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carolmunson · 6 months

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a thousand times a day | rockstar!eddie

fall frenzy req by @saltystormyx: 'I'd like to request a mini-fic with your rockstar!eddie au character. I'll leave it totally open to whatever you want to write.'

fall frenzy set list

back in action with a couple we haven't hung out with in a while! it was nice to get to revisit these two in some way. i had a different story for them to start -- something dirty and slutty -- but i just couldn't get into it. i needed something cozy for them. perhaps now that the seal is broken we can venture into some more slutty stuff between these two at some point. welcome to an early thanksgiving with the munsons before they were married.

tw: 18+, mostly very fluffy, some references to drug abuse, some references to using/addiction/getting clean. otherwise, two hotties in love. reader isn't referred to as 'stella' in this fic but the last name 'rink' is used a couple times to refer to reader and her family.

November, 1992

"I just, ugh honey I feel so awful to cancel on them." You blow your nose into a tissue but also direclty into the phone, making Eddie pull the receiver away from his ear for a second. You called in hysterics from a shoot in New York that you have to do pick up shots in Georgia and the earliest flight back they can manage is on Thanksgiving; leaving your plans to go back upstate to celebrate with your family in the dust. The flights had been paid for, even Wayne was making the trip to Syracuse to celebrate with you and yours. It was finally going to feel normal now that Eddie was three months clean and things had settled down some. He wasn't touring and they were only in the early stages of writing a new album and even then, the band spent most of their nights in the home studio instead of going into the city. Every now and again he'd come upstairs to grab more Pellegrino's out of the fridge and give you kisses on the cheek while you went over potential scripts.

Depsite having moved back at the beginning of November and back to falling asleep tied up with each other, you hadn't put your ring back on yet. It sat resting on your jewelry stand in your dressing room, as shiny and perfect as ever. Your bare ring finger sat as a reminder to him that he's not there yet; that he still has so much to prove -- but he meant what he said. You were gonna be his wife one day.

"Baby, it's okay. They're gonna understand," he assures softly, "It's not like you're doing it on purpose; they know you can't just not go." "It's just s-so stupid. An-an-and it's the first -- fuck, Ed it's the first one without Dad and I just feel so bad for my mom having to look at two empty seats and I don't know, babe. Like, I just feel like I'm r-ruining everything," you choke on your words, fully blubbering into the phone, make up smearing down your cheeks onto the hotel pillows you're leaning against. "You're not ruining anything sweetheart," his voice soft but firm, "You want me to get on a flight to you? I'll go right now."

"N-no it's okay," you sniffle, "I'm meeting up with Simone and getting dinner and we're gonna red-eye back home so we can get ready for Atlanta."

"Oh, so I get to see you tomorrow morning?" he grins, feeling selfish almost at how much he loves hearing your time away from him is cut so short.

"Yeah," you sniffle again, his heart pangs, "Probably really early."

"I'll have breakfast ready for you, okay? What do you want?"

"Um," you shrug to no one, "I don't know. Waffles." "Okay," he smiles, "Waffles it is."

The call home was less sweet; your mom understood but you could hear the dull ache in her voice. The subtle sadness mom's have in their register that they try to mask with an airy laugh -- years of feigning their own disappointement from life barely lived. She knows you're busy and she understands, she tells you a million times. You hear it but you don't feel it; you know she'd rather you blow it all off to come home again and see your family.

You'd rather blow it all off to see your family. Eddie had only seen your childhood home once -- quaint in size, snickered when he saw that you grew up with two guest rooms. He knew you grew up with it made, but you never made it so clear. You had walked through the trailer park to visit his old stomping grounds like you knew was growing up poor was like. Maybe you were a good actress after all.

He had waffles ready when you got in at five in the morning, who knows when he woke up to start. The Belgian Waffle maker you got sent as a wrap gift two years ago was finally out of the plastic, box still on the kitchen floor. Batter dripped down the sides and next to it a serving plate of a small mountain of waffles.

The pink stains on his fingers give a hint to who sliced all the strawberries and other fruit. Separated and glistening in the crystal bowls you really only take out for special oocasions.

Three cans of whipped cream sat at the end of the counter, one already opened with a small peak puffing out. 'Ya gotta try the product first, it's the whipped cream tax'

He's so silly. You missed his silly.

You're not home for very long, a couple days before you start packing for Georgia and you spend it all in his arms. Meals together, sitting on his lap in the studio while he tries out new melodies, you even spent one night curled up in the living room to watch a pay per view fight of Harrington's. Their friendship was finally starting to heal up after Eddie's last relapse.

He pouts when you get ready to leave, shrugging your coat on after you put the cordless phone down to confirm your car. You pout back at him.

"Don't give me that face, you're making me feel worse," you frown.

"M'just gonna miss you," he says quietly, "It's lonely here when you're not around."

"I know," you nod up at him. You don't mean for the comment to sting, but it does a little. It's not like he didn't want to be there with you this past year.

He leans down to kiss you, both hands reaching up to cup your cheeks.

"Don't be sad," he mumbles, nuzzling his nose against yours, "We'll have a nice Thanksgiving together when you get back, just us." "What about Wayne?" you ask, heart panging at the though of his Uncle eating alone. "Don't worry about it, sweet thing," he lets his lips linger against yours again for just a moment, "Wayne'll be okay."

The flight had never been more turbulent. Atlanta had never felt more cold.

You hear the phone ring and ring for the second time only to get the tin-like sound of your mothers voice again, 'Thanks for calling the Rink's! We aren't able to come to the phone right now; but please leave your name and number and we'll call you back. If you're trying to reach Stella Rink, please contact her publicist at Starmade PR Corp.'

"Hi, it's me -- again," you say into the receiver, "I'm sure you guys are busy cooking or have the game on but um, I just wanted to say happy Thanksgiving guys...God, come on, I know you're there. Just pick up!"

Your voice wavers, "I'm sorry I couldn't make it I just --" "NOW BOARDING FIRST CLASS - FLIGHT 7995 TO LOS ANGELES."

You feel a slight pull on your arm from Simone, sighing while you hang up the pay phone to make it to check in.

"They hate me," you mumble. "They don't hate you, Rink," she assures, hand soothingly skating up and down your back, "They know what your life is like." The flight is long and you sleep during most of it, the sad pit in your chest spreading through heavy in your body. You couldn't wait to just be home and eat take out on the couch with your man; have him whisper sweet nothings of reassurance while you pout in the glow of the TV.

Rain pours in California, which is not common but of course happening on the day you feel so awful. You hope that they at least called the house; that Eddie had messages to relay to you; anything so that the guilt didn't eat you alive.

You make it home faster than usual; everyone home with their families leaves less people on the road. You tip the driver triple the fare after he helps bring your bags to the door -- holiday cheer already flowing in your veins.

To your surprise, Eddie opens the door as you go to unlock it, his smile evident on his face. He's dressed cozily, black on black Corroded Coffin sweat shirt and matching pants, socks scrunch down on his ankles -- tattoos covered outside from what peek out at the wrists.

"Happy Thanksgiving, baby," he grins. He takes your bags, putting them to the side in the lobby while you kick your shoes off at the door. He pulls you in to a tight hug to his chest and even through the laundry detergent you can smell the food from all the way out here. Aromatics, butter, garlic, rolls, turkey -- it smells like comfort, it smells like home.

"Did you cook?" you ask with hopeful surprise, "You made like, a whole thing?"

"I did the dinner rolls and I bought all the food; but I'm kind of shit at that home cooking stuff so I called in some reinforcements," his laugh is grizzly with smoked cigarette gruffness.

"Come on," he ushers you forward, taking your hand while you walk through the entry way and down the hall towards the kitchen. His hand is warm and worn, still slightly clammy while the nervous teenager in him still stumbles over dealing with you. Being with you. Loving you.

The kitchen is busy, people bustling and moving and at first you think he must've just hired a team but then a flash of your mom's red Thanksgiving apron catches your eye. Your neice's giggle rings through the echoey walls. Your sister Luna sits at the breakfast nook with your nephew to keep him out of the way, helping him with a coloring book from deep in your stash downstairs.

"Wait, what?" you ask outloud. Your mom looks up, a smile in her eyes when she sees you. "Happy Thanksgiving, honey!" she smiles big, both of your sisters getting up and following her while they flock to you, a group hug of Rinks in the entry way of the kitchen. You heart swells in your chest while you feel them surround you, smell the familiar fragrance of your mom's perfume; your sister's shampoo. It had been so long, too long.

"What're you guys doing here?" you ask, tears welling up in your eyes while the emotion takes you over. You try to sniffle back the tingle in your nose while a cry comes on. "Well, Ed called us when you left for Atlanta and asked if we wanted to all come here," your mom answers, "He got all our flights and everything."

You look over your mom's head to see Eddie leaning up against the fridge, wiping his own tear away off his cheek to see you so happy.

"You were so sad, angel," he shrugs, "I didn't want your holiday to feel so lonely. So y'know -- I got everyone here for you instead. Can't have my baby sad on Thanksgiving."

Your lower lip wobbles when you look at him, his soft gaze while your sister's go back to their previous tasks, "Let me help you bring your bags up."

When he says help he means he takes them all in one trip, you take note that all the guest rooms have been set up. Your family already unpacked and lived in like they've been here a day or two. By the looks of their suitcases they'll be here through the weekend. Your heart swells again. "Where's Wayne?" you ask quietly while you make it into your room. He pops your bags by the entry way of the dressing room to unpack for you later, coming up close to you to press a kiss to your cheek. "He's out back smoking the Turkey and listening to Alice's Restaurant on a loop," he chuckles, "He just drinks beer and hangs out -- definitely has a little crush on your mom though."

"Oh my god," you giggle back, "Well she's very pretty, I get it." "He's got a real soft spot for your neice and nephew," he nods, running a hand over the top of your head, "He's gonna be such a great grandpa."

"I bet he is," you bite your lip for a moment, thinking about a future where that's true. Where you have rockstar Eddie Munson's babies. You wish you could report all of this to the papers instead of whatever shit they put in the tabloid rags about him. HANDSOME ROCKSTAR FIANCE SAVES THANKSGIVING FOR AMERICA'S SWEETHEART!

People would read that, right? You'd read that.

"Was it a good surprise?" he asks, "It wasn't too much to spring on you I was nervous th--" "This is perfect," you nod, "It's so perfect, honey. You're perfect." "You're perfect," he counters, arms wrapping tight around you to give you a tight squeeze, "Why don't you get yourself together and I'll meet you downstairs. I gotta set things up in the dining room, things'll be ready to plate soon."

"Okay," you nod, pulling your airport best off over your head while you watch him disappear back into the house.

Dinner was one to remember. You hadn't felt the true familial magic of the holiday since you were a kid and suddenly it had flown back with a veangance.

In true Rink fashion, the after dinner digestif of Irish Coffee followed you all down to the inhome theater to watch Miracle on 34th street; the little ones and Eddie nursing hot cocoa with way too many marshmallows pouring over the tops of the mugs. "I don't have to have one," you assured him, squeezing him arm gently while you looked at the cup in front of you. "Don't worry about me," his voice calm and confident, knowing he was only going to make it half way through the movie before falling asleep anyway. Most of your family did except you and Wayne who was surprised to find out he was making his way to California instead of upstate New York.

"Couldn't find my good winter boots so it turned out for the best, I guess."

Your sleepy family finally roused, your older sister getting the kids set up in their own room downstairs before she made her way up to her room. Luna and your mom following suit upstairs, Wayne following soon after.

You and Eddie clean up the small theater and head to the kitchen to assess the damage of what needs to be done. Eddie gave house keeping the weekend off to spend with their families; so for the first time in a while dishes like this were all on the two of you.

Thank god for dishwashers and a good Bing Crosby Christmas record -- you're able to clean up the kitchen in no time; stealing kisses in between songs, getting lost in a dance or two.

When you get upstairs to your room you're both exhausted; but not so tired that your eye don't linger when he starts to undress. You know you don't have the energy for the night cap he'd like but it's nice to watch him; the dip of his waist, the way his shoulder blades move under his skin on his back. "Still hungry, Rink?" he winks; heat flames your cheeks.

"No, no, I'm just -- y'know," you shrug innocently, "You look good, baby."

"Thank you," he hums while he changes into a pair of boxers for bed. You make your way into your dressing room and slip into a little night gown for the hell of it, silk and lace so he has something nice to wake up to -- something to show how grateful you are for putting this together.

When you crawl into bed next to him in the still of the night, one arm wraps around you instinctively. Heaviness dips into your eyes at the touch, it's always so hard to sleep without him there. Your hand smooths over his chest when he feels it; the drag of metal across his skin. His hand comes up to take yours and his thumb reaches up to search for it; breath catching in his chest when he can confirm it.

You put your ring back on.

"Really?" he whispers into the dark, "Yeah?"

"Yeah Munson," you nod into the crook of his neck, "Gonna be your wife one day."

#rockstar!eddie #rockstar!eddie munson #rockstar!eddie x reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson au #stranger things fan fiction #stranger things au

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judysxnd · 4 months

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Hello, I have an idea.

how about something cute, about pedro and the reader at the Beyoncé concert, and Pedro being a little jealous and possessive, because of all the attention the reader is drawing to herself.

aries men are extremely possessive and jealous. LOL

Thank uou

I saw the pictures and videos of Pedro at the concert, oh mamaaaa, perfectiooooooon

Also, happy new yeaaaaaar’s everyone!!

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Septembre 1st. The calendar was marked. You had always dreamed about going to a Beyoncé concert. So you were beyond excited when you heard she was going on tour. The renaissance tour. You didn’t even hesitate a second when you heard about it, running to the website to by your ticket.

Fortunately, you weren’t the only fan in your close circle of friends, because, even closer, your boyfriend Pedro, is a huge fan too. So you were two behind the computer, rushing to get the tickets. Internet wasn’t going fast enough. You were glued to the screen, ready for anything. So that’s why after buying the tickets you were both dancing in the living room, screams of excitement leaving both yours mouths.

You couldn’t even sleep. You were living the moment in your head, preparing yourself, even though it was only next year. You were trying to think about an outfit for the concert. It’s silver and glitter, obviously. But, a dress? A top and a skirt? What kind of shoes? Heels? No way, you wouldn’t survive the evening. Sneakers for sure. You knew Pedro wouldn’t go that far and would stick to a traditional outfit, but you were all in.

Six months later, you learned that Sarah, Pedro’s best friend also bought tickets for the same date with two other friends. So now it was going to be a small group, and it only made your excitement grow more than anything. You also had your entire outfit ready (already). A cute crop top with thin straps and a tight skirt that arrived mid-thighs, all silver (obviously). With it, you decided to wear white sneakers, so you could dance and jump all night. And you decided to bring a silver cowboy hat. Make up? A think silver eyeliner, but nothing else.

And now the other six months were gone. Today was the day. You spent your day preparing yourself. Music blasting in the house (only Beyoncé’s), you straighten your hair, making it longer than before. You did the silver eye liner, with the help of Sarah. Pedro was simply chilling on the couch with his friends, singing along here and there. Sarah wasn’t going to go crazy on the outfit, she simply decided to have a silver coat. But you didn’t feel entirely alone. One of her friends also had a cowboy hat! It made you feel better.

Once you slipped in that tight and small outfit, you entered the living room where everyone was. Everyone whistled and screamed with joy to you: “hottie!” “I’m blind!” And such. Only Pedro didn’t say anything. You didn’t really understand his reaction. He clearly showed that he was happy, he seemed to love the outfit, but I don’t know, there was something. He finally clapped and complimented you afterwards. You decided not to pick up on it, and simply leave to the concert.

