#I want to create. Do SOMETHING with my life other than think about fucking college

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gotta love the summer burn out, no smell like smoke and lost hopes right?

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Best Friend's Mom Part Four

MILF!Wanda Maximoff x college age!fem!reader (Billy and Tommy's best friend)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Word count: 5.5k

CW: Age gap (legal), best friends' mom, MILF!Wanda, fluff, mentions of food, angst, smut, cursing

Summary: You've finally confessed your feelings to Wanda. Will she reciprocate them? If so, what happens next? And what'll happen if she rejects you? Anything could happen.

A/n: Fourth and FINAL part is here! (I lowkey wrote most of this today so I hope it's good lol!) Anywho, I'd just like to thank y'all for loving this story as much as I have. And, if you're sad that it's over, never fear! Because of all your love and support, I've decided to do something special that you can check out here. Happy reading!

“Well, do you?��

The question hangs in the air between you and time has completely stopped. You hold your breath and your heart beats so rapidly in your chest that you’re certain Wanda can hear it. 

Your instincts tell you to run, to avoid what you fear most.

Rejection. 

But for once, you’re brave. You stay put and hold eye contact with Wanda. It’s her that breaks first. 

“My simple answer is yes.”

All of the air rushes back into your lungs and you dispel a long sigh of relief.

“But,” she adds, “I’m hesitant to say anything else because we both know that nothing about this situation is simple.”

You nod, and this time your sigh is a little more dejected. 

“Yeah, I know.”

You pull your knees up to your chest and wrap your arms around your legs, “It sucks. This whole situation is shitty. If only you weren’t my best friends’ mom, and I wasn’t in college, and we didn’t have to hide.”

The silence is thick, weighty with the words left unsaid- the words that neither of you want to vocalize. To vocalize them would be to admit to reality, and the small glimmer of hope still left would be shattered. To put it all into words would also force you to call this thing between you and Wanda what it is- a fling. A word that, right now, disgusts you to your core. A fling- the concept and word itself so casual when nothing about what’s happened between you two has been casual at all. You and Wanda had not casually fucked, casually cuddled, or casually made out. In every interaction with Wanda, there was always something deeper simmering just below the surface. There was an understanding of each other’s lives and struggles, tenderness, only found in a familiarity by association, and a deep love for each other, not even in the romantic sense, though you guess a hint of that existed as well, but in a sense of gratitude. Your shared compassion for the twins, and the undoubted affect you’d each had on them brought you two together in an indescribable way. Though you hadn’t known it yet, you and Wanda’s souls had been intertwined by destiny, forever attached by the two who brought you together in the first place. 

Therefore, to treat this connection between you two as so much less than it deserves makes you not just just angry or sad but bitter. Nothing about it is fair. You deserve more, sure, but it’s Wanda that deserves everything good. After all that she’s been through, she’s maintained a heart of gold, and your heart aches to know the pain she’s being put through yet again.

But you can’t hide forever, and Wanda finally admits what you can’t. Won’t. 

“I think,” Wanda says, hesitating, “that we have to accept that this is as good as it gets.”

It stings, Wanda’s confession, the truth smacking you square in the face. Housed within these walls is a beautiful utopia that you and Wanda have escaped to. It’s been sweet, and raw, and vulnerable, and now it’s all crumbling down. In no world would you and Wanda ever have been able to be together in the way you both wanted. There were the boys to think of, and your future, and the life Wanda had created for herself. Neither of you wanted to risk the happiness of the other for a potential shared happiness. 

“I’m afraid that if we tried to continue what we have going now, everything would fall apart, and I’d come to resent you. And I don’t want that, Detka. For me, or you, or Billy and Tommy,” Wanda adds softly, “So let’s just enjoy this while we have it, and make the most of our time left.”

Tears sting your eyes and so much pressure has built in your throat that you can’t speak. You only nod at Wanda and her gaze, somehow, softens even more. 

“Baby,” she whispers hoarsely. In seconds she’s pulled you into her arms, wrapping you so tightly in her warm embrace that you couldn’t move even if you wanted to. You nuzzle your face into her neck and try to take deep breaths, hoping that her scent will calm the raging storm in your head. She rocks the two of you back and forth slowly, and you can’t tell if it’s more for her or for you. 

“Wanda,” you call out, and your voice cracks pitifully.

“Shhh, don’t” the redhead answers, her voice similarly thick with emotion. 

You bury your hands in her shirt and grip it tightly, trying to hold on to something when everything else around you is slipping away. Despite your best efforts, you can’t stop the sob that racks your body. 

Wanda doesn’t say anything, she just presses a tender kiss to your head. And when you feel a few teardrops fall onto your hair, you don’t mention it. 

“I know it’d be hard, but what do you think about pretending, for just a little longer? I mean, we’ve been doing it this long, so what’s one more day?” she murmurs into your hair. 

You pull away a little, craning your neck up towards Wanda with wide, tear-brimmed eyes, “Yeah, yes. Please. I’d really like that.”

She smiles fondly at you, “Good. Now let’s wipe away these tears.”

She ever so gently untangles an arm from around you and thumbs away the residual wetness on your cheeks, “There we go, all better.”

Her hand traces down your cheek and cups your jaw. She pulls you in and places a tender kiss to your lips. It’s sweet and tastes a little of the salty tears you’d both just shed. Instead of the hot spark that usually shoots through your body when you kiss Wanda, an overall warmth spreads through your body from your head all the way down to your toes. It makes your stomach ache, not with sadness but rather an all consuming happiness. You’re sure that any moment you’ll burst into a kaleidoscope of butterflies. 

*****

The last day and a half of your spring break trip is bittersweet. Though you try to stay present, any time Wanda is around you can’t help but think about how each interaction with her may be your last- your last kiss, your last secret glance, or your last inside joke. To know that the end of something is coming before it ever actually happens is maddening, and you swear that you can hear a clock slowly ticking down to zero as each minute passes. Around the boys especially you don a mask of joviality even though internally you’re floundering. As you go about your day there’s a perpetual ache in your chest and a lump that never seems to leave your throat. 

Maybe it’s because you’re desperate to slow down, or maybe it’s because you’re so caught up in your head that it passes quickly, but before you know it, time has slipped through your fingers and it’s already Friday evening. It’s late, and the boys are off in their room packing their bags. Desperate to hold on to the last little bit of your trip left, you decide to leave the packing for tomorrow morning and instead lay on the couch listlessly scrolling through channels on tv. You can’t help wondering where Wanda has wandered off to, but you know that if you go looking for her, you’ll only end up in a puddle of tears. 

At some point in your scrolling you end up on an old sitcom- The Dick Van Dyke Show. You’ve never really watched it before, but something about it instantly catches your attention. The simplicity and domesticity of it all soothes you and your brain finally begins to quiet down. 

“Did you know that was my favorite show as a kid?” 

You look up at Wanda in her long gray tee shirt and leggings, hair pulled back into a low pony, “Really?”

She joins you, sitting on the arm of the couch, “Mhmm. When things would get bad back home in Sokovia, my mom and dad would always put on old sitcom tapes to distract my brother and I. I liked all the ones they showed me, but The Dick Van Dyke Show was always my favorite. Still is.”

A warm smile graces Wanda’s pretty features as she reminisces to you about her childhood and your heart feels so full that she’s chosen to share parts of herself with you. 

“I’ve actually never seen it,” you say, “but I just came across it now, and I instantly felt…”

“Calmer?”

“Mhmm.”

You both silently watch the show for a few minutes, and though you’re tempted, you don’t once glance at Wanda. It’s a true demonstration of your willpower because Wanda is so, so tempting. You desperately wish to pull her closer, to hold her, touch her, and kiss her. But if you let yourself give in, you’re not sure you’ll be able to stop. Being around Wanda is addicting and you long to taste her over and over again, to get drunk on her, even if you’re bound to waste away after. 

You’re so lost in your own head that you don’t notice Wanda slowly slipping off the arm of the couch onto the seat next to you. It’s only when she basically crawls into your lap that you look away from the tv, startled. She’s on her knees, legs tucked beneath her, and she rests her hands on your thighs. Her face is so incredibly close to yours that with even the slightest movement, your lips would touch.

Her green eyes search yours intently, “Detka, I was thinking…”

She pauses, and you can’t help but quickly peck her lips to encourage her to keep talking. The embarrassed smile that forms on her face also makes you scream internally. 

“I’d really like to take you out on a date, baby. Just one. Before everything… ends.”

You squeal quietly and jump onto her, knocking her backwards onto the couch. You pepper kisses all over her face and she grabs your hips, giggling quietly. 

“I’ll take that as a yes?”

“Oh my god Wanda, duh!”

And then more quietly and seriously you say, “I’d really, really like that.”

A hand moves from your waist to the back of your head and she guides you to her lips, kissing you sweetly. You suck gently on her bottom lip and try to ingrain into your mind the pretty little sighs she releases. When you pull away, you watch as her long eyelashes flutter open and admire the soft look in her green eyes. 

She squeezes your side playfully, “let’s go Detka, we have a date to go on.”

You sit back on your heels to give Wanda room to sit up, “where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise. Now go get your shoes.”

You obey her immediately, plopping down onto the hardwood and slipping on your tennis shoes. When you’re ready to go, she grabs her keys off the kitchen table and quietly ushers you out to her small black sedan. You’ve yet to ride in Wanda’s car, the boys usually driving, and it’s nice. With black leather seats and wood trimming, you feel like you’re living in luxury. The car, somehow, smells like her too, and you feel blissfully pampered and mindless strapped into the passenger seat of her car. 

She starts the car and rolls down the windows. You pull out of the driveway and speed off down the coastal highway, the radio softly playing in the background. The air is warm, but the wind is cool on your skin and you can smell the salt in the air. Your hair whips around wildly in the breeze, and you know that it’ll look a mess the rest of the night, but you can’t find it in you to care. Though you still have no idea where Wanda is taking you, by the direction you’re going you can at least guess that it’ll be somewhere in town.

While you’d be happy to go anywhere with Wanda, you’re extra thrilled when she pulls up to the local ice cream shop. Your sweet tooth aches with excitement and you quickly unbuckle your seatbelt. You go to open your door but Wanda reaches out to stop you, “Wait! I wanna get it for you.”

Heat rises to your cheeks and you’re so awestruck by how sweet and wonderful she is. She hops out of the car and comes around to your side, opening the door for you. When you climb out you give her a peck on the cheek, “what a lady you are, Wanda. I guess chivalry isn’t dead.”

The redhead wraps her arm around your waist and tucks you into her side. It’s the most public you two have ever been and the thrill secretly excites you. 

She presses a soft kiss to the top of your head, “You deserve only the best, Detka. I hope you always know that.”

She’s being too sweet to you, and it’s making you all shy, so you tuck your head further into her side to hide your face. She chuckles lightly and squeezes your waist, guiding you two over to the counter to order. 

Wanda orders two scoops of strawberry ice cream in a cup and you do the same, though with chocolate ice cream. All of the seating at the shop is outdoors, so you two find a table off to the side in a secluded corner. You cuddle up on one bench, legs tangled together and shoulders touching. The treat is sweet on your tongue and you moan softly at the taste.

“Good?” Wanda asks in between bites of her own ice cream.

You nod, “Very. Yours?”

She scoops a bit of the ice cream onto her spoon and lifts it towards you, “try?”

You eagerly accept her invitation and wrap your lips around the spoon. It’s tangier than your chocolate, but still good. You swirl it around your tongue, savoring the flavor as Wanda watches you with curious eyes.

“Mhmm, I like that too. Still prefer mine though,” you say with a small smile. 

“Well good, because you’re not getting any more of mine anyways,” the redhead answers with a wink. 

You roll your eyes teasingly and happily take another bite of your own ice cream.

“Oh, wait? Do you want to try mine?”

Before you can offer Wanda a spoonful of the chocolate, she reaches out and swipes her thumb across your lips. When she pulls away there’s a little chocolate on her skin and she slowly sucks it off, “Mhmm, tastes good, baby.”

This alone causes your brain to turn to mush and so you just stare at her, lips slightly parted and cheeks flushed. 

Wanda doesn’t attempt to hide her smirk at your dumbfounded expression, “love when you get all dazed and pretty like this, Detka.”

Your gaze drops to your ice cream and you mumble about how she’s a tease. 

She lifts your chin so that you look at her again, “You know you love it.”

“Not when we’re in public!”

Wanda hesitates for a moment, the wheels in her brain turning, before she asks, “wanna go make strawberry-chocolate ice cream in the car?”

*****

You're outside the door to the house and you and Wanda are giggling like schoolgirls as she fumbles with the keys. 

“Shhh, Wanda, be careful. We don’t want to get caught!”

“Sorry, I just can’t get my hands to work,” she answers, giggling again. 

You grab her hands and still them, looking at her gently, “here, let me do it.”

You take the keys from her and easily insert it into the lock. It clicks open softly and you motion for Wanda to go inside first, you following close behind her. Wanda stands by the door slipping off her shoes and grabs your shoulder as she nearly falls over. You grab her waist, steadying her, “careful, love.”

She smiles at you sheepishly while she casts her other shoe aside and you take a moment to admire her windblown cheeks and messy hair. You brush a strand behind her ear and her eyes flutter close at your touch.

“What the hell are you two doing?”

You and Wanda freeze, and a rock settles in your stomach. When you turn around, there stands Billy and Tommy in the living room, mixed expressions of confusion, anger, disbelief and betrayal written all over their faces. 

“Guys, it’s-” you begin, your voice shaking.

“Not what it looks like?” Billy scoffs, “because it looks like you can’t keep your hands off my mom.”

“Billy, wait,”

“Tell us what the fuck is going on right now,” Tommy interrupts. 

You barely spare Wanda a glance as you make your way into the living room. She hesitantly follows behind you. 

“Uhm me and Wan- your mom- we’ve been…” 

What are you supposed to call this thing you and Wanda have been doing?

“Seeing each other,” she finishes. 

Billy eyes you two’s disheveled appearances with disgust, “seems more like you’ve been fucking each other!”

“Billy!” Wanda says sharply.

“What, Mom? I’m gonna call it as I see it, since you two don’t seem inclined to tell the truth.”

You can already feel your lip beginning to quiver but you ignore it, “That’s not fair. Please, just listen for a second.”

“Not fair?!” Tommy protests, “What I think is unfair is that my mom and best friend have been lying to my face so that they can sneak around and fuck. I mean, god. That’s disgusting. Mom- she’s our best friend and you,” he points his finger aggressively towards you, “going after our mom? That’s really fucking shitty.”

A tear unwillingly escapes your eye, “But it wasn’t- it’s not like that. I didn’t intend for it to happen. It just did.”

“So you just fell into each other’s beds?” Billy asks, sarcasm thick in his voice. 

“That’s not what she means, Billy,” Wanda answers solemnly. 

“What she means is that it all just happened so suddenly, so organically. We were just drawn to each other, and that’s not in our control.”

“But your actions are. You could’ve resisted. Instead, you were selfish.” 

You’re entirely sympathetic to the twins’ pain and anger. This comment, however, riles you from your sorrowful stupor. 

“Selfish? You’re calling us selfish? You don’t even know what you’re talking about, Billy! Wanda and I have done nothing but think about you both the entire time. You want to know what we did yesterday? We decided to completely end things after this trip because we wanted to protect you two from our dumb decisions. Wanda and I agreed that even though we both have feelings for each other, your lives and feelings are far more important. This is one of the first really good things that’s happened to both of us in a really long time, and we gave it up for you. So you can sit here and call us stupid, or liars, or traitors, but don’t sit here and call us selfish.”

After your outburst, the room goes completely and utterly silent. Your panting hard and your hands are shaking as you watch so many emotions play out on your best friends’ faces. You glance at Wanda and the sight before you breaks your heart. At this moment, she looks so totally and utterly miserable. Silent tears are streaming down her face and her eyes dart anxiously between her two boys. Guilt pools in your stomach and you can’t help but feel that everything is your fault. Had you never been a part of their lives, nothing would be ruined and Wanda, Billy, and Tommy could’ve been a perfect, happy little family.

You sigh heavily and look at the three people you care about most, “Look, I’m sorry. I-”

“Just, stop talking,” Tommy says, interrupting you again, though this time his voice is a little less harsh.

“You, you said that you have feelings for my mom?”

“Yeah, yeah” you answer, vigorously nodding, “I care about her so much.”

Billy looks at Wanda hesitantly, “And you feel the same way?”

Although she’d just confessed her feelings yesterday, a small part of you fears that she’s changed her mind, or maybe even lied. You chew on your lip anxiously, awaiting her response with bated breath. 

Instead of answering Billy and Tommy directly, she turns and looks straight at you, “Yes. I’ve never been more certain about anything in my life.”

You know your eyes are shining thick with tears and you give her a great big wobbly smile. 

