief. After all you just realized that too.

He holds you to his chest with one arm as he aims a plasma pistol to your head with the other. He drags you toward the exit, keeping you between him and the spartan as the man pulls himself to his feet.

You see the moment Chief finally realizes you’re there, his whole body freezing as his eyes lock on you, held tight in the grasp of your ‘owner’.

“you’re going to let us go demon.” The alien holding you demands, pressing the pistol to your head hard, making you hiss. “don’t move, or she’s dead.” He growls. You ribs hurt at the force the alien holds you and you try desperately to find a way to get free, clear the path for Chief to annihilate the fucker.

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333 notes - Posted January 23, 2022

Two more lonely people Part 4

NSFW 18+

Summary: “should we fight this?” “Si.” “I don’t know if I can” “neither do I”

Pairing: Bruno Madrigal x fem werewolf! reader

Warnings: age gap (Y/N is 24 and Bruno is 50) tiny bit of smut but nothing graphic. Any others let me know please.

Word count: 3252

Masterlist PT1 Next

Breathy moans and whispered praise, the way he begs shooting butterflies throughout your stomach. His curly salt and pepper hair spread out through the grass like a halo. The feeling of his hands gripping your hips tight as you slowly ride him, the feeling of him filling you, driving you wild. Ecstasy at its finest.

Evening air cools your skin and the tall waving grass tickles your legs, sending shivers up your spine and covering your skin in goose bumps. The feeling of him beneath you, moving inside you, keeps you warm to the core. You whisper dirty words in his ear and he moans your name in return, desperate to touch every part of you. So close. So very close.

A knocking startles you awake making you hiss in pain at the jolting movement. The sun shines bright through the blinds, a lot higher than when you usually wake up. It’s been a week since everything happened and most of the town is at the Madrigal’s casita, rebuilding what was destroyed, making the markets a lot quieter than usual, just light murmurs when normally there’s shouting and bartering all around.

“You better not be moving! I’ll get it!” your mother calls out to you, making you pause in your movements with a huff. The first few times that someone knocked on the door you had tried to get up and answer it, much to the annoyance of your mother. You’re not used to sitting for so long, usually helping in one way or another. And most of the visitors were for you anyway so you don’t see why you couldn’t just answer the door. Dolores, Isabela, Mirabel and Camilo, all visiting you multiple times with flowers or treats, anything they felt might help you heal and be back by their sides. Dolores even had your favourites made and Camilo tagged along to pretend he had helped. “Bruno! I heard you’d returned… what are you doing here?” you hear your mother say in a curious tone, your face flushing red at the mention of his name.

“I umm… I hadn’t had a chance to visit…” he says. “She uh saved my life and I w-wanted to thank her. Oh! I brought flowers!” you smile as you picture his face, holding the flowers out like they’re the most amazing things and that’s the reason your mother should let him in.

That man has been plaguing your dreams for the past week, a mixture of the moment you’d saved him and your minds own fantasies. Making you weak and desperate only to wake with moisture between your legs, unsatisfied. You’ve been wishing he would visit, secretly wanting to know he’s ok, though you’re not sure what to do now that he has. Especially since you just woke up from one of those dreams.

“[Y/N], sweetie, are you awake?” your mother asks knocking on your door.

“Yeah mama” you call out, coughing and swearing from the strain, wrapping your arm around your torso. You look up as your door creaks open, revealing your mother and Bruno with a bouquet in his hands, his eyes wide and shy. “Hey!” you smile wide at the sight of him and try to sit up, growling when they both race to stop you, concern plastered on their faces as you wince in pain.

“You don’t need to sit up on my account” Bruno tells you with a shy smile, staring down at the flowers he brought as he takes a step back.

“I’ll be out here” your mother announces, leaving you and Bruno alone in your room.

“Are those for me?” you tilt your head, looking at the bouquet in his hands.

“Oh! Ye-yes! I didn’t know what type you liked so I asked Isabela and she said that you prefer ones with not much pollen and that she’d have made some up if she had her gift, but she doesn’t so she couldn’t. so, I went to one of the artists in town and they made these ones out of silk and scented them with an oil, and I hope you like them!” he rambles, gesturing wildly as his thoughts run wild. You try not to smile to widely at the flustered man, but as he continues to hold the flowers instead of giving them to you, you can’t help the curve of your lips. He’s adorable.

“Can I have them?” you huff with a smirk.

“Oh yes! sorry” he flushes, handing them to you and backing up to a respectable distance again.

“they’re beautiful. Thank you.” You tell him, sniffing the oils upon the cloth petals, all your favourite scents soaked into the stunning arrangement. “You can sit if you’d like.” You offer, tapping the space beside you on the bed. He fiddles with ruana as he glances between the space you offered and the direction your mother had gone. “Come on” you tap again, watching as his resolve to keep the distance crumbles.

Trying not to jostle you, he sits gently beside you, knocking on the wood of your bed frame beside his leg and holding his breath for a moment. he’s trying to be such a gentle man, keeping a respectable distance from you, sitting by your knee instead of by your hip where you wanted him to.

“I’m happy to see you didn’t go back into hiding.” You tell him, nudging him with your knee and immediately regretting it as your ribs shift. Fuck it sucks that they all lost their gifts, just when you could use Julieta’s.

“Can’t hide in the walls when there’s no walls.” He shrugs, watching your face with concern as you breathe away the pain. “I’m so sorry. If I hadn’t of landed on you, you wouldn’t have gotten hurt.” he sighs, planting his face shamefully in his hands, pulling on his own hair in stress.

“Hey!” you sit up, ignoring his panicked look as you take his hands in your own. “Those chunks of building would have fallen that way no matter what. If I wasn’t there, then a lot worse could have happened to you, ok? I’m a lot more ok with being injured over you being dead.” You admit. You’d be devastated if any of them had been lost in the ruins of their home. “Besides, I quite like all the attention I’ve been getting.” Your smirk switching to a grimace as you scoot back to lean against the headboard. Breathe in and out, the pain will fade, just have to breathe. “All my favourite food and a tonne of gifts brought straight to my door; I’m living the life right now.” You joke as you rub your thumb over the back of his hand, trying to lighten his mood, though the guilt doesn’t leave his face.

“Still… I cannot help but feel it is my fault. I am bad luck after all.” He admits, looking down at his hands in yours.

“Come here I want to tell you something.” You say, curling your finger to make him come closer. “Little more.” He moves even closer, his green eyes wide and unsure but also curious. Gently you place your finger under his chin like you had in his hidden room, pressing a little with your thumb holding him in place. “don’t you ever think that. You are not bad luck no matter how much you’ve been told so.” You demand, firm on your views, smiling at the blush that spread across his cheeks. Making a decision that you hope you won’t regret, you lean in, pressing your lips to his cheek, far closer to his lips that you probably should have.

His face flushes red as you release him and he backs up, stuttering gibberish and knocking on the wood of the bed once more. You can’t help but feel dejected as he unceremoniously says bye before practically running out of the house.

Is what you’ve been feeling really wrong? Are you just really that far off of your understanding? You’re not exactly inexperienced when it comes to men. A few one-night stands that you didn’t let get any further than that. But perhaps you were right… his reaction was just from being alone for so long. He doesn’t want you too, it was just in your dreams.

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342 notes - Posted January 8, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Two more lonely people Part 3

Lemon 18+

Summary: “should we fight this?” “Si.” “I don’t know if I can” “neither do I”

Pairing: Bruno Madrigal x fem werewolf! reader

Warnings: age gap (Y/N is 24 and Bruno is 50) thinking nsfw later on, idk yet but imma tag it as such. Any others let me know please. Because of the recent ios bs I will be using the old citrus system.

Word count: 4219

Masterlist PT1 Next

Herbs and spices waft through the air around the casita as you approach, the strong scents making you sneeze a few times as you adjust. Every damn time! Dolores tries to hide her amusement at your predicament, covering her mouth as she stifles a laugh.