For the concert, you had bought like the best places. You were all up in front, and had a little space so you were not too crowded. All the way to your spot, you felt eyes on you, you heard people whistle. You were too excited and trying to see the stage that you didn’t pay attention to it. But Pedro did. He stayed up close to you, his arm on your shoulders, staring around at anyone who dared to even look at you.

He kept looking around, searching for anyone who would make the mistake to even try to look at you. It can easily get overwhelming. Being a celebrity you have to get used to having eyes on you 24/7, but sometimes it gets the best of you. You managed to get fully into the concert, your friends too, but you could that Pedro was tense next to you. You couldn't hear him sing, he was barely moving. When you turned around you were met with a very serious face, not even looking a the stage in front of you.

"Pedro?" You screamed, so that he could hear you over the loud music. He immediately turned, his eyes falling on you. "What's wrong?" The confused look in your eyes made him realise how low he went.

"Nothing" he shook his head, faking a smile. But come on, who was he fooling? You tilted your head, staring at him. His eyes never left yours. He leaned, talking in your ear. "I don't like all the people looking at you" You couldn't help but smile.

"We're at a Beyoncé concert, you really think they're looking at me?" You joked. Hearing your laugh in his ears calmed him a little more. He rolled his eyes.

"well they did whistle and all when we arrived" he added

"who said it wasn't for you too?" You tried to joke again. "Pedro. Who am I dating?" He gave you an unamused look. "Answer me" you said, standing in front of him.

"me" You smiled

"Yep I'm dating you. People can stare, whistle or whatever, but at the end of the day, you're my home". You put your arms around his neck, while his, instinctively went around your waist. He finally smiled. "C'm here" you said, so he would lean more into you to kiss him. "Better?" you tilted your head and smiled.

"Yes. Thank you cariño" You looked at each other for a few seconds, heart eyes for the both of you. You turned around, staying in Pedro's embrace, but facing the stage. You felt him relax under your touch. Now you both would enjoy the concert.

#fanfic #imagine #pedro pascal #oneshot #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal preferences #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal one shot #pedro pascal x female reader #pedro pascal fluff #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fanfic

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yandere-writer-momo · 11 months

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What would a day be like with the hotties?

Espacialy with Hanayama and Oliva

Lots of Love! ❤️

Lots of love to you ❤️

Relaxing day with your yandere men

Yandere Baki Head Canons

Relaxing day

Jack Hanma

He’s not one to actually ‘take a day for himself’ so you’re going to have to push him to take a rest day. (He won’t)

So the two of you compromise and are able to come to the agreement to go out on a walk in the woods. “To connect with nature.” As you tell him. He thinks you’re goofy but at least he’s on the move

You two stumble across a field of flowers on your trek and you insist on making him a flower crown. (He tries to make you one, but it’s not nearly as pretty as yours).

Over all, you were finally able to get Jack to relax (to his standards). He may take a day to himself more often… it’s also perfect because he doesn’t have to worry about protecting you from anything other than a wild animal (protective yandere)

Baki Hanma

A day of rest is always welcomed for Baki from the way he lives. He’s so thrilled you want to relax. He finally has an excuse to rot in bed

You two order some takeout and lounge around in bed all day. You two watch movies, cuddle, and talk. It’s a nice bonding time

You never knew quality time like this could be so intimate… with your stage 5 clinger whose arms are wrapped tightly around you with his face buried in your chest (Obsessive yandere)

Hanayama Kaoru

You inform him you’d like to take a day to relax over the phone and he pulls up in his limousine to your house. He insists on taking you somewhere to relax

He takes you to a couples onsen where you’re in a nice hot public bath with him (it’s also one of the only spaces big enough for him to bathe with you)

Hanayama then drags you to a spa where they give you a mani and pedi (he picks the color for you), a full body massage, and a facial (not the ones he loves to give you, a professional one). He will not let a male masseuse or nail tech touch you at all, Hanayama is stupidly possessive (possessive yandere)

After you’re all winded down, he may try to push you to have an intimate night with him, this time it’s all about your pleasure (you won’t turn him down, he always shows you an amazing time)

Orochi Katsumi

He’s ordering the two of you take out to relax for the day (he cannot cook)

If you ask for a shoulder rub, he will give you one (his hands are slowly going to creep lower and lower as he goes, you might have to swat him away if you aren’t in the mood)

Will rub your feet for you as you two watch a movie together (do not pick out a movie with a raunchy scene in it or he will be in the mood to make one of your own)

Katsumi enjoys spending every minute with you so it doesn’t matter what the two do you do… just stop trying to push him away. You’re both in love! Can’t you see it? (Delusional yandere)

Kaioh Retsu

Retsu is always down to unwind. So he will have a little tea party with you (he hates that you call it that but it’s the best term to describe tea time with Retsu)

He’s going to convince you to do yoga with him and he will adjust your form. He even has some incense burning (it’s so strong that you can’t smell anything but incense)

Retsu has you sit in his lap as he reads, your head tucked under his chin. He presses kisses on your head here and there to let you know he sees you

Retsu is super calming to be around so you’re never too stressed with him

Can’t you see how perfect Retsu is for you? No one can ever love you like him. (Manipulative yandere)

Biscuit Oliva

The other sugar daddy on this list. He makes the entire day about you (but every day is about you)

Worships the ground you walk on so he is doing everything in his power to make sure you have a relaxing day (as always)

He will pay for an entire spa day for you (including getting your hair done). All he wants in return is your smile

Will take pictures of you two together but he won’t post them unless you approve of them. He would never take or post a bad picture of you. Ever

If you want to be more intimate in the day, it is all about you and your pleasure (it always is). Oliva lives to please you. Just let him worship every inch of you and sing your praises like gospel. He is dirt compared to you and he would do anything in his power to make sure you are treated like royalty at all times (worship yandere)

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kakiastro · 3 months

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Pluto Aquarius + the Power of your Stan’s

I usually follow pop culture because I think they are amazing examples to see what’s going on in our society.

Pluto has been Aquarius for a week now and you can feel the energetic shifts already. There’s already been some crazy ish going on and I think we’re seeing this transit in action already lol

Just a quick summary of the archetypes of this transit

-Aquarius is the sign of the people, groups, fandoms, social media, tech/Ai, thoughts and innovation.

-Pluto is the sign of transformation, rebirth, death, the underworld.

So Aquarius is the opposing side of Leo.

Leo is the performer and artist, the stage

Aquarius is the audience and consumers

You can’t have one without the other, they’re polarities

There’s been 2 recent big incidents that’s let me to this prediction.

1. Taylor Swift (Leo aka the artist) was just recently the target of a heinous AI video(Aquarius) where it showed her nude and doing inappropriate things(Pluto) on X(Aquarius). The Swifties(Taylor fan base) banded together (Aquarius) to get the account shut down I believe. Now there’s been a huge public outrage that’s even reached politics on what we should do about true dangers (Pluto) of AI(Aquarius)

Taylor has her NN in Aquarius 3h. So Pluto is transiting the house of the media, journalism, community. NN is destiny. No, I’m not saying this was destined to happen to her but due to this incident, will she be the example of the dangers of what lies ahead and what we can do to not let it happen again. Not just to her but to any of us, if ppl can make fake videos of you, that can be harmful and dangerous. NN leads the way and aqua is progressive. It wouldn’t surprise me if she became a spokesperson for the safety of AI. 3h rules over speakers. She’s also a Venus Aquarius, it makes sense now why Pluto is obsessed with her love life lol

2. Now this incident happened on Friday during the Leo Full Moon. So this means Leo moon was opposing Pluto Aqua. Megan thee Stallion released her new single “Hiss” which is essentially a diss record to the ppl who’s been trash talking her these last few years. Now Megan is an Aquarius Sun/Mercury 10h with a Leo moon 4h. So this single is poignant to her career, it’s already generating lots of buzz in the public(Aquarius) now here’s where it gets crazy. There’s a line in Megan song where’s she referenced Megan’s Law. Now if you don’t know what this is, it’s where you can look up sx offenders and horrible ppl like that. Now why is this important? Well, Nicki Minaj saw this as a slight about her husband and has went live and posted countless of threads(Aquarius) pretty much beefing with Megan, which included Megan deceased mother being brought up. Now Nicki is an Aquarius rising so Pluto is going through her 1h. Her as a person is going through changes, she has lots sag energy as well

Now there’s a Barbs vs Hotties thing going on (Aquarius). Now there’s always been rap beefs but I don’t know if it’s just me but this feels different, it’s personal in a deep malicious way if that makes sense. I feel it’s going come down to how these 2 fandoms responds to each other. I’m going to be real, it can get ugly between the fandoms

This leads to my predictions

-the people that support you will bè your army so to speak.

-the artist(Leo) will always be here but it depends on the connection the have with their Stan’s because they’re the ones who’s going to lift the artist up and defend them. We are in the era of the “people” that’s not just with famous people, it’s with you as well. Who are your ppl? I don’t care if it’s only 3 ppl on your team, having that support will be beneficial for you!

-I feel we are about to see a lot of Stan culture rise like never before. So yea, the celebrity culture (Leo)may be dying but the fan culture will be gnarly . We’re going from one extreme to the other yall lol. Celebrities won’t have to do really anything because there Stan’s will keep them relevant. So really celeb culture is “dying” but more like transforming into something else. I feel like the celebs who will be more in-tuned with ppl will be the most famous ones.

Let me know what y’all think? Do you think Stan culture will rise in the next 20ish years?

#astrology #astrology community #knowledge #love astrology #astro observations #birth chart #advanced astrology #kakiastro #pluto in aquarius #fame astrology #celebritybirthchart

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foxymoxynoona · 8 months

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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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slashingdisneypasta · 2 months

Note

I've been in a musical mood since I moved into my apartment (Seriously, there's something very satisfying about playing these Broadway songs out loud in your own living room (when my roommate left of course)), and seeing your dark Musical AU Post made me think of musical AU's for my... Oof countless ships 😅 of course you don't have to worry about answering ^^

Smarty-Pop • Phantom of the Opera AU

I have not known peace ever since you briefly mentioned their Erik/Christine dynamic in my sad Smarty-Pop ending drabble, and i mean that in a positive way XD and this gave me the perfect opportunity to explore an actual AU.

I'm thinking maybe Poppy can play a little bit of Madam Giry's role too, being the only one who knows the Phantom's secrets, the only calm one when the Phantom of the Opera strikes and possibly even delivering messages to the opera managers for Smartass. And unlike with the OG story, I like to imagine them in an already established relationship here- just, you know, a little secretive since it's the phantom we're talking about.

It's not uncommon for Poppy to go disappear down in the depths of the Opera House, whether it be through her mirror or one of the trap doors. And if one were to look through her dressing room, you could find many pink roses in various stages of wilt, and letters personally addressed to her written in the same colored ink. She claims she doesn't know who sends her them, but her dreamy smile shows more than just flattery. She leaves her own notes for Smartass as well, leaving them in loge #5 just before a show begins. Just sweet love letters only for his eyes.

No, they don't always agree. Poppy has lost track of how many times she's stormed down to Smartass' domain after something he most certainly did, and all the attention and admirers she had been gaining as her stardom rose have been dangerously grating Smartass' nerves. But at the end of each night, she is his, and he is hers. As it should be.

(Yeah this is partially me venting how i think a Christine x Phantom relationship would have turned out if it was the canon ending XD Also I'd like to point out that you said yandere Snartass might make his S/O marry him, which also correlates with the phantom trying to force Christine's hand. That is totally not going to become part of the Smarty-pop AU) thought XD

Greasypop • Dracula AU

I did struggle with Greasypop admittedly, but then I heard the song Please don't Make Me Love You from the soundtrack and I could not get this dynamic for this ship out of my head. Besides, it gives me an excuse to use the Vampire or the Monster AU XD No matter how you slice it, Dracula is pretty manipulative when you think about it. Especially with how he convinces Mina that Lucy's death was not his doing, which does fit Greasy's more manipulative nature... Not to mention that it'd be his fantasy to have as many hotties as Dracula did 😅

I'm just imagining vampire/incubus Greasy shows up into town, looking to plant his roots here for a while, and Poppy is one of his targets. Poppy can tell that something isn't quite right with him, even when he offers her comfort after she reads about yet another attack in the night. There's just something not right with Greasy.

But even so, she's having a hard time denying what he does to her. Just like how theres something about him that isn't quite right, there's something about him that makes her head feel dizzy. Something that let's his touch linger on her shoulder or arm before she snaps back to her senses. Something that makes her wish those evenings when he shows up unannounced and they wind up sharing a meal together don't end. It's like her heart is trying to give itself to Greasy, and her mind is trying to keep her grounded in reality.

It's not long before she breaks down, feeling like she's being driven mad, and just asks her friend- if he can even be called that- what he wants. She knows Greasy is not who he says he is, and she knows there has to be a reason he keeps coming back to her even though she's made it clear she doesn't want a man right now. Something tells her she doesn't want to know the truth, and yet another something tells her she wouldn't care.

But either way, no matter what, Poppy knows one thing for certain. Her heart can't take much more of this. And she didn't want it to. She doesn't want someone to come around and ruin this tranquility she's built for herself just for his own fun. So she asks, practically begs him, to just don't make her fall in love with him. Don't make her chase after him if he had no intentions of keeping her. Her instincts tell her that this is a terrible idea, that she should have slammed the door on the Spaniard long ago as she locked eyes with him.

But there was just something about him that made her love him.

(Not exactly the Dracula route I meant, I'm still working on it, but I hope it's still fun to read XD)

Peezy • Little Shop of Horrors AU

Ok ok I know this may not sound right but hear me out- Poppy x Wheezy are the most wholesome of the ships, kind of like how Audrey and Symore are wholesome. And also share the fact that Poppy/Audrey still see Wheezy/Seymore as such a good person deep down despite knowing or finding out the things they've done. Not to mention that Wheezy would treat Poppy right just like how Seymore would for Audrey.

Poppy and Wheezy work together in the same flower shop, and they both would agree that they are the high lights of each others work day. It's not exactly hidden that the two have feelings for each other- as their boss blatantly told Wheezy that he knew he thought things about the sweet girl. Though for many reasons, one of which is Poppy's horrid boyfriend Ben, they aren't together.

It was always heart-wrenching and rage inducing whenever Poppy would come in with fresh tears in her eyes, or when she would brush it off as just 'typical relationship struggles'. Wheezy has tried to just keep it to himself, and offer Poppy any comfort she needs. Though the night he got to actually see how that bastard treated her, he decided enough was enough. That bloodthirsty plant was the one who suggested it, but it's not like this wasn't a long time coming anyway.

The next morning, when Poppy is crying out of guilt rather than heartbreak, Wheezy keeps a cool head as he wraps an ashy arm around her and assures her that she shouldn't waste another second on that boy. He was never worth it, not if he couldn't appreciate what he had. Everything is alright now...

(... This was meant to be more fluffy, as fluffy as the original was, but it turned out a bit more manipulative than I intended at the end? I think? 😅 but hey, no one's gonna miss Ben either way-)

Pocho • Sweeny Todd AU

This one is special because here, Poppy is playing the role of Anthony, and Psycho Johanna. Specifically, I'm imagining the part of the play where Johanna is stuck in the asylum and Anthony is trying to break her free. Poppy in the Tiny-Tots AU is trying to set her friend and love free the second she finds out about him being locked away. Even if she has to employ the help of criminals to get him out.