Billy sighs, rubbing his face roughly, “And you make each other happy?”

Simultaneously you and Wanda answer yes. 

“Then who are we to get in your way?” Tommy replies, shaking his head.

You gasp quietly and turn towards the twins, hope bubbling up in your chest. They still don’t look totally okay, but the small, tired smiles on each of their faces tells you that they will be in time.

Wanda makes the first move, walking towards them both and cupping each of their faces, “You really mean it moya lubov? Because I stand by what I said, the happiness of you two will always be the most important thing to me.”

Any residual tension in the faces of your two friends fade under their mother’s touch.

“Yeah, mom. We mean it. We just want you to be happy.”

Tommy looks at you then and raises his eyebrows sternly, “And I swear to god, if you hurt her.”

You let out a watery chuckle, “I won’t. I promise.”

“And you,” Billy says, looking to his mom, “if you hurt her?”

Wanda turns and looks at you softly, “I could never.”

Then at the same time Billy and Tommy say, “okay.”

*****

When everything has settled, you and Wanda find yourselves alone yet again. Though there’s still so much new ground to navigate between you, Wanda, and the boys, you can’t ignore the unbridled happiness overwhelming your senses. You and Wanda look at each other with the biggest, goofiest smiles on your faces and you jump into her arms.

Reminded once again how strong she is, Wanda catches you easily and you wrap your legs around her waist. She presses a heated kiss to your lips and you encourage her, arms circling her neck. Somehow while still kissing you, she makes her way down the hall to her room. When she steps inside she kicks the door closed and carries you to the bed. Wanda throws you down on your back gently and then climbs on top of you. She kisses you a few times on the lips, and then the neck, before trailing her hands lower to the hem of your shirt. She makes eye contact with you, seemingly asking if she can take it off, and you nod aggressively. She chuckles lowly and grabs your shirt. You stick your arms out as she pulls it over your head and tosses it somewhere across the room. You shiver, and you’re not sure if it’s from the cold air, Wanda’s gaze, or her burning touch across your stomach- probably all three. 

“So beautiful, baby,” she mumbles, placing kisses at your collarbone and then slowly trailing down to the valley of your breasts.

You moan at her featherlight touches, but you still need more. Wanda seems to read your mind as she slides her hands underneath you and unclips your bra. Your nipples are hard from arousal and the cold air and Wanda moans at the sight. She surges forward and takes your left nipple into her mouth, sucking softly at the bud and letting her tongue roll casually over it. Her hand stimulates your other tit, groping and pinching it lightly. She alternates, so that both get their fair share. When she pulls away she plants a kiss on your panting lips before moving downward to the lower half of your body. She pushes your knees up, so that your feet lay flat on the bed, and your legs spread for her. You look down at her, her eyes full of lust and cleavage on display as she bends towards your pussy, and you moan. She places kisses and bites across your calves and then thighs before tugging off your shorts and then grabbing your underwear, pulling it tantalizingly slow down your legs. 

All of it’s painfully hot, and you're desperate to tell Wanda to move faster- but you know better than to rush her.

Wanda gasps as she throws your panties aside and eyes your pink, glistening folds, “such a pretty pussy, and all for me.”

You hum, “yes, only you Wanda.”

“Good,” she answers, patting your thigh. She moves back up your body and kisses you, though  one hand travels down between your thighs. Lightly, she places pressure on your clit and rubs slow, soft circles. The only way to describe the sensation is white, hot pleasure and you cry out- luckily into her mouth. As her mouth migrates down your body, so do her fingers. They dip into your outer folds and tease your hole with your gathered wetness. As she sucks on your nipple yet again, one finger slides slowly into you and you let out a loud moan, “Oh Wanda, that- that feels so good. Please.”

“You’re doing so good for me Detka”, Wanda praises, “So tight and warm.”

“Th- thank you Wanda. Thank you, thank you, thank you,” you repeat as she thrusts her finger in and out of you slowly. 

Wanda then inserts a second finger, stretching you wider. It’s a little painful, but it feels so good you don’t mind.

As you writhe in pleasure, you watch Wanda. Her long, red hair falls over her shoulder as she bends down to suck a hickey onto your neck. Her face is flushed and her green eyes are lust-blown. As Wanda’s hand continues to pound into you, you reach out and pull Wanda away from your neck. 

“Wanna touch you Wanda,” you say breathlessly. You pull her in and kiss her lips roughly again. One hand stays in her hair and tugs at her red locks while the other wanders down to grope her tits. She moans into your mouth and her fingers falter for a second at your touch. As you continue your ministrations on her clothed breasts, Wanda adds a third finger and you nearly see stars. Desperate for her own release, she begins to hump your thigh as she fingers you. Observing her pleasure nearly sends you over the edge. 

You beg Wanda to stop for just a moment so that you can slip off her shirt. You unclasp her bra and grunt at the sight of her naked tits. Wanda continues to pound into you and your legs tighten around her hand. As she humps your leg, you watch her beautiful tits bounce and the way her head is thrown back in a fit of pleasure. The image of Wanda before you sends you over the edge, finally, and your stomach muscles clench. You cry out loudly and moan Wanda’s name over and over as you finally come. Your body shakes with pleasure and you really do see stars this time. When you come down from your high, you are panting heavily. Wanda is still chasing her own, and you can tell she’s getting close. You grip her hips and stop her, “Don’t want you to cum on my thigh, Wanda.”

Suddenly, you flip her onto her back and straddle her.

“Drawer, Detka, look in my drawer,” Wanda breathes out desperately. You reach over her and open the top drawer on the left. Inside is a pink strap-on.

“You want me to use this, Wanda?” You ask seriously. 

“Please, please fuck me baby,” she answers huskily. 

You stand from the bed, Wanda groaning at the loss of your touch, as you step into the harness and tighten it against your skin so that it bumps your clit a little. When you crawl back onto the bed, you grab the hem of Wanda’s pants and yank them down. Then, you grab her lacy black underwear and pull that down too, revealing her pussy to you. You moan loudly and instantly surge forward, licking a line up her slit. She tastes so sweet, and you want to eat her out so badly, but you decide to save that for later. 

“Please, Detka. Don’t tease me,” Wanda orders. 

You nod and do as she says. You line the tip of the dildo up to her entrance and tease her folds. She moans softly and grabs your waist. Then, slowly, you slide inside her. She’s wet enough that there’s not much resistance, and when your hips meet hers you pause. 

Wanda sighs out, “So big. Feels so good, baby. So full of you.”

“Anything for you Wanda. Your pretty pussy deserves everything,” you whisper in her ear as you thrust your hips for the first time. The squeal she lets out sends you into a frenzy, and quickly you are pounding into Wanda at a rapid pace. She’s only letting out a series of moans, whines and squeals and it’s so incredibly hot. You suck on one of her nipples and play with the other till she is writhing underneath you. When you get her close, you move down a little and throw her legs over your shoulders, allowing you to lift her hips off the bed and drill into her at a deeper angle. You know you’ve found her g-spot by the way she lets out long, loud moans, and you muffle her mouth with your lips so that Billy and Tommy don’t hear. With one final thrust, Wanda’s eyes roll into the back of her head and her back arches into you, tits touching. The moans of your name light a fire in your stomach, and the added stimulation of the strap on your throbbing clit sends you over the edge a second time. You both cum together before slowly coming down from your high. You’re left panting as you collapse on top of her, the dildo still inside.

As you start to recover, Wanda slowly starts stroking your sweaty hair away from your face. You smile against her chest and place a soft kiss there. 

“That was really good, Wanda. Thank you.”

Wanda only lifts your chin and smiles at you before she locks your lips in another kiss- this time more sweet and tender. 

*****

The time you’d been dreading the entire week- saying goodbye- has finally arrived. While it once left you sick with dread, now it doesn’t seem so bad. The fact that you and Wanda aren’t saying goodbye forever certainly helps. Wanda’s in the kitchen sweeping out the sand and you and the twins are packing up their car with your bags. You were nervous this morning that they’d act weird around you now that you’re with Wanda, but they’ve been fairly normal besides the occasional dark jokes here or there. 

When the last of your stuff is loaded into the car, the three of you make your way back into the house. 

“Mom? Want us to take your bags out to your car?” Tommy asks, swiping a banana off the counter. 

She smiles sweetly at him, “yes, please. Thank you.”

You give Wanda a wink and begin to follow after the boys when she calls out, “wait, Detka. I need your help.”

Billy mockingly gags and you roll your eyes at him before trotting obediently back to Wanda. 

“What’d you need help with?” You ask her eagerly.

She peers over your shoulder, making sure the boys aren’t in sight, and then grabs you by the shirt, pulling you in for a kiss. 

You can’t help but smile against her lips, and when you pull away you chuckle.

“Was that it?”

She hums contentedly, “though I think I need one more for good measure.”

“I’m here to serve,” you tell her teasingly, kissing her again. 

“Nope! No! Okay, that’s enough you two,” Tommy declares as he comes back into the kitchen, “Jesus, I’m gonna throw up.”

You both have the decency to look sheepish and say, “sorry!”

He sighs, feigning annoyance, “Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Now come on, we gotta get back to school.”

Billy joins you all in the kitchen, “Yep, we gotta go, so no more public indecency, please.”

You snort a little and slap his arm lightly, “shut up.”

He gives you a pointed look and then goes up to hug Wanda, “Bye Mom. I’ll call you next week, okay?”

She hugs him tightly and kisses him tenderly on the forehead before taking Tommy into her arms, “Goodbye, moya lubov.”

Then she says to both of them, “You let me know when you get back safe. I love you!”

“Love you too,” they both say at the same time, heading towards the door.

Tommy looks at you, “you coming?”

You nod, “Yep, be right out in a second.”

When they’re gone you don’t say anything to Wanda, you just pull her into a tight embrace. 

“We’ll see each other soon, okay?” she tells you.

You pull away and admire her pretty features one final time before you have to say goodbye.

“Okay, Wanda. I’ll see you soon.”

She smiles warmly at you and kisses goodbye, but not, you happily note, for forever.

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[swordoffrivolousthings]

Thoughts about Heroes of Olympus and how it could have been better.

Sometimes I think about what would have made HOO a better series. And I'm not talking about the obvious 'too much focus on romantic relationships' and the lack of usage of certain characters or the dumb ending.

I mean the little things that would change so much (mainly character dynamics but also worldbuilding i.e. Camp Jupiter and Gaia's reasoning)

Some of the points are inspired by @crisisreading and their posts. They are the first I saw raise some of my own points so! part 2

Make the ages vary more in the main cast, trust me

Let Percy, Annabeth and Grover get older by 4-5 years. Let them become adults and find themselves outside the godly war. Let them even finish college, I wouldn't get mad. Let them do anything beside being teenagers.

I promise this would make the dynamics more interesting. Percy and Annabeth will be more mentor figures, than fellow comrades. This would create some distance between some of the them, but ultimately create something fun. Piper would come to see some aspiring female figure in Annabeth (I think this would ether be positive or negative, depending how Annabeth changed as a character over the years, but I tend towards negative). Leo would potentially have someone older to exchange ideas with. Jason would possibly feel intimidated by Percy's vastly superior age, prowess and experience, instead of being able to clash heads with him.

Hazel would have not one, but two that people that would play parent to the others' reckless behavior. (go snort your harmful stereotypes up your ass, Riordan.) Frank, when telling Percy and Hazel about his stick, would possibly find in Percy a kind hand (not that he wasn't kind already, let me explain) and Percy would probably share with him this feeling of vulnerability - not dump it on Frank - about having your life tied to a specific thing. I mean his Achilles heel, with which he would have lived for far longer.

And a whole lot more.

2. Add Grover into the series as a perspective character

You have a new trio dynamic introduced in the first book of the series. Let the original trio interact as main characters and let us see how their relationship has changed.

Grover's opinion on the conflict between the gods and Gaia would be important. He is the Lord of the Wild, and Gaia is the literal personification of the Earth. Let us see his struggle between the loyalty he has to the gods and his friends and his powerful feelings towards protecting nature.

Also, he would act as a protector for the demigods. Because while I enjoy Hedge, he is not enough to keep them safe.

3. Throw the bullshit about Gaia getting revenge for Kronos' defeat out of the way

Gaia, as mentioned before, if the personification of the Earth. One of the first gods to emerge from Chaos.

Gaia can, of course, keep her resentment for the gods defeating the son that freed her from her pain (caused by Ouranos initially). But she is a mother goddess. She should want obliterate humanity because humans are slowly killing her. Painfully. She wants to survive and the only way she sees how if by killing all the humans. She wants to save her children, aka animals, insects, nature, and the only way she sees is bloodshed. Gods are not rational in their anger, no one is. So let her be angry and vengeful and out for human blood.

DO NOT MAKE HER A FUCKING VILLAIN, MAN! Make her an antagonist, but someone's whose ideals are worth taking in and adapting. Kinda like Luke about the demigod and minor god recognition. Where have the themes of the original series gone? Remember, an important theme in BOTL was protecting the environment. It was one of the most important moments when Pan faded. Do not let that go to fucking waste. Especially not now, in the world we live in.

4. Show the effects the war had on Camp Half-Blood. Hint it at Camp Jupiter, when Percy does not have the memories to corelate it with

We've had years since the end of the Second Titan War. How did the gods change the course of events ? (the victors write the histories) How much of Luke's reasoning for starting the war was erased. (hint, all of it.) Show us how much the perspectives were shifted and how much the people that fought in it were made into martyrs and villain, basically becoming caricatures.

Let us feel how much this hurts Percy, Grover and Annabeth. How it had impacted and impacts their trauma, grief and utter horror. The younger, newer campers see them as wonderful, all-just and loyal heroes of the gods. The way they hate it.

Good moment to implement the new cabins for the gods and let the new ones forget that it wasn't always this way. Let Percy's demand to the gods be forgotten, shoved under the rug. The tragedy unfolds, use it.

Since in Camp Jupiter none of the main characters have fought, let us see the subtility. Let the older legionnaires be ragged, scarred. Older and weary, with eyes glassy and suspicious. Have younger recruits have this heavy air around them. They know what happened, what killed most of the older people in the legion.

Have Jason, Hazel and Frank see these things in Annabeth, Grover and Percy too. They realise that oh. oh. these three have fought in the war, of course they would. Show them gain respect for the trio. The same kind of respect they have for the veterans back home.

5. Cut one of the Seven from the prophecy.

I know this seems radical, but it is a symbolism thing, which I think would be more interesting in a world based on Greek mythology.

It is established in PJO that three (3) is an important number: 3 Olympian sisters (Hera, Demeter, Hestia), 3 Olympian brothers (Hades, Poseidon, Zeus), 3 Fates, 3 quest members, 3 Furies, 3 godly realms (the Underworld, Olympus + the sky, the seas). Use this.

Give us six (6) prophesized heroes. It is, after all, the second most used number in the series and a multiple of 3.

I suggest Annabeth. Why? because she has her quest from Athena. Let that be her top priority, while hanging out on the Argo II to get to Rome. Let her bond with the younger demigods and have her possible death be always on her mind. Bring her hubris into play and she would think herself the chosen one, the one demigod child of Athena to survive. This would make her falling into Tartarus with Percy not letting her go more taxing on her psyche.

Show us how she hates herself because she took one of the principal quest members to certain death. She feels like she'd jeopardized the whole saving the world thing.

Cut the Seven to Six and let Annabeth die in Tartarus. Show us why a single-man quest is a death sentence. Why three (3) is such a valuable number.

6. CONSEQUENCES!!!

Jumping straight off the last point.

Change why Annabeth would end up in Tartarus. Make her ignore the string around her ankle because she thing that nothing bad can happen to her now. After all, Arachne is gone, right.

Let this be her undoing. I do not care how she dies, but make her choices, her hubris, be her undoing. Do not let her death up to a chance, a mistake or miscalculation. Show how toxic Tartarus is, because we do not see it enough, but make it Annabeth's idea, the plan by which she dies.

Do not make it Percy's fault. Let him try to do everything to keep her alive, but still failing. Attack his sense of loyalty, his self-esteem. Show how the experiences and her death affect him.

Bring the trauma from the last war back in those chapters, in a place where demigods leave something behind.

To less drastic things - let the others get hurt. Permanently. Show how this life affects and damages people physically, too.

Have one lose an eye, another get horrific scars. Lose a limb, a part of themselves. Do not make it seem like any other could have gotten the same wound.

Tailor them to their character, their pride and their skill. Hit them where it hurts most and let us see how it changes them.

Also, about Leo. Kill him too. The fact that he ended up alive is a deux ex machina. He should have suffered the consequences.

Also also, bring back the fatal flaws. They are missing from the series. Play with them, show why they are important parts of their characters. Bring back ancient Greek fatal flaws, and new ones that make sense in a modern world.