“Laugh it up Doll.” You say as you rub at your nose furiously. “You’ve had to hear half the babies being made in this town. We both have downsides to our ‘abilities’”

“Yeah, yeah.” she rolls her eyes. “Try not to get caught. I’ll see if anyone needs help.” Your friend tells you as she wanders off toward the kitchen.

Breathing deeply, you make your way up to the painting that you’re sure hides the way to Bruno. You make sure no one will see you as you enter the wall, listening and looking out for any sign of movement in your direction. You’re not willing to be the reason he’s revealed to his family before he’s ready.

Gently you pull at the side of the painting, surprised at how it swings open so easily. The hole behind it is dark and barely looks big enough to even allow a person in but you can see a floor in the narrow space so you squeeze in. Dust floats through the air and spider webs hang above you as your eyes adjust to the dim light of the narrow corridor inside the wall.

You take your first steps hesitantly, noticing the bare boards and cracks in the walls and floor, threatening to break at any time. A musky smell floats through the air as you make your way through the path in the wall, the scent overpowering the smell of food that floats through the cracks from just the other side of the boards. Pipes and wires run through the space and loose nails stick out at precarious angles, more than one trying to tear at your skirt or impale your hand. It almost seems like a maze as you make your way through, curving in different directions.

The house looks normal and stable in any one of the rooms, so why does this space look so damaged? Doesn’t the magic maintain it? Shouldn’t it be perfect inside and out? Does this have something to do with the cracks that Mirabel said nearly tore the house down after Antonio’s gift ceremony? You feel uneasy as you run your fingers along a crack, your brow furrowed at the attempts to fix it, each part filled with spackle. Should you tell someone?

You stagger to a halt at the edge of a massive pit, so dark it seems almost bottomless and filled with an eery mist. God knows what would have happened if you hadn’t been paying attention to each and every step you took. You sniff at the air, checking if you should go down or try to make your way across the pit, the scent of the man you’re seeking floating across the gap, locked into the wooden beams from years of him passing through, telling you exactly how he crosses each time.

You breathe deep as you back up, hoping that you don’t lose anything in the basket when you make the jump across the gap. With three big leaps you cross the pit, stumbling as you land but steadying yourself, so you don’t fall and lose everything.

Eventually you come across a makeshift door, ropes holding the board in place so it can swing open and shut. Tiny squeaks sound out on the other side of the board, silencing when you knock upon the old wood. You can hear shuffling in the room, but you can tell he’s not approaching the door. Probably hiding instead or thinking that if he’s quiet whoever has found the door will think the room empty.

“Bruno” you call out as you push the door open a little. “it’s me.”

You cast your eyes across the room as the door swings open. Many eyes are locked on you, including a pair of green ones, their owner holding onto the armchair as he hides behind it.

“hi” you smile as you slowly step fully into the room, holding the basket in front of your legs. “Quite the place you’ve made for yourself here”

“Hmm yeah, it’s uh a fixer upper” Bruno says, pretending that he wasn’t hiding by leaning nonchalantly over the back of the chair. “Which you should probably…” he gestures to the door, his hand falling as one of the rats climbs onto your head again. Probably realised it’s not gonna be that easy. You smile.

“I brought you something” you tell him before he tries to kick you out, holding the basket up for him. “it’s not much, some food, a few shirts, a nice blanket I saw in the markets, and a glass bottle of water.”

“Why?” he asks with furrowed brows as he slowly approaches, glancing at the weaved basket in your hands. He flinches as he takes the basket from you, his fingers brushing against yours.

“Why not?” you counter.

You watch him as he hesitantly carries the basket to his chair, placing it down and glancing back at you as he looks through it. You’re surprised that he didn’t try to reject your gifts, telling you it isn’t necessary and that you should just leave. Going by how people have spoken about him over the years he probably doesn’t want to add rude to the list.

As you look around Bruno’s space you notice something on the table by the wall. Just a little spot of colour on the plain wooden surface and as you approach it to get a better look your heart breaks. A little design like the plates the Madrigals use, with his name on is drawn crudely onto the table in chalk. Your fingers hover over it, not touching as you admire it. Your heart hurts at the sight of it and shatters when you notice the crack in the wall looking over the dining table of casita. He just wants to be with his family. He must feel so incredibly alone.

You hear his heart race a little and you turn to see him staring at you, one of the shirts you got him clasped in his hands. His eyes look so tired and sad, large dark circles making them look sunken. He probably hasn’t seen the sun in ages and god knows if he’s getting enough food. Is it wrong to want to just hug him right now?

“I uh hope you like the stuff… I brought some food, and that bag of oats and dried berries is for your rats, though I notice you have a lot more than the four from last night.” You ramble, lifting the rat from your head, sighing as it holds onto your hair, pulling as you remove it. “I should probably get going… someone probably noticed me arrive and they might start questioning where I’ve gone.” You smile, handing him the rat and moving toward the door.

As you open the door to leave, he takes your hand in his, a small smile on his lips. “Umm thanks… for… thanks” he says shyly, rubbing his thumb on the back of your hand without thinking. You glance down at his hand holding yours with a tilt of your head and parted lips. Your heart races at the feeling and you don’t want to pull away from him. “Oh! S-so-sorry!” he gasps, pulling his hand from yours when he realises that he was holding onto you too long. Rubbing his hand on the back of his head as he looks away from you, casting his eyes to the ground.

Gently though, you place your finger under his chin, making him look up at you as you smile at him. “It’s ok. I’ll see about coming back in a couple days with some more hmmm? If you don’t mind the company?” you see his eyes darken and notice as his whole body seems to react to the touch, is lips parting as his heart race. You hadn’t thought that he would react like that, and the realisation goes straight to the space between your legs, though you’re not sure why. “I should get going” you tell him, dropping your hand from his chin. Part of you wants to keep it there, to feel the scratch of the stubble on his chin.

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377 notes - Posted January 3, 2022

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justanotherstarlightmonger · 2 years

Text

No one else for me- PJM

Pairing: YANDERE! Park Jimin x fem reader.

Word count: (I'll be adding my Word counts from now on) 4.7k words.

A/N: I was writing something for Helsinki and suddenly this stupid little idea hit me like a ton of bricks. What if MC had managed to escape her yandere, but quickly found there was no one waiting for her outside. How'd she go back to him? Because isn't the feeling of being loved and belonging somewhere strong enough to override the sense of independence in the best of us? I'd love to know what you think about the matter.

Warnings: (Buckle your seatbelts) NSFW, smut, yandere, obsessive behavior, MC is definitely sick mentally, so is Jimin, marking, use of sex toys, degradation, oral M receiving, orgasm denial, crying during sex, toxic relationship, rough sex, creampie + unprotected sex, breeding kink (unexplored).

Feedback on my works is alwayss appreciated. Send in an ask, leave a comment or let's talk in reblogs 💜

Find my MASTERLIST.

To read the teaser for my latest WIP, press here.

Shout out: My wonderful @bebejungkook for reading this through when I was half asleep and probably didn't even remember what I'd written. What would I do without you?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You couldn't believe you were back here again. The driveway you had run down barefoot, stubbing your toes and cutting your feet, stretched in your vision now, at the end of which the pretty little house sat, it's lights twinkling. Warm and inviting.

Safe.

You had always been safe with Jimin.

So why had you taken the risk and brought down the entire wrath of Hell upon yourself and run away from him?

Run back to what?

Your sister Lisa? Who had inherited whatever funds your parents had saved for both of you and gone to Europe, all in the span of the three months Jimin had kept you here?

Your best friend Tannie? Who you had called the second you had succeeded in borrowing a phone from an older man at the bus station, and she had slammed the phone in your face, claiming it was a sick prank call and that you were dead, she was sure of it?

Or did you perhaps run away to find Kai again? The man who had wooed you once, with empty promises and massive claims. Claims of love and devotion. Whose lingering kisses were what you had felt every time Jimin had pecked your lips. Whose fleeting hands were the memory that had kept you sane when Jimin's hands had roamed over the same places.

Only that, Kai was engaged now.

To a woman you had never seen, never heard of, never wanted to know.