Or, if we want more horror, Psycho is Sweeny, and Poppy is Lucy. Falsely accused of crimes he didn't commit just so the accuser could take his wife. Despite the fight he put up, Psycho and Poppy were separated, and she... Got hurt badly. And Psycho only finds out later when he comes back, now driven over the edge of sanity after all these years. And now, it's time for revenge.

Popshine • The Count of Monte Cristo AU

Another odd choice, I know. I almost gave this AU to Peezy in fact, but... Honestly I don't have too good of an excuse, I just want Shiny to sing Hell to Your Doorstep.

Also, just- can you imagine these girls using threads from their clothes in placement of engagement rings?? Shiny coming back years later, a shell of her former self but still being in love with Poppy despite how angry she is?? Poppy recognizing her immediately despite all that's happened and does her best to convince Shiny she still loves her???? My heart-

(Also I have a strong lesbian need to imagine Shiny in count clothes-)

Griny • Bonnie and Clyde AU

C'mon, how was this not going to be them?? Now granted, the only song I know from that musical is Buck you're going Back to Jail, but I do know the story of Bonnie and Clyde.

Shiny and Greasy would absolutely be criminal lovers on the run if it was just them. They would be such an infamous duo on the road, as they both can get mean when they need to.

(I would add more details to this, but I've been working on this ask for literal hours and I can't just save it as a draft so I'm trying to finish this 😅)

Bonus! Kingston X Poppy • Heathers AU

Ok ok ok I'm not sure if this musical would fit them honestly. Mainly because Kingston is your OC and you have broader musical knowledge than I do, so you know what would fit Kingston best. I just like the idea of Kingston singing I was Meant to Be Yours while Poppy is panicking in a closet.

What Musical would you say fits these two best, if you want to add onto this?

This is a very long ask, I apologize 😅 but I hope it's fun to read! ^^

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH OKAY

Smarty Pop Phantom of the Opera AU: I love how you set this up!! Pink roses at different stages of wilt? Poppy reading 'secret admirer' letters with a dreamy smile?? Ahhhhhhhhh

Greasy Pop Dracula AU: Ooooooh i love this.

please just dont make me fall in love with you, poppy breathes, heavy eyelids tired with life hanging heavy over her pretty eyes. Greasy's in her bedroom (vaguely she notices that he looks caught, for a moment. Eyes a smidge rounder and stock-still). She was sleeping until she had a bad feeling and woke- and saw him there. She should be terrified, she should try to run. She knows this. And yet she feels overwhelmingly calm, even with his wolf-like smile on her in the enclosed space; sleepiness from just a moment ago acting like a sedative. That, and that thing about Greasy that... always just makes everything go s l o w, around her.

(her will, her instincts to get away, her common sense, her movements... )

his smirk in the dark is definitely a warning as he straightens up, the sharp glint of his teeth making her feel a primal discomfort- almost fear.

i make no promises, hermosa. go back to sleep now. and in the morning try to resist; id like to see you try~

goodnight.

poppy watches the nightmare disappear swiftly, inhumanly gracefully, out her open window and only once he's gone- does she start to feel scared.

Peezy Little Shop of Horrors AU: I LOVE THE IDEA OF WHEEZY AND AUDREY II INTERACTING XDD I JUST KNOW IT WOULD BE GREAT XDD Also also-- Wheezy calling Ben 'boy'??? Sarah do you want me dead????? XD

Pocho Sweeney Todd AU: Ahhh, I love how you twisted this one around!! And the second one- woah XD Psycho is, of course, a great Sweeney. Plus they have kids so that works out, too (Imagine Turpin in this sent Percy away to boarding school or something, but kept Penny) I have to admit though that when I first saw the title here I thought Poppy was gonna be Joanna and Psycho was gonna be Anthony- and I thought, Rena would make a g r e a t Judge Turpin 😏 (i'm sorry, i'm thinking about rena in the turpin costume now XD the tight pants?? whoops- )

Griny Bonnie & Clyde AU: I LOVE BONNE & CLYDE I'M LISTENING TO IT RIGHT NOW. And- obviously- yes, this is absolutely perfect XD

Popshine Count of Monte Cristo AU: 🥺💕🥺💕🥺💕

(Also I'm very happy we both have the urge to put our mean bisexual oc's in periodwear XXD )

*just after they conspired to break greays outta jail*:

Seeing you mention You're Going Back To Jail though made me think XDD- who would Buck and Blanche? XDD Buck, Clydes brother who also broke outta prison and Blance, Buck's hardass wife who 's snide towards Clyde and Bonnie and sends her husband back to jail so they can one day be happy? XD My vote is for Jane Doe and Wheezy XD Can you imagine Wheezy gettin' told by his girl to turn his ass back the hell in??? 'what the hell are you talkin' about!??' *audible panic in his tone*

Bye, baby~

See you soon, sugar~

Kingston and Poppy Heathers AU: Oooooh, I could totally see this in the Highschool AU! XD

Hmmmmm, which musical AU should I go dor with King and Poppy... I donno, but I'm thinkin a Beetlejuice AU for Poppy and Rena XD Poppy is Adam (Or Lydia more like. But like grown adult Lydia who gets just as uncomfy as Adam does.), of course, and Rena is BJ XDDD Rena is such a gross femme fatale XD

I think we're a perfect fit, lets make out a bit-

Bigger, further, harder-

C'mon, drop your panties, I'm trynna fill you with wisdom and skill and the instinct to kill-

Gotta haunt til it hurts through the night~

etc

#i have never actually listened to dracula or count of monte cristo #maybe i have to now XD #this was s o fun to read. Thank you for sending it in!! XD

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harryleatherfit · 1 year

Text

Upper East Side || AU Frankie Morales

Chapter 2: Classes

word count: 4108

warnings: people being mean cunts, mentions of relationship with a teacher, anxiety

authors note: ok this was written so fast, i’m genuinely in the middle of moving and i plopped my ass down for a break and wrote this. i want to give as much depth i can to characters but not make it boring if that makes sense. i also have not reread this so expect errors. cheers!

🪩Main Master List🪩 Series Master List 🪩

——

You wake up in your room. After the meeting you decided to walk around the campus and go into a few boutiques, unpack your car and decorate as you seem fit. You smile at the Caroline Polachek posters you brought with you. You hear the three of them chattering about in the common area.

“I only have Stage Managing classes with Mr. Morales this semester, I’m taking on an internship with this director in October.” You hear Rose say.

“I have The Art of Interview, History Documentary of Film, and Making of Webisodes on Fridays and Wednesdays with the other Mr. Miller. Then Professional Lighting and Camera Techniques 2 on Tuesdays. I’m also taking ZIne Scenes on Mondays. Those are all with Mr. Morales, ” Hannah said.

Mr Morales.

You wanted a class with him. Schedules came in this morning.

“I have Special Effects makeup on Monday with Mr. Davis, Tuesday, and Wednesday along with Queer documentaries with Mr.Garcia. Then on Fridays and Thursdays I have ballet classes with Ms Cheot.” Laylah replies.

“L I didn’t know you were taking up ballet?” You walk out.

“Good morning joker face, check your schedule yet?” Laylah

You open your phone and pull up your recent email.

“I have Advanced Acting for the camera, Expanded approaches to practical acting with Ms.Roylance on Mondays and Tuesdays. Then I have Stage work: Acting with Props and its combined with a set building class with Mr. Morales on Mondays , Tuesdays, Wednesdays, Thursdays and Fridays.” You mumble off.

His name on your phone made you shake. 5 days of the week fuck.

“Damn busy bee, what's the interest in stage work now? Mr Morales is a good teacher but he’s kinda cold and closed off from his students.” Hannah asks.

“I figured I should dip my toes into a couple worlds, be as well rounded as I can be.” You reply. You didn’t want to ask any questions about Mr. Morales, you didn’t want any suspicions from your friends.

“And then on Wednesdays and Thursdays I have Writing your life and Casting and Auditioning with Mr. Gracia. Fuck, and I have voice on Mondays and Fridays too with Mr. Miller.” You finish.

Your semester was fucking filled. You didn’t mind though, you wanted to be busy.

“Oh shit I heard that that Mr. Miller is good in bed, he’s such a hottie.” Rose chimed in.

“Oh he completely is, but he’s such a player you can tell.” Hannah responded. “Those 5 teachers, Mr. Miller, Mr. Miller brother 2.0, Mr. Davis, Mr.Garcia, and Mr. Morales are all a big friend group. People have seen them around at clubs and stuff. They’re all just secretive but they are the sole reason why our arts department is the best.”

That made your pussy shake. But even more that you get the whole school week with Mr. Morales.

“We must go thrifting, we need to clothes for the Semester, fucking show up to classes looking and feeling the best.” Hannah spits out cheerfully. “We have one week to get our lives together and then it’ll be 4 months of non-stop working.”

You all agreed and left your suite to hit the perfect NYC vintage stores.

--------

After a long day of shopping, you all successfully got bags of clothes, used your meal cards and Cava, oddly enough meal swipes were just like a debit card, it was all so new to you.

You went to bed that night thinking of Mr. Morales. About how you would act around him. How you would ask questions. You had the longest class with him and for 5 days. Honestly, you didn’t understand this feeling you got from thinking about him.

Why not any of the other teachers from that set of 5? He was going to be your teacher for fucks sake. You couldn’t do anything to fuck up your chances for being here.

But that way he stared at you, the way you kept running into him. He turned you on in half a second by just staring at his hands, the way he looked alone in that suit. Those gold rings and how they wrapped around his thick fingers. His polished black shoes, you’d lick them real fucking shiney for him.

What the hell was wrong with you?

------ * 1 week later *

Monday morning. Classes started today. You put on your outfit and pack your bag. Truly feeling and looking your best. You spent the week working out, only for you and nobody else, and trying to take care of yourself. You could’ve stressed yourself out, but you took everything minute by minute. Spending this week with your friends made you confident with yourself.

You walk to your first class, Advanced Acting for the Camera. You walked in and gave Ms. Roylance a small smile. Your class was pretty intimate with 15ish people and she got into the syllabus right away.

You all introduced yourselves and did icebreakers, everyone already knew each other so this was the most for you. It felt like you were being interviewed by Gossip Girl herself. You genuinely noticed a Blonde girl giving you a death stare. Her name was Nina. It looked like she was dressed in all vintage Channel and of course she had a model body. You could smell the plastic surgery from a mile away. Not that getting work done on yourself was bad, but for Nina- this seemed typical. You couldn't wait until you got to actually work with her in class.

Ms. Roylance went on about the material you were to start for the next few weeks, monologues and learning how to deliver and cry in front of the camera, she mentioned Lady Macbeth. Auditions were to be held in the next few weeks and there’d be more information on that next week.

That made Nina scoff. You sank into your chair and looked away from her.

The next class you had with Ms. Roylance again and it was just added techniques to make you a better actor, simple and easy.

After your class ended you got a text from Laylah

Lala: Lunch Break, Bagels? Some girl recommended this hole in the wall place not so far from here.

Okok: That sounds amazing, I already have shit to spill

Lala: Shiiiit me too.

-------

“So how were classes?” She asks.

“Honestly not bad. So far just classes with Ms. Roylance. She seems like a sweet lady. I hope they pay her well for all the attitudes she has to fucking deal with. We were doing icebreakers and this fucking girl Nina was staring me down like I was fish and bones. Just because we transferred does not mean I’m going to demote you sweet thing.” You said bitterly.

Laylah laughed. “Yeah people were staring me up and down, can’t blame them.”

She truly was a goddess, she had a septum and her hair was the most beautiful shade of aquagreen. She had tattoos all over her sternum and arms. You were used to the looks she gets because she’s truly infatuating.

You yourself had tattoos, miscellaneous here and there, but your favorite was your “To be both free and safe tattoo” on your collarbone. It was lyrics from your favorite Caroline Polachek song, Laylah got the same thing but on her rib cage.

“There's this hottie in my Stage Makeup class, he looks like a Bridgeton, it made me so distracted during the Syllabus I had to ask Mr. Garcia to repeat himself twice. And then I was distracted by Mr. Garia for fucks sake”

“ Ooo 1 of the best 5.” You taunt. “Get the boy's name?”

“No, I was literally staring at him the entire time and my brain short circuited.”

That’s how you felt about Mr. Morales. You get to see him next class.

“Mr Garcia was also talking about Lady Macbeth and how Tech auditions will be like. I’m super excited to see what I can do.” She adds.

“Oh god, I’m terrified. Having to audition and then chancing to mess up and make myself look like a fool in front of all those judges. Imagine I literally forget everything.”

“Oh bitch you won’t because we’ll be helping each other and practicing while we're high so we can 100% memorize our craft.”

Smoking to memorize was like a foreign ritual you and Laylah did at UNCSA, you didn’t feel nervous so you just soaked up your lines and their emotions in a blink.

“Imagine getting to perform on Broadway… as a college student. That’s just unfathomable.” You mumble.

“Yeah it truly is.” Laylah thinks. “Imagine you’re Lady M, and you get to do that stellar gaslighting batshit crazy monologue. I think you’d personally fuck that shit up.”

You laugh, “I’ll audition but no saying yes right now. I have to lay low and not get my hopes up for anything.”

You look down on your phone and realize you’re going to be late to Stage work.

“Fuck I gotta go Lay. I love you.”

-------

You finally find your way to the auditorium. You got lost so that tacked up your time for being even more late. You opened the door and held your breath. You saw kids in the front row seats and saw him leaning against the apron of the stage.

God, he is fucking mouthwatering. You had to stop. Does he always wear a suit?

“Why Hello Ms. North Carolina, late are we?” He asks. Giving that same fucking warm glare.

“I’m so sorry Mr. Morales I won’t let it happen again, I got a little lost.” You took a seat.

‘I’ll repeat again, this class will be easy but I need you seniors to put in the work. Props may be fun to look at and fun to touch as an actor, but hell to make.” He paces in the front.

“I need to trust that none of you will break anything and will show me that you’re willing to work. Or I will drop you from this class. Is that understood?” He asks.

You and your classmates give nods.

“In this class we may or may not make props for actual broadway shows, depending on how well you guys create, and we will begin making sets and props for Lady M. Here and there I’ll give subunits but that's the majority of the class. In the winter we will have a showcase.” He finishes.

He tells you you all are immediately going to start using saws and cutting wood. This was his entrance test. Good for you, this was the only language you had with your dad when you were a child.

You would sit in the garage with your dad when you were in elementary school watching him build and create, as he would then teach you. It was your fathers release after fighting with your mom.

Mr. Morales all had you use the basics and everyone held their breath when it was your turn. But as you thought in your head, you made cuts perfectly and were a natural. Mr. Morales didn’t need to assist you or tell you once a hint. You're glad your hands didn’t shake, if the shaking came you were going to have to opt out.

You stepped back and took off your safety glasses with a smile. Your class cheered for you.

“Points Carolina for not messing up or splitting the wood.” Mr. Morales says over everyone. You noticed he had a Southernish accent, it was thick and dark. Rich and raspy.

He stares at you again. What the fuck does he want?

You stand back with your classmates and as everyone continues you decide to stare at him. He was wearing black dress pants that hugged his hips and a polo looking black long sleeve with a collar that made his arm muscles look huge. You could sympathize with Laylah now. Mr. Morales had style.

He was wearing a cartier watch and his chain looked heavy on his neck. You imagined grabbing it while on top of him. You imagined his rough hair in your hands, looking into those glistening dark brown eyes. You were probably really fucking wet.

The bell ringing got your attention.

“Ok everyone this class is everyday this semester so buckle down.” He says.