Hurt them because what hurts them is part of who they are. Show us why the Greeks invented tragedy.

7. Age up the target age. Go more young/new adult

I understand that PJO was made for middle schoolers. But the target audience had grown up alongside the characters, and as such they have matured.

This is why I said to age Percy, Grover and Annabeth up further. Leave some distance for the old and new readers to get up and personal with the new main characters. Have them find common ground with the new demigods but have their anchor in the old ones.

Make the readers work to understand and refamiliarize themselves wit the older demigods. Because they've changed.

Targeting a more mature audience allows exploring n. 6. The realistic consequences of living with the fear that something will come and eat you. How just a little mishap could change you for life. (or what has been left of it)

Please do not go grim dark. Show that despite this all, their purpose has not stopped existing. A life exists outside of your appearance or disability still exist, and while it would be hard, do not lose hope.

8. Hope, or lack of its importance in the Heroes of Olympus series

Alongside other callbacks and reinforcements of PJO's lore, where is Elpis (hope)? Why doesn't she appear as a larger theme in the books? I don't know.

Elpis is still in the jar, having been used as a threat of defeat. But now Kronos is gone. Have Gaia use it as s symbol for her own cause.

Make hope Gaia's argument. The most important part of why her cause stands. Gaia is waking now because there is no hope for the betterment of the planet while in human - and therefore godly - grasp. She wants to save the planet, but they, the destroyers, are opposing her.

Hope is what she wants to bring back. The hope that death will not be the end of life, but further evolvement and betterment of all species.

This argument is what the counterargument should unravel. All species? Why are humans considered irredeemable, unworthy of becoming something greater?

Why can't they not coexist and why can't humans learn how to care about the world surrounding them.

Make hope for humanity and for the environment not a question of if they are capable to coexist, but how we can manage that. Humanity and nature are not mutually exclusive, but two halves of the same whole that need each other to sustain their longevity. Yes, nature can exist without humans, but humans can't.

This does not mean that the best way forward is to kill all humans.

There is no need for hope in HOO because there are no greater questions being asked about topics that require hope, because otherwise we would descend into nihilism and fatalism.

9. Give the gods reason to act the way they act, or a look at a greater narrative problem in the series

I may be generalizing, but the gods act erratically and make choices convenient for the plot, as it is, to happen.

Hera: how, specifically, does she know that Gaia is rising and what her plans are. Why is she against Gaia, when the older goddess has a track record of helping the Olympians on different occasions in the myths. Why does she decide to act when she does, how she knows that the king of the giants (whatever his name may be) is coming after her right then.

We don't know.

Athena: we understand why she wants the Athena Parthenos back. Why not force the Romans to give it back. After all, she is a goddess, even if the Romans don't respect her as the Greeks did, she has power and sway over them. Why send her children, a supposedly important part of what brings her glory, to a near-certain death. Is it misguided vengeance, an obsession to get the statue back at all cost, or simple cruelty. These reasons could apply very well to sending the Romans, yet she doesn't.

Zeus: why lock down Olympus? Paranoia, which fair, but you are a King, why wouldn't you look after your subjects? (bc Riordan chose to ignore part of his characterization in the myths and part of his godly domain) (I know kings aren't perfect, but after the last war, one would think he would do everything in his power to stop another one before it begins) Why not seek justice for Octavian's lies, that affect their ability to win the war, and kill/imprison him? Justice is part of his domain, as Zeus Nomius.

I know that we wouldn't necessarily need these answers, but without some of them, some choices left hanging seem to be there only to add to the drama and danger of it all.

All in all, I have many problems with the 'Heroes of Olympus' series. Some of them are nitpicks and personal preference as a high fantasy reader in my free time. Some of them would really add to the story and continue the themes of PJO.

Please ask me if something wasn't clear to you. I'll happily explain further.

If you find something you don't agree with, let's discuss. I'm open to changing my opinions.

[p-redux]

Follow up to my last post regarding Sam Heughan allegedly going camping last weekend with a mystery woman...

So, it came to my attention that another blogger connected the dots between Sam Heughan posting on Instagram from the Scottish countryside and a woman posting she was camping in what looks like the same exact spot. The other blogger went on to say something along the lines of not liking Sam's behavior due to who this woman is. And that she wouldn't post the woman's name as a result. This understandably created a lot of chatter and curiosity. People bombarded me with Anons and DMs about it. Certain people on my Team had a suspicion of WHO the woman is. The other blogger loves to claim that she's neutral and simply posts info. But the reality is she is very judgmental of Sam, and more importantly, she surrounds herself with CONFIRMED Sam haters, disgruntled ex-shippers, and Purv aka me haters. That's a FACT and theres no denying it. All anyone has to do is look at the bloggers who leave comments and likes on her posts--all KNOWN Sam haters, disgruntled ex-shippers, and long time haters of moi. The narrative this blogger perpetuates is that Sam is a man whore, and in this instance, a pervert for being with this woman. (She's young. Legal, but young.)

I, on the other hand, believe ALL dating is good, as long as it's between CONSENTING ADULTS. Sam is SINGLE. He can date whoever he wants and as many or as little women as he wants. And like I said in my previous post, Sam isn't deceiving anyone. Unless these women just landed on the planet, they all have social media and know how to use Google Search. They can SEE and READ about who he's dated or dating. I don't know about you, but every woman I know, the second they're interested in a guy, the first thing they do is conduct an extensive Internet search on him. Women are more efficient than the F B I when they want to find out info on a man. 🧐 Facts. And, on my blog, I don't use initials, for the most part, I write out full names, so any woman Googling Sam's dating history has LOTS to read about. 😉

I don't think Sam is doing anything wrong: he's dating multiple women, it's all consensual, and they are all of legal age. WHAT IS THE PROBLEM? Nothing, dammit, absolutely nothing.

So, if you want a blog that supports Sam and is glad he has an active love life, this is it. For the love of God, he's so fucking hot, who would turn down that golden delicious Scottishness? Not I, lasses, not I. Amirite? 🤗 If you want to be a prude with your panties in a bunch over consensual dating between a hot actor and the women who clearly can't resist his charms, the Sam hater blogs are waiting with open arms to brainwash you. Go there.

Okay, so onto what the other blogger posted. I was sent these screencaps. Sam posted this a few days ago. 👇

Closer shot of the mountains and sky. 👇

The mystery woman in question posted this. 👇

Here it is lightened up by me. 👇

Seems like the same place. The other blogger said she was sent screenshots of the mystery woman posting from the same place. And the caption in the top right stating she was camping. The other blogger cropped out most of the pic, except the top of the back of the woman's head. 👇

I lightened up the pic. It looks like she has blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail. 👇

Someone on my Team obtained some info that led her to the account of a young female Scottish athlete. It seems that the other blogger is outraged with Sam's "behavior" simply because the woman is 19 years old. Yes, that's young, but again, she is a legal adult. And Sam is famous, there's ton of info online about him. I'm sure the woman Googled him before she got in a tent or camper with him. JS. She and Sam mutually follow each other. 👇

It was also pointed out to me that the only set of pics of his that she liked on Instagram is the one he posted when they allegedly went camping together. 👇 What a coinky dink. 🤔😊

She's an accomplished athlete, college student, blonde, Scottish. What's not to like? Again, two single, CONSENTING ADULTS. If that's a problem for anyone, then that's literally YOUR problem. Sam seems verra happy with his life. And any woman who spends little or lots of time with him, I'm sure is happy as well. Again, what is the problem? None that I can see. But, hey, I love sex, and camping, and Scottish lads who look like this. 👇🤷‍♀️

PS. I'm not going to post her name FOR NOW because there is no concrete confirmation it was her. It's all circumstantial evidence at the moment. If I get something more concrete, then I'll post her name. In addition, I've gotten other DMs wondering if the outrage is because the woman isn't this athlete, but is one of the new cast of Blood Of My Blood. But, outrage over two actors on parallel shows dating would be weird since it happens all the time. Who knows...

That's what I have for now. If it's not the athlete in question, it doesn't really matter, the point is Sam is dating around, enjoying life. Sounds good to me. If you figure out who she is, please, don't be an asshole, and go harass her. Thanks.

As for the haters already frothing in my Anon Asks, keep 'em coming. I LOVE to laugh and laugh and laugh at your idiocy. Go ahead, make my day. 😘

[imaginesbymk]

*that tiktok sound* hey!!….. hey…….. how y’all doing………..

i have a lot to say but lemme start off by saying i am SOOOOOooOoOoO sorry for ghosting this blog for a year. same thing’s been happening with wattpad. i ghosted 2 fics on there. and that includes my original dystopian scifi novel that has been in self development hell (as i like to call it)

my only explanation is that i grew unmotivated and grew out of writing fics. it came to a point where im just maladaptive daydreaming, the maladaptive daydreaming takes over and it doesnt let me actually create anything. the other reason is timing. i worked my ass off and finally graduated college with a 4.0 GPA, i did more commercial modelling and runway for a university fashion show so i can build my portfolio, i work full time and my pay is big, i made more art in my sketchbook... basically i just lived my life outside of tumblr.

another thing, the giant elephant in the room, i met cameron monaghan and morena baccarin at fanexpo canada! cameron went through my sketchbook, signed my jerome/jeremiah fanart, and asked me if i was an art student. after i told him i was rejected twice, he looked through every single page in my sketchbook and told me, "aw. well, fuck 'em!" that "it looks like [you] don't need art school" after all. he saw my reservoir dogs acrylic portraits of mr. pink and mr. white and told me he used to watch that film almost 600-700 times when he was 12. he then took a pic of my Grace Van Dien fanart (when i met her in 2022 at fanexpo canada) and he told me he's gonna send it to her. i had no idea they even knew each other.

i couldn't afford a table selfie+autograph combo at morena's autograph sessions so i only paid for a selfie. i said "oi" and "obrigada" to morena before and after taking a selfie with her and she said thank you back with a big smile :D so fanexpo was surreal.

i've always wanted to meet cameron monaghan and after years of writing fanfic for jerome and jeremiah valeska and other gotham fandom character imagines, i *finally* got to meet him.

ive been thinking about coming back and writing again, not just tumblr but on wattpad and getting serious with my original scifi dystopian novel. there's so much that i wanna do in life other than become financially stable and become a successful petite model until i no longer look the part. its hard for me to write because i get so easily stumped. even when i create some ambiance and rewatch the fandom to get inspired, it just drops again. writing is hard. that is why i have respect for my mutuals and my favourite famous authors that got me to write when i was 12. (lol) and anyways, i made new friends and im the happiest ive ever been romantically that i dont need to *imagine* anything with a fandom character, i do it for those who imagine it themselves!

im so sad to come back here and see that a few of my mutuals are inactive or have deactivated. and i became like them and abandoned my work. to be fair, my writing isn't that good, and it still isn't, and if i get something written and published here or on wattpad on a professional hardcopy of my book, i won't believe that it's my best work - and i aced my creative writing elective in my program, so that's a bummer.

i think meeting cameron is giving me a nudge to get back to writing. it feels weird wanting to write jerome/jeremiah fanfic after interacting with the actor himself for less than 5mins of his time, and that he's a human being that experiences human stuff like we all do, the only difference is that he's famous. im not sure if it healed my parasocial mindset with my fave celebs. i do want to take my time and write *something*. i am not doing the requests that have been in my drafts and inbox for a year (sorry :O) im just gonna take my time and readjust and get something down.

<3 mad love to my mutuals @myriadimagines @spacetalbot @arrogant-sonofa-bitch @littlemissvincentvega @emcon-imagines @writerdream22 @jjsmaybank20 @witchthewriter @musicallisto @locke-writes @zodiyack @mahvericks @karasong @moonlit-imagines @randomfandomimagine + many more moots

[kiwiana-writes]

I dont think anyone subscribes to you for t rated 5 +1s in your own au lol. Chop chop with those wip’s porn girl!

Well. Quite a bit to unpack here on an otherwise unassuming Friday!

#1:

#2: I actually track this stuff. Admittedly the E-rated percentage is a bit higher if you look at RWRB only, but overall...

#3: I think anyone who subscribes to me on AO3, or indeed anyone who follows the kiwiana-writes tag here on tumblr and sees all those fucking WIPs, knows that I like to write a bit of variety. That's not to say there aren't definite underpinnings of, like, themes and vibes that I return to over and over (which I can only assume are why people subscribe to me), but if someone only likes my college AUs, or only likes my post-canon stuff, or only likes my E-rated stuff, or only wants to listen to my podfics, they're probably going to have a much more successful time saving the tag search than subscribing to me at the author level. Or they've mastered the art of archiving and moving on without complaining about it, like I do when the authors I'm subscribed to write something that doesn't interest me. It's a useful skill! I highly recommend cultivating it.

#4: AO3 not giving series stats is and continues to be the bane of my life, but based on the number of people who subscribed to the OG actor AU, there's probably a significant chunk of people who aren't subscribed to me as an author and only want the actor AU verse stuff. And good for them! I LOVE that AO3 offers multiple ways to subscribe so you can get notified for the stuff you want (my kingdom for the ability to subscribe to individual pseuds, though.)

#5: This fandom is OVERFLOWING right now. Like, I can't keep up. You only want to read E-rated stuff? Awesome! Well over 100 E-rated fics have been posted in the RWRB bookverse tag just this week (it looks like most of the movieverse smut has also been tagged bookverse, but either way it's also very easy to find). Or go back to older fics and find some hidden gems—there's nothing an author loves more than for someone to come in and gush about a fic they wrote a year or two ago.

#6: You don't pay me, and I'm not subject to annual review. One of my favourite authors was talking this morning about how sometimes she thinks about taking a break from writing for RWRB because it's starting to feel a little rat racey, and that would suck for me personally because I love her stuff but god knows I couldn't blame her, because the (extreme minority but still exhausting) entitled comments and rudeness really do not help. Stop treating your favourite authors like content creators who owe you something new on a regular schedule, because that's a damn good way to ensure they don't want to create anything new ever again. Like... anon, you haven't even bothered to couch this in a compliment. The bar is ten feet underground and somehow you still managed to trip over it.

#7: Not to be all 'back in my day' but... well, back in my day, snippets and peeks into the universe of a remotely popular longfic were pretty much the standard lol. Nobody is forcing you to read them, I promise.

#8: I've posted two E-rated fics in the last two weeks.

#9: Honestly I just really want to reiterate #1 because what the hell lol. While pronouns don't equal gender, it's pretty reasonable to extrapolate from pronouns if you don't have any other info to go on—and of the three "main/standard" pronouns, the one most closely associated with 'girl' is the only one that ISN'T in my bio 🤦

[probablyintensemuses]

INCOMING: A DESPERATE COLLEGE STUDENTS OATHBOUND PREDICTIONS!!!!

CC @mageofspace__ on IG

TRACY!! I JUST FELL TO MY KNEES IN THE MIDDLE OF WALMART! THE WHOLE GANG!! I’m so happy to see Valec, Alice, Will, & Mariah in the flesh like wtf! But while we are here, I want to talk about some of my Oathbound predictions…because I can. ❤️⚔️💙

P.S. IF YOU HAVEN’T READ LB OR BM I SUGGEST YOU DO NOT CONTINUE! Spoilers ahead!

• Okay first, I truly believe that Bree has had her squire and kingsmage all along, Nick and Sel. I mean just with the relationships between those three, there is no way it goes any other way.

also, Alice will wake from her coma and have somehow inherited powers from Will as she was LITERALLY breathing his aether signature in. Like I’m not 100% sure how that would work, but we’ve seen it in media before, take Monica Rambeau and Wanda’s hex for an example! Maybe that interaction with magic will awaken Alice's own unique magic too, or maybe it's closely related to Bree again how the Mesmer did too in LB.

Regardless, when she awakens I think bby girl will be given an even more important role in the finale of this series. Maybe like being Will's squire...

• it’s going to come out that not only is shadow daddy, IYKYK not spoiling for potential new readers who have no sense of self-preservation and are reading this anyways, is not only Sel's father but VALECHEZ’s! Like not only would that be pure comedy considering how they were at each other's NECKS in BM, but it makes sense as to why Sel was succumbing to his demonia so fast, faster than others, maybe because a little more demon than others…

•I think this new magic system that Tracy is cooking up is going to tap into Natasia and Faye’s relationship a bit more and even Sel and Bree’s.

I also think it’s going to be the solution to not only Sel’s demonia, but Bree’s bloodmark, and even abatement and all these fucking legendborn oaths. I mean think about the word OATH, practically meaning something one HAS to abide by. Vera took an oath of sorts with the blood mark “one daughter at a time for all time.” The legend born and their oath of service and all this, as I call it, greedy magic which shortens their life spans, the Merlins too! What if, just what if, Faye and Natasia found a way to combine both their forms of magic (root + aether + blood craft) and created something entirely new? Something so potent and powerful, defying these “oaths” or what you could call them, curses, to cure all these things…and what if since Bree is from Faye’s lineage, sel from Natasia, what if they can do it together too.