The two nights you had slept on some park bench or the other had gifted you many things. Back pain, beautiful black circles under your eyes, with bags and swelling to match, and a devastating ache to just be held in those strong arms again. To be claimed by those fierce lips that never hesitated to mark you as his every time he felt you needed reminding. To the safety of the four walls of Park Jimin's house.

Because the world had forgotten and forgone you.

Nobody cared about you. Especially not the people you had risked your life for. Hell, even the little kids that had walked past you this morning on their way to school, had offered to treat you to some ramen, which was much more that your best friend "forever" had bothered to do.

And so, the gatekeeper's wide eyes didn't faze you as you stood in front of him. "Is Jimin home?"

He merely nodded. You weren't asking for much more.

"I'll find my way to him myself, thanks." You mumbled, entering the property, a fool's hope for forgiveness in your heart.

4 knocks in quick succession.

Silence from the inside.

You heard the intercom beep from the kitchen.

The gatekeeper was probably telling him about the sick excuse of a human the cat seemed to have dragged in.

A shuffle of footsteps.

The door opened.

There he was.

Jimin.

But he looked different too.

His arms were folded across his chest. His eyes were cold and indifferent.

Or maybe they'd always been this way?

No they hadn't. Not to you. Never to you. He loved you...

Right?

"Jimin..." You half whispered, the tears swiftly rising to your eyes.

There it was. The crack in his ice.

When his hands reached for you, for the first time ever you reached back. When he pulled you inside and slammed the door behind you, you didn't wince. When his lips slammed down on yours, you kissed him back with the same fervor, shaking in his arms, refusing to believe you were back here.

Your tears wet his cheeks, causing him to growl and pull back. He cupped your cheek, a hair too harsh maybe, but as possessive as ever. "Where did you go off to, my sweet girl?" A murmured question.

"Jimin, I- I..." There were no words to justify your betrayal, the way you had hurt him, and you knew it.

But to him, your lack of words only confirmed that you hadn't betrayed him on your own accord. You would never leave him like that. You were his sweet girl, his little pet, his ray of sunshine.

His angel.

He'd burn the whole world that had wrecked you to the woman that stood in front of him. After he had spent so much effort to make you the prettiest doll he had ever had, seeing you this battered sent his entire body burning in the hottest flames of anger.

The tears never ceased. The sobs refused to quieten.

You hugged yourself, even more scared now that Jimin wasn't saying a word, now that his hands had dropped to his side.

Your back hit the wall, and you slid down it, body shaking, and lungs screaming for air.

"They've all forgotten me. They don't love me. They don't love me..." You repeated to yourself, more to drill it into your own head rather than his.

You looked up at him, with glistening eyes, "No one loves me."

He knelt down to your level, easily taking your hands in his own, a sick satisfaction settling into his gut at your words, and the ease with which he was able to touch you just now.

"Don't say that pet." He wiped your tears.

"It's true." A shudder ran through you.

His hand roamed lower, now resting against your neck. "I do. I love you. I've been telling you for so long haven't I?"

"You still do?"

Your innocent, soft question had his dick twitching in his pants. It was a question that surrounded all your insecurities at that moment, and he was well aware of it.

"Do I still love you, after you hurt me like that? Tell me y/n, do you deserve to be loved after stabbing my back like that?"

It was a rhetorical question.

Of course you didn't.

Of course he hated you now.

Of course you had lost the last seclude you had.

You shook your head no. You understood what was happening.

Park Jimin wouldn't take you back.

You were actually, utterly alone in this world now.

You bowed your head and took a step towards the door.

Jimin's vice grip closed around your forearm in a flash and the next thing you knew, you were being slammed against the wall, his hand at your throat, his face just a breath away from yours.

"No you don't. But you know what? I'm a stupid idiot. I'm such an idiot that I still want you. Even though I spent the last two nights crying at your betrayal, and even though I haven't had a bite to eat because you weren't at the table with me, I still want you." He growled, his chokehold on your airway tightening deliciously, possessively.

Your heart tore at his words. You felt even worse, knowing that you had caused him that much suffering. When all he had ever done for you was keep you safe, loved and tended to.

Of course Jimin was lying through his teeth. He knew you'd come back to him. He had made sure of it. But you didn't need to know that.

"I'm so sorry Jimin."

"Sorry won't cut it doll. Do you want me?" He asked, matter of factly.

" Yes" you whispered, " I want you, if you'll still have me"

The erection in his pants was straining against the fabric by now. His sickest fantasy was being fulfilled just like that. He had finally broken you. You had finally, willingly admitted that you wanted him, and more than that you had asked if he'd still have you.

Did you really have no idea what you did to him?

He let go of your neck, and pulled back.

So he didn't want you?

Your breath left you. This was the proper end wasn't it?

And then his hands were on your waist, and you were held against his chest, your lips claimed, your breath stolen and the soul breathed back into your limp body.

Wordlessly, Jimin pulled you towards the bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

"Strip." His command was short and authoritative.

And you were only willing to comply.

You pushed your shirt off, making quick work of the trousers you were wearing, leaving you effectively half naked under his gaze in the span of half a minute.

"My good girl, come here." He beckoned.

He slipped the straps of the bra off your shoulders littering little kisses over the slowly fading marks he had left on your soft skin the last time he had taken you.

And then he pulled it harshly, the clasp in the back breaking and the piece of clothing falling to your feet. You gasped.

"On the bed."

And on the bed you were.

"You're being so good aren't you love..." He said absent mindedly, drinking in the image of you leaning on your arms, waiting for him.

You nodded meekly, the only thing occupying your mind being the thought that you had to please him.

Jimin made his way to one of the drawers in his dressers. Your heart thudded, knowing what was coming.

Soon enough, you saw the little devilish device in his hands.

It was one of the more intricate sex toys Jimin owned. The curved C shaped silicone device had two heads, one that would go inside you, and the other one that would rest on your clit.

He had used it just once before on you, and you had thrashed and begged him to stop. He had been trying to get you to break that night. But today, here you were, already broken and eager for him.

"Will you let me take care of you then?" He asked. "Will you let me see just how sorry you are?"

"I'm so sorry." You repeated, your hands outstretched to him.

He bent over you, kissing your forehead as his palm cupped your sex. "Show me how much." He whispered against you.

You bucked your hips against his hand and he hummed appreciatively.

"Take off your panties."

And so they came off. There was not a resistive bone in your body right now. What Jimin wanted, Jimin would get.

"Spread your legs for me."

He gently prodded your clitoris, the shock of his movement rushing through you exhilaratingly.

"Ohh" you gasped.

That was all the consent Jimin needed to begin the abuse his fingers were capable of, to your pussy.

In almost no time, you were soaking his fingers in your juices, your lips pressed against each other and chest heaving.

When he was content with how wet you were, he withdrew his hand, just for a second before landing a sharp smack straight on your sensitive, swollen lower lips.

A cry tore out of your chest.

"Such a bad girl, running away from Daddy like that."

"I'm sorry."

Another slap that had your arching your back. "How sorry?"

"So, so sorry Daddy. It was a stupid thing to do."

He hummed in agreement. "Yes it was doll. Why did you do it?" His hands weren't just good at delivering slaps, they were also giving such heavenly soothing touches to ease the torture he was putting you through.

"I thought I had someone to go back to." Your tone was void of emotion, causing Jimin to almost swell in happiness.

"And was there?" A finger eased into you.

"No." You whimpered.

"It seems like my princess's adventure taught her many things. But haven't I been telling you the same things all along? Shouldn't you have listened to me?"

You whined, the unsatisfying stretch of a single finger buried inside you, making it hard to focus on his words. You nodded.

"Did you see that piece of shit you said you loved?" Suddenly he sounded cold and distant. He took his finger out of you and pulled you to sit up and look into his eyes. "Did you see how easily he decided to marry someone that was not you?"

A fresh stream of hot tears made it's way down your cheeks.

"How could he settle for a cunt that wasn't yours. How could he miss out in this sweet pussy and marry someone else if he loved you?"