--------------

Your next class was voice, and that was the class you were most excited for. Sining has been your guilty pleasures. You had Hot Mr. Miller, but you wouldn’t let his charm distract you. You took singing seriously. You’ve been operatically trained since high school, your range being interestingly expansive, even after smoking for quite some time.

You chuckle to yourself, you’ve smoked so much to the point that you probably should have had your voice box removed.

Most actors in Hollywood knew how to sing and you obviously couldn’t get in a musical without knowing how to sing.

You walk into your class and Mr. Miller looks chipper.

Immediately you notice Nina, for fucks sake. Of course she takes voice.

You take your seats, less people than your acting classes.

“Hello everyone, I know you’re all probably tired as it's the last class period of the day, but we do have a lot to go through.” He starts off. “You’re in this class because you’re good and can sing so no worries, you already made the team. No need to show off.”

You could tell he was already an amazing voice teacher. Gentle but also had tough love in him. That's what choir really needs.

“Here in this packet you’ll see future details of my class. The Winter Recital, the pieces we’ll be singing together and if you stay with me for the Spring semester just a few details on that. For the Winter Recital, you’ll be able to pick your own piece. But you just have to review it under me and hear me listen to you sing it. If you stay with me for the spring we’ll continuously work on your audition songs and work on your tones and they way you all stress on dynamics.”

He really knew his craft.

“There's a list of vocal teachers in the area that I highly recommend, some that may go on over zoom.” He says.

You see Ms. Kims name, you chuckle.

“There's a mix of teachers for mixing, chest, belting and head coaching. I have down teas that help, foods and drinks to avoid before singing, spots that have amazing tea and last of all-.” He pauses.

“No smoking.” He stops. You hide your smile.

“Who am I kidding, it’s New York and you’re all over 21, if you do immediately drink water and make hot tea.”

No can do sir, and you saluted in your head.

“Now we’re gonna head to the theater to sing on stage, figure out our class balance and sing some scales.”

Your heart drops. Would Mr. Morales be there?

Your class follows Mr. Miller and you falter in your step, staying behind everyone.

“Why are you so slow?” Nina asks.

You didn’t even notice her near you. “Because I’m not in a rush to be first.” You reply, not with a bitch tone but you were being honest.

She laughs at you and walks ahead. This was going to be a long semester with her in your classes.

You walk into the theater and see Mr. Morales is teaching a class, it looks like a bunch of freshmen.

“Hey Fish, how was the first day?” Mr. Miller asks as they hug.

Fish. Was that a nickname?

“Not too bad Ironhead, I won’t lie. Can’t wait to see what the freshmen have in store though. Here to use the stage with your seniors?”

“Yeah I feel like this semester is going to be good. I can feel it in my heart.” He winks to Mr. Morales.

The man shakes his head to Mr. Miller and he smiles. What is this all about?

“Okay class. We're gonna head to the booth and I’ll explain the lighting board to you all.” Mr. Morales addresses his class.

You felt nervous that he was still in the same room as you. Good that he was still in your presence, but nervous that he could hear your singing.

You and your classmates get in a semi circle one the stage and Mr. Miller instructs you to sing the 2 octave major scale, minor scale, harmonic, chromatic and melodic scale. He got out a paper for you all to individually sight read.

You noticed Nina went a half step higher on the paper.

“Ms. Wyatt, what did you mess up on?” Mr Miller asks?

She looked horrified, “My timing was off?” She sounded like a little baby. You almost felt bad.

“No it wasn't that but it’s okay we’ll be sight reading almost every class this semester.” He responds.

Now it was your turn to sing the piece. As you started singing the lighting in the theater changed, probably due to the class messing around with the board and once you finished you were scared that made you mess up, as you could barely see your sheet in front of you.

You could hear Mr. Morales telling a student to yell out calling dark to the people on the stage. Theater 101 rule.

Mr, Miller yelled back, “Don’t scare the shit out of them, Fish. Thank you dark.”

“Wow, first time no mistakes and the lights going off. Plus this was a hard one.” Mr. Miller exclaims.

You were on a fucking roll today.

You smile and pass the paper to your next class mate.

Once you were all done he instructed that he was gonna have you all sing on Do and rearrange you in rows to see where you sound the best. He put you on the right in the back. Nina was placed in the front.

“Mr. Miller last year I was in the back, I’m a third row singer.” She says quickly.

“Ms. Wyatt I’m sure you may be a third row singer but this is the place where I think suits you best.” He replies. She immediately sulked.

Thank god he told her off, even if it was in a nice teacher way. She needed to be humbled.

He then assigned everyone their semester voice parts. You got S1. You didn’t even care about Nina’s groaning, she got alto, but being an alto was a privilege. Most female singers were sopranos, it took much work and dedication to become a rich alto. You’d prefer to be a rich alto then a breathy Soprano 1 anyday. But you were still honored to think Mr. Miller thought you’d fit S1.

“Ok now for our last part of class I’ll have everyone pick a song and just sing. No matter genre or voice type. I’ll sit in the audience and just have a paper out. Trust me this is not a test, this is just me to assess your growth on dynamics and tone how heavy you are on consonants. See how well you can fake emotion through a song. And to see how clear you can produce plus your breath work. I’ll give you 5 to think of a song for yourself.”

Shit you think, now he’s really gonna hear me. You finally decide on Smoke by Caroline of course.

She herself is operatically trained, and you honestly sang because of her. Her voice sounded autotuned thats how fucking good her voice was. The hums she made in her songs were so easy to create and the head to chest flip sounded so easy. That alone took you years to master.

In Smoke there were some head to chest flips, belts, and humming with your mouth fast singing. You had to breath correctly or you’d fuck it up. Your hands started to shake, you tuned everyone out until it was your turn.

You get up to the stage and see that Mr.Morales was front row. Fuck.

“Whenever you’re ready.” Mr Miller says with a smile.

What if you’re never ready.

You breathe in and start. This was your favorite song so you did know every beat, every stop, every note and breathe that Caroline took. You just needed to block him out from being below you.

“It’s just smoke.” x2

“Floating over the volcano. It’s just smoke. Go on, you know I can’t say no. It’s just smoke” You pause and do her hums. Hums were meticulous, you needed to produce enough sound with your mouth closed and to only breathe through your nose.

“It's just smoke. Floating over a volcano. It's just smoke. Selling me out on the down low, and here you are the big answer tonight and you are melting everything about me. Oh don’t worry about me, it's just smoke.”

“And the fallout doesn’t phase me to take a bullet for my baby for the one thing that’ll save me, I know.” That was Carolines autotune part, you can get it down but it was fucking hard. If you pushed too hard it would sound flat.

“Throw it out and replace it with a brand new kind of crazy don’t believe it when you praise me, do I? And you are the big answer tonight and you are melting everything about me oh don’t worry bout me. It’s just smoke.” And at the very end you do her belt, you had to force and mix at the same time which scared you shitless. Most daunting 3 minutes.

Once you were done your class got out of their chairs clapping, even the freshman were. Nina was sitting down.

Mr Miller asks, “Do you have perfect pitch?”

You notice Ms. Morales leans forward in his chair.

You respond, “Yes I do actually, for a while I thought it was relative but I don’t need to think about it just pops in my head and I know. It’s strange but helpful” You smile.

“That's rare, wow. Would you like your comments now or paper?”

I’d prefer it on paper.” You rush off. Mr. Miller was talking to Mr. Morales while writing your notes and you couldn’t help but have butterflies, what were they saying?

Those familiar eyes met you and you could feel his warmth engulfing again. You wish you could sit next to him.

The last few people sang and you were quite impressed. The class ended and Mr. Miller handed you your paper last, you stayed to read it.

Where have you been in my years of teaching? You got on that stage and rocked it! I knew from the start of meeting Kim and coming to your recital/Cabaret the whole team picked the right choice. You were a little anxious, but no worries you hid it well. I’m trained to notice. Your pianissimo to forte was perfect. Your belt was incredibly well done, how did Kim teach you that? Your breathing with the hums, incredible. The tempo was on the dot, you had no jaw or tongue tension. How did you learn to mix like a pop singer? Those K consonants were present and never skipped. And to top it off, I knew you had perfect pitch, those chest to head flips gave it away. You immediately knew your next note without having to search for it. 100/100. I can’t wait to see what this year has in store for you.

-Mr. Miller

You almost had tears in your eyes. You couldn’t believe it. He was there for everything? Who else was with him?

You looked up from the paper and Mr. Morales was still there. His legs were crossed and he had his elbow propped on his knee, holding his face.

You locked eyes with him and you were curious what that head of his was thinking. What was he saying to Mr. Miller? It wasn’t awkward, it just felt needed.

“Good job.” He stated. He looked like he was in a different world. “I have to lock up, have a good night, see you in class tomorrow.”

It felt like you were walking on eggshells when you didn’t want to. You could do anything with him since you were alone. You could easily walk up to him and run your fingers through the tufts of hair as you dreamed, but that would be embarrassing if you mistaked all those stares and shared searched looks of each other. Your brain does love to play tricks on you.

“Thank you, have a good night.” You give him your real true smile. You’re eager but you let this night stay at rest.

You walk to your dorm in a trance.

——

previous chapter || next chapter

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fioras-resolve · 2 months

Text

I started Zero Time Dilemma! Here are my notes.

-So like, up front, this is a very different game from VLR or 999. Its intro starts not with an escape sequence, but with a choice. This sets the stage for what this game is Really about, and it's definitely a shift. It might turn out to be a lot for me, as someone who's not used to decisions as core gameplay

-The fact it's all an autoplaying cutscene gives ZTD a very different vibe from previous Zero Escape games. Not sure if I like it, but I might like it soon.

-So like, okay. After doing some cursory research, this game was inspired by Telltale's "The Walking Dead." It's a more cinematic experience, to appeal to the West. The thing is that Telltale had been doing games like this for a decade, and also clearly had more of a budget. So while Zero Time Dilemma being able to have actual shot composition is cool, the characters animate less than characters animate in a Telltale game, or in previous Zero Escape games for that matter.

-SHE SAID AMONG US, SHE SAID ZERO IS AMONG US LET'S FUCKING GO

-God the redesigns of pre-existing characters for this game are so fucking funny. ZTD!Phi feels fucking engineered to be hot, her design shows less skin than Alice or Lotus but manages to feel so much more horny. Although maybe that's just my tastes.

-Oh my god the choice to remix songs from 999 as well as VLR is inspired. VLR already straight-up reused songs from 999, but there's some songs remixed from 999 that didn't show up in VLR. Love that! Genuinely, it's cool.

-Wait so is Diana actually American? Or is she just a redhead with blue eyes for aesthetic reasons?

-Oh my god Carlos is the most Nathan Drake-ass White Guy to ever be put into a Japanese game. He's got the face, jacket, the voice, the Blonde White Dude Haircut. I love that Zero Time Dilemma's new wacky creatures after VLR's GOLM and Zero III are just white people. (Please ignore this if being a Latino turns out to actually be part of Carlos's character)

-So the big thing is that even though this is cribbing from The Walking Dead, its time travel mechanic means that I'm exploring possibilities more than living with my decisions. Although I am VERY early on still, I haven't even gotten to an escape room yet! Speaking of,

-I have not gotten to an escape room yet. What the fuck? That's usually the start of the game! Instead the game starts me off with the decision mechanic and the fragment of time stuff.

-Oh my fucking god, titty physics? In a game where the characters are animated this little? Mira is this game's scantily clad big-breasted woman, and this game immediately services the fans.

-I mentioned Phi's design earlier, and I've gotta say it feels like these character designs were all intended to be either relatable or titilating to a western audience. Like yes, Mira, Akane, and Phi are all different brands of hottie, but there's also Carlos, aka the most Video Game Guy ever, there's Eric, who's just some dude, and also Sigma is also looking incredibly Mid-2010s Western Game Protagonist too. And Diana is the first playable female character in Zero Escape so I feel like she is designed to be at least a bit relatable to femme audiences.

-I love how this is literally just Saw. "Each of your rooms has a small yellow button. Pushing it will let you escape, but send a shower of hydrogen flouride to the other rooms, killing them. The early bird gets the worm." This rules.

-I remember playing 999 and VLR and feeling like they were kind of bloodless, despite all the blood and death. The thing is that in those games, I almost never had to live with the consequences of causing someone else's death, in a way that wouldn't also be causing the death of the entire group. You know, a Game Over. But here, living with the consequences of causing someone else's death is the entire gimmick of the narrative. It's horrifying! I love it. Since this is Zero Escape there's prooooobably gonna be a relatively bloodless True Ending, but the fact that I don't know if that's true here is definitely worth commending.

-I also love how extremely straightforward the gimmick is here, there's no Ambidex Game or Digital Root to deal with here, you just decide who to kill and when.

-Okay I know that fact-checking is anathema to Zero Escape's mystique but I refused to believe that the Sleeping Beauty Problem wouldn't be solved at this point, that's a mathematics thing, there's no way they just don't have an answer yet. So I check on Wikipedia, and apparently yeah, it's still open for debate! Shit! Wonder if this'll still be true in 2028 when the game takes place!

-…Yeah, this is definitely a game I'm gonna have to play in spurts. I'm kinda surprised, for a series that's always been about deadly games, just how much darker this one is. I kinda like it a lot, but it's definitely a lot to have to go through.