• I think we will learn more about the Morgaine. More on Nick….hmm. A lot of LB fans keep calling him boring, but with his mom's disappearance, and the fact that Tracy is too good of an author to simply leave his arc hanging, I don't trust it. Maybe he will even go rogue, I'm not too sure ATP, but don't sleep on Nick!

• Lastly for my final predictions…more like a pipe dream. I really, for the life of me, need Bree to pull a Wanda from episodes 8-9 of WandaVision with Shadow Daddy.

We know Bree is smart and clever, this ain’t new! So, I need her to take what she has learned from shadow daddy, and then pull a clean uno reverse, and get out of there! EXPEDITIOUSLY!

Then from there, I need her to find Sel and Nastia (preferably in some cute cabin in the woods, and Natasia needs to be a MILF) this revelation of Bree's survival prompts Natasia to discuss the above ^^^ She and Bree get to work! Sel is now cured and they can get these oaths removed!!! Once these oaths are removed, the REGENTS ARE TOAST, TOR TOO! Then we get to work on Camlann in book 4! Cuz that’s how tf Tracy does it! Period!!

THESE ARE JUST MY PREDICTIONS, NONE OF THESE ARE CANON!! All I have to say is I'm fucking so excited about this book and even though it's still two years out I'm trusting Tracy's expertise to bring us something DE-LI-CIOUS! Also is it too much to ask that if this is adapted for television to have it animated, we know how much Tracy loves and takes influence from anime... it's only fair, and I feel can make for a more accurate and dynamic visual medium.

That's all for now. PEACE.

[auberge13]

These two moments are taken from the conversations Jon has with each of his parents before joining the Legion of Superheroes. There is one particularly interesting difference between how Lois and Clark each view the decision.

(Lois Lane 2019 issue #4 and Superman 2018 issue #16)

"doesn't leave you much of a choice, does it?" vs. "I am jealous of... the choices in front of you"

Now, if you're like me, this is the kind of thing that makes you very excited about characterization and storytelling so let's get into it.

Clark is a character who never really felt like being good was a choice that needed to be made. He was raised to be good by Ma and Pa and he is so inherently good that he can't imagine being anything else, let alone choosing to be anything else. Meanwhile, Lois intimately understands that being good is a choice that you have to make over and over again, even when it's hard. Doing good the way she does is constantly challenged, particularly by her father. Her choice to do good costs her that relationship with him, and she isn't able to fully reconcile with him before his death, which is explored intimately in this book (read Lois Lane).

As my friend @fae-morrigan put it while we were discussing this, "I feel you could easily read it in a way where Clark is jealous that Jon's been shown he could be Other Than Good and make an informed choice about Being Good. Where Lois knows that choosing to be good often comes at the expense of other good things (in her case, her relationship with her father)"

There's a key moment in the issue after the above screenshot that really showcases this.

(Lois Lane 2019 issue #5)

It's important to acknowledge that there is no part of Clark that would choose not to be Superman. They're the same guy. Clark would do good anyway in whatever capacity he could, he just happens to have a really large capacity. When he says he is jealous of the choices in front of Jon, it is less about doing or not doing good, but rather about how he's going to do it.

(Superman 2024 issue #1)

My friend @ultfreakme explained this really well. "comparing LOSH to college works like that because Jon's going to college (learning to be a hero), but he gets to pick from a million different majors and fuck around for a bit with a support system to fall back on if he fails. Clark went from high school (regular dude) and straight into a job (being a hero) with no ability to like....try something different."

So that's what we can learn about Lois and Clark from this, but what about Jon? The comics do a really cool thing where they break up Jon's complex thoughts about this choice into multiple conversations with different people. With Lois, Jon expresses the sense of obligation he feels. With Damian, he's able to share his hesitance, even telling him that he doesn't think he wants to accept the invitation at first. Finally, with Clark and Imra, he's able to feel his excitement about this new step in his life. It is all very college! I felt all of these things before I left too! But beyond that, this is also a great example of the way Jon will compartmentalize his issues and limit his vulnerability depending on who he's talking to. He has a tendency to minimize his own feelings in order to make other people more comfortable, which you can really see in the different things he's willing to express with each person.

Anyway, I think there's more to be said here and I'd love to hear what other people think about these moments, but I'll call it here. Moral of the story, read Lois Lane 2019 and then create something for the Jon Kent Week Mama's boy prompt- the Jon and Lois in that book are top tier. Also, if you've gotten this far you clearly like this kind of analysis so here's my post about why they aged up Jon. When I posted it Tumblr had put me in jail and turned me into a robot (wow Absolute Power is so immersive!) so it didn't show up in the tag. Sorry for the plug but I'm a little bitter about it lol.

[slxsherwriter]

Home for the Holidays

Fandom: MacGyver

Pairing: Tim Wexler/reader, Tim Wexler & reader

Word count: 6,471

Warnings: Difficult family relationships, two separate endings, faking dating trope

Author's note: Does this really fit here? No. But I say it does because it's an Englund character. Super niche, but that's never stopped me before. I hope everyone who decides to read enjoys it. Special thanks to the wonderful @tinalbion for all the help with this one, from reading it to helping me figure out the ending(s). This ended up taking on a life of its own and was far longer than intended. Cruddy gif below is my own.

Tagging: @slashingdisneypasta

The holidays were a dreaded time of year. What should have been an enjoyable time with family was an utter nightmare for you. You loved your family, you really did. But the judgment and the nitpicking drove you up a wall. Without fail, there was always a bombardment of questions about your love life and when you were going to settle down. Sure, most of the time it came from a place of good intention but the constant push on the subject made you want to pull your hair out and it was enough to make you feel nauseous at just the mention of the holidays. As always, this year, you planned on grinning and bearing it to the best of your ability.

“You don't get it, Tim,” you complained to your long-time friend. “It's never ending for the entire length of the holidays. From every. Single. Member of my family. You would think a simple response back would be enough. But no. They aren't ever satisfied with the reply that I haven't found the right person yet. No, you would think that is the end of the world.” Tim gave a sympathetic smile, pushing around the rest of his lunch. It wasn't like you didn't know that he was less than fond of the holiday season as well. You closed your eyes and let out a small huff, an apology followed closely after.

“It's okay.” Always easy going and understanding. That was Tim. He had been that way right off the bat during your first meeting in college. “I know it's rough for you, and I know you know it's rough for me. Would rather have you get it out here so you can concentrate at work.”

“Sometimes, I think it would be nice if we could just skip over that time of the year entirely. Not like there aren't plenty of others who hated it just as much.” He chuckled softly.

“Yeah, well, we know that's never going to happen. So, we just have to suck it up and deal with the most wonderful time of year, every year, for the rest of our lives.” You flicked one of the remaining beans from your salad in his direction, as the comment finally brought a smile to your face.

“One of these years, we should say fuck it and just stay home. Me and you. Screw expectations and the rest of the world.” Something that neither of you would ever do, but occasionally, it was nice to dream about it.

“I would be afraid of your mother hunting us down.” He had a valid point. It went without a doubt that your mother would hunt the both of you down and ream you out into the next year. The woman could be outright terrifying when she wanted to be. Nothing would set her off more than missing the holidays. Especially if it would be for unjust reasons in her eyes.

“You're right. As always,” you teased after a second. “Guess that plan is outta the window. We’ll have to come up with something else.” That final thought closed out your lunch as work demanded that you return to your duties. The discussion was tabled for now.

*************************************

The thought came around a whole hell of a lot sooner than you had hoped. After a phone call with your mother, you felt desperate.

It wasn't what you wanted to do, but with little choice, it seemed like the best idea that you could have created. It all hinged on what Tim thought, though, and that wasn't anything you felt you could anticipate. All you could really do was hope that he felt like it was a decent enough idea that would get both of your families off of your backs.

“So,” you started casually, not able to bring yourself to look at him just yet. Things could be made a little awkward. Sure, you had known each other for years. Tim was your best friend and life without him? Well, it was unthinkable.

“Oh, boy. That's never a good start to any conversation.”

“No, no. It's nothing bad or nothing like that.” Your eyes shot up to him in a near panic. Your anxiety about the conversation to come made you overreact just slightly. Tim's smile fell just a bit.

“Hey, it's okay. Take a breath.” Right. The function necessary for living. You let out a sigh and rubbed your face.

“I'm sorry. I had a call with my mother last night and spent the whole night worrying about heading home next week.”

“That bad already? She wasted no time this year, huh?”

“God, no.” You slouched a bit and braced your head in your hands, elbows resting against the counter. “Painful. It was absolutely painful, Tim. I would have rather had teeth pulled.” There was a moment of quiet. Really, what was there to say to that anyway? You managed to pull your head out of your hands and refocus back on Tim.

“Kept me up most of the night, honestly. Spent it trying to think of anything that could get me out of it but came up with nothing. So, I realized I had to change how I was approaching the problem. Instead of removing myself from the situation, I need to change how I'm putting myself in said situation. There were a few scenarios I came up with, all a little worse than the next. Unfortunately.” A pause as you shifted and crossed your arms over your chest, keeping your gaze on the man. “The best I came up with? Bring someone home with me.” His brow rose in surprise.

“Just how do you expect to do that? Are you seeing someone I don't know about?”

“No, there isn't anyone that I'm seeing.” You rolled your eyes. “But if my parents think I am, then my mother would at least get off my back, and maybe my entire family would focus on someone or something else entirely. Some peace would be a miracle and worth it.”

“It might just work. If you could make it believable enough.” He hummed as he thought about the idea you presented. Which was a good thing given what was coming next.

“You think so?” There was a noncommittal sound. Close enough. “The problem is, I don't want to bring home some random person. Would rather have someone I trust, ya know? Make it easier to figure out the whole thing. That being said, how would you feel about coming home with me for the holidays? Escape your family for a bit and get some good homemade food.” The last bit came out in a rush, the words almost blending together. Your eyes slipped from Tim, almost not wanting to see his reaction. The man across from you was the only one that you could remotely begin to trust with something like this. If he said no, it was just going to be another miserable holiday season. You waited on baited breath, unsure what his response would actually be. There were plenty of accurate predictions that you could have made when it came to how he would answer most things. This? It was far out of the realm of anything previously thought possible that you couldn't even begin to venture a guess.

“You're asking me to come home with you on the holidays and pretend to be your boyfriend?”

“I know it's a lot to…”

“You think it would work?” He cut you off before you had the chance to finish your statement. It wasn't an outright refusal. That still left you unsure what the hell was on his mind about the whole thing.

“There really isn't anyone else that I would trust more for something like this.” For a second, just the briefest of seconds, you swore you saw a blush on his cheeks. When you blinked, it was gone.

“It definitely beats dealing with what I'm gonna hear at home. So, why not? If you think we can pull this off, let's do it. Might be fun anyway.” The two of you hadn't really done anything crazy in college like some of your friends had. Playing it safe had practically been built into your DNA. When Tim had agreed, it was like a giant weight had been lifted off your chest and your shoulders.

“God, I owe you. Majorly. Like I can't even begin to pay you back for this.”

“You're getting me away from my house. We'll call It even.” Hardly the case, but you weren't about to argue with him. He might second think the entire decision. Which would be utterly disastrous. And that wasn't an over exaggeration.

************************************

The flight home hadn't been terrible. There was only a three hour delay. Something that you hadn't complained about even if being stuck in an airport was not anyone's idea of fun. It just meant three fewer hours you had to deal with at home.

You and Tim had hashed out the details. It had been surprisingly easy. With your long standing friendship, you both were able to toss out ideas and concoct the story that would be shared with your family. A lot of it was based in fact, something that made it that much easier to remember and be able to spout off with a confidence and genuine nature that would force your family to believe you.

Pulling up to your childhood home, the sense of dread that normally accompanied this time of the year had been significantly lessened due to the presence of the man beside you.

“You ready?” His voice broke you out of the staring contest you had been having with the house. There were already a load of cars present. Tim would have no easing into this.

“As ready as I'll ever be. Are you?”

“I'd like to think so.” Another wave of gratitude and appreciation for the man washed over you. No one could have asked for a better friend.

“All right. Let's do this.” You hoped that if it got to be too much, he would tell you. No backup plan had been created, but you could think well enough on the fly and would sort it out. Your mother was already at the door as the two of you exited the car, and despite having plotted it all out, the way that his fingers laced with yours caught you by surprise. The gentle squeeze had been as equally as unexpected, but the message was clear. Calm down. How he was so calm right then was beyond you. Your heart felt like it was going to beat out of your chest.

“Hi mom.” A moment of thought that this wasn't the best of ideas. She hadn't given any sort of indication about Tim. Of course, she had met the man before. It was hard to be friends with him throughout college and not at some point have an introduction.

“Hey, sweetie. And hello, Tim.” Relief. You felt relief as she smiled and greeted both of you. That was the first obstacle to get over. Now, there were just several more to go before you were both back on a plane and heading back west. “I'm so glad you both could make it our here. Your family didn't mind, Tim?”

“It was a bit of a negotiation but we managed.” The lie rolled off smoothly and your mother bought it. The questioning slowed, beyond the typical asking how everything was going and what was new. Thankfully, given the fact that you both worked at the plant, it made it relatively quick to go through the list and be given some peace to settle In before dinner at the least.

“So far, so good.” Tim wasn't wrong in the assessment.

“Yeah, I would say that we have them all fairly convinced.” No real hardball questions had come your way, nor had there been any sort of awkward or uncomfortable situation. You weren't foolish enough to think either of you would make it through this unscathed. “Then again, that was all the basic, fairly easy stuff.”

“You have a point.” He sat down on the bed that you were supposed to be sharing. That part of this entire scheme had not been something that either of you had thought about, and now it crept slowly along the edges of the room. Once. You had shared a bed once before, back in the early years of college. It had been out of sheer necessity. “You know, if it's easier for you. I can sleep on the floor. I know we've technically shared a bed before…” A memory that had clearly pulled forward for him, too.

“It's fine, Tim. I'm not making you sleep on the floor while we are here. I think we can both handle it.” Just another reason to have brought someone that you could trust. “Besides, we both know that if she walks in here and finds you on the floor, she is going to throw a fit and realize that this is all a giant ruse. And that is something that neither of us wants to deal with.” It might be a little awkward the first night, but you were both adults. You could handle it. He gave a nod and a look, the one that told you that he agreed with what you had said. The wrath of your mother was bad enough. Lord only knew how the rest of your family would react to you trying to fool them. That had been a thought you briefly entertained when you had thought up this entire scheme, but It wasn't anything that you had wanted to give a lot of thought. It had to work out. Otherwise, you might never be able to attend another family holiday.

“What's next up then?”

“Dinner,” you offered as you glanced at your watch. “In about two hours. Meaning we have a little time to kill before being put under the microscope again.” Tim rubbed his hands against his pants before he gave his knees a tap and stood up.

“It's not quite cold enough to be stuck inside. Why don't we take a walk? Get out of the house and go over anything you want to triple check?” That was a wonderful idea. How you would survive this without this man was beyond you.

“Yeah, that's a great idea.” You grabbed your coat as he pulled his on. Outside, a little privacy could be afforded. No one to walk in on the two of you. One last chance to smooth out any wrinkles in how you would respond to your family. “Thank you, Tim.”

************************************

A few days passed and the routine became easier and easier to fall into as you both found sure footing. Your family bought the story and the act that you and Tim put on, without too much questioning. That easy level of friendship that you had was the basis and made the fake relationship incredibly believable to those around you.

It was all going too smoothly. There had to be a bump in the road eventually. And it came in the form of your sister prodding at Tim. The sort of way that immediately had your defenses bristling. The sort of prodding and underhanded comments that should have been left behind in middle school. You knew that you had both grown some thicker skin since school, college included, but that didn't mean that it didn't bother you at all. You felt even more indignant about it all since you were the one who requested that he come. He was here, helping you. Your sister prodding and needling about him and you needing to find someone better wasn't going to stand. Even if you weren't really together.

“That's enough.” Finally, you had enough of hearing it. Tim had been quiet the entire time, not defending himself or saying much. Likely, he did not want to cause a problem. Your sister paused, caught off guard by the outburst. As was the rest of the table, conversation fell utterly silent. Great. You hated all attention on you, but there wasn't anything to be done about it now. You swallowed down the worry that welled up and threatened to rob you of the next statement. “You're entitled to think whatever you want, but I won't sit here and listen to you bad mouth Tim.” The words were forceful, more than you ever typically were with anyone.

“I just don't get it. Supposed you've been friends since college. Why get together now? It doesn't seem right. And besides, it's not like you've improved yourself with him.” Your fingers curled into the material of your pants, as you tried your hardest not to lose it entirely.