You had nothing to say to that. You only listened to his mocking, dying inside.

" I bet his bitch isn't even half as good as you. I bet he'll wish he took you at the chance he had...but it's too late. You don't love him anymore, do you angel?" He cooed.

You shook your head. But then what were these tears?

" DON'T cry for another man in front of me you little slutty bitch!" Jimin yelled, pinching your clit so hard, you flinched and curled in on yourself, whining like a hurt dog.

" My baby, my baby... My precious, precious girl." And just like that, Jimin was pressing kisses against your lips and mumbling sweet words into your mouth, graciously granting you two soothing fingers into your aching hole.

" Jimin" you whispered against him. He pulled away, cocking his brow. " Please fuck me." You requested, your cheeks blazing hot.

" No baby. You need to be punished." He said decisively, " Come on, get on your knees." He scooted to the edge of the bed, ignoring you till you had followed what he said, busy undoing his belt buckle.

But then he remembered something. "Wait...come stand in front of me, let me look at you."

You stood up, and stood awkwardly in front of his keen eyes, that were focused on the wetness against your thighs.

"You'll let me use my little toy on you today right?" He asked, though it wasn't even a question, both of you knew it, because his thumb was already parting your wet folds and his other hand held the contraption close to your opening.

The overload of all the emotions and sensations had you trembling, but Jimin thought you were scared. "It won't hurt sweety, just part your legs a little and trust me."

Soon enough, the little bulb was sitting inside your pussy, your walls sucking in the cool silicone.

The sensation was a little triggering, but you bit your tongue and waited for Jimin to adjust the second part to his liking.

"Such a good girl for me." He praised, kissing across your pubic bone. You felt yourself relax. He wasn't all that mad was he?

But as soon as the little head sat right on your bundle of nerves, there was a shift in the air.

"Okay, back on your knees." He commanded, pulling out his erection and pumping himself a couple of times.

You didn't like giving head. You hadn't been especially fond of the idea ever, but in the early days of your captivity, Jimin had made you suck him countless times, so the act was especially traumatic.

But for now, all trauma was chucked out the window. The only man in the world who actually cared for you, needed your mouth. And so he'd have it.

You opened up, slipping his dick inside your mouth.

Jimin gasped in satisfaction at the willingness and the warm, wet, welcome feeling.

Soon enough you had found a rythm, bobbing up and down his entire length, your tongue caressing all the angry veins along it, as if you were trying to soothe the anger you knew he held inside him.

You had almost forgotten the device that sat inside you, but Jimin wouldn't let you forget. He had the remote right in his hand, and as soon as you closed your eyes and hummed around his dick, he turned it on to it's lowest setting.

Even though the vibrations weren't strong, the shock of the unexpected movement had you letting out a muffled squeal against his cock.

"You're not gonna take your pretty mouth off me. If you do, I'm not gonna fuck you. You don't want that,do you?" His tone was sickly sweet.

You shook your head vehemently. You didn't want that at all.

And so, you forced you wits to gather, and breathed through your nose and continued sucking his dick, until his hand came and cupped your cheek, then landed a little slap against the bulge of his cock against your cheek.

" My eager little slut aren't you?"

You hummed in agreement.

He laughed. "You look so pretty like this baby. My dick stuffed in your mouth and your eyes all big and pretty like that"

A spike in the vibrations to your core, and you clenched around the toy, aware of the wetness dripping down your thighs.

" Are you wet?"

You nodded, holding his eyes as you stopped your movements for a second to look at his blown out pupils. His eyes looked fucked out yet his face was firm and stoic. Ever the dominant.

"Will you feel yourself and let me see how wet?"

Without hesitation, you led your fingers straight to your gushing core, and gathered some arousal on them. You held up your gleaming fingers for him to see, kitten licking his tip softly as you examined his reaction.

Jimin wordlessly took your hand, licking your fingers clean and humming in satisfaction. The hand he had in your hair, gathering it away from your face, now came lower and rested on your shoulder. "Keep going" he whispered and shut his eyes, leaning his head back.

You added both your hands to the equation, pumping him and making a sloppy mess with your mouth as deep, pleased breaths left his parted lips.

He looked heavenly. Raven hair ruffled by the hands he'd run in it, eyes closed and lips parted slightly and you thought just how good he must feel if the rock hard member in your mouth was anything to go by.

But one thing did bother you. The weak vibrations that were doing nothing for you except make you a leaking mess.

You called for him, the words muffled with the way your mouth was occupied.

His hands cupped your chin, looking straight at you and easing you off his dick. "What do you wanna say so bad little pet?"

"I- need to feel you. I need something..."

"My little fucktoy needs something to fill her holes?"

You nodded, cheeks blazing red at the names he called you, but also at the admission you gave him.

"Aww baby. So needy. But this is about me. This is you making up for making me sad." He said, the evil glint in his eyes lost to your misery.

Exactly then, Jimin increased the level of the vibrator a couple notches. You jumped, a new gush of arousal leaking out of you, a soft scream of surprise to match your wide, big eyes.

Jimin laughed.

"Make me feel good, and I'll fuck you so good you'll forget how to breathe. I promise."

If there was one thing about him that was permanent, it was the fact that he kept his promises. Stomach doing back flips at the promised pleasure, you cupped your breasts and brought them closer to his twitching dick. He watched in anticipation, as you placed it between your breasts, cupping them together and began sliding them up and down his length.

"Oh God..." Jimin leaned back again.

You let him fuck your tits like that for long enough that you felt your arms starting to tingle. Jimin was uncharacteristically quiet too. A chill ran up your spine. Were you doing something wrong?

"Jimin...?" You called.

"Yes love?" He raised his head, his face quite the opposite of what it had been earlier. His eyes were soft and his little smile was warm.

"Can I kiss you?" You ventured.

A confused little frown formed on his forehead. He still couldn't believe you were being this good.

But in reality, you really wanted his lips on yours again. Suddenly, it felt like his kisses were a drug and you wanted to envelope yourself in it. He'd make you feel okay.

You'd be okay with him.

You'd be loved with him.

And so you had to kiss him. You had to.

He leaned forward, tantalizingly close to you. You wasted not a second longer, raising a shaking hand to dive into his hair and pulled him lower, capturing his lips in a grateful sigh.

Soon, he had taken control of the kiss, but also of the little remote, his wild fingers twisting it all the way.

You gasped, unable to understand the strange tightness in your gut suddenly and unable to pull away from him. Struggling a little you finally pushed his chest and whimpered, "It's too much. I-- can't...ohhhh fuck" you gasped, painfully aware of the double stimulation the device gave you.

Jimin didn't respond. He knew you'd take it. You had to take it. You were his little pet, you'd do anything he wants.

And right now he wanted to make you cry again.

The familiar but unwelcome tingling crept up your spine as you curled into yourself, the strange pleasure coarsing through you, aware of the orgasm that was rushing to you like a freight train.

"Jimin, I'm gonna cum" you breathed, holding yourself, his pleasure forgotten.

No you weren't. He'd edge you till you sobbed.

And as soon as your thighs clenched and your eyes rolled back in pleasure, he turned the vibrator off.

A wave of disappointment racked your body as you shook with the force of the release that never came.

"No!" You cried out.

"Did I fucking tell you you could cum?" He asked, his tone deadly.

Shit. You fucked up.

"I-im-" you gasped.

"Yeah, yeah you're fucking sorry, get on the bed" he rolled his eyes.

Eager to comply, you scrambled up.

Jimin lifted you and placed a pillow under your hips, thrusting your pussy upwards towards him.

His fingers carded through the soaking lips.

"This pussy...is mine. Okay?" He looked at you sharply.

You nodded.

And then the device was back on, straight to the highest setting eliciting a scream of oversensitivity from you.

You clenched around it, the contraction pulling the device in slightly.

The high you had just recently lost came almost rushing back.

"Oh my fucking Godddddd!" You screamed.

" That's right, let me hear you scream." Jimin sounded pleased.

You bucked your hips upwards, craving some friction to the overwhelming pleasure you were drowning in.