#zero escape #zero time dilemma #ztd spoilers #zero escape zero time dilemma #angie's notes

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dobiemart · 2 years

Text

good looking boy

pairing, kurtis “kurt” kunkle x reader

summary, general n’ relationship headcanons abt kurt that i wrote in the shower cause i get to do what i want

word count, 2.1k

byr, i got a new new job cause sitting on my ass doesn’t pay the netflix subscriptions, so excuse my absence for the past couple of days. PLEAAAAASSEEE IVE BEEN ADJUSTING LET ME LIVE

ill totally answer some asks asap cause i love you sm and i totally wanna write what yall wanna read, just give me a couple of years seconds :)

also i havent watched spree in a good minute and i didnt feel like rewatching it so if mr kunkle is ooc ignore it

(p.s. i wrote this while eating drinking? chocolate vanilla mixed pudding out of a straw. you’re welcome for that information.)

warnings, fluff and nsfw content but no actual smut, swearing, car sex, oral sex (m and f receiving), cockwarming, dry humping, overstimulation, dacryphilia, mentions of murder, one mention of a breeding kink, one mention of pregnancy, one mention of cutting (not sh & very consensual!), one mention of emotional manipulation, kurt being icky wicky but still a cutie

sfw

im kinda shocked that ppl still love kurt but like ME TOO

i cannot stress the fact that kurt is a stalky perv at first enough. the first time you get in his car he instantly saves the footage and uses it for extra curricular activities.

he's genuinely willing to follow you around in his spree. he’ll wait outside for hours in front of any building you go to. the other passengers can wait, right?

he’d totally plug his socials in his regular socially awkward way, but stutters more than usual while he does it. (boooo. tomato tomato tomato tomato.)

along with shoving his socials down your throat, he’ll ask for yours back. even if you don’t give it to him, he’ll find it. he’d know practically everything about you after your first meeting. he has your address, where you go to work/school, what your third favorite meal is, how you did your hair in 2nd grade, etc.

totally tries to flirt with you and miserably fails to the point where it makes you physically cringe multiple times. he probably searched up how to flirt on wikihow a couple minutes before he picked you up.

let's be real here. kurt smells like pennies and bacon grease with the teeny tiniest bit of vape juice and dollar store body spray. his car always smells good, though.

after your first couple of drives, he gets the courage to finally ask you to go out with him. not without stuttering to all hell and having a camera somewhere, of course. it’s quality content for the kurties!

once you say yes and get through the little pre-dating stage, this pervy bitch is the cutest, nastiest, most loveable motherfucker you’ll ever see. buckle up mf

our favorite boy has the same amount of game that a middle school boy would have. you could be years into your relationship and he would still say stuff like “are you lightning? cause’ you could be my queen.”

his viewers don’t believe he has a girlfriend at all. you really gotta make sure to tell them you aren’t kidnapped or being forced to be in a relationship with him.

brings you everywhere with him, no matter what. he might leave you back in his room when hes filming #TheLesson, but if you wanted to tag along he wouldn’t mind having you there.

he gets sick really easily cause his immune system isn’t immune to dog shit. i swear he’ll be fine one day then sneeze his ass off the next.

calls you the most random damn nicknames you’ll ever see. he’d definitely call you shit like “my little soda pop gummy bear” or “the barbecue to my chili” along with the normal baby and sweetheart stuff. (I SAW A HC THAT HE CALLS YOU HIS FAV KURTIE ONCE AND OMFG IT AIN'T TRUE)

please call him pretty. call him anything, for that matter. if its coming from your mouth, he’d love it. call him trash for all he cares, he’d be your trash anyday (same you lil hottie) <3

im gonna assume he's constantly on tiktok along with every other platform he could possibly be on 24/7. his screen time is a lil too high (same) but what did you expect. on top of that, his volume is constantly on 100 and he doesn’t like wearing headphones, so good luck with that.

kurt is always cold. his body is simply built differently. so instead of you putting your hands under his shirt, he’d put his under yours. (and would totally be offended and take it to heart if you don't want his icicle hands on you.)

the absolute biggest attention whore ive ever seen. cuddling, hugs, hand holds, kisses, etc. 24/7. literally he’s fine with just being in your presence all day. wha- what do you mean you wanna run errands? who the fuck needs your time when kurie needs it more?

although hes an attention whore, kurt also needs his space and alone time. when he leaves, he leaves for a reason. don’t follow him out, don’t pester him when he gets back. unless you really wanna see why he loves “fuck, marry, kill.” so much. (goofy ahh threat)

you best believe most of the lovey dovey things in your relationship are gonna be streamed and recorded. not absolutely everything but enough to have a couples tiktok account together.

most definitely drops an L bomb during the first couple of weeks. he’s never had someone like you, and he doesn’t wanna let you go either. not that he’d actually let you go, anyway.

very whiny. like he's an actual man child, especially when he’s denied anything. (flashbacks to when you told him he couldn’t stream you doing random shit throughout your day.)

this bitch CANNOT see and i'll stand by that with my life. kurtie wears contacts. once in every blue moon he’ll actually let you see him with his chunky framed glasses on, but don’t post any pictures of him with them. he has a reputation to uphold, y/n!

he forgets to take care of himself all the time. shove him into a good steamy shower and get him to eat something other than a lunchable and can of off brand pepsi.

him getting up to lock his door after his mom walks in on you cuddling for the first time. he probably gets a padlock and a door stopper just to make sure it doesn’t happen again. (giving two middle school kids)

probably has a shrine of things he stole you gave him for whenever you're not there. it’s filled with everything from stuffed animals, to polaroid pictures of you sleeping. you don’t know about it and he’ll probably never tell you where it is.

not only does he giggle while he laughs, the mf snorts and clutches his stomach for dear life. it looks like his entire body is going through a stage 4 earthquake.

gets into fierce arguments with the 12 year olds he plays with. im talking full screaming matches at ungodly hours of the night. (morning? morning. no it’s night- WAIT-)

“NO YOU’RE ACTUALLY DOGSHIT BRO! YOU LITERALLY DIED BEFORE ME-“

“kurtis. if you yell into that damn mic one more damn time–“

i wouldn’t say he’s incredibly toxic, but kurt can damn well manipulate any situation that he wanted. it’s a common tactic he’s used since he was a kid, and that wont change when it comes to you.

he has a cracked ass phone screen. literally pieces of glass are missing and he thinks it’s completely normal. please get him a screen protector asap

kicks his feet when he lays on his stomach. y'all cannot tell me he doesn't cause i won't listen whatsoever

please tell him to shut the hell up about his damn sub count. genuinely the amount of times he brings up views and likes during the day instead of regular human conversations is concerning. (THERAPY YOUR HONOR THERAPPYYY)

nsfw

kurt is a virgin. you know this, his passengers know this, everybody knows kurtie gets absolutely NO bitches. zero. zilch. damsels? non existent for him.

he’s never had anybody as intimate as you before you came around, so he's instantly hooked after your first kiss together.

loud. super loud. volume at 110% typa loud. i just cannot picture him being quiet whatsoever. he has to moan/whine/whimper, so on and so forth.

him being extremely verbal isn’t always subjected to sexual situations, either. you could give him a quick squeeze on the shoulder and he’d groan super loud over the fact that your hands were on him.

if you're into it, he’s obviously gonna film it. y’know how famous he could get from a sextape, y/n? followers galore. he’d never actually share you though. they can look but they can’t touch.

kurtie likes boobies, but he also likes thighs. he wouldn’t say no to a fat ass, yet tummies are so appealing to him- he likes everything. just the fact that you’re his and he can actually touch any part of you is good for him.

cries when he cums. actually sobs. legitimately starts weeping. is the definition of ‘crying a river.’ its even better when he's overstimulated. (i just want one piece sir)

anotha one of those mfs that loves the idea of breeding, but would absolutely panic if he actually managed to get you pregnant. but then again, he could make a family channel! just think about the views it would rack up–

okay so kurt obviously isn’t the biggest dicked bitch in the neighborhood, but when he learns how to actually use what he’s got the sex is immaculate. jaw dropping, toe curling, has you smiling n giggling at the dinner table typa good.

stop drop and roll, halt, and pause cause imagine cockwarming him in his gaming chair until it’s eventually too much for him to handle, him putting his headset on you and giving you a severe case of wobbly legs.

could and will kill for you without an issue. he’s a scrawny little piece of shit, but man is he strong. mentally and physically. anybody you want, he’d find them for you. would probably also come home covered in blood and wanna give you a hug or some shit. (ew, kurtis.)

bucks his hips into your mouth while you give him head. at first it was an accident, then he realised what he was doing. he totally could stop it but the sounds of you gagging around him make him feel proud of himself.

i feel like he’d like having some music on during sex, but he’ll turn it of midway in the session cause he wants to hear every single sound you make. he can tell how much you’re enjoying it that way.

kurt has totally jacked off while you were in the same room. he especially likes to do it while you're napping in his bed. i

don’t know why, he doesn’t know why, he just likes to do it.

grips on any and everything in sight and doesn't let go. seriously, you gotta pry him off of you before his nails start digging too hard.

he blows condom balloons. you cannot look me in the eyes tell me kurtis kunkle hasn’t drawn a face on a blown up condom and given it to a person in his spree

he humps you like an actual bitch in heat. like you could be chill as hell on a random sunday evening and BAM the white man pounces and he’s rutting against you like his damn life depends on it.

he’s probably watched enough porn to know what a little bit of aftercare is, but was super awkward about it the first time. literally grabbed your sweaty body and gave you a side hug with a special high five.

as much as i'd love to say kurtie is a certified bottom, he could totally dom whenever he wanted to. basically switches as quickly as he did when he told jessie she wasn’t going back to her home anytime soon.

let's sit up here and be honest. if kurt is eating you out it isn’t for you, its for him. he takes pleasure in stuffing his face between your legs for hours on end. he tries to inconspicuously rut against the bed, but we all know what he’s doing.

imagine flirting with somebody in his spree as a joke, and him being dangerously silent about it until they get out of the car. if you could get a noise complaint from a vehicle, you’re getting one that day.

literally do anything to him. he’s fine with it. you wanna choke him? sure! you wanna cut him? only if you use the hello kitty blade. you wanna bite him? he's offering several limbs in your direction.

kurtie babe starts babbling when he gets close enough to cumming, especially when he decides to be talkative. it’ll turn from stable dirty talk to incoherent slurred words.

when he eventually learns that an awkwardly sweaty side hug doesn’t fit as aftercare, he asks you what you’d like him to do for you. he’s officially maid kurt when it comes down to taking care of your needs.

the bath is ready, with your salts and bath bombs of choice, as well as the tower of bubbles that’ll take forever to go away. a pair of matching onesies and fuzzy socks are ready for both of you to slip into when you’re done soaking.

he falls asleep pretty quick, but he’ll try to stay up most of the time. one time he got into the tub before you and knocked out to the point where he didn’t know where he was when he woke up.

wsp baby dicks and mama chicks :)

man oh man i havent been able to write anything in forever i was so sad abt it

idk if people still read abt kurt but i personally do and ill read my own shit if i have to

idk what else to put here except for the fact that likes n reblogs are appreciated and my nose is really cold and tysm for reading you hottie mctotties

- cora, the stressed out mother of 5 dog babies

#kurt kunkle x reader #kurt kunkle x y/n #kurt kunkle x you #kurt kunkle #kurtsworld96 #spree 2020 #spree movie #joe keery

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teishiteishi · 1 year

Text

BAD PREMONITION TOUR ARCHIVE: NYC / MONTREAL / TORONTO This tour started off with a BANG ! I performed at Bowery Ballroom in NYC to a packed house and debuted a bunch of new music. I was most excited to share the live visuals for the show - my first time having any kind of visual production at my shows. I wore a vintage look from Nina Gabbana Vintage's personal collection, and had a gorgeous long wig put on...it all came together to serve ethereal mermaid rock star. I also invited some friends and local hotties to cat walk on stage during my last song (Bassically - duh) which turned into a big on-stage mosh pit while i SCREAMED into the mic. It was...dare I say...iconique?

Montreal followed, which was a punk as fuck night. I was feeling super overwhelmed already from the start of tour so I had a pre-show cry...then got suited up with my Collina Strada look and by the time I got on stage and saw the crowd the mood shifted...it was such a fun show.

Toronto the next day started out rough when we got stranded outside of our airbnb for a few hours while sleep deprived. But Toronto showed UP that night. It was a sold out show and one of the most memorable. I wore a metallic bright green set by Prisca Vera which I felt pretty invincible in. I remember it was INSANELY hot on stage, the hottest I've ever been during a show...10 minutes into the set I was struggling to catch my breath and felt like I might pass out - I said this on stage and a girl near the front threw one of those gorgeous folded fans on stage. I performed the rest of the night with the mic in one hand while I fanned myself with the fan in the other. Not only did I feel like a true diva but it literally saved the show !!

Scroll down for the full archive...

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steffswxrld · 2 years

Text

Sebastian Stan imagine as Tommy Lee.

POV: you’re a drummer for the up coming 80’s band Gun’s n Roses also working as a Coyote in the big city of New York.

original imagine by kvermilyea00

The poster stared you down as your eyes skim the blue and black ink that was so artistically printed. The bold letters reading Elite Showcase in black and white.

As if that’s what your band was… Elite.

But standing there amongst Nirvana, Oasis, Foo Fighters— you guys were the outliers. You guys didn’t stand a chance against these big names in music.

Truth be told, you guys were probably one of the more recent bands, that being said, we have a lot to learn.

And I mean a lot.

Didn’t mean you guys weren’t prodigies when it came to music.

But that didn’t stop you from entering this competition. With your label dropping your band on their asses, you needed this last ditch effort to sign a new record deal.

You rip the page clean off the wall in anger at the position you were in. For fuck sake, as the drummer— you had a lot of input about the band’s future. Which no one obviously gave a shit about. But there you were.

Fighting for the band, yet again.

Your attention gets ripped from the pathetic flyer in your hand when a deep raspy voice cuts through the white noise with such vigor.

“Wassup fuckers!” A dark haired man with thick chains and a black tank and leather pants on screams as loud as his voice will go. His dark eyes wander to yours before you duck your head in complete intimidation.

“Fuck sake.” You whisper to yourself as you focus on shielding your eyes from his.

‘Have you ever met the man? Because I haven’t— the dude is a total asshole’ you think to yourself.

Respectfully though, the man plays drums like the fuckin devil.

It’s empowering to watch him smash his sticks on the drums with such emotion.

His recent album release took off like a rocket—climbing the charts per usual for bands like that.

So it had you wondering why in the living hell would a band like that be playing here. Each band was all up and coming.

Mötley Crüe has definitely been made.

“Dude, you see who just walked in?”

“Who?”

“That gorgeous man over there.”

God he was fine. He looked familiar to you for some reason but you couldn’t quite place your finger on it.

“It’s fine, we’ve got a killer line up made anyways.” You shrug, replying cockily. You were the drummer, it was in your nature to be the most carefree member of the group.

Fuck me running. You can’t compete with these people. The confidence slowly begins to dwindle. You especially can’t impress Mr. Hottie himself.

Yet here you are, the last band to play this evening. How is a band like yours supposed to follow Nirvana? Yeah, you don’t know either.

Sitting down, you place your foot on the pedal as you grip the drumsticks in hand. Nerves run through your body like it’s on fucking steroids. Looking around the room, you notice that people are too in tune with the open bar, taking the nerve levels down about a thousand notches.

And yet, you still feel as though you’re being watched.

That’s because you are.

His brown eyes lock with yours as you skim the barstools off to your right. You look behind yourself and realize quickly that he is in fact looking directly at you.

Never before had you ever wanted to shit your pants and puke all in one go, but there’s a first time for everything.

“And wrapping us up tonight we have returning to the stage… Gun’s n Roses!” The woman announced.

Your eyes remain stuck on his brown ones as you watch a cocky smile slowly pull at his cheeks, sending shivers down your spine.

As the song starts, so does your drum solo. The drumsticks pound on the surface, struggling to to break behind your rage you bring into each song.

As your foot keeps rhythm on the pedal, your eyes have yet to pull from his.

He watches as you play each note based on muscle memory, never missing a beat. You start to sweat as your hair plastered itself to your face.

With the brimming confidence, you pound your head with each beat, really feeling the music.

Pounding the last note, you look into the crowd as you twirl the sick in your fingers. But the man was gone.

Getting off the stage, you wipe your face with the towel sitting there waiting for you. As you pull it down to your chest, you open your eyes only to see the dark haired man standing before you.

“Jesus— dude! You can’t do that!” You scream as you fall a few steps back.

His arm was placed on the wall above his tall stature, leaning his weight to the side. “That was some serious drumming up there.” He states.

“Thanks.” You say back, not an ounce of interest dripping from your words. “Look man, I’m late for my shift.” You push past him but his hand catches your arm.

“Woah there. I’d like to see you again. Can I get your number?” He slides his body in front of yours.

Stopping, you look annoyingly at him, “No.”

He shrugs it off as you walk past him, “Okay, well then can I at least know your name?” He asks, catching up to you.

Turning around, you give the same answer. “No.”

“Fine, then where can I find you.” He questions.

You chuckle at his forwardness, “I’m not telling you that.”

He prays his hands to his mouth, his eyes grow big as if to pout, “Then tell me one thing. Anything!” He bursts out, climbing to his tippy toes with angst.

You roll your eyes, “Fine… I’m a Coyote.” You drop your head as you reach for your jacket.

“What does that even mean?” His eyes squint dramatically.

“If you’re smart you’ll figure it out. You are in fact in the Big Apple. But like I said, I’m late.” You smile and wink at him.