“Well, maybe that's just the basis of a good relationship. But, you wouldn't know that would you. Just because I don't go through guys like water and have something solid to go off of doesn't mean it's pointless or not real. And why should it matter what he does? He's been my best friend for years and knows me better than anyone. Can treat me better than anyone. And is by far, worlds and leagues smartest than any of those rich assholes you've brought home. He's a nuclear physicist for Christ's sake. I couldn't ask for better.” You tossed your napkin onto your plate, done with dinner. Unable to really eat another bite. No one stopped you as you excused yourself from the table and all but hurried out the front door. The cooler air was welcomed. Settling. The perfect escape from the heat that had become stifling.

Taking a seat by the front door on the porch was out of question. Too close. There was too much risk of someone coming out and saying something. The best option that presented itself was to take a quick walk and hope that it cooled you down.

Ten minutes passed. And that agitation remained. The quiet didn't last, though. The gentle call of your name caught your attention. It was Tim. A rush of embarrassment threatened to overtake the agitation. But out of everyone in the house, he was the only person you would have wanted to find you.

“I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to go off like that and cause a scene.” Before you could say anything else or move away from where you were standing, Tim grabbed you by the arms. The words that had been threatening to fall from you were stopped dead on the tip of your tongue.

“There isn't anything you need to be sorry for,” he started, with a squeeze delivered to make sure you couldn't escape. And maybe give a little comfort. “You didn't have to stand up for me like that. I know it's going to cause some problems with you and your sister.” You shook your head immediately.

“Of course I did, Tim. I wasn't going to let her talk about you like that.”

“I mean, she wasn't exactly wrong…”

“Don't you dare start on that.” A rueful smile came, his brow slightly pinched. The sort of expression that always came when there was doubt about himself. One you had seen and knew well. “I mean it, Tim. Screw what anyone else says. You're kind, thoughtful, hard working. Intelligent, obviously. I mean, nuclear physicist and all. But those first traits are important. They make you a good man. Look what you are doing for me now. I don't know anyone else who would have done something like this. And there wouldn't be anyone I could trust more with it. I don't know where I would be without you and all you've done for me.” His touch softened against your arms, and his eyes dropped from your face. Almost like he continued to doubt what you had told him. Insecurity was something you could understand well enough, having a boatload of your own.

Instead of saying anything else, you pulled him into a tight hug. After a moment of hesitation, his arms wrapped around you. Standing out in the cool, wrapped up in each other like you were, that agitation continued to die down. The hug lasted a little longer than intended. When you pulled back, you made sure to give a smile. One that felt far more genuine than forced.

“Why don't we ditch the idea of heading back inside? Me, you, some pizza, and that new Star Trek movie?” Frankly, the idea sounded a hell of a lot better than going back inside and seeing your family. Tim laughed at the plan that you laid out, and the smile that stretched across his face finally matched your own.

“Now, that's an idea I can get behind. Come on.” His arm stayed around your shoulders as you headed back to get the rental car. The consequences could be dealt with later. Some time that felt more normal between the two of you was called for, and it would help ease whatever tensions might remain. There were still a few days that you needed to get through, and it would be best to try and manage it when you felt on more level ground. You leaned into the man beside you a little more, and finally felt like everything would be okay once more.

******************************

The night out had been exactly what you both needed for a reset. You both felt better on the drive back to the house, able to settle in and not worry about whatever the fallout would be from the outburst earlier. As anticipated, your mother wasn't happy, ready to chew you out for leaving like you had, but you managed to push it off with a few placating words and lies. There wasn't a chance in Hell that you would be apologizing to your sister for what you had said, knowing that she wouldn't for hers. Besides, you meant what you said. An empty apology would be symbolic, sure, but you didn't even feel like forcing that. Not when she had insulted Tim the way that she had and meant it herself.

It made things a little tense and uncomfortable in the house, but you stuck to your guns over it. Which was fine by you. It meant that you and Tim had a little more peace. There were fewer pestering questions and the sort of focus that made you a little worried that they would see through the charade that you had fooled them with so far. Fine by the both of you, really.

Lazy walks in the colder weather, movies both in your old room and in the living room when no one bothered with the area, and some quiet reading. Or not so quiet reading. An activity that came as a surprise enjoyment just after college. Reading duties would be traded back and forth, one of you listening while the other read aloud. It didn't matter what it was. While you and Tim spent a lot of time together in general, the close corridors meant more than typical. Tim seemed to enjoy the time, relaxed in a way that you hadn't seen in a while. It was nice.

With a few exceptions, it was actually a nice little break from the usual routine that you had fallen into with work and the usual drum of life. In a way that neither of you had realized was needed.

The gift exchange had snuck up before you knew it. The family? They were easy. Typically, everyone was fairly routine each and every year. Not that you did the exact same thing, but they liked what they liked, and it left it almost an automatic purchase. Tim? Tim was a little different this year. He had come here for you, and you knew that he was going to have to deal with things that he shouldn't have had to just because he was there with you. It had to be something with a little more meaning, something that showed your appreciation for his friendship and what he had done for you. Without being too much, of course. That was a fine balancing act.

You were a little nervous about it all. A few practical gifts that you knew he would appreciate. Small things. A new lab coat pocket protector, this cool new little handheld Geiger counter that he could keep on himself, a funny mug for coffee. The bigger one that you had to go searching for? A signed copy of Feynman's lectures. You had heard him mention it once, just once, while you had been shifting through a used bookstore together. Along with it? A copy of a magazine signed by Einstein himself. It had cost you a pretty penny. Both things. But entirely worth it. Hopefully. The nerves were causing you to feel entirely uneasy. Far more than you ever had since the two of you decided to exchange gifts yearly. How was it different? You couldn't pinpoint it for sure, but even on a subconscious level, you knew it was the case.

Sitting in the living room, most of your family had wandered off. Which was just fine by you. It wasn't like they had a genuine interest, and at this point, everyone was still upset at you for spouting off at your sister. So be it. It meant that if you were wrong with the choices, no one could be there to mock you about it.

“So, I know we typically only do one thing. But with what you agree to do this year and what I knew you would have to put up with here, I felt like I needed to do a little more. Hope you don't mind.”

“You didn't…”

“I did, Tim. Just because you aren't fond of heading home yourself doesn't mean that you had to suffer through all of this. Besides, I wanted to.” The response was a soft laughing sound from him as he held up his hands in defeat. It wasn't an argument that he was going to win. It caused a smile, more genuine and more confident. You felt a bit better about it all now.

“Here,” you offered as you shoved the first two packages in his direction. The practical and fun gifts went over well. Not surprisingly. Those hadn't been the ones that you had been worried about. It was the next two. You knew which was which and hadn't been sure if you gave him the books or the magazine first. In the end, it was the magazine.

The look on his face was priceless. Entirely unexpected, caught completely off guard. You were thrilled with the fact as he stared at it.

“This is…” The words died, and he shook his head. The silence extended for a few moments before he finally managed to speak. “Wow. This is amazing.”

“Authenticated and everything. There's one more before you get too wrapped up.” You moved the heavy package over the table in his direction.

“You really…”

“Don't say it. Just open it,” you offered with a laugh. He rolled his eyes and reluctantly set aside the magazine before he reached for the other package. Nerves heightened for just a moment and the inside of your cheek suffered for it as your teeth bit down hard over and over.

“Where did you find this?” It went over better than the magazine.

“It took asking the right questions to the right people but that isn't important.”

“It's signed?”

“Yep.” He held it as if it was gold, and all those nerves that you had built up finally settled. Before you could say anything else, you were caught off guard by Tim leaning in and pressing a kiss to your lips. Spontaneous and something that couldn't have been anticipated. It was soft and quick, and when he pulled back, red tinged his cheeks. No one was here to witness it. It wasn't for show. He cleared his throat a little bit and pulled out two packages for you.

“Uh, here.” Both of the boxes were smaller. “Feel like I should have gotten you something more now but…”

“Shush, it's fine. This is more than enough.” The first one ended up being a beautiful gold watch. Yours had been accidentally destroyed over the summer, and you hadn't bothered replacing it yet. A long moment passed before you realized that you were holding a Rolex. It seemed that you weren't the only one that had spent more money than you probably should have for the season. “Tim, this is beautiful.” He urged you to try it on, and there wasn't any reason not to. It fit perfectly against your wrist, and you glanced up just in time to see the soft smile that crossed his face.

“Wasn't sure about the fit. Glad to see I got it right.”

“I love it.” It would go perfectly with anything that you wore to work and hopefully, you wouldn't do anything to ruin this one. Though it would be more sturdy than the last one.

“There's still one more.”

“All right. No need to be impatient.” The tease rolled easily, the kiss still lingering in the back of your mind. Neither of you seemed to want to bring it up yet, though. There was no need to make things awkward just yet. You found a piece of jewelry in the second box. A small strip of metal among a delicate chain.

“It's a piece of the IRS.” He grinned outright as he watched the way that your eyes widened at the mention of what it was.

“Are you serious?” He nodded, pleased with himself as he sat a little more straight.

“Yeah. I mean perfectly safe of course but directly from CERN. And, no, I'm not going to tell you how I got it.” He had anticipated your next question before it could even be thought of. Your stomach flipped and it felt like your heart might just beat right out of your chest.

“Mind helping me put it on?” He nodded and gave a little motion for you to turn before he reached for the necklace. You shifted and made sure that he was able to see what he needed to do, head tipped a little bit. The weight settled against your throat but it was comfortable. Fingers brushed over the small piece, your mind racing. His fingers lingered on the back of your neck, brushing down to your back slowly. Almost a sense of hesitation.

It was enough of a jolt to you that you turned and before any thought could be given to any action, you leaned in and pressed a kiss to his lips. Fundamentally, it changed everything but things had been subtly shifting since your arrival. Things that hadn't been acknowledged or even really thought about. But they had been there. This was the culmination of it all. When you had made that statement to your sister, acknowledging that there couldn't have been anyone better, it hadn't been initially meant in a romantic sense on your part even though that was what you had wanted them to believe. It had been there though, even then, and it had only grown and shifted, twisted in ways that you couldn't anticipate.

Breaking from the kiss, the two of you were silent. A struggle to figure out what to say ensued. After another few seconds, you started to laugh softly. Unable to help it. He soon followed, and the mingled laughter rang out.

“Okay, so who is going to end up winning the bet?”

“Charlie. Without a doubt.”

“Ahh, shoulda probably have known that one.” The smiles remained. His arm found your shoulders as you resituated yourself on the couch beside him. Comfortable. It wasn't as awkward as there had been worried about. No, it was almost as natural as any other moment of your relationship had been. “We aren't going to hear the end of it.”

“No, no we are not.” It would be worth some teasing and I told you so’s by your coworkers. Even if it was a tad embarrassing, it wasn't like you were going to change a moment of it. His lips pressed to your temple softly, the affection flowing freely and easily. “This might be the best holiday I've ever had.” You couldn't help but grin at his declaration.

“Yeah, I don’t think I can argue. Best holiday I've ever had.”

*******************************************************************************************************************

BONUS: Platonic ending

“It's signed?”

“Yep.” He held it as if it was gold, and all those nerves that you had built up finally settled. You should have known better than to be worried about it. Tim would have appreciated a box from you. He had always been that way.

“I can't believe you managed to find this. Thank you.” He had barely been able to tear his eyes from the books in hand. Just another, sure, sign that you had managed to get it all right. There was no real compulsion to break the silence or the reverie he seemed to be in. It took a few moments before the spell broke. Like it would be anything that you would complain about. You got the same way after all. It was part of the reason that you two go along so well. He cleared his throat a little bit and pulled out two packages for you.

“Uh, here.” Both of the boxes were smaller. “Feel like I should have gotten you something more now but…”

“Shush, it's fine. This is more than enough.” The first one ended up being a beautiful gold watch. Yours had been accidentally destroyed over the summer, and you hadn't bothered replacing it yet. A long moment passed before you realized that you were holding a Rolex. It seemed that you weren't the only one that had spent more money than you probably should have for the season. “Tim, this is beautiful.” He urged you to try it on, and there wasn't any reason not to. It fit perfectly against your wrist, and you glanced up just in time to see the soft smile that crossed his face.

“Wasn't sure about the fit. Glad to see I got it right.”

“I love it.” It would go perfectly with anything that you wore to work and hopefully, you wouldn't do anything to ruin this one. Though it would be more sturdy than the last one.

“There's still one more.”

“All right. No need to be impatient.” The tease rolled easily. Despite everything, all the fake bullshit that you had to spew for your family and the closer than usual affection and contact, nothing in that strong bond between the two of you had really changed. It felt like a testament to the work that you had both put into the foundation of your relationship. Proof that such a strong platonic bone could exist. No matter what your coworkers and lord knew how many others had said. You found a piece of jewelry in the second box. A small strip of metal among a delicate chain.

“It's a piece of the IRS.” He grinned outright as he watched the way that your eyes widened at the mention of what it was.

“Are you serious?” He nodded, pleased with himself as he sat a little more straight.

“Yeah. I mean, perfectly safe, of course, but directly from CERN. And, no, I'm not going to tell you how I got it.” He had anticipated your next question before it could even be thought of. Your stomach flipped, and it felt like your heart might just beat right out of your chest.

“Mind helping me put it on?” He nodded and gave a little motion for you to turn before he reached for the necklace. You shifted and made sure that he was able to see what he needed to do, head tipped a little bit. The weight settled against your throat but it was comfortable. Fingers brushed over the small piece, unable to keep yourself from smiling. Your own little piece of history. He had hit the nail on the head incredibly well. Not that he often missed.

“It's absolutely perfect, Tim. I'm blown away.” You could hear the grin in the words, not even needing to see his face.

“Gotta say, I gave myself a bit of a pat on the back with that one. Didn't think you would be expecting it. And there wasn't a chance that anyone was getting you anything similar.” There wasn't a lie there. You didn't think that anyone thought even somewhat close to the same realm. It was more than you could have asked for and beyond anything anticipated.

“You may have just won it this year.”

“I don't know about that. These both,” he offered and motioned towards the magazine and books. “I'm thoroughly impressed. Didn't think I would ever own anything signed by Einstein, and I really thought it would be years before I would be able to find the Feynman lectures. And signed? Wouldn't have dreamed that.” All those nerves for nothing. You should have known better. You both settled back into the couch, his arm haphazardly thrown over your shoulders.

“Okay, so who is going to end up winning the bet?”

“Charlie. Without a doubt.”

“Ahh, shoulda probably have known that one.” The smiles remained. It wasn't a secret that there was an office pool surrounding the idea of if you and Tim would end up together. Particularly, the guards. When word had gotten out that he was spending the holidays with you and your family? Pandemonium. Complete and utter pandemonium. To the point that it had been wholly amusing to the both of you. “You know, they probably aren't going to believe it anyway.”

“Yeah, I know. We could end up having a little fun at their expense.”

“God, that could turn into a shit show, but it's so tempting.” The laughter that filled the room was genuine and full. As easy as it was when it was just the two of you alone.

“Right again. Unfortunately. It's probably not worth the headache. As amusing as it would be.” He hummed as if seriously contemplating it before sighing out an agreement.

“Can't have them all, I guess.” There was a comfortable silence that fell over the room. One that there wasn't any need to break right away. The entire thing could not have gone better. Your family believed it. They were off your backs, and for the most part, Tim had seemed to enjoy himself. There was no better pick than the man beside you. No better friend.

“This might be the best holiday I've ever had.” You couldn't help but grin at his declaration.

“Yeah, I don’t think I can argue. Best holiday I've ever had.”

[rosesradio]

I know this sounds kinda weird but I think Lukeabeth would feature some age play? Like a ddlg kinda thing

...

...

yk what fuck it i'll have what anon's having

let me do one of those half-yap half-drabble things for You 🫵

so the...i guess pseudo-incest of lukabeth coinciding with all of the other layers of their relationship is really fucking facinating to me. you have luke feeling almost fatherly towards annabeth in the early demigod diaries days, then she says he's like an older brother to her in tlo...but ofc you also have her crush on him in tlt, and Whatever his death speech was that's gonna be debated about until the end of time.

so how do luke & annabeth feel about each other?

& what if it's all of the above?

so in this scenario you've given me anon, i kinda crafted together an AU in a similar space as my power of neptune lukercy college AU. i'm imagining a percabeth breakup pre-college, though they both go to New Rome Uni, & luke is the resident advisor for percy's dorm (per his sentence of service to the gods for sparing his life, Or Whatever). luke & annabeth meet again, and although it's been years and everything is different, they both have this desperation for things to go back to the way they once were. they find themselves in a bubble of unspoken peace, growing closer than ever before, especially given the aftermath of the war & annabeth's distance from percy. she finds herself in need of an old friend turned...whatever they are.