"Jimin, Jimin…Jimin please" you gasped as the coil in your stomach twisted and almost came undone.

Almost.

Because the device was switched off at that moment.

"No, please!" Tears leaked past your lashes.

"I thought I just said this was my pussy. And nothing will make you cum if it's not me." He sounded wounded, as you looked up at him through your blurry vision.

"You won't fuck me though" you ran an exasperated hand in your hair, "I want to cum, please Jimin please just fuck me. Please let me cum."

Oh he was having the time of his life!

"Oh baby" he cooed. "All you had to do was ask" Before he unceremoniously ripped your legs apart and yanked the device out, making you whine and shiver in sensitivity at the loss.

He lined himself up to your opening.

"You're mine okay? Anytime you wanna be filled with cock, you come to me. Got it?"

You nodded, not trusting your voice.

And then he was inside you. His thick cock ripping you open and remoulding you again behind it. The stretch that had felt foreign and forced all this time felt like Heaven. Your mouth dropped open as the deepest moan left your chest.

"Fuuuuuck!" You groaned.

He seemed to not be in the mood to set any pace. Instead, he just rammed into you at speeds that made the fucking vibrator look like child's play.

Your swollen clit screamed for attention but you were so focused on simply breathing through the whole thing that there wasn't much you could do.

His thrusts were pushing you up on the bed, and for that, he grabbed onto your hips, his fingers harsh, his force bruising.

"Look at you, bouncing on my dick like the brainless little whore you are!" He grunted, his nails clawing down your thighs.

You arched your back, every sensation amplified.

Moans of his name fell from your lips like some sick prayer and twinkled in his eyes. He was loving this so much.

" I'm close…so close" you grunted and immediately he slowed down a little.

"No Jimin, please!" You cried

"Patience little doll, we have a lesson to teach you." He drawled.

You looked at him, tears brimming past your eyes, expectant and aching.

" You're not stepping out of this house again unless you're on my arm." He said.

You nodded, immediately. You weren't planning on it.

"You're never thinking about leaving me like this again." He rocked his hips against your sensitive walls. You whimpered.

" No, I won't." You agreed

"What a princess." His pace increased a little.

"Whose princess are you?" He asked.

"Yours." You said lowly.

"What's that?" He rammed into you forcefully, grabbing at your ass.

"Oh God!! Yours!" You said much louder.

"Who makes you feel so good?" His hips were almost fluid in their assault.

"You do!" Tears fell onto your cheeks. It was true, you felt so good.

His thumb came upon your clit, playing with it lazily, as if he wasn't ruining your pussy at the same time.

"Let's repeat that lesson huh? Whose princess are you?" He punctuated each line with a blow to your cervix it felt like, sending forth a gush of your juices with a squelch. It was straight up filthy.

"Yours!" You replied, your orgasm finally across the corner again.

"That's right!" He bent over you, hitting a whole new angle, making your shut your eyes and arch your back, your tits rubbing against his chest. "Mine! Mineminemineminemine!" He grabbed your chin, "Say it!"

"I'm yours Jimin, I'm all yours. There's no one else for me, please please I'm yours please let me cum" you cried just as he wanted.

A bruising bite was felt just above your nipple and you knew your body was about to become his canvas again. But it had felt good.

"Cum for me." He ordered.

You nodded, a little immersed in the whispered praises he was kissing and sucking into your skin.

And then he bit your nipple, his thumb coated in your slick, vibrated furiously over your pearl and his dick rammed into all the crevices of your pussy that was made for him.

And you were cumming so hard, that you felt your breath stop, just as he had promised.

Your mouth hung open as your body thrashed and shook, clearly in the battle between life and pleasure.

Jimin's soothing hand flicked your hard nipple. "My little pain slut, all mine, all mine forever" he reassured himself before he crashed onto your mouth, invading the space like it was his property, which it was, and in a few moments, he was spilling his thick, hot load straight into your womb.

He held you against him, because he needed to feel you just as much as you needed his comfort.

"I'll take care of you baby. I love you, I always will. I'll love my little y/n, she doesn't need anyone else" he mumbled, half knocked out, into your hair.

You, who were just as exhausted if not more, nodded, still gasping at the little flutters your walls would do around his dick, still in you, holding his seed inside you.

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nadinebrooks · 2 years

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Here is the link to my masterlist.

How You Meet

Harry: Gryffindor, halfblood, same year

I watched as a boy with messy black hair, bright green eyes behind a pair of crooked glasses, and clothes that looked a little too big for him pacing around the train station. I could tell that this was his first time here. He was alone and I felt bad for him.

If I had to guess, he grew up with muggles. Muggles who didn't really care about making sure he got on the train safely.

After watching him for a couple of moments, I decided he was kinda cute and I wanted to befriend him. It was my first year at Hogwarts as well so I was pretty desperate to make friends.

"That's Harry Potter." My dad leaned down and whispered into my ear. He was the wizard of our family. "I've got to get back to work, but you should invite him to sit with you on the train. He grew up with Muggles so he doesn't really know how all this stuff works." He placed a kiss on my forehead. "I love you so much (y/n). Never forget who you are. I will try to send you letters everyday."

"I promise to write to you about my first day as long as you promise not to write to me everyday." I chuckled and began pushing my cart over to the very confused looking boy. "You must be looking for Platform 9 ¾."

"Yes, I am." he sighed and look of relief washed over his face. "I've been walking around and nobody knows where it is. I'm beginning to think that this whole thing is a joke and I should go back home."

"It isn't a joke. All you have to do is walk through that brick wall." I pointed at the wall and he looked at me with his eye wide.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm positive." I smiled but then mentally face palmed because he wasn't supposed to know that I knew who he was.

"Well since you already happen to know my name, what's yours?"

"I'm (y/n) (l/n)." I held out a hand and shook his.

"How'd you already know my name (y/n)?" He questioned and I couldn't help but giggle a little bit.

"Oh, you just wait Harry, everyone knows your name."

Ron: Ravenclaw, muggleborn, year above him

*(f/n)=friend's name

I patiently sat there watching my best friend, (f/n), ball her eyes out over some boy that had broken her heart.

They had been fooling around a little bit, and (f/n) started developing feelings for him. Even though she wouldn't tell me who he was, she did tell me that he was only messing around with her to make his ex jealous. I rolled my eyes at the thought of him. (f/n) was an amazing girl and if he couldn't see that, then he didn't deserve her.

"Forget about him (f/n)." I took her hand in mine. "You're amazing and if he can't see that, then he doesn't deserve you." All she could do was nod so I engulfed her in a hug letting her cry it all out on my shoulder.

After I thought she had spend enough tears on that boy, I managed to clean her up a little bit and drag her out to the lake so she could get some fresh air.

She had spent most of the day in the dorms crying and she needed out of this room before the other girls in our year came back and started asking questions. And when they didn't get any answers, they were going to start making up rumors about why (f/n) was crying. We couldn't have that.

"You're right (y/n)." She said as we left out the main entrance. "If he doesn't think I'm worth it, then he doesn't deserve me." We walked and talked about what we wanted for dinner until she abruptly stopped walking. She reached down and clutched my hand so tightly that I though the blood circulation was going to cut off. "(y/n). That's him."

"Which one is he?" I snapped. My blood was boiling. All I wanted to do was go over there and give him a piece of my mind.

"The good looking one. I don't know how I'm ever going to get over him." She began silently crying and dropped her head onto my shoulder.

He was standing with a pretty girl with rather bushy hair and another guy with bright green eyes and messy black hair. I think they were 4th years. A year below us.

"Hey you." I yelled getting his attention. The small group turned around to face me.

"Do you know her?" The girl whispered eyeing me up in only a way that a jealous girlfriend would. She must've been the ex that he was trying to make jealous. All the ginger headed boy did was shake his head. I was furious. How did someone think they could just walk all over (f/n) like that? But he sure was cute.

"Who do you think you are? You can't just treat (f/n) like that. You had no right."

"Do we know you?" The girl to his left asking raising an eyebrow.