You vanish past the many doors until you’re out in the back alley. Walking down a few block, you find the metal door full of band stickers and pictures of beer girls plastered on posters.

The door jam reads “Coyote Ugly”, the name of the bar you worked at 5 nights a week. It was like a second home to you.

Swinging the heavy door open with all your strength, you almost run into the body guard on duty. “Hey Eric.” You nod in his direction before walking back to the dressing room.

Pulling on your low rise leather pants with a large belt buckle, you throw on a very revealing red leather tank top, topping it all off with a matte black cowboy hat.

Walking out to the bar area, the room is already packed. Men of all ages with already two drinks in their hands ready for a good night.

Lilly, your boss, comes up behind you “Hey girly, you ready to start us off strong?” She asks slamming her hands on your shoulders.

“You know it!” You reply with a wary tone.

Lilly notices how off you seem, “Hey, how did the showcase go?”

“Fine, but a guy wouldn’t leave me alone. Just annoyed that’s all.” You shrug off, shaking it all out before climbing up to the edge of the bar.

The first few words belt out,

Step inside, walk this way

You and me babe

Hey hey!

You start strutting down the bar, stopping as you swing your hair around, moving your hips with the rhythm. Squatting down slowly, you swing your hips, teasing each man in the room.

Dropping to your knees, you look the men in their eyes with a smile.

Reaching behind you— grabbing the bottle of Jack Daniels— you fill the man’s shot glass to the top, receiving his money.

Standing up, you walk back across the bar, pouring the dark liquor all over the counter top.

Take a bottle, shake it up

Break the bubble, break it up

Pulling a match from the box above, you strike it against the back of your tooth, setting it aflame.

Throwing it down, the entire stream of liquor lights up.

Every man’s eyes light up as they watch the fire glow in size, in which you walk straight through.

I’m hot, sticky sweet

From my head to my feet

Yeah!

Swinging your head around once more, your eyes lock with his in the back of the room.

You can’t take them off of his.

As the beat pounds harder and harder into the void of the room, you start playing the air-drums on either side of you.

Your eyes stay locked in his as you watch him soak in ever inch of you.

He slowly makes his way to the front of the room, placing an arm on the bar.

Looking down, you smile at him, proud that he figured it out.

He was really here. You were almost worried you were too cold earlier but yet you were wrong. Clearly.

A smile unconsciously spreads on your face. You swing your hips a little more as you serve the alcohol down the line.

Jumping down behind the bar, you turn and swing two different types of whiskeys in your hands before tipping them over to pour into shot glasses.

“Uhm, I don’t know if you know this, but Tommy Lee has been staring at you all night.” Lilly squeaks behind you, as she can’t contain an ounce of her excitement.

Your eyes nearly fall out of your head, “That- that’s Tommy Lee?”

“The one and only!” She shouts with excitement. “Go serve him a drink… on the house.” She winks.

Breathing in and out, you take a deep breath before walking up to him.

“So, I figured out your little riddle.” His voice groans and his eyes look at you with ounces of lust.

“So you have.” You smile. “What can I get you?” You ask him, looking down at each bottle you have.

“Your name… and number.”

You giggle a little bit.

This was Tommy fucking Lee. Asking for your number.

Pulling a napkin from the bar, you take the pen from the glass jar. “Here’s the number.” You smile.

“And the name?”

The name… right.

“Name’s y/n.”

#tommy lee #coyote ugly #sebastian stan #y/n pov #1980s music #motley crue #Spotify

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90363462 · 1 year

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Lizzo Had Choice Words for Kanye West After He Insulted Her Weight

“I’m minding my fat Black beautiful business.”

Lizzo performs onstage at Madison Square Garden in New York City.Jamie McCarthy/Getty Images

Lizzo appeared to shut down Ye, previously known as Kanye West, for his recent jab at her weight on Fox News’ Tucker Carlson Tonight.

During the October 7 appearance, Ye brought up the Grammy winner while arguing that the media’s “demonic” promotion of obesity was part of a plot meant to accelerate the “genocide of the Black race.”

“When Lizzo loses 10 pounds and announces it, the bots … on Instagram, they attack her losing weight, because the media wants to put out a perception that being overweight is the new goal when it’s actually unhealthy,” Ye told Carlson. He even had the audacity to call her his “good friend.”

Just a day later, the “About Damn Time” singer took a moment during the Toronto show of “Lizzo: The Special Tour” to let people know exactly how she felt about being brought up unprompted.

“I feel like everybody in America got my motherfucking name in their motherfucking mouth for no motherfucking reason,” Lizzo told the audience. “I’m minding my fat Black beautiful business.”

She joked that she might as well move to Canada, asking the crowd, “Can I stay here? Who can I marry for citizenship?” Judging by the audience’s screams of “yes,” she can absolutely find a Canadian hottie if she wants to.

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During that same concert, Lizzo also Facetimed a concert attendee’s ex-boyfriend live on stage to ask him, “You ‘bout to miss out on a bad bitch or what?” Between her new tour, reclaiming a dead president’s 200-year-old flute, and flirting in Rihanna’s DMs, she is thriving, thank you very much.

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And to the next person who feels compelled to make an unwarranted, fatphobic comment about Lizzo’s body, heed her acceptance speech reminder from this year's MTV Video Music Awards: “To the bitches that got something to say about me in the press, you know what? I’m not going to say nothing… Cause bitch, I’m winning, ho! THIS BITCH IS WINNING.”

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foxymoxynoona · 1 year

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After the Applause (Chapter 1)

Header and linebreaks by @awrkives

Single Dad Jimin x Female OC

CW: grief, prior loss of spouse/parent, comfort, explicit sex, secondhand embarrassment

Masterlist | Next Chapter

Jimin waited on the corner of the block with his hands in his pocket and a smile on his face. He looked at the bike rack to his right, designated by Sun-young as the closest he was “allowed” to get to the school. Had it hurt when she begged for that boundary? Yes. Yes, it had. But when he’d talked it over with Hanbyul, she’d admitted at that age she’d told people her dad was her grandfather because she was embarrassed by his age. He would have cried. Then she reassured him that she adored her father now and it was normal to want a little more independence at Sun-young’s age. It was a good sign. A healthy, happy, growing daughter spreading her wings. Jimin wasn’t ready for her to fly away from him yet!

As he waited for the school bell to ring, he wondered if it was really about independence or if, like Hanbyul, Sun-young had identified something in her father that embarrassed her. It couldn’t be his age, Jimin was only thirty-four which was on the young side to have a nine-year-old but not so young it raised eyebrows. He and Subin had married young and, because they’d always know they wanted children, didn’t waste any time getting pregnant. He had no regrets about any of that.

But if it wasn’t his age… was it his style? He could see the warped reflection of his outfit in the windows of cars as they drove past. He dressed stylishly because he enjoyed it, and because his job as a dancer meant different demands than the officemen who fathered most of Sun-young’s friends. He hadn’t worn a suit since the funeral. He didn’t think it could be his earrings, since Sun-young had been the one to pick these out –each a simple hoop but with a streak of red. And his blonde hair –well, Sun-young and her friends were just of the age where they were starting to notice boy idols, maybe flirting with feelings they couldn’t articulate yet and certainly weren’t telling him about, but she was begging to go see Dream Thought for her birthday and several members had, at any given time, also dyed their hair. Maybe it was too close for comfort? Jimin brushed his fingers through his hair using the reflection of a stopped car and pondered… well, maybe it was time to go dark again anyway…

The car moved and he remembered someone was inside, possibly watching him primp. He looked back to the school just as the bell rang, freeing students for the weekend. Forgetting himself, he began to move forward, then stopped short only a few steps further than the bike racks. It was unpleasant to stay like a stone in place as the bubbling brook of students moved around him down the sidewalk. It made him think of Sun-young’s early school days, when she’d sprint out the front doors of the school towards him, sparkly pink backpack bouncing, more than half the size of her body. She’d throw her arms around his neck and he’d scoop her up and take Subin’s hand and they’d walk home together to hear about her day over snacks before he had to go to work.

There was no sprinting towards him now. Jimin spotted Sun-young the moment she came out of the school, able to recognize the motion of her walk even before he could see her face. She had braided her own hair that morning and not done a good job of it, which might explain why her hair was down now –Jimin had wanted to help but she’d refused, saying she was old enough to braid her own hair. Was he going to fight with her over braids? Pick your battles, his mother kept telling him. It’ll only get worse. Great.

“Sunnie!” he called as she got closer, because he wasn’t sure she’d noticed him yet. She had her head down now, talking to her two friends they walked home as a favor every day. “Sunnie! Over here!”

“Appa, quiet!” she finally yelled, and pressed her hands to the sides of her face. He laughed. Was she really already being like this? At nine? It was like something out of a movie. It had to be a joke.

“Fair princess, I have waited at the perimeter as you requested,” he greeted as she and her friends got closer. He held his arms out in order to bow, but accidentally smacked another kid in the head. “Oh, hey, sorry, you ok?”

“Appa!”

“Young ladies,” he beamed, motioning them close. “I have come to escort you home. If you can walk this way please.” Ginam and Boyeon both looked at him with smiles and giggles but Sun-young sighed loudly. Jimin turned and clapped his hands to his sides and did a little bit of a waddle. When he looked over his shoulder, Ginam and Boyeon were still giggling and Sun-young looked like she wanted to murder him.

“Come on, Sunnie, it’s just a little joke,” he said, reaching to try and hug her. “How was school? Anything exciting happen?”

“It’s not funny though…” Sun-young mumbled.

Ginam looked between the other two girls before saying, “You’re really funny, Mr. Park.” Jimin couldn’t decide whether she meant that or not. A year ago, he would have known for sure she was sincere. Sunnie’s friends had always loved him! Fourth grade really changed you, huh?

With a sigh, he herded them along and tried not to be hurt when the girls walked together several yards ahead of him. It made him nervous on the busy streets, and he’d jog to catch up as they came to crosswalks. At one point he had to grab onto Sun-young’s backpack as she started to cross without him.

“Again with the murderous glare,” he complained. “Why are you looking at your appa like that?”

“Why did you grab me? We’re just crossing the street!”

“Yeah and did you look both ways?”

“It’s the cross signal!”

“Wa, don’t trust that! You have to look both ways before you cross, always!”

Ginam got dropped off first, waving goodbye and darting down a side street. Boyeon lived on the first floor of their building.

“She’s such a nice friend,” Jimin said of her as they waved goodbye and stepped onto the elevator.

“Appa, you didn’t have to embarrass me!”

“I did?” Jimin asked, arching his eyebrow. “Me? Impossible. What did I do that was embarrassing?”

“You just acted like… that!” she said, gesturing with flappy, frustrated hands.

“Like what?”

“I don’t know, can’t you just be a calm normal appa?” she cried.

“Ah… I really don’t think so,” he admitted, teasing. She did not appreciate it. The door opened on their floor and she stomped ahead. It felt like just yesterday she’d done that with light-up shoes but she’d begged him for a pair of red Keds last time. They looked both cute and painfully grownup with her school uniform. Teenage. She wasn’t supposed to look like she was trying to be a teenager yet! He refused the classification of pre-teen yet. It was all happening too fast.

The door to his right jostled as he followed Sun-young down the hall, and he stopped as it swung open.

“My love!” he cried as Hanbyul stepped out, then dropped to his knees so Hudu could jump up and lick his face. “There’s my boy. There’s my boy!”

“Appaaaa, let me in– oh, hi Hanbyul-ssi!” Sun-young interrupted, instantly a different child. She too sank down to give Hudu scratches.

“I’m glad I ran into you both. I made too much jjapaguri. Can I give you some for dinner?”

Jimin’s smile grew as he stood, sighing, “Ahhh, Hanbyul, you’re too kind to us. Can you eat it with us?”

“You’re not working tonight?”

“Not tonight. No classes on Mondays.”

“Right, I knew that. But I don’t want to intrude on your day off–”

“That’s funny. See? She’s funny too,” Jimin said to Sun-young. He assured Hanbyul, “You never intrude. Come over to eat the food you made with us. Maybe I have something I can add…”

“She’s a lot funnier than you are, Appa, but I don’t think that was a joke. You can come to dinner though, Hanbyul-ssi.” She said it so graciously, as if Sun-young was the true head of household. He narrowed his eyes at his daughter and she pretended not to see.

“Then I’ll be there. See you at six.”

“I’ll make a salad!” Jimin offered before handing Sun-young the apartment key so she could run ahead, scratching Hudu’s head one more time. Doing his best to ignore the sting of Sun-young being so much happier to see their neighbor than himself. Just because Hanbyul was a little younger and liked the same idol groups and they liked to paint their nails together while they watched filmed performances… so? He could watch idol groups! He could paint his nails! Hadn’t he used to do that with Sunnie and Subin all the time?

***

There were two types of dinner to be had in the Park apartment. Dinners with just Jimin and Sun-young featured simpler fare, and questions that went unanswered about school days, and one-sided monologues about things coming up –Sunnie’s dance recitals, Jimin’s performances, rehearsals, children’s day at the park that Sun-young thought she was too old for now, seasonal fruit now available at the grocery. The dinner was never great because Jimin had never mastered the culinary arts. And short; Sun-young ate as quickly as she could to be excused.

Dinners with Hanbyul were different in every way.

“The food is so good,” Sunnie praised, sitting on her knees as if she couldn’t get close enough to her plate. Her second plate. And she had a big smile on her face the whole time. Hanbyul barely voiced a thank you in the space between the thanks and Sunnie continuing, “So they did a show and Danmi said her eomma and appa are taking her to the next one and she didn’t tell them this because she wants to go because she thinks that Taejoon is probably like her soulmate or something. They have the same birthday.”

“Oh is that what causes that?” Jimin asked. But Sunnie wasn’t looking at him at all; if anything, she seemed annoyed by the reminder he was there, and he tried not to let that break his heart and just enjoy basking in the cast-off glow from Sunnie’s smile in Hanbyul’s direction.

“Tomi wanted to be Danmi’s girlfriend and he gave her a flower but she said no one can be her boyfriend because–”

“Because Taejoon is her soulmate,” Hanbyul nodded. Sunnie looked relieved Hanbyul understood.

“Do you like Tomi?” Jimin asked. He knew who Tomi was. Foreign exchange student. Kind of a little shit but his parents seemed weird so it probably wasn’t his fault.

Sunnie’s face crinkled up in disgust as she huffed, “I’m nine, Appa. I don’t have time for boys and you shouldn’t ask a question like that. Maybe boys like me but I don’t like them.”

“What boys like you?!”

“That’s a good way to look at it,” Hanbyul grinned, leaning closer like they had some secrets from Jimin. Because he had never been a little girl, but Hanbyul had. Sunnie should have someone who could talk to her about little girl things, and the bigger girl things that lay in her future. And that someone should have been her mom. Looking at Sunnie roll her eyes and reassure Hanbyul how annoying the boys were and that she wanted to go to a concert too but Appa didn’t like the same music she did, he felt again that ache of absence.

“I do,” Jimin insisted, pushing past that shadow before it dragged at him. “I’ll take you. Who do you want to see?”

“Name one member of Mango Crush.”

Shit, was that a boy group or a girl group? The name wasn’t familiar to him… He knew lots of the other groups… He watched the good ones dance… He’d worked with debuting groups before!

“I heard your appa singing ‘Five Minutes to Sundown’ when he took out the trash the other day,” Hanbyul told Sunnie in a whisper. A clue! He hummed the melody, recognizing the name of the song, and then that it was a girl group.

“Yeah, I can take you to see them. Uh… I’ll find out when they’re in town! We could go for your birthday or something..”