& luke has good intentions. probably. he probably wants to, at least.

i think at a certain point in something-or-other semester, annabeth & luke have done...some things together. it doesn't even feel like a natural progression to their relationship—it feels like just another piece of the puzzle, just another equal element to all the late-night study dates and in-depth talks. they haven't done all the things—& probably at luke's insistence, too. he wants to be sure that she's making good choices, & although he knows he's Not a good choice, he can't help but give in to how much he wants her sometimes.

luke would probably be very...apologetic in bed, & take his time, using his experience with only annabeth in mind. iykyk 😵‍💫

& annabeth knows that percy already knows about their relationship. he wants to drown luke in the little tiber, & it's only at annabeth's insistence & an urge for normality that he doesn't.

thalia would probably hunt luke for sport if she knew. so she doesn't.

needless worldbuilding aside, i can picure a day like any other in which annabeth is getting ready to go to lecture. luke is lounging on her bed, catlike, reading a book but not really reading so much as watching annabeth change clothes. she puts on a skirt and one of piper's crop tops, just because she likes to feel cute sometimes. she can feel luke's eyes on her before she meets his gaze in the mirror.

annabeth asks if he has a problem. luke tells her he doesn't want her going out like that.

of course, she laughs. that had to be a bit. she could wear whatever she wanted, anyone's opinions be damned. she tells him as much, and that she ought to cut his tongue out if that was how he was going to speak to her.

luke tells her she likes his tongue too much to do that. annabeth's face flushes, momentarily at a loss for words. touché, castellan.

still, they continue this little disingenuous game of cat & mouse. at one point, annabeth asks something along the lines of "who do you think you are, my dad?"

and this is one dangerous poke at the bubble. if this goes wrong, it could shatter this beautiful space of denial that they've created.

luke just gets to his feet, walking towards annabeth. she backs away, further and further until her back hits the wall. she's not scared. she's curious, and excited. and maybe a little nervous, the edges of her emotion tinted with nausea.

luke stands about a half a foot taller than her. he used to be even taller. annabeth wonders if she misses it, or if she wants to get heels to meet him.

he leans towards her, kissing along her jawline, up to her cheek and down to her lips. he kisses her like he's still dying sometimes, and she's the last of his holy ambrosia.

"i just wanna take care of you, babygirl," luke murmurs. he kisses down her neck, hands roaming to explore annabeth's exposed skin as if he were being allowed to for the first time. "let me take care of you, like 'm s'posed to..."

annabeth's stomach drops. she swallows. luke was supposed to take care of her. he failed. and annabeth had picked up the pieces, taken care of herself for the last seven years. in what world should she give luke another chance?

but she does. goddamnit, she does.

she nods. luke drops to his knees like he's praying for his fucking life, more urgently than he'd ever had for a real diety.

annabeth runs her fingers through luke's hair as he puts his mouth to work. his hair is just as soft as she remembers from when she put bows in it as a kid. it's just as soft as she remembers from when she was nursing him with ambrosia after the war.

she doesn't know when or why exactly the word "daddy" slips from her lips, though it does. it's never something they talked about doing. they probably should have had a conversation about that. but fuck it, right? she never called her own dad that, so it was fair game.

luke's efforts falter, the moment possibly the longest in time before he doubles his efforts. he moans against her, the vibrations spurring her to pull his hair harder, to murmer "daddy" between just about every plead and moan of her own.

and then annabeth's hips jolt, and she's coming so intensely that her stomach hurts. she pants, grasping luke's hair like a lifeline, grinding down on his lips and tongue until she's milked every last drop of her high.

annabeth recollects her thoughts and breath, wishing she could stay in post-orgasm bliss forever. she wishes she didn't have to address what just happened.

luke stands, licking his lips, the sight leaving annabeth a little weak in the knees.

"don't you need to be getting to class?" luke asks hoarsely.

thank the gods. he's giving her an out, some more time before they could no longer hold this dynamic up, & everything would come crashing down.

annabeth nods. "you don't mind that i'm wearing this?" she asks, unsure of why she cares.

luke shrugs. "i just like riling you up, babygirl," he grins, grabbing her ass from under her skirt and over her underwear. "wear what you want. i'm the only one who gets to touch you, anyways."

annabeth's attendance at lecture is essentially useless. she can only think of luke & what it all meant—the word "babygirl" on his lips, and the word "daddy" on her own.

[chubbygirlmaddy14]

The Dollmaker: The Brother

Dale Kobble x reader

A/N: So this is insane, and I would keep going with this chapter but I wanna leave it like this as well. Plus this is a REALLY slow burn fic. I promise i’ll make it to where something happens soon lovely’s :p

Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/story/374688245?utm_source=ios&utm_medium=link&utm_content=share_writing&wp_page=create&wp_uname=chubby_girl_maddy16

Chapter 12: The Brother (1,770 words)

TW’s: Fight scene, choking, abuse, yelling, gun use, threatening (kinda)

Y/n POV:

  I woke up later than normal, thank god I don't have work. Sitting up I find myself in my bed, not the living room like I thought I would be. I soon remember what happened and my hand flies over my mouth. I didn't mean to kiss him on the cheek it just happened??

  I will say it is better than his lips, he would stop talking to me forever and I don't want that, I don't need him to be out of my life. I get out of bed, drag myself to the bathroom, and turn on the hot water before brushing my teeth.

Smiling thinking about the events of last night, I pull off my clothes and step inside, sighing as the hot water hits me.

  My mind keeps going back to what I can remember, the laughing, the movie, and how sweet he was to hold me the way he did and take me to bed after it. Still questioning why I'm as attracted to him as I am,

I realize I've never felt this way about anyone before. 

  I mean yeah throughout college I went on dates, hooked up with different people, and tried to get out there but I never felt anything for them like I do with Dale. There's something about him, like I'm trapped here for the rest of time as long as he's here with me. I don't mind that one bit though. 

  Stepping out of the shower and grabbing my towel, I hear the doorbell ring as I'm drying off. I smile thinking it's him and quickly put some comfy clothes on, not caring about how wet my hair is. Rushing downstairs I open the door with a smile on my face, only for it to drop just a second after. "Hey little sis!" he says pushing his way through. 

  Ryan.

Of course it was him out of all people, and speaking of all people, I catch Dales eyes land on mine as he walks around the neighborhood. I smile softly at him before shutting the door not wanting him to get caught up in any of the drama I know Ryan was soon to start up. 

  Moving to the kitchen I see him grab a slice of left over pizza from last night in the fridge, "what do you want?" I didn't care about how I sounded, how my tone came out, I wanted him out of my house as fast as possible. He smirks as he leans against the counter looking over my way

"Someone's in town that I just found out about, and I'm not allowed to come over and say hello?

  I roll my eyes crossing my arms, I know how he plays this little game of his. He pretends to be all sweet and then snaps

he's just like our father.

"Who told you I was here?" I stare at him, trying to be cautious of who knew that I came back and who didn't. Stepping away from the counter his attitude changes into one I didn't wanna experience. 

  "Grandma! You know she was so excited to have you back, but you didn't want me to know. ME. I- I'm you're brother, we're supposed to be there for each other." He chuckles, slamming his hand down on the counter making me jump, the pizza long forgotten.

"I've been busy, I didn't need any distractions!"

  Moving around to where I was he walks closer, his eyes turning all black. I try to back away as much as I could until my back hits the wall, fuck. His hand comes around my throat pushing me harder into the wall as my mind goes blank. Everything I learned is all forgotten in that moment, I just

freeze. 

  "Busy enough to not say hi? bullshit. You come back here, move into the house that YOU got everyone killed in, and walk around like you're some kind of hot shot just because you're a big agent now?" His hand gets tighter around my throat, making me try to gasp for as much air as I can.

My gun, I need my gun.

  He backs away, making me gasp for air as his hand moves to his side. He finds a beer in the bottom drawer of my fridge and pops it open, drinking it before smiling softly like nothing just happened.

No, what the fuck actually happened.

  I didn't think he would do that ever again but I guess I just got to find out how he is one more time. He's stronger then last time, but I know so am I, I just need to focus with him. "Sit" he gestures with the bottle before grabbing another one for me, "I'm fin-" "SIT."

  I couldn't tell if he was drunk this early already, or just a bigger prick then before. Sitting down he slides over the extra bottle after he opens it. Drinking some of the liquid I sigh, and I know it was early but I didn't care. I had to deal with his ass for however long he stayed. 

  Reaching around I find the hidden drawer wrapped around my side, opening it, and slowly grabbing my other gun and holster. Wrapping it around my thigh, his dumbass wouldn't know a thing. I wasn't going to do anything, but he would do anything to me. I had to be safe, with how old we both were now,

we're different, he's different. 

Longlegs POV:

  I didn't like the way she smiled at me, I knew she wasn't safe. I saw him pull up as I left my house to come see her, I knew she wanted me to finish helping her today. Remembering how he looked from the pictures, I thought of what y/n said to me.

"he's not the best"

  After a few minutes I move over to look through a window, one I knew they couldn't see me from but I could see everything. I needed to know she was safe and if I needed to do anything to stop him, and I would do anything for her

  I see him move behind her, her eyes following him but refusing to move her head. Seeing a beer in her hand, my eyes raise in confusion. I knew she drank, but not voluntarily this early. I watch as she finishes the bottle, taking a deep breath after and keeping her eyes forward.

She didn't want him there. 

Y/n POV:

   Chugging the rest of his beer I stay silent, just watching him, trying to see what he would do. "We need to catch up," he smiles, a fake lovingly expression showing up on his face

“I think I'd be okay not catching up actually, I have shit to do that doesn't involve you."

  Why am I acting like this? I don't know, but I wasn't gonna be treated like a little girl for him anymore. He comes around and stands behind me, his hands resting on my shoulder before he starts digging his fingers in. First soft but soon replaced with hard painful squeezes that were sure to leave bruises.

I finish the rest of my drink trying to get help from the liquid confidence and having to deal with him.

  "Stop." I say softly not being able to take what he's doing anymore, but he doesn't. Soon my pleas turn into screams before I smash the bottle over the counter. The sound doesn't stop him, but the glass from my end cutting his arm does.

"FUCK!" he screams holding his arm as I push him off my, keeping the glass top in my hand.

He smirks before pinning me on the counter, grabbing my wrist and slamming it down on the marble top, making me let go of the glass. He takes it in his hand, "this is for them, what I have been wanting to do for so lon-" I sweep his feet from under him, making him fall to the ground. 

  A gunshot is all that is heard before complete

silence

  The bullet going into the floor next to his head, he stares at me with wide eyes. "I told myself I wouldn't use this on you." In complete shock he doesn't say anything, the gun moving lower onto his stomach, "put it down." my voice has gone monotone as he pushes the glass away from him. Putting together my thoughts I take a deep breath. 

"YOU KNOW I DIDN'T DO SHIT." I gain the confidence keeping the gun straight towards his stomach not taking any chances. I shouldn't be screaming, people can hear me but I can't stand how he still talks to me and treats me, plus the gunshot has already gone off, screaming isn't that bad. 

  "Just cause I found them, we both know that wasn't my fault." I started laughing putting my other hand on my head

oh my god, I've gone insane. 

He gets up, walking towards the door and grabbing his jacket his aimlessly threw on the counter. 

 Putting my gun in the holster, I grab the glass and throw it in the trash. I walk behind him to the door after it's all cleaned up to make sure he left, I couldn't risk it. He takes a few steps down the stairs before turning around to look at me as I stood at the front keeping eye contact with him while he looked back.

"This conversation isn't over." he said harshly making me smirk as I look down "yeah we'll see about that.

  I watch him drive off, leaning against the door and closing my eyes I take in the fresh air. Soon I hear footsteps rushing up to me, making my hand go onto my gun and open my eyes.

Dale keeps his hands up as he gets close and I take a breath realizing it was him, "please don't shoot."

  I chuckle shaking my head, "don't scare me like that, especially while I have this ready." His hands go to my face as he looks down at me, "I heard the shot and the screaming, are you okay?" Blushing like crazy, I hold his hands against my face before pulling them off and kissing against his knuckles.

  "I pinky promise I'm alright, I trained for this stuff." I put my pinky around his before sighing, "Just ignore the hole in the ground in the kitchen, and let’s finish what we started last night."

I smirk softly seeing a blush rise to his face after everything and grab him hand bringing him inside with me.

[ephemerlskies]

The Stars as They Appear Above Us | pjm

⇢ pairing: jimin x reader

[other members: hoseok, taehyung]

⇢ genre: one-shot, angst, fluff, heartbreak au, college au, strangers to lovers au

⇢ rating: pg-13

⇢ word count: 19.6k

⇢ warnings: explicit language, mentions of death, mentions of homophobia, themes of grief, themes of depression/anxiety, alcohol consumption, codependency, many emotional ramblings and existential crises.

⇢ summary: misery loves company. against better judgment, yours sought out Jimin's. from one chance encounter to another, the question of whether your heart could brave the wreckage of loss and still retain the capacity to love again drew closer and closer to finding an answer.

alternatively

“Do you think the stars will remember us?"

inspiration: francis forever by mitski and mikrokosmos by bts

a/n: for my lovely readers. if you have yet to find love in yourself, i hope one day you do. i hope you can rejoice in the beauty and splendor of being you.

╌──────────═❁═──────────╌

"I think I'm falling out of love with you."

You wished what he said felt sharp where it struck your chest. That it would puncture the skin, clean and precise, leaving behind a sure but manageable ache.

No, this was dull.

This forced its way through flesh and met the bone with an unforgiving rage. A cruel promise that no matter how this wound healed, the scar would always remind the world of just how true his sentiment was.

"Wh-" Taehyung's hand found yours. You were tempted to withdraw, knowing comfort would only remind you of the very pain he'd inflicted. "What..."

You stopped yourself from asking how. You weren't sure you wanted to harbor the reason as to why you stopped being lovable to him. You weren't sure, because you couldn't defend yourself, his mind made up as sure as your heart broke. There was no evidence, no witness, no judge. Nothing, but the rawness of giving yourself entirely to him. Loving him, even when the world reminded you of just how fragile and damning of an act it was. You placed your heart in his hands without knowing it was a trial, without knowing it could end in a death sentence.

"I'm sorry..." As if it could resolve anything, he squeezed your hand. Maybe to remind you to breathe, the way he always had. Maybe to ease his own heart, pulsing hard enough to give life to another body.

There was a beat of heavy silence. A moment to stall, collect every bit of strength, and look into his eyes before you became a supporting character in his story.

"That's all?"

"What?" Surprise seized his eyes.

"Is that all you have to say to me?"

Your throat was tight; it didn't offer much, but it gave what was necessary. More importantly, it withheld what was too vulnerable to reveal.

Because he had everything else that was supposed to be yours. Your soul, your purpose, and worst of all your love. But not your pain, that was something you writhed with, the way a storm-front meets land. It would devastate all the beauty you created, how else to prove your power over something but by destroying it completely? This anguish, this was yours.

"Come on, ___. Don't be this way." Making demands of you after he plunged his bloodied hands into your chest, only to give back what he'd rejected, he knew his power.

"Don't be what way, Tae?" The heat in your face flared, you swore it lit something within you. "You want me to scream at you? You want me on my knees pleading? I'm not going to give you anything else, Tae. Not after I've spent three years giving you everything just to make you happy. I can't. I... I have nothing left. You win."

"___, it's not about winning. You think I feel so fucking great about doing this? I wanted to deny it, shit, I have been denying it because it's you, ___." The way he laughed out spite like an illness, you knew what was about to come. "You know what I think of you. You're the one I fought for. You know how much I care about you, how much of your dreams are no different than my own. I think you're the most beautiful person I've ever seen. You amaze me and inspire me-"

"But not enough to be loved by you." It humored you how these praises fell from his lips. There was no way to explain how he can recite such intimate musings about your character one minute, then reject it all in another.

"___..." You wished he would stop saying your name. Taehyung called to you with too much love to keep your denial at bay. It hurt to be held by him now, even if it was just the way his voice held your name. "Please, let me explain."

"I was waiting for you to say that." You knew you were being cruel, but both you and Taehyung understood it wasn't entirely undeserved.

"I just feel like the only thing keeping us together is familiarity, like being together is a habit not a choice."

He paused, most likely with the hopes you would miraculously agree, that some sort of forgiveness would be surrendered. It was never that easy, though, not when it came to you and him.

"I feel like I'm standing still, and you're moving forward... or the other way around. But either way, I feel this distance that I don't know how to close." You did not have to look at him to know there were tears pooling in his eyes. "___, most of the time when we're together, I feel as though it wouldn't make a difference if I were there or not."

If it was neglect he was accusing you of, your tongue felt a sting to remind him all the late nights you two spent over how he kept the rest of his life so separate. How little words were exchanged over dinner when recounting your days apart. The number of opened and unanswered texts that sit in the graveyard of your messages.