"I didn't ask you." I spat at her, "I was talking to your "friend". It doesn't matter who I am. What matters is that you apologize to (f/n)." I pointed over to her. She was just standing there with her hand pressed over her mouth in shock.

"I don't know her. I've never spoken a word to her in my entire life." He looked so confused that I actually wanted to believe him. Maybe I was talking to the wrong guy? But (f/n) did say the good looking one.

But then I thought about (f/n) and how heartbroken she was and that irritated me even more. Why couldn't he just own up to what he had done? All I wanted to do was wipe that confused look off his face, so I slapped him. I don't know what came over me, but I did it, and there was no taking it back.

"(y/n). What are you doing?" My friend had come running up beside me. "He isn't the one (y/n). It was him." She pointed over to another group that had been watching the altercation. It was a Slytherin who was in the year above us.

He had been watching the whole time not saying a single word just smirking. Do Slytherins have any other facial expressions besides a smirk?

"But you said the good looking one." I pouted in disbelief. We clearly had two different ideas when it came to good looking people. His friend with the green eyes burst out laughing and the girl smiled a little bit. The ginger didn't seem to find any of the situation funny. He kept his eyes trained on my hand as if I might try to hit him again.

"I am so sorry about that. I thought you were someone else." I awkwardly laughed. He didn't say anything for a moment. His eyes were flicking between (f/n) and I.

"So you think I'm good looking?"

"Uh, I-I-did I say that?" I stammered not wanting to meet his gaze.

"Yeah you did." He chuckled. "By the way I'm Ron Weasley."

"(f/n) (l/n)."

Draco: Slytherin, pureblood, year below

It was my first year at Hogwarts, and I was actually somewhat nervous about being here. It wasn't like I didn't know my place here, I was just scared of what everyone was going to think about me. I wasn't an awful person and I actually wanted to have friends.

I knew that pureblood Slytherins didn't have the best reputation around here and I didn't want to be that Slytherin. I had always been accepting of all the different blood types. Just because you weren't a pureblood didn't make you any less than me.

It was the first day of our classes and my first class happened to be Potions. I was very familiar with Professor Snape. When I was younger, my older brother had fallen extremely ill.

He had contracted some Muggle disease that wasn't very well known to us. I don't remember much from that time. I just remember my brother always laying around and never being able to do things by himself.

I begged my parents to take him to a muggle doctor. One that actually knew what they were dealing with. They would always shoo me off saying that our doctors knew exactly what they were doing and my brother was going to be alright.

They finally ended up contacting Severus Snape who instantly came to our rescue. We knew that he was running low on time and something needed to work. He came over and for about a week he was boarded up in a room only coming out to eat and use the bathroom. After that week, he had finished some potion that cured my brother.

I wasn't tall enough to hug him like my mom had. She sobbed and sobbed telling him that if there was anything he needed, we were there. So I just ended up wrapping my arms around one of his calves.

"Thank you." I whispered looking up at him, and he reached down and patted my head.

"You are very welcome." He smiled down at me.

I wasn't sure if Snape was even going to remember me. I wasn't sure if I even wanted him to remember me.

"These damn robes." I groaned hiking them high above my knees. I made a mental note to write a letter to my mom asking her to get me a shorter set of robes. As soon as I dropped them, my foot got tangled up in them, and I closed my eyes bracing myself to hit the cobblestone floor, but it didn't come. Instead an arm was wrapped around my waist steadying me. I opened my eyes to see a boy with blonde hair and pale gray eyes. Draco Malfoy.

"You really should get those shortened." He said rather dryly before walking away leaving me standing there alone in the corridor.

George: Slytherin, halfblood, same year

Working in the wizarding world was a lot different than working in the Muggle world. There weren't that many laws against children working. Well, places wouldn't hire 10 year olds or anything, but they were more than okay with hiring 14 year olds.

I wasn't used to the type of lifestyle that many of my other Slytherin housemates were used to. I was a halfblood and didn't come from tons of money like the majority of them did.

I may not have come from tons of money, but I was very happy. I didn't need tons of money to be happy. All I needed was a couple a close friends, a few good books, some of my favorite foods and I was good.

After being around the Slytherins for a couple of years, I finally realized that money could not buy you happiness. No matter how much you wanted that to be true, it just wouldn't happen.

During my 3rd year, when us as students were allowed to visit the village, I fell in love with Zonko's Joke Shop. I loved it so much that I thought, maybe I should get a job there.

So, I filled out an application and was hired a couple of days later. I was given special privileges to visit the village throughout the week so that I could work.

The pay was good, but that wasn't the reason that I wanted to work here. I loved to see the looks on the faces of people whenever they tried out something new.

Today I was stacking a couple of boxes of sweets that could change your appearance at will for an hour.

"Excuse me?" I felt a light tap on my shoulder, and when I turned around I saw two identical boys. I knew they were both in my year, but I had never talked to them. Maybe it was because I found George cute, and was always too nervous to actually talk to him.

"Yeah?" I happily chirped. I was going to treat him exactly like one of my other patients, and maybe that would keep me from getting too nervous. "Can I help you with something?"

"Actually you can." George nodded. "My brother and I were looking for the Skiving Snackboxes."

Fred game him a strange look, but he just ignored him.

"They're right over here." I gestured for the two of them to follow me to another corner of the store. "And here we are." I gave them one last smile before turning around. Well not before George started talking again.

"I just wanted to introduce myself. I'm George and this is my brother Fred. I do believe that we are in the same year, but we've never been formally introduced."

"Nice to meet you two. I'm (y/n) (l/n)." I gave the both of them quick handshake, but I held onto George's hand a little longer than Fred's.

"Do you think you could give us a discount?" George smirked.

"I'll see what I can do." I giggled before walking back to the front of the store.

Fred: Gryffindor, pureblood, 2 years below

Why couldn't Draco Malfoy just leave me alone? It wasn't like I had ever done anything to him or Pansy, or Crabbe, or Goyle. Blaise was always there but he wouldn't say anything. He would stand a couple feet away from them not doing much.

My eyes would plead with him asking him to say something so the torment would stop, but he would just avert my gaze paying very close attention to the stones on the wall.

Today I would get to class early so that I could be around my other classmates. They didn't bother me that much when I was around everyone else. But today being in such a rush, I found myself taking a right instead of a left and then ended somewhere in the dungeons.

I knew the Slytherin common room was down here somewhere, but maybe they were in class as well. Lucky me. They had a free period.

I mentally groaned as I heard Draco's voice travel down the long dark hallway. Why was it so dark down here anyway?

"Oh (y/n)." He sang out. "What are you doing down here?"

"I thought you were scared of the dark." Pansy snickered. "Did you bring your night light?"

"I just got lost, but I'll be on my way." I forced a smile at them and turned on my heel trying to get away but not before Pansy pulled my hair causing me to fall onto the ground.

"Oh you don't have to go just yet. Why don't you hang around for a little while?"

***

I sat on the ground with my knees pulled up to my chest; why me? What had I done so wrong that caused them to want to pick on me?

"Hey, are you okay?" I heard a voice ask.

"Yeah. I'm fine." I whispered staring at the floor.

"You're (y/n), right?"

"Yeah." I finally looked at the person to see my crush, Fred Weasley, standing there.

"Are you okay." He repeated.

"Yeah." I repeated as well.

"No you're not." He held out a hand and pulled me up to my feet. "What happened?" He reached out and lightly touched one of the bruises that began to form on my cheeks. I hissed at the pain and took a little step back.

"Bullies." I looked away from him. I didn't want him to think that I was this sad little girl who couldn't defend herself.

"Who bullies you (y/n)?"

"It's not that important."

"Yes is is." He put two fingers under my chin and lifted my face so I could look him in the eye. I felt the tears well up in my eyes.

"Malfoy and his friends" I sobbed and Fred pulled me into him rubbing my hair and whispering sweet things into my ear.

"It's going to be fine. I'm never going to let them hurt you again."