“My birthday?” Sunnie sighed.

“Tickets are expensive and– we’ll talk about it later. Let me see what I can do. You know I’ve worked with some of the choreographers.” Now his grin grew, “Yeah, I bet I can get us tickets! So you’re interested in that kind of thing?” Being an idol? He didn’t want to suggest it. He didn’t know how to feel about it. Obviously he would want to support her in whatever she did, but the idol industry was even more toxic than the dance industry and he was already worrying more by the week about how he was going to protect her from that…

“Uh, everyone likes idols, Appa, that’s why they’re called idols –Oh make sure you get more tickets so Hanbyul-ssi can go with us too! And maybe my friends from school, ok?” She rattled off telling Hanbyul more about her school friends and Jimin tried to keep up because he knew about these other kids but not as much as what Sunnie poured at Hanbyul’s feet. Despite never stopping the chatter, she also managed to clear her plate again.

“I have a lot of homework to do,” Sunnie admitted mid-thought. “I guess I’d better get started.”

“You don’t have to rush away. It’s family dinner,” Jimin said. He meant it as a joke, sort of, just a little teasing nudge because it was so rare that Sunnie sat for a full meal with him. He didn’t mind that she was a little snappish with him sometimes. She was nine. She was busy. He knew she didn’t get as much of his attention lately as she deserved but… he’d do better! He’d find a way to be there more for her at this crucial time… but the problem was, it was always a crucial time and this would have been so much easier with her mother still here–

“Thanks for feeding me,” Sunnie said, throwing her arms around Hanbyul’s shoulders. “I’m wasting away! I’ll never get breasts this way…”

“That’s– what– you’re nine–” Jimin spluttered out. Sunnie just laughed and practically skipped away, cheerful to do her homework and maybe at the possibility he’d actually take her to see an idol show.

A comfortable moment of silence settled around the dinner table. Jimin had finished as well but wasn’t in any rush to hurry Hanbyul, who had eaten only slowly while listening to everything Sun-young had to tell her. He appreciated that patience. Not everyone –his own parents among them– could handle the onslaught that was his excitable daughter. He loved it, of course, and her. He didn’t always know what she was talking about, but he appreciated when she did, and he appreciated that Hanbyul was one of those women who had held on to her empathy for small, over-eager, somewhat aloof, kind of bossy but really golden-hearted little girls.

“She’s so great,” Hanbyul sighed, as if she’d read Jimin’s own mind.

“She’s better when you’re around,” Jimin mused, lifting his glass of wine. “Happier, I mean. She is great. Hey, you don’t think she’s hiding something about a boy, do you?”

Hanbyul arched her eyebrow and pressed, “Why would I know that?”

“I don’t know, can’t you just tell? I don’t remember what age girls noticed boys… I mean, no one noticed me until…” He grimaced rather than putting an age down, to make her laugh, and it worked.

“I doubt that.”

“I’m serious! I was a virgin until college. You didn’t expect that, huh?” he teased.

“I didn’t.”

“Because you didn’t see what I was like when I was younger. Puberty was hard for me. Late bloomer or whatever. I don’t know the first thing about being a girl going through puberty…”

“You’ve got a few years before you really have to worry,” Hanbyul assured him. “Not that you need to worry! But I just mean… well, twelve is a tough age. If you can get through twelve…”

“If!” he repeated with a laugh, and slapped his hand to his face.

“You’ll make it through!”

“Maybe as long as we’re still living next to you and you’ll still come over for dinner,” he lamented. “I don’t mean to be creepy about the boy thing. I don’t want to make her grow up too early or anything. Maybe she’ll like girls, that’s fine too! It’s just hard to figure out what’s the right information and the right time and the right place to be nosy. I don’t want her to feel like she can’t talk to me about things, but if I say too much or don’t say enough… you know?”

Hanbyul considered this with that careful way she always had, then offered with a smile, “I think you’ll find your way with her just fine, Jimin. She’s a good girl and she knows you love her.”

“I’m getting on her nerves lately,” he admitted with a sigh, knowing Hanbyul wouldn’t judge him for it. She never judged, not when he’d knocked on her door in the middle of the night with Sun-young in his arms because she was running a fever and he, recently widowed, had forgotten everything he ever learned about taking care of a sick child; or when he’d set his kitchen on fire trying to make a birthday cake for Sunnie because it was what her mom used to do every year; or when he’d burst into tears at her bringing over a package that had been misdelivered to her, because the dentist said Sun-young had two cavities that needed filling and he saw this as proof he was the worst parent in the history of the world and Sunnie was doomed (the package had nothing to do with that.) Doomed to a lifetime of bad teeth and store-bought cakes and getting dragged to the doctor over the slightest illness because Jimin didn’t trust anything anymore. One day you could be healthy and the next day you were–

“It’s not you,” Hanbyul assured him. “She’s a wise soul. She’s just figuring things out for herself. The social life of fourth grade is hard!”

“Yeah… yeah, I had wondered if maybe she kind of pulled away from me in school because I’m all around her at dance.”

Hanbyul considered this again, always careful in her speech. “That could be true. You’re such a big force in the dance world. Those are big shoes to fill. Er… slippers? I don’t know what dance shoes are called.”

“Dance shoes is fine,” he winked. “But I meant more because– well, yeah, that, but it’s given her a leg up. She’s better than her peers. There’s a reason why she has the solo in the festival performance next month. She’s so good and it makes things difficult –some of the other kids her age are jealous of her skill. I thought maybe she was wanting me to back off so she could handle things on her own with them…”

“Do you intervene a lot?” Hanbyul asked. “What are you seeing?”

“I don’t know… well, she doesn’t really have many friends at dance anymore. Her best friend there split off to a different style, and she had a couple little friends in the same class but they seem to have sort of broken off too… I don’t really know who her closest friends are anymore. When I observe her dance classes, she seems kind of alone the whole time.”

“What do you do then?” Hanbyul asked. She propped her chin in her hand.Talking to her always gave Jimin such comfort. She was cautious and slow to ever give advice, but Hanbyul was the one glimpse into the mind of a young girl he could rely on, and she was a good friend, and so non-judgmental. Sometimes talking to her was like talking to himself but with more of a brain. He appreciated her presence so much but he did worry that she did more for them than he did for her, dumping his problems on her like this. But he couldn’t help himself, her insight was so valuable.

Now he was eager to get this over with and ask about whatever she had going on instead, so he waved his hand, “I don’t know. I’ll make them all sit together or partner up and I split up the cliques. That kind of thing. Nothing too intrusive! But maybe it’s not helping…”

“Have you asked her?”

“She doesn’t want to talk about it,” he sighed. “This…” He gestured at the table. “She doesn’t talk to me the way she talks to you anymore. Maybe I make her feel like she can’t…”

“All you can do is try,” Hanbyul offered sagely. “Sometimes young women have to work things out on their own.”

“I think she’s still a little too young for that… but… I’ll keep that in mind. But enough about my woeful single dad life– how did that meeting with the execs at work go?”

He could see the disappointment flash across her face, enough of an answer, but she still lifted her wine glass and admitted, “Oh, I don’t know. I got edged out. I didn’t get to go.”

“What? But you built the slides!”

“Yeah and apparently I built them so well they didn't think I needed to be there to present them.” She allowed a shallow sigh and an equally shallow smile, like she didn’t really want to talk about it. “It’s fine. There will be other opportunities.”

“But they keep taking those opportunities from you– I don’t think it’s a good place to work, Hanbyul. They don’t appreciate you there. You’re the glue that keeps that place running.”

“I don’t know if that’s true,” she laughed, covering her mouth with her hand. “If you don’t have glue, you can use something else. Tape. Rubber cement.”

“Oh my god I haven’t thought of rubber cement in… wow. I was class president when I was younger–”

“I know,” she said, then blushed and looked down and laughed. “Sorry! I remember…”

“Oh no, do I brag about that?! God that’s so lame,” he cried, covering his face. “My glory days as class president… I really peaked back then…”

“No! That’s not true!”

“Let’s ask Sunnie, I know what she’ll say!”

“What’s cool now wasn’t the same as when we were kids. Sunnie is intelligent and cool. She’s really a wonderful girl.”

“I know,” he sighed. “I bet she never stole a bottle of rubber cement…”

Hanbyul’s laughter was such a joyful sound echoing around the table. Jimin found his heart and shoulders relax even further. Even though he was talking about things that stressed him out, he could always catch his breath when Hanbyul was around. Maybe if things had been different…

“What did you do with the rubber cement?” she asked. “Park Jimin, a delinquent! I never imagined it!”

“No, this makes me sound so deranged… nothing sinister, I swear.”

“Just tell me!”

“I kept it in my desk and I’d just take a little bit and roll it around in my hands if I was having a hard time staying awake in class.”

“Gross,” Hanbyul giggled. “Why were you so tired?” She propped her chin in her hand again, like the mundane facts of his life were actually at all interesting. He came from normal people, had a normal childhood, predictable, pleasant, smooth sailing. His troubles as a child seemed so mild from this side of actual tragedy.

“I’d wake up early to help with my Grandmother’s rice cake shop,” he explained. “My parents worked there too. When I was young, I helped her in the kitchen and building the displays. When I got a little older, I’d run deliveries.”

“Oh right I forgot your family had that shop. It’s not still open though?”

“It is. My parents still run it with my older brother. Have I never brought you anything from it?”

“No. Are you tired of rice cakes?”

He smiled, “No, they make me homesick. I’m very picky about them! If I go into a shop and I know I can make a better one… well, so many are just factory made these days. It’s hard for the little shops to stay afloat.”

“But your family does all right?”

“They do all right,” he nodded. It was a simple statement. They had begged him to come home with Sun-young after Subin passed and for a heartbeat he’d almost done it. He didn’t see how he could do this on his own. But the idea of leaving this place that he and Subin had chosen together to raise their daughter, where the local parks and the market and movie theater still held the ghost of his marriage with her, where their favorite restaurant –the one he’d proposed in– was still open for business –he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t leave the dance troupe he’d toiled and sweat so hard to build and gather funding for. He couldn’t tear Sun-young away from her friends when she’d already lost her world.

So they’d stayed. Even in the same apartment, where he could sometimes close his eyes and listen for Subin’s key in the door. Pretend she was just working late and would be home in a bit.

“I mean they wanted us to come home but– It was hard to leave in the first place. It’s hard to be away from them. But Sunnie and I have a life here.”

“It’s lonely so far from family, I think. I understand why they wanted you home. But I’m glad you felt like you could stay here.”

“Thanks to friends like you,” Jimin smiled at her. “I told my mom about that kimchi you made! Ah, next time I go home, I’ll bring you rice cakes from the shop, and when my parents come here, maybe I’ll share the jar you gave me.”

“I have more jars!” she told him, sitting higher.

“They’ll come for Sun-young’s performance.”

“I can give you a jar for them.”

“No no, not a whole jar–”

“Yes! My mother tells me all the time that the younger generations aren’t learning things like how to make kimchi.”

Jimin nodded, “Yeah, or rice cakes!”

“So I can share some comfort. I think my kimchi was all right.”

“It was more than all right. It was perfect, really! Best kimchi I’ve ever had. Don’t tell my mom. Well, I already told her but… just don’t gloat.”

Hanbyul looked pleased, her whole round face flushing a sweet shade of pink, her cheeks balling up so high, as if her smile swallowed her whole face.

“I won’t,” she assured him, but of course he wasn’t worried about that. Probably Hanbyul had never gloated about anything in her life, and she should. She should gloat about work, she should gloat about her cooking, she should gloat about how healthy the African violets she grew in her windowsill looked. She was so capable, so on point, when Jimin felt taped together and messy by comparison. What must she think when she came over for evenings like this and this single father constantly stealing her time and attention and food dumped more worries on her. She shared her home-cooked food and all he had to offer her in return were complaints and the gossip of a fourth grader.

The wave of guilt prickled across his shoulders and up his scalp, that same voice that whispered to him sometimes in the low moments and the high moments alike: you are alone now; don’t make your aloneness someone else’s problem. He did. Repeatedly. He’d had to lean on others around him for so long… maybe he should have taken Sun-young home to grow up with his family, where at least there was a blood-bond to support the burden he’d placed on those around him to keep him afloat when he’d felt the world drop away from him.

“Jimin.” She called his name so softly he thought he’d imagined it, but quickly turned his gaze to her, embarrassed to have slipped away. “You’re working so hard lately. Would it be helpful if I sat with Sun-young for an evening so you have a break? Or an afternoon?”

“Oh, no, no, you don’t have to do that,” he told her. “Er. Again.”

She smiled warmly and nodded, “It’s really not a big favor. You know I adore her. If you think she’s stressed about her performance, maybe I could take her on a… a girl’s afternoon to help take her mind off of things?”

“Of course you offered that, you’re the kindest– you’re too nice to us, Hanbyul. You do too much for us. I already take up so much of your time!”

“No, don’t think like that. You don’t have to decide right now if you want to talk to Sun-young about it but I mean it. I can’t imagine how hard it is doing this on your own.”

“I’m not on my own,” he insisted. “I have people like you. I rely on too much! Like now, I’m keeping you here for your whole evening. I need to go see if she’s actually doing her homework.” He didn’t know the graceful way to set her free. Just like he never knew quite how to thank her for her patience, for her support, for her presence. Hanbyul was the sort of person who gave and gave and never asked a thing in return which made it hard to feel like you thanked them properly.

Even now, she was so graceful in accepting his fumbled thanks, in insisting he keep the last of the dish, in going to say goodnight to Sun-young before she left. Hudu deigned to rise from where he’d spent the meal stretched across Jimin’s feet, yawning and slow as he walked to the door. He knew the routine. He didn’t seem to particularly care whether he was here or in Hanbyul’s apartment. Hudu was such a good dog. Maybe Sun-young would be happy with a– no, no, they couldn’t get a dog. Even a cat seemed like more than Jimin could handle right now.

“A girl’s afternoon!” Hanbyul sighed dramatically to Hudu as soon as they were back in her apartment. She let herself fall face first on the couch. Hudu came over to press his cold nose to her arm, but when she turned her face, he wandered off, bored if she wasn’t actually in crisis.

Well, she was in a crisis, just not a medical one.

“A girl’s afternoon,” she sighed again, and rolled onto her back to stare at the ceiling. It was a slip. She wasn’t surprised Jimin had basically kicked her out right after. Jimin, the beautiful, kind, funny man next door, with the smile of a god and the grace of a dancer because he was one, and the most soulful brown eyes Hanbyul had ever seen. Jimin, the loving, doting, adoring father, with the absolute sweetest, funniest, most wonderful little girl who was growing up so fast right before Hanbyul’s eyes but just out of reach of all the attention and love Hanbyul wished she had the right to shower on the girl. Jimin, the romantic, devoted, lovesick husband to a very dead wife.

Hanbyul felt that shivery sick feeling she always did when thoughts of Ga Subin arose. Which was often, because it was often for Jimin. She could always see the flicker of grief on his face when it happened. Less often now, less often with each passing year, but frequently enough that Hanbyul did everything she could not to accidentally cause it. It was challenging, it had taken her years to build up the list of things not to mention: wives, marriage, couples, love, college, Valentine’s Day or White Day, anniversaries of any kind, illness, unexpected occurrences, surprises, baking, etc. And sometimes there were things she never would predict could call up those memories that caused him such obvious and immediate pain, probably driving in some sharp blade or a private thing he’d had with his wife, like rainy days, stacks of laundry, and seagulls.