"I'm not saying I am perfect either, I know I'm contributing to this emptiness in our relationship. I don't think I understand you, and it hurts to admit that I fall so short as your partner." Of course, he knew what you were thinking. He knew exactly how to respond to the words that were never kind enough to bring to life. "I just... we need to be honest with ourselves. We need to be honest about if we really understand what we need in life. If we know for sure that it's each other."

"Well, I guess there is a difference between us."

He was cautious, keen of your tendency to be quick witted before you could be transparent. Taehyung's eyes trailed along the outline of your body in preparation to defend himself.

"Even though I feel distance and there are issues between us and our relationship isn't always perfect, I would never give up on you." It was brutal, the way you spoke felt like inhaling fire, but at least you weren't the only one burned.

"It's not always as simple as love. Love isn't the only thing that keeps a relationship alive. How can we grow as a couple when you never let me get close enough to try?"

Your eyes seared. He found the wound. He knew exactly where to apply pressure.

"I didn't know trying was such a burden for you." Frankly, you found it difficult to locate what exactly he meant by this, but your heart hurt all the same. "Just so you know... falling out of love will be much harder for me."

Taehyung wondered how you could admit love as though it were a sin, how he had become the one who assigned punishment, how this hadn't stopped him from feeling the need to ask for forgiveness. And still you were able to lift yourself from where you sat, and walk away.

"___, I'm scared." It was true, you felt what one could only describe as desperation pooling in his words.

"Me too." Admitting this was far more crucifying than admitting your heart would always beat for someone who had forgotten how to love you back.

╌──────────═❁═──────────╌

It was difficult to look in the mirror. The person staring back looked so much like the person he loved. But that wasn't you anymore. The person in the mirror was the ghost. What worried you even more was the idea of someone finding out what a lie this was. This body of yours, each piece stacked so neatly, as though you could be anything more than shards of loneliness that cut with each step you took. As though you didn't live your life checking the ground that follows you, ensuring fragments of your soul were not being left behind.

There was no rule book on how to remain whole after a heartbreak. How to fill the nights with warmth and the mornings with meaning.

Taehyung would always remind you to lock the door, but it never felt so simple.

Lock the door, angel, don't forget!

Lock the door, I love that you forget. I love being the one to remind you.

Lock the door, and never stop forgetting. Never stop letting me remind you.

You stared at the doorknob until it started to feel like a broken promise, and it delivered your eyes a new kind of pain. One that couldn't render tears, because you were all cried out. Maybe if you forgot this time, he would come running to remind you once again. The way he always did. You sighed then winced. The click of the lock sent a shooting pain in your ear.

I'm falling out of love with you.

This confession began to feel more like an accusation. Your mind tucked his words deep. It never failed to rear its head right before you loosened your fist or a smile took hold of you, right before you almost let your body belong in the world with ease.

"Excuse me, you're next." A voice broke through your daze.

This has been happening frequently. One moment, you're gripping the doorknob. Another, you find yourself in a cafe, or a grocery store, or a parking lot of a grocery store. Your body moved through the world as a chore, abusing the skill of muscle memory to no end. You stopped caring where it took you, because you knew it wouldn't be with him.

"Sorry..." Your voice dragged along your tongue like a limbless creature. "I'm sorry you go ahead."

If you hadn't been zoning in on a specifically worn floor tile, you would have noticed the person behind you. Their eyes, thick with concern, studied you and politely yet firmly ignored the offer to pass you in line.

"You can go, I don't know-"

"Let me buy you your drink." He sounded like rain falling against the world. Inviting, comforting, and timid, asking permission in the gentle way raindrops cling to the openness of a window. It was momentary, the idea of sneaking through the back door to let him fall against your skin.

"No." You were quick to respond. Your heart ached you into a habit of rejecting kindness when you knew you needed it most. "No, you don't have to."

You didn't feel his body brush past you. Could he have somehow known as well, you needed a small kindness?

"Would it be too cliché of me to say I know I don't have to?" He said.

"Yes, and it would be even worse if you also said 'I know I don't have to, I want to.'" Your eyes finally peeled away from that jagged tile, and met his.

There was a smile woven into the way his voice sounded. It struck wonder in you, how he could vocalize something as invisible as joy. Within seconds, he made the intangible into something physical, something you could hold onto. Something a little less fleeting than the feeling itself.

"I'm Jimin. And I swear I'm like... super cool and unique so I won't say that." His hand, extended out to you, looked so soft. Almost as though if you dared to touch it, you would damage something. The tenderness adorning his body only sought to exemplify the sharpness of your own.

But, your desire to quell an awkward handshake rejection triumphed over your fear of destroying a purity you could not find in yourself. And you were right, his hand stretched so gently around yours. You swore it could have melted if you held on too long.

"___. And I swear I'm not always this cynical." It was a half-lie, but today a doorknob made you cry, so you had to defend yourself in some way.

"I think it's kinda charming." He laughed at himself, "I mean, not only did you ignore me in line, but you also managed to call me cliché before I even had the chance to be cliché."

"Actually, I think I was just doing you a favor. Giving you another chance to say something more original." This was the first time you let yourself smile without seeking repentance. Your joy was not a crime with this stranger.

"Mm... well, let me think." You could see in his eyes, he was piecing the unlikely together. "You want a cappuccino with a little bit of brown sugar?"

"How are you so sure of yourself?" Your brows furrowed, a hint of intrigue in your voice guiding him like a light.

"Well, you said you didn't know what you wanted yet, but I haven't seen you look at the menu once. Which tells me you probably do know what you're going to order, you just couldn't for some reason." He paused, and by now you knew it was to observe and conclude an honesty you buried somewhere no one cared to upend. "Judging by the slight dark circles under your eyes, and the fact that you yawned about three times during this conversation, you haven't had your daily dose. And in more ways than one, you seem tired."

You felt your body giving in. He was right, you were tired. So, very tired.

"That doesn't explain the brown sugar part." Speaking to him was easy. You wondered if he felt the same way.

"You just seem like someone who appreciates something sweet in life." Everything he said felt like a riddle, like there was an answer hidden in the crooks of his words.

"Jimin, you make quite the first impression. Are you always this invasive upon first meeting people?"

"Honestly? Yes, but specifically because I've seen you here quite a bit and I've become somewhat acquainted with you." Your head slanted and an urgency fell over Jimin, "I mean... in my head. You're around here a lot, and I've come to expect to see you. Kinda like how you expect to see the same buildings outside your window or whatever."

"I've never been compared to a building before. I'm flattered. It's nice to finally meet you." When he smiled, it offered more than you once thought capable of accepting. There was a dynamic you caught onto far before he did. Neither of you knew each other, however that only seemed to beckon both of your willingness to unravel the best parts of yourself, and hope to god it was as real and as good as it felt.

"Well, are you going to buy me a drink or not?" Jimin was quick to step towards the register.

It was easy to discern you were not alone under siege of his charm. The way he moved through the world, as though it was his to arrange and rearrange. How common it must be for him to acquire small talk and fond goodbyes like collector's items, how many people he must leave wanting more from him. Some quiet part of you ached to know where you belonged in his world, or rather if you belonged at all.

"What do you do? What's your thing?" His elbows rested on the counter with familiarity.

"I'm an artist. Painting, mostly. But I appreciate charcoal more these days. And, I- why are you looking at me like that?" You asked, couldn't help yourself. The way his eyes bore an opening into you was hard to ignore.

"Nothing, just kinda had a feeling you were some sort of artist. The paint stains on your jeans gave it away, if I'm being honest. I'm sure you create beautiful things, ___." It was so easy to let your eyes linger, even when his brightness overtook your vision and especially when he smiled.

"You don't know that. You've never seen my work." Your palm cupped your chin, and you put your fingers to good use, gating the smile that couldn't be subdued.

"Don't have to, you don't seem dense or shallow enough to make bad art."

This conversation uplifted in you something so close to hope. Enough so that when he paved the way to an open table, you followed him like it was a reflex.

"You're... presumptuous." Your will began to subside. The chance of this door you put up to the world remaining felt frayed. He'd find a way to open it. Perhaps he'd already found one.

"Aren't you going to ask me what I do?" His words were playful, enticing you into a game that seemed to have no real winners or losers, just a chance to participate.

"What do you do, Jimin." Your tone indicated you were in fact amused by his prodding. That you were more than willing to participate.

"I'm a writer. Mostly poetry, maybe I'll start a manuscript some day. But I'm not sure I'm cut out for something like that, you know?"

It was after he said that that you noticed a delicate dim in the lightness his voice carried.

"Honestly? I don't know, why wouldn't you be?"

Jimin hadn't been able to recall this budding hesitation when it came to talking with strangers. Usually, people would agree tentatively and construct a weak sincerity in response to him talking of his artistic abilities, or lack thereof. You however, inquired less about what he said and more on why he said it. In other words, people tend to deny consideration where it was inconvenient, but not you.

"I just- it's harder to create a story, and characters. I worry the world would look wrong the way I portray it. That it might give something away about myself I'd rather not reveal..." His neck, sheltered by his palm, grew warm. This feeling with you had felt like a forgotten memory, all the more exciting. He found that more than anything, he wanted to reunite with it.

"Ah, well. I don't know, Jimin. Within the little time I've known you, you've already read me pretty accurately. I really hate admitting that, but it's true." That smile, his eyes waning like two crescent moons, felt like encouragement. "You see people, things that are never displayed through physical indications. You voice the things people wish they saw in themselves so plainly, as if you could see it written on their skin. I think a story would come to life if you wrote it."

"That's..." As a writer, it was rare for words to be at a distance to Jimin, and yet. "You're... so..."

"Don't" Your head shook. "You don't have to. It wasn't a compliment, just an observation. Nothing, really."

"I'm not sure what you are, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't want to find out."

"If you found out, I'm not sure you'd get much of anything. Maybe a little regret and an unnecessary amount of art history knowledge."

You wanted this to stop, to retract your hand, only an inch from where he rested his on the table. You wanted to leave, to lock the door, to keep yourself tucked away where it was lonely, but safe.

And when his hand grazed the top of yours, you did none of those things. It was tedious to define safety when your skin knew a visceral hunger that your heart did not. You let yourself lean into this unrefined craving, and perhaps be known by Jimin.

"Wouldn't know unless I tried." His smile meant a number of things, but this time it resembled a challenge.

Because the last time someone tried, it proved to be just that. A challenge.

Though you met so recently, he'd already established a clear admiration that extended far beyond reason. His eyes gave way to vision only to find beauty. His senses were predisposed to seeking goodness. Even more impressive, he was someone who could bring it out in unexpected places.

But that was the exact reason why Jimin terrified you. Because what if there was nothing in you, no goodness that he could withdraw?

He was watching you, most likely on a hunt for something. His eyes were determined yet tender as they searched for answers in yours.

"Well, thank you, for the drink." Timing was generous today, granting an escape from the space he opened up for you in this moment. "I should get going, it's my first day back in university."

"Ah, where do you attend?" Whatever attempts he made to mask his disappointment were futile, and all too obvious.

"University of Crane River." As you dragged yourself back into a state of reality, it distracted you from his smile, though you wished it hadn't.

It would be nice, you mused, to get one last look.

"Well, I hope your days get better." Jimin held his breath, watching you depart felt no different to him than folding the corner of the page right before the ending. "Oh and ___!"

You turned back, half expecting him to remind you to lock the door, then remembering it would never be that. Still, what he said next wasn't entirely disappointing, but completely disarming.

"See you at school."

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Decisions were hardly decisions at all to you. You never had to wait until choosing became necessary; your mind was always as sure as an anchor would sink, fate locked into you like a companion.

That was until you noticed the pen markings, impulsive and needful, under the sleeve of your cup. You let your finger glide over the numbers. An irrational attempt to see if they'd disappear. It made no sense, but life after Taehyung was nothing if not nonsensical.

You lingered at doors, waiting for someone to impossibly fill a role originated by the love of your life. You waded through crowds as if it would dispel the loneliness that weeps in you like a ghost. You lived in memories to resurrect something rotting and overdue for a burial. You ran a finger across those numbers knowing it was a fruitless remedy to erase the meaning they carved into a disposable cup.

As the bus carried you closer to the school, music flowed from your headphones. Though no amount of noise could drown the echo of Jimin's voice. His was a melody that learned how to swim.

You tried to keep your thoughts in order by mentally planning your academic day, busying yourself in ways that proved successful in the past. It seemed that your thoughts developed a sense to maneuver around denial, to sink itself into what you weren't aware you needed. When it came to Jimin, at least, you were just the shell of someone trying to hold on to what it felt like to be in his presence.

Despite how true all of these feelings, these untamed thoughts were, you refused to allow them to move you. The idea of seeing him again filled you with fear and eagerness all at once. Again, the decision to hide or to unfold yourself was not within reach. It felt like something that was less of a decision, more so in the hands of chance.

However, he was a writer, you a painter. The chance of sharing a class or even a building with him was slim to none. This soothed you less than you hoped, but then again, safety for you always reserved the remnants of disappointment.

╌──────────═❁═──────────╌

"___!" Before you had to turn, you knew exactly who wielded such a voice that reached every corner of a room.

"Hobi, I thought once we entered college you'd become a little more... I don't know... calm?" That was the truest word you could use that brushed past being an insult to him.

"Why would I be?" Hoseok's arm nestled along your shoulders, "Maybe you need to be less calm."

"Okay, whatever you say." Both of you avoided asking the compulsory 'How are you' and this was an unrehearsed consideration composed by Hoseok's thankless demeanor. He was a loud, robust dancer with a heart of gold, but no less observant than you. He knew not to ask, not to resurface the pain just below the skin, waiting to erupt.

"What's your schedule looking like?" He asked.

"Mmm." You searched through your bag to pull it out.

"You know they have these online, you don't need to print them out, nerd." This fond judgment didn't stop him from taking the paper from your hands.

"Any classes together?" You asked, eyes static on the pen markings etched along your cup while his was scanning your schedule.

"Nope... looks like we're just gonna have to spend extra time together outside of class." His smile lured one out from you too, the same way the sun channeled light where the world needed it most.

And then, like clockwork, that cruel mantra sauntered into the front of your mind again.

I think I'm falling out of love with you.

"Mm..." In times like this, expressing your care for someone felt like trudging through a storm. It was easier to still, to let the storm rage around you. But you loved Hoseok, maybe just as deeply as you could love Taehyung. There was just too much pain to be soft the way Hoseok was soft. Admiration and guilt forged into one heavy burden piling on your shoulders.

You hoped he knew this. You hoped the vacancy of words never translated into an emptiness he could detect. You hoped one day, you'd be able to out-love him, the way he deserved.

"___, I promise everything's going to be okay." How could you love someone like him enough? Someone who would demand a storm to rest just so you could finally move forward.

"I really want to believe you." The tears gathering in your eyes were infectious, spreading across bodies. Hoseok felt your despair prick at his own eyes.

"I'm sorry. I don't understand it either, ___. I really hate him for this." He spoke through strained whispers.

Before your eyes could corrode into water slipping down your cheek, his lips pressed into your forehead. It was something he'd been doing since you were barely able to reach the top shelf. He knew it wouldn't mend the pain, but it would give you enough love to last the day. And tomorrow, he'd be there to replenish. He was the 'always' you knew you could trust.

"I love you, Hoseok. Go to class, though. You're gonna be late."

"Shit, I'll see you soon! Text me after class!" He called back, already ten or so feet from you.

Hoseok loved and cared with every part of him, but even those qualities hadn't overruled his forgetfulness. Luckily, he always had you as a second conscious.

╌──────────═❁═──────────╌

There it was again. The memory of that night itching against your skin. It always began so faintly, but you knew by now what was about to follow. You knew ignoring a heart breaking would only aggress it more.

Under the guise of needing to use the restroom, you excused yourself from class. Though, you required more than a simple escape from the small art room that held you captive. The air felt stretched thin indoors, which is how you ended up wandering into a forested area of campus. Your legs demanded solitude, and apparently, running water.

Crane River, the sign read with resistance. Time chipped the paint and rusted the metal.

You peered over the edge of the bridge, water rushing against the riverbed. Somehow, your body responded to this view with a feeling you couldn't assign a name to. You knew though, it reminded you of being left behind.

What good are my lungs for if they stop working every time I'm upset? You criticized yourself unfairly between deep, unfulfilling gasps. It seemed that this was all you could give to yourself. How sad this must appear, a body rejected by the soul that calls it home.

It was true, nonetheless. You hated being you, feeling the things you felt. Pathetically clinging to the rail of a bridge, pleading with water to idle so you could keep pace. If this was how the rest of your life would be, you weren't sure how long you'd be able to hold on.