Cedric: Hufflepuff, muggleborn, same year

*for this one we're going to pretend that Cedric has a little sister so please just roll with it/ (s/n)= sister's name*

Since both of my parents were going to be at work today, my mom wanted me to take my younger sister to her last ballet class of the year. While I was at school, my mom signed her up for classes so she would have something to do when I was away.

She was always writing me letters about how her classes were going and this new girl that she met in her class and they had become best friends.

On the way to her class, she had become very emotional because of the fact that she wasn't going to be able to see her friend for a very long time. She wasn't sure if she was going to be able to write her letters because this little girl didn't know that she was a wizard.

I told her it was going to be alright and maybe they would be able to work something out. All the girl needed to know was that she would be attending a boarding school and they could hang out when she came home during the breaks.

When I walked into the place, there were a bunch of girls about her age walking around in theses adorable pink tutus. I couldn't help but grin at how cute they all were.

(S/n) walked away from me and headed over to this girl that seemed to be talking to her older brother.

As I was watching them interact, something in my head was telling me that I knew that boy, but I wasn't sure where I knew him from. I walked over to the vending machine to buy a bottle of water, and when I got back there was only one seat left beside the boy that I recognized.

"Excuse me? But is this seat taken?" I pointed down at the seat and when he looked at me, it felt as if my heart had got caught in my throat. He was even cuter than when I first walked in here. He had the most beautiful pair of brown eyes that I had ever seen.

"Nope. Not at all." He answered back with a warm smile. I smiled back, thanked him, and sat down. I picked at my fingernails and constantly glanced at the clock counting down the minutes for her class to be over.

We enganged in a little small talk and when that was over, the conversation ended because neither of us knew what else to say.

"Hi, I'm Cedric and I know this is going to sound very strange, but I think I know you from somewhere."

"I'm (y/n) and I really was thinking the same thing when I walked in here and saw you." I smiled and put a strand of hair behind my hair. We each were naming off different locations where we could have seen each other, but it wasn't working out. Before I knew it, the class was over and (s/n) came out with the other little girl.

As I was walking out the door, I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned around to see Cedric standing there with his charming smile and his amazing jaw line.

"It seems that (Cedric's sister's name) has brought to my attention that their first year at Hogwarts will start in a couple of days. I guess that's where we know each other from." He chuckled. "So I think that we should have them meet up to get all their things."

#harry potter masterlist #harry potter imagine #harry potter preferences #harry potter x reader #draco malfoy x reader #fred weasley x reader #george weasley x reader #cedric diggory x reader #ron weasley x reader #harry potter x you #harry potter x fem!reader #fred weasley imagine

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messers-moony · 3 years

Text

Nothing Left | R.B

Paring: Regulus Black X Wife!Gryffindor!Reader

Summary: Everything crashes within seconds and Sirius doesn’t know where to go.

Everything went downhill so fucking fast. How was that even possible? Everything was perfectly fine a year ago, but it seems that within that year, everything had collapsed onto the helpless boy. It was like being beneath a crumbling concrete tower that fell with no warning. Like being slapped in the face unexpectedly. Like getting doused in freezing water on a Sunday morning.

In retrospect, it sucked.

Sirius Black would know first hand. His entire life had been a screw-up from the beginning. It started with his parents, who - at the start - loved him. But when he turned out to be the child they never wanted all that love had vanished. They tortured him, broke him piece by piece, they built up trauma that took years for him to express to his friends. It wasn’t until third year when they heard him crying alone in his four-poster bed and asked what was wrong. He could remember the comforting embrace James Potter had given him.

Nevertheless, it never ended there. The summer going into his sixth year, Sirius decided it was enough after too many Cruciatus Curses and body binding curses; enough was enough. His hands were trembling after enduring just ten minutes of the torture curse, and it was a struggle, but he packed everything he could. His heart broke at inevitably leaving his little brother behind. He could only hope that Regulus would understand.

It took a Knight Bus trip to the Potter residence in Godric’s Hollow. The sky could’ve resembled how Sirius felt. Back at Grimmauld Place Twelve, the sky was always cloudy and rainy. Godric’s Hollow allowed the sun to shine past the fluffy clouds, but tonight was different. The sky was dark and thick, black clouds covered the stars. Rain poured from them, and it pittered on the stone roads. Sirius was instantly drenched when he stepped off the Knight Bus.

Hesitantly he made his way to the door, where he knocked softly. The house was two stories and was a relatively big family home - not bigger than Grimmauld Place - but an average family home. The house was a mixture of grey, dark purples, and brown. It reminded Sirius of Remus’ patched jumpers. Sirius could hear movement from behind the plum door, and it opened to reveal a familiar face. James Potter with his messy hair, hazel eyes, and long limbs. James was muscular, but he was also tall, not Remus tall but taller than Sirius.

James didn’t speak and ushered him inside. The following morning at breakfast, Euphemia - Mrs. Potter - had given Sirius the excellent news of his new forever home. The Potters would never forget the way Sirius lit up and how a smile had taken over his face. Sirius didn’t remember being this happy except for when Regulus was born.

But his forever home was not forever.

In seventh year, James’ parents had died, and nobody had comforted Sirius except one person who attempted. James had Lily, and that was enough for him. Perhaps it was selfish to think that James should be comforting him. It was definitely selfish. Sirius was doing really good at hiding how he felt until he crumbled behind a tapestry near the dungeons.

Sirius didn’t know if it was good or bad luck that Regulus - his prefect Slytherin brother - had found him behind that tapestry. Regulus had pulled back the fabric slowly with his wand lit. His face had softened at his older brother sobbing with his knees to his chest. Regulus allowed his wand light to extinguish before sitting in front of him in the same position, allowing their socks to touch at the tips.

They sat there for a couple of minutes before Regulus moved closer, albeit hesitantly to sit beside Sirius. Regulus had his back against the concrete, and Sirius curled up onto him while the younger Black brother rubbed his older brother's back. Sirius cried harder and harder. It took an hour before he subdued to sniffles and whimpers, but Regulus took it as his time to speak.

“I know they meant a lot to you,” Regulus stated, still rubbing his older brothers back, “And I don’t blame you for grieving them.”

Sirius sniffled, “I ought to be grateful for them, really.” Regulus released a sound that sounded like a chuckle, but it was so foreign to Sirius he couldn’t tell, “They kept you safe. Kept you away from mother and father. They gave you a home where you could finally be you.”

“And no matter how mad I want to be at them for taking you away from me,” Regulus admitted, “I just can’t be because they gave you everything you wanted, and I’ve never seen you happier in my life.”

Regulus didn’t stop talking, “You know… I- I found my own James Potter.”

Sirius looked up at Regulus with flushed cheeks, but his facial expression was baffled, and Regulus presented him with a small smile, “Okay, maybe she isn’t my ‘James Potter’ per se because I don’t see her as a sister but rather she’s my girlfriend.”

“What’s- What’s her name?” Sirius croaked; his throat was so raw from crying.

“Y/n L/n.”

“A- A Gryffindor?”

Regulus made that sound again, “Yeah. A stupidly brave one too. Even worse.”

Sirius smiled, “I know her.”

“Don’t tell me she was one of your conquests.” Regulus grimaced, and Sirius chuckled, snuggling back into Regulus’ chest, “No, she wasn’t. It turns out she has the hots for the other Black brother.”

Regulus smiled, and they allowed the silence of the castle to consume them. It was dark in the corridor on the other side of the tapestry, and Regulus could see the faint moonlight peaking out. He could also imagine the stars glittering beautifully in the midnight sky. He could see the star Sirius shining brighter than ever, and he just wanted his brother to feel the same.

“I plan to marry her.” Regulus said before he could stop the words from falling from his mouth.

“What happens then?”

“What do you mean?”

“Mother and father will never approve.”

Regulus scoffed, “I’m done with their bullshit and have been for quite a while.”

Sirius met his brother's eyes again, “I left right after you. It turns out there is no more heir to the Black family name.”

The older Black brother smiled brightly and tightened his grip on his younger brother. Regulus couldn’t remember feeling this warm since they were little boys running around the backyard. Sirius was practically on top of him, and that was okay. For now, everything seemed okay again. Maybe Euphemia and Fleamont were gone, but even in their deaths, they managed to benefit Sirius’ life.