She couldn’t imagine the loss. She couldn’t. To fall in love and marry and have a child and expect you have a whole life together only to have your other half suddenly sliced away like that… She’d cried on Jimin’s behalf. If that was crazy, so be it, but it was tragic. Heartbreaking. Jimin was such a wonderful man and he deserved never to have gone through that sort of loss. She supposed there was some comfort that at least he had Sun-young, but the poor girl too had not deserved to lose her mother who must have loved her fiercely. Hanbyul had cried for her too, and at the fear of losing her own mother, whom she loved and who had supported her through everything in life, big and small, to date. What would she have done in middle school or high school or college if she couldn’t call her mother at any time, just to hear the voice of the woman who loved her? Or ask advice? Her mother had taught her to make the kimchi Jimin and Sun-young enjoyed so much, and had given her a vase as a housewarming gift when she got her own place “so you’ll have something for the flowers men will bring you,” and when no men were bringing her flowers, her mother regularly sent her some on her own. Sun-young deserved a long life with her mother never further than a phone call away.

And, whether it made her creepy or not, Sun-young had shed tears for Ga Subin too. Whether there was a heaven from which the late wife and mother watched her family try to get on without her or not, there was no doubt that she had loved her husband and daughter and been cruelly denied the lifetime with them she deserved. Hanbyul had only known the family in passing before shock and grief left Jimin vulnerable to asking her for occasional help, but she’d always thought they seemed like such a bright, sunny, loving family. Ga Subin had built her marriage with Jimin and brought such a perfect daughter into the world and she didn’t even get to enjoy them for her whole life. There were no promises in life. What a terrifying reminder.

“I fed you before we went to the Parks,” Hanbyul scolded as Hudu whined and crouched down beside the couch. Hudu rolled onto his back and wiggled; he didn’t want food at all, just attention. Of course he was bored and lonely as soon as they came home and he had only her as company. Jimin and Sun-young adored Hudu. Of course he’d rather be over there. She would too!

Still grumbling, she pushed up from the couch and shuffled to the kitchen to dig the treats out of the cabinet beside the fridge. Hudu’s treats were stored beside a bag of butterscotch candies, so she took one for herself too, a little treat to ease her past another day of disappointment.

No, not disappointment. Joy at getting to spend an evening basking in the presence of Jimin and Sun-young. Gratefulness that rent had not gone up too much for her to continue living here next to them all these years –though it had gone up, and not for the first time, she briefly began to calculate how much money she could have saved by moving somewhere more affordable– no, how much money she had spent for the privilege of living next door. They needed her, she always reasoned. Jimin had a daughter and no local family. What did the money matter when it came to being a good friend? Because they were friends. Of course they were friends, after all this time.

She crunched on the candy mindlessly, deciding not to calculate the money. It didn’t matter. It was gone and she wouldn’t have done things differently anyway, no matter how many times her mother sighed when she admitted that no, she didn’t have someone to bring to family dinner; no matter how many times her sister sighed when she admitted that no, she had not confessed her feelings to Jimin. Why would she do that? She already knew Jimin’s answer. He was a soulmate kind of guy, and he’d already found his. Hanbyul wouldn’t mind playing second, but Jimin wasn’t looking for a second.

“Shit,” she hissed as she chomped down on her tongue. She was chewing too aggressively. She breathed out sharply through her nose and looked down at Hudu tossing his treat happily around, fetching it, tossing it again.

“TV or walk?” she asked, hoping Hudu would make the decision for her. Usually at ‘walk’ he’d go crazy but now he gave her a wild look, like he wasn’t sure if she was serious. But the treat wound up winning and he continued to toss it around, so Hanbyul went to find something to distract her from the patheticness of her own life.

“Appa, what’s a catalyst?”

A simple question, posed by a studious daughter as she did her homework at the kitchen table Sunday night while Jimin did his best to make ahead lunches for the week alongside dinner. A science question, probably. Sunyoung hunched over the trio of tablet, textbook, and worksheet with a shocking focus for a girl who’d barely been able to keep her wiggly butt in the chair for lunch at her grandparents’ earlier. Jimin could read it on their faces: they worried he was raising her to be rude. She would have turned out better under the guidance of their daughter. He was sure that was what they were thinking.

“A catalyst is…. Something that makes something happen,” he answered, pulling the definition from the steamy air flushing his face. It was one of those things it was easier to think of examples of than a useful definition.

“Like what?”

“Uh… milk? No. Baking soda? Heat.”

Sunyoung sighed, “You don’t actually know, do you?”

“That’s the answer! If you’re so smart, you look it up,” he scoffed. She was smiling though, laughing at her dumb dad, and it made him grin too. A catalyst is this question, which caused a positive reaction between the two of us, he thought to himself as he listened to her laboriously type it into the tablet and then read out the dictionary definition.

“A substance that increases the rate of a chemical reaction without itself undergoing any permanent chemical change,” she said. “Or a person or thing that precipitates an event. What’s precipitate?”

“Aren’t you on a dictionary app right now?”

“Oh, you don’t know…”

“I know!” he spluttered, playing into it because her smile lit up his world. He heard the tap-tap of her fingers against the screen as he flipped the dumplings. He always burned them a little no matter how hard he tried, afraid of undercooking them and poisoning his daughter. Hanbyul knew just the right length of time somehow; he ought to ask her what the magic number of minutes was…

“Precicipate,” Sunnie read. “To cause an event or situation, typically one that is bad or undesirable, to happen suddenly, unexpectedly, or prematurely.”

Jimin froze.

How wonderful that Sunnie had such a young, fresh, beautiful mind so very different than his own aged, battered one. It didn’t leap to the conclusions that his had learned to make over time. It didn’t draw the same lines that seemed so obvious to him. Her mind was still learning how the world connected, soaking up language and culture and history and science like a gasping sponge, learning how to draw the constellations of thought and feeling inside of herself. These would become the way she navigated the world as she grew, some things baked in her since the moment she was born and others learned over time by the environment and people JImin let around her.

So when Sunnie hard the words bad, undesirable, suddenly, unexpected, prematurely, she just continued on. She didn’t have alarms for those words. No strings were tugged because they were abstracted here, read in her little voice from a sterile dictionary app on her school tablet.

But Jimin's brain leapt right to it: Subin. To a sudden fall at work that precipitated a concussion that precipitated one doctor who wanted to look a little further into symptoms possibly connected to the fall that precipitated the discovery of late stage ovarian cancer that precipitated the second hardest four months of Jimin’s life that precipitated the hardest years of Jimin’s life. Or maybe that was reversed. Had watching her quick and brutal fight with cancer been better than the After because he had her or worse because every day was an agonized victory for her. She had suddenly been sick, so so so sick, and then she no longer hurt anymore but Jimin was left in shambles to rearrange the shattered pieces of his life into a new one with Sun-young and without his best friend who had been the glue of their family all along.

“Appa, the dumplings are burning,” Sunnie calmly pointed out. Completely oblivious to the brief hurricane Jimin had endured in his mind. He sprang into action, yanked the pan off the stove, dumping the crispy dumplings on a plate, flinging some oil onto his hand in the process. “You should just steam them,” Sunnie suggested as he cursed and shoved his hand under a cold stream of water in the sink.

“But you prefer them panfried.”

“I prefer them not burned,” she grumbled. Sassy. A butt. A rude thing to say, especially when her father had just slingshotted through the stages of grief again –albeit a duller, more distant version than the raw cycle that had kicked off with Subin’s death three years ago. Time did that, nothing else. Time in which he discovered time and time again that he didn’t stop breathing no matter how hard the pain clenched him, that he could keep moving blindly forward because he had to for his daughter, and that no amount of tears, rage, guilt, or begging gave him another day with Subin. She was gone. It was a fact. Maybe she wouldn’t have been gone if they’d found the cancer earlier, or maybe she would have had more time, or maybe nothing would have really changed at all except that they would have known the ending was coming earlier. Was that better?

Jimin thought it was better. He would rather have known. He would have held her closer. He would have appreciated her more. He wouldn’t have taken for granted that he and Subin had a lifetime to be together. He would have spent less time arguing, and more time giving her whatever she wanted –although what she had wanted was more children. He would have given in earlier, and given her that, and yet it would be more children living without their mother, more children he did his best to raise without the parent for whom parenting had seemed so easy and natural–

“Did you get burned bad?” Sun-young asked, coming over to see now because he’d been still for so long. He took a deep breath and let it out through his mouth, willing away the familiar feelings. Grief was an old companion now, a shadow in the corner that sometimes rose to poke him and sometimes let him be but was never quite gone. Sunnie might have to live without a mother, but Jimin was not sure how he could have made it through the loss of his wife without such a perfect daughter to carry her light forward.

“I’m fine,” he insisted. And impulsively pulled her close and planted a kiss on the top of her head.

She wrinkled her nose at the kiss before suggesting, “I’ll get the burn gel.”

“It’s…” He trailed off before insisting it wasn’t that bad. Ok, he’d accept some caretaking from his daughter. Sun-young showing concern over him was welcome, especially right now when he could use a little extra comfort. So he protected his hand as he plated the dumplings and noodle dish and carried them to the table in the time it took her to fetch the bottle of burn soothing gel from beneath the sink upstairs.

“Just don’t eat the burned side,” he suggested when she frowned at the blackened bits.

Instead of commenting, she shook her head and offered, “I’ll squirt it on. Where are you burned?”

It was only a few small spots along the side of his hand and wrist, but he watched her unblinking concentration as she carefully squeezed dollops out on each spot, peering from every angle to make sure she got them.

“Are you going to be a doctor?” he teased –something she had never expressed the faintest interest in. Just as quickly, he regretted it. Medicine and doctors were forbidden references. She might not fall to pieces over the definition of “precipitate” but there were still trauma lines etched into his daughter’s brain and watching her mother sink away in a hospital, surrounded by doctors and medicine that couldn’t save her, was a deep one. “Sorry, I meant–”

Sun-young frowned, as expected, and assured him, “No. I hate doctors.”

“Sorry, we’ll talk about something else– hey, did you give any more thought to whether you want to try out for that duet? I can learn the choreo to help you rehearse if you want to audition for it,” he suggested. She already had the solo, and a couple ensemble performances, but the duet would be another opportunity for her to shine, he had no doubt she’d get if she wanted it. And not because of his ties to the school, but because she was a fantastic dancer on her own.

“I already have a solo,” she argued. “Another girl should get the duet.”

“Oh. Are you sure? You’ve been doing really well with the choreography and there are plenty of opportunities for other dancers to be on stage.”

“Yeah but I already have a solo.”

“So you aren’t going to even try for it?” Ah, Jimin understood. “I’m not the one who makes the call; if you got it, it would be because of your own dance merit–”

Sun-young actually rolled her eyes as she chewed around the burned part of her dumpling. For a moment he had a teenager and he did not like it.

“I’m already doing a lot, Appa. I don’t want to do so much I fall behind on my grades.”

“Ah… but you can do both… your grades are top of the class–”

“Most of the classes,” she mumbled and flinched.

Jimin waved his hand, “Look, science was never the strength of anyone in our family, so don’t beat yourself up about it.”

“But you got good grades in everything.”

“And now I don’t use any of it as an adult,” he countered. He felt like it was a very good dad-thing not to pressure Sun-young about her grades. Sometimes she had poor test scores or incomplete homework, but honestly, she was doing a lot, and he thought she’d handled losing her mother very well, and grades weren’t literally life and death like he’d thought they were when he was in school, so who fucking cared?

“But maybe if you remembered it, you could help me with my homework more!” she pointed out.

“Ah,” he grinned. “Shit.” She giggled and his smile grew. “But I help you out with your dance! That’s more important for a dancer anyway. You don’t need science or history or math or–”

“Appa, that’s sexist.”

“Sexist! What do you know about sexist?” he demanded and she laughed too, clearly pleased with his mock outrage. It felt good, it felt so fucking good to be laughing with her again when she’d had so little time for him lately. He felt himself walking back the hopelessness he’d expressed to Hanbyul. Ok, things were ok with Sunnie.

He noticed immediately the change in her demeanor as she shrugged, “I don’t know, it’s kind of interesting.”

“What is?”

“Catalysts and stuff.”

“Why are you even learning that? I thought in fourth grade you just learn about like… magnets. And animals. And plate tectonics.”

“Yeah this is an extra thing…”

“An extra thing?” he asked, head tilting. “Extra credit.”

“Yeah. You know, to get my grades up…”

“Well don’t worry too much about it. You don’t need to take on a lot of extra stuff, ok? Like I said, your grades will be fine. No one will remember what you did in fourth grade science in a few years.”

“Tomorrow Ms. Kwan is doing a science experiment for anyone who stays after the bell,” Sunnie told him, as if she hadn’t heard what he just said. “That’s what this is for.”

“After the last bell?”

“Yeah.”

“Ah, well, don’t be late meeting me, we have to get to your dance class.”

“Oh. Yeah…” She looked down at the paper again and looked genuinely unhappy.

“Well… I guess if it’s for extra credit, you could be a couple minutes late. But just this once, ok? We can’t make a regular habit of being late. It’ll look bad.”

Sunnie’s smile lit up again, “Ok yeah, thanks, Appa. I just want to see the catalyst.” Ah, he’d give anything to earn that smile from her all the time. He pulled her plate closer and began cutting the burnt bits off her dumplings.

He decided to push his luck and asked, “Hey, what about after we eat, we can watch something together?”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. Whatever you want.”

“The Ariana Grande documentary?” she asked, eyes going wide. “It’s on Netflix!”

“We don’t have Netflix,” he pointed out.

“Uncle Koo does.”

“Yeah but–”

“He gave me his password.”

“He what?!”

“Don’t freak, he said I had to use a kids profile–”

“Excuse me, ‘don’t freak’?” Jimin repeated, then sighed, “That’s it, he’s never babysitting again.”

“He doesn’t say that, Uncle Tae says that.”

“Yeah, him either. From now on, only Hanbyul or Uncle Hobi–”

“Uncle Hobi said you should let me drop ballet and modern and just do hip-hop–”

“OK, Hanbyul only now,” Jimin joked. Sunnie grinned, clearly thrilled to have tattled on so many uncles. Jimin appreciated the run-down as well. Yes, they might let her get away with things he wouldn’t, but words couldn’t express how much he appreciated their positive presence in her life. He wished they all lived closer. He wished he felt less guilty about leaning on them. He wished he could find a better way to thank them for the support group they had been for him despite themselves not knowing anything about mourning, widowhood, or solo parenting a little girl.

“Fine, let’s watch Ariana Grande,” Jimin decided.

“I’ll get the wine.”

“Wait, what?! Who lets you drink wine–”

“Nobody, Appa, I’m kidding,” she rolled her eyes and Jimin felt a pang of terror. She was growing up. She was growing up so fast. When had she stopped being his little tiny infant daughter?! This time next year she’d be in college!

“Yeah, you better be. Finish your dinner and put those books away. No more homework tonight. You’re working too hard.”

“You’re the one who works too hard. Are you sure you can just be lazy on the couch for the whole thing or are you going to start doing leg-lifts halfway through?” she demanded, crossing her arms and looking briefly so much like him that Jimin laughed.

“All right, little dumpling. Let’s see who can sit still longer.”

“It’s me.”

She was very wrong, but Jimin enjoyed jumping around too, dancing to the music when it was on, watching his daughter’s rapt attention every time Ariana spoke, quietly murmuring the English words she knew under her breath. She knew a lot of English words, actually, they were studying it too much in school. Should he learn? What if one day his daughter spoke in a language he couldn’t understand at all?

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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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