Now it all seemed fruitless.

Only a couple of months later, Sirius and Regulus had gotten into a huge kerfuffle. It ended with screaming, raw throats, tears, and flushed cheeks. Sirius could remember how Regulus playfully mocked his and Remus’ relationship. He didn’t know exactly what happened, just that he was pouncing for his little brother, and Remus was holding him back. Sirius had yelled some very awful things that he couldn’t take back.

She hadn’t done anything. She didn’t even know that an argument had happened. Y/n had been reading in the common room when the book was flung out of her hand, and she was pushed against the stone wall of the Gryffindor Tower. Y/n met eyes with stormy grey ones, not unlike her lovers, but these weren’t her lovers. These were his elder brother's eyes, and he had lifted her off the floor against the wall until James had pulled Sirius off her.

Y/n hit the floor with a thud and repeatedly coughed, hands on her throat. James had stormed into the boy's dormitory with Sirius with him. She didn’t even understand what was happening not until she met up with Regulus in the prefect dorm, and he saw the marks on her neck. Sirius had taken it too far, and Regulus was furious. They were no longer on speaking terms.

Now Sirius had someone entirely different to grieve.

Sirius had felt like his heart hit the floor when he was forced to move out of James’ house with Lily due to Harry being born. Remus had moved away to take care of his sick mother and asked for privacy. The funds that had previously been in Sirius’ account had been squandered, and now he was paying the price.

He had absolutely nowhere to go. Truthfully, there was one place he could go, but he didn’t think he’d ever be accepted there. He had said unforgivable things, but James had given him enough confidence that it would be okay. Reluctantly, Sirius Black took the Knight Bus to the suburbs in London. The community felt so modern and new. It was different then Godric’s Hollow which had been around for so many years that it began to weather and erode.

The deja vu was hitting him like a brick. Their house was a mixture of grey, black, white, and maybe blue - Sirius couldn’t tell in the darkness if it was white or pale blue. Perhaps he’d find out tomorrow if he was even welcomed inside. Sighing and shivering, Sirius knocked on the door. He could hear little squeals of delight that sounded much like a child. He also heard talking, but he froze when the door opened.

Regulus Black, at the age of twenty-two, looked good. His hair was to his jaw, and it was wavy at the ends, whereas Sirius’ was much more straight. His eyes had turned silver over the years. His cheeks looked much fuller, and he looked a lot better. Regulus was no longer looked underweight, but he was still slim and skinny. Black family genes, Sirius supposed. Sirius couldn’t meet his brother's eyes.

“What do you want, Sirius.”

His name falling from Regulus’ mouth instead of a nickname hurt more than he expected, “I had nowhere else to go…”

Regulus scoffed, “James finally kick you out, eh?”

“Yeah, he did.” Sirius sounded so distant, “Perhaps it was about time, and here I am, at your doorstep.”

“Come on, Sirius.” Regulus motioned for him to come in, and Sirius did.

The house was much cozier inside. The floors were dark wood, almost black. The living room - on Sirius’ left - was a darker turquoise color with grey furniture. The dining room - on Sirius’ right - was a light grey. The furniture was a marble table, white wood chairs with cushions, and a beautiful light fixture. Regulus led him to the kitchen, which was straight ahead in the hallway.

It was a beautiful mint green color with black and white furniture. The appliances were primarily black and the furniture primarily white, but regardless, it was beautiful. They had another table in the kitchen that was a grey wood instead of the shiny marble in the dining room but nevertheless screamed elegance. Sirius sat at one of the barstools at the L of the counter. Regulus slid him a cup of tea.

“Your house is beautiful.” Sirius complimented, and Regulus placed the cup back into the saucer, “Thank you. My wife picked everything out for the most part. I either built it or painted it.” Regulus smiled.

“Your wife?”

Regulus hummed, “Y/n Black. Ring any bells?”

Sirius swallowed, “Yeah.”

They both took a sip of tea, “I have two kids too. Both boys.”

“Two?!“ Sirius nearly spat out the liquid he had just taken a sip of.

“Twins. Fraternal, thankfully.”

He placed the cup down, “What’re their names?“

“Perseus Regulus Black and Leo Alphard Black.”

“Perseus and Leo, huh?“

Regulus blushed, “It wasn’t my idea. It was Y/n’s.”

“I like them,” Regulus looked up at him, “The names. I’m sure they fit them too.”

“Thanks.”

It wasn’t long until footsteps began to echo coming down the steps. Y/n had grown up too. Her face was sharper and her curves more defined. If Sirius was honest, she didn’t look like she had kids at all. To be fair, he wasn’t really staring at Y/n but more so his brother. Regulus had a starstruck expression as his wife walked towards him. He had a dopey smile on his face and stars in his eyes. Regulus really loved her, and Sirius could tell, hell, anyone could.

Y/n stopped in her tracks at seeing Sirius, “What’s he doing here?”

Regulus placed an arm around her waist, “He came looking for a place to stay. While I was waiting for you, I decided to catch up with him for a little.”

Sirius looked guilty, “Ultimately, I’m leaving this decision up to you.”

Y/n sighed and looked at both brothers. She thought of what he did back at Hogwarts. She thought of how Regulus had cried and ached for his brother, wishing for their relationship to be back the way it was. She thought of her two children who always asked about their Uncle Sirius, who was never around.

“Sirius,” Y/n began, and Sirius held his breath, “Where will you go if I were to say no?”

Sirius looked at his lap, “The streets.”

He couldn’t hear the footsteps that approached him until soft hands lifted his head where he met soft e/c eyes, “I’m willing to look past everything that happened at Hogwarts for the sake of my children. They deserve their uncle. But I need you to show me that I can trust you and that you won’t cause trouble.”

“I’ll do anything.” Sirius complied, and Regulus smirked, “Don’t say that. She’ll have you remodel something.”

“You’re an asshole.” Y/n whirled, and Regulus continued to smirk, “I told you to use magic, and you said we should do it the Muggle way.”

He shrugged, “We got good memories out of doing it the Muggle way.”

“If getting paint all over me counts as good memories, then sure.”

“It does.” Regulus smiled, “Your face was priceless.”

“Dickhead.” She muttered.

Sirius grinned, “Well, Sirius. If Y/n lets you stay, then you’re welcome here. What I did back at Hogwarts was uncalled for, and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have mocked you and Remus.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“It is.” Regulus countered solemnly, “Had I not done that; then we could’ve had a better relationship. For that, I’m sorry.”

Sirius stood up and hugged Regulus tight, “New beginnings?”

“New beginnings.” Regulus smiled.

Regulus led Sirius up the wooden stairs up to the second story. It seemed to have had four bedrooms and two bathrooms, one in the master bedroom, one in the hallway, not including the one downstairs. On the end of the left side was a door leading to the master bedroom. On the right end was a cabinet and two doors across from one another. Then in the middle of the back was a door leading to another bedroom which Regulus had opened.

The bedroom was spotless and beautiful. It was painted a grey with purple undertone with a queen-sized bed. Most of the furniture was white, and the bedding was black. Sirius had brought his trunk to its normal size and placed it at the end of the bed. Regulus smiled as Sirius looked around.

“This is yours for as long as you want it.” Regulus stated softly snd Sirius had tears in his eyes, “Thank you.”

Sirius hugged his brother again, “I really mean it, thank you.”

“I love you, Sirius.” Regulus confessed, “You’ll always be my brother. The one who held me during thunderstorms. The one who sewed up my teddy bear when it had gotten ripped. The one who took the blame so I wouldn’t get punished.”

Sirius was gripping the back of his shirt tightly, “That stuff doesn’t just go away.”

They parted, and Regulus smiled, “Get some sleep. I’m sure you’d like to see the boys tomorrow, yeah?”

“Yeah. I’d like to meet my nephews.” Sirius admitted smiling brightly.

“Get some sleep, Siri.”

“You too, Reggie.”

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