You closed your eyes, reeling in the moment this morning when you felt your heart beating in the same rhythm as the world, as him. It should have been clear to you how inevitable this would be. You, reaching into your bag to retrieve what should have been trash, dialing the numbers only to hover your thumb over the 'call' icon.

The sound of footsteps interrupted your courage and turned your phone screen back to black. This whole time, your body took in each breath manually. Innate functions such as breathing or blinking had become tiresome. So, when your focus shifted to the presence of another person, your breathing stopped altogether.

"Hey," His melody proceeded. "You."

"Of course... you." Fate had reintroduced itself to you, joined by regret.

"I know I got here after you, but, to be fair, I've been coming here since last year so... This time you're impeding on me." It wasn't bragging in the technical sense, but there was an underlying celebration in his voice.

You were almost too suffocated to do witty with him. Almost.

"Yeah, just waiting for you to come save me again." Your eyes remained where they were before he arrived.

"Is that it?" Jimin's voice grew in volume, even though he spoke softly. The edge of his body now seated in your peripheral. "Save you?"

"Mhm, I was just thinking if only someone would come and ruin my peace and quiet." He laughed, somehow privy to the honest relief obscured under the layers of sarcasm.

You gambled with bravery, craning your head to finally face his. He wasted no time returning the favor. For a brief moment, you were just a person catching the light of another's eyes. You could breathe, blink, and appreciate how normal could feel so thrilling with him.

Jimin's smile eroded the longer you held his gaze; it had you already pleading to earn his forgiveness.

"You were crying?" His eyebrows formed concern so beautifully.

"No... not really." You attempted to lie, but your eyes betrayed honesty to Jimin's.

"It's okay. We don't have to talk about it. I mean, we just met so..." Jimin let his admiration run unsupervised, indulging in how this moment stretched beyond time. "It's just... I hate the idea of you crying all alone."

"Why?" Regret finally broke through the adrenaline, more so when he said things like that. The desire to retreat came rushing, however you couldn't relinquish the victory of looking away first. "You don't even know me."

"Do I need to?"

Why had it sounded like a command?

"I guess not. But" Your throat nearly denied you sound. "I don't understand what you're getting from this."

"Jesus, ___." It would have felt like scrutiny if not for the protective armor of his laugh. "It doesn't cost me anything to be kind to you, but it seems to cost you quite a bit to reject it."

"I-" Why bother arguing with him? "It's hard."

"I know." You could have meant anything, but Jimin, overfamiliar with pain in his own ways, didn't have to know in order to know. "I'm sorry. Whatever is hurting you so much, I hope it subsides enough to let you live a little easier."

"Just a breakup. Nothing special, nothing new."

"Still, it sounds pretty rough. I'm sorry, ___. How long were you two together?"

"Three and a half years." Your exhaustion felt so justified after voicing how long it's been.

"Damn, it makes sense why this is so horrible. I mean we're still pretty young. Three years is a lot if you think about it."

"True. It was just really..." You watched as his eyes drifted comfortably along your face. Even if you wanted to pull back, it felt wrong to take that away from him. "Unexpected."

"You love him?" Jimin's inquisitiveness was partially selfish, but mostly born of genuine curiosity and care.

"Trying not to." The warmth collecting at your cheeks confessed some twisted form of shame around this.

"I get it. It's very justified to take your time with it you know? Don’t be hard on yourself." Jimin paused but even that was carried out with certainty. "He sounds lucky to have someone who could love him this much. Not sure if this is necessarily helpful in getting over him but, I think it is beautiful to love someone even if they aren't there to experience it."

You couldn't understand how he gave shape to your feelings with such kindness.

"Thank you, Jimin." Gratitude was a costly emotion to express, a tear or two expended no matter the circumstances. "You're sweet. I'm not sure uh... not sure I deserve this."

You smiled at that last confession, thinking it would lighten the weight of what was said between you two, perhaps distract you and him from the tears. But it soon felt like a mistake upon noticing it might've struck a chord with Jimin.

"Why wouldn't you?" This was not rhetorical in the way you wished it was. He asked, expecting you to answer, to voice the shame lodged into your body like a dagger. "Why wouldn't you deserve it?"

"I'm not..." You reached for answers that were not there. "I don't know. All I know is whenever people try to comfort me about this I feel so guilty. And like I can't give it back? I'm tired of needing so much from others. I just want to be good. Easier to love."

"For now, it's not your job to give back." How did his body extend in a way that reached conclusions never so accessible to you? “You do not have to be good to be easy to love. Someone would be lucky to love you.”

You watched the world regress, intricacies of this universe conflating into a singular truth. This man crafted simplicity from the chaos. You felt greedy, your heels already primed to run after him, to chase this world he'd created that made your movements fluid, rushing with no traction like water.

It must be a writer thing, you theorized.

By now, your arm had been pressed against his as you both leaned against the rail, overlooking the water. It was hard to release the notion that this might've been trespassing. Closeness, a risk that ended in punishment the last time you took it.

"Jimin?"

"Hm?" Jimin's wordless response felt assuring of what you were about to say, even before you knew yourself.

Speak, he seemed to say, bring any noise to your voice that does not know loss, does not mourn.

"How do you always know what to say?" Everything about you felt dangerously undisciplined. You'd been unraveling, completely negligent to how easy it had been to breathe in and out this whole time.

"To be honest, you don't make it the easiest." His careful nudge against your arm promised compassion without the words. "But, I like you. I like the way you see the world."

"You too. I like how you see things too." Rather, you liked how he saw you, how it never felt like a judgment. It was warm where your bodies made contact, heightened how frigid and starved the rest of you had been.

Somewhere, there was a world where you could find solace in togetherness; the borders of your body and his body ebbing from the way you held each other. Imagining this left a bitter taste in your mouth. Not because it seemed wrong, but because it felt so unattainable. It hurt to hope, to open your heart enough that it might discover another breaking point.

"I, um, gotta get to class." A sigh nearly slipped from you when he pulled away. "It was lovely seeing you, ___."

Jimin settled his hand right between your shoulder blades. His thumb tracing out a pattern only he could see. A parting gift, you assumed, a piece of him he felt necessary to leave with you. In one swift motion, you were reminded of how sentimentality was quick to filter your memories.

The way he touched you, so unsparingly, it must have meant there was more of him for the taking. And from where you stood now, looking down at the river, it lacked its usual hurriedness; almost as if it had stilled completely.

╌──────────═❁═──────────╌

"Hobi?"

"What's up?" He responded, stretching his hamstrings.

"Nevermind." This wasn't enough to curb his curiosity. You knew that all too well.

"___..." He expressed an expectation by calling your name, giving you another chance before he proceeded to more drastic measures. "What's on that little mind of yours?"

"Just..." A nervous tick flared, your fingers finding friction against each other to ease it. "How can you tell if you're a good person?"

"What are you an idiot? I love you. That’s how. You're kind and funny and intelligent and creative and fair-minded and all that good stuff." The question was obvious to Hoseok, so much so that he carried on loosening his muscles for dance practice.

You always sat in on his practices when possible, finding comfort in watching Hoseok move so freely, so determined. It impressed you how he made passion into a precision. Something so prone to growing rampantly, like a wildfire, restrained through the way he controlled his body movements. It was like he wielded passion the way a god would.

"I just don't get why though." You leaned against the mirror, exasperated by the vagueness of it all.

"God, Taehyung really did a number on you. Only someone so self-involved and immature and straight up stupid could not love someone like you." This began to swallow you in a well acquainted guilt where gratefulness was supposed to be, like you were tricking him into praising you. His kindness sat in your stomach like rotting food.

"Hobi..." You scolded despite the fact that he had done nothing to warrant it.

"Okay, you're right, let's not get into that now." Hoseok straightened himself, reoccupying where he stood so tall. Arms outstretched, ready to consume the world like prey.

It's what he always looked like when he was about to dance.

"Places!" The instructor’s voice filled the silence. Not long after, music took its place.

Right as everyone settled into position, the door swung open. A panicked series of footsteps and a haphazard toss of what sounded like a bag followed. Your focus busied itself with sketching because warmups we're not particularly engaging for you to watch.

"Oh, good afternoon!" The instructor was startled, but still maintained the patience to be welcoming. "Glad you could join us. Please, find a spot and begin warming up."

Their shoes shuffled along the practice room, a humble gratitude expressed by the swiftness in which they obliged.

"Hey, Hoseok!" Your brows pulled together when they spoke.

It couldn't have been.

"Jimin, what's up!" Your eyes tore from your sketch pad only to find Hoseok exchanging an informal handshake with none other than Jimin. It surprised you less that Hoseok had already been acquainted, being that socializing was a necessity no different than air to him.

Is this a joke? You questioned the mercilessness of the world. The more you saw him, the harder it was to shed the fondness pulling at the seams of your willpower.

It took a mere two seconds for Jimin to recognize the only person sitting among the piles of bags and discarded sweatshirts. It took much longer to release from him the mix of intrigue and delight that held his gaze captive on you.

He mouthed your name, partnered it with a coy nod before cutting his attention back to the lesson. The downturn of your eyes only accentuated the smile you were trying to dilute.

You selected your next move carefully, similar to how one would play a game of chess. A modest nod pawned back to him, timed perfectly to when you secured his attention again. He grinned without the boldness to look directly at you. Then, a flicker of hope that this meant a small victory lulled your nerves to rest.

You wondered if these uncanny collisions with him would become a routine. This man collecting moments of your life, all to give you a motive to make them worth something. And you realized then there was this feeling posed where you couldn't quite reach. Perhaps it was eagerness, a moment teeming with potential.

Throughout the practice, parceling your attention to anything but Jimin was hard. Whenever he had returned to you through gazes, your eyes retreated to the wall or your sketchbook.

But you pocketed every chance you could to take him in. Jimin was the only person that made you consider more carefully who the best dancer you could name was. Hoseok was still your favorite, of course, but any attempts to insist that Jimin couldn't move just as fluently in this art was denial at its weakest.

Every arch and extension he wielded as though his body was designed to move only to melodies. His arms were loyal to the choreography, but there was always a glint of reinvention embodied by his movements. Where Hoseok sharpened himself like a blade to the music, Jimin softened himself, the way a tree allowed winds to tangle through the leaves. It was full of a delicate generosity, an openness. He must earn applause not only for admiration, rather gratitude for being able to witness him dance.

Jimin was beautiful.

When the practice ended, you felt an urgency to restrain every feeling you encountered while watching Jimin. Quickly, you buried your belongings into your bag so as to not invite him over with your idling.

"I'm so tired." Hoseok elongated his speech, making it clear that even talking was too strenuous. The rest of his body surrendered to the fatigue building in his muscles. "Carry me home?"

"You know I can't but you did great today."

"Mmm... Thanks ___." You laughed softly. Tired Hoseok was hardly distinguishable from drunk Hoseok.

And there he was. Hair worn in from a one hour practice, somehow draped gracefully along his forehead, sweat-soaked shirt carving out his chest a little too tastefully. If you could've brought yourself to look away, you would have.

It was easy to ignore how the students' exhaustion translated as a potent thickness in the air, even how Hoseok's sweat invaded your skin where he leaned his head. It seemed everything that would normally bother you had reduced into unintelligible noise. There was no room for doubt. The answer always seemed to be him.

Before you were able to plot an escape, Jimin made his way over to you, mouth slightly hung and chest rising and falling with intention to circulate energy back into himself.

"Are you following me?" His attention wouldn't budge from you, even with a half-conscious man leaning on your shoulder.

"What was it? Oh right 'I was here first... you're impeding on me'. Is that how you said it?" You laced smugness into your voice like a drug, all the more intoxicating to Jimin.

"You're funny, you know that?" He'd squatted down to your level, now unable to ignore the intimacy passing through the bodies you and your best friend. Jimin could deduce he wasn't your boyfriend, being that you were currently heartbroken and too considerate to reduce someone into a rebound. However, his stomach fell when he saw you exchange a closeness he hadn't gained yet.

He was never one to get jealous, especially over someone that owed no loyalty to him. Even so, it was hard to not cross that bridge with you.

"This is Hoseok, but it seems you know him already." You jerked your shoulder to wake him, only for his head to limply drop back onto you. "We've been friends since high school."

"Ah, how sweet. Small world." You gathered that your response soothed him in some way. Likely because you were expectant of that reaction. Another moment stashed in your favor. "We met last year in an intermediate dance class."

"Yeah Jimin's pretty cool. I feel like we taught each other so much last year." Hoseok chimed in.

"Yeah, you were really great." You hoped this comment sounded casual, uncommitted. But from the way your heart nearly broke through bone, you knew it didn't. Jimin snuck you a smile. It looked selective, a gesture to deepen the feelings making waves in the air.

"How do you and ___ know each other?" Hoseok's question was innocent enough, not without making it clear he wanted details. Excruciatingly specific details.

"We met at a cafe. They were dawdling in line so I practically had to force them to let me buy their drink if I wanted to get mine." A grin strapped onto his lips. He aimed it at you in such a rehearsed manner. "And we just talked for a bit."

"Ah, ___, why didn't you tell me about this?" Whatever his tone had suggested, you feigned ignorance to it, and it had Hoseok and Jimin toppling over in anticipation. You were now compelled to choose what you said wisely, decisively. You kept flitting your eyes between the other two, hoping they would land at some point.

"I-" You pressed your lips tight. "It must've slipped my mind."

Hoseok garnered some energy, picking through the scarcity of words to unveil the things you and Jimin wanted each other to know without giving sound to them.

"Yeah, the bridge must have slipped your mind too, huh?" Jimin cleared the view of his forehead, hand seeking refuge in the lovely field of his hair. Your face stiffened to bury the smile threatening your lips.

"Must have."

"Bridge? What bridge?" Hoseok traded off between you and Jimin, neither of you could bring yourselves to break away from this standoff. "There was a bridge?"

"There was a bridge, indeed." He flirted with admittance, waiting for you to comply. Waiting to see how easily you'd confess to those coveted moments being known to the world, and all the more real because of it.

"Jimin, how long have you been a dancer?" You figured deflection had been your only option. Jimin tucked his head down, a smile most likely being shed in this position.

"Since I was about ten. I started in ballet, but slowly worked my way around to contemporary and hip-hop." He responded when he lifted his head back to you and Hoseok.

"You know, that's what I love about your dancing. You're so versatile." When it came to dance, Hoseok's seal of approval was rare. You'd only witnessed its appearance twice in your time knowing him.

The first was when your friendship was still new, the borders of your closeness still a bit unrefined. He was explaining how his dance teacher had been the one to inspire him to pursue it professionally. You took note of how his eyes blazed, honored to be caught in the fire. The second had a much more bitter tinge to it. A competition, one you couldn't even remember the name of, ended with Hoseok's peculiar silence as he turned the bronze medal over and over in his hand. You were giving him a ride home when he admitted defeat to the one that earned the gold, accompanied with a vow that someday he'd be the dancer others would have to overcome. The flame in his eyes was fed such fierce resolve, and still hungered for more.

"Thank you." Jimin was nothing if not cognizant. His eyes nearly pressed close from how wide he smiled. "You really inspire me, honestly."

You were pleasantly surprised how quick they took to talking, sinking into the background as they carried into conversation that permitted your silence, courtesy of your lack of dance knowledge.

Half of you tried to keep up with what they were saying, a nod here and there to feign engagement with the mess of dance terms. The other half tormented with an insatiable need to figure out Jimin. With every interaction, he unfolded more of him, meaning there would always be something to keep your heels from touching the ground. You hoped to find a crack, any break that would volunteer some hint of what else he had in store. And you also hoped you wouldn’t, setting aside agency over what excited you; the unknown nature of whatever Jimin meant to you delivered a complicated position for you to fill.

You resented yourself for what had always been around the corner from excitement: remembrance.

A sudden but familiar mourning crashed into you like a bird falling mid-flight. There was one person you had known so well. Someone that nullified any need to guess. The knowing of a person, of the private moments only to be shared through intimacy, of hearts precisely sure where to love someone, it could cast loneliness into a graveyard. This emptiness you weathered felt so full. It resurrected that loneliness in you, your body one long hall for it to haunt.

Two years ago

“I can't believe you convinced me to do this! This is so stupid!” Your pleas fell short, not even reaching his ears. The waves had drowned words. You worried that you were next. “What if we die?”

The cliff overlooked the Pacific. The very edge of land, a world you knew coming to a stop, giving way to water. It wasn't very high up, admittedly, an altitude that barely reached fifty feet hadn't deserved so much fear. That didn’t stop your pulse from turning into an unruly mess of panic. You turned to him, unable to meet his smile with one of your own. Taehyung ran his thumb over your brow, tense from worry. It only made him smile harder and fall in love with you more. 

“I’d never let anything bad happen to you, ___!” Taehyung’s arm, as though it was a device to locate your fear, warmed the part of you he had sheltered. “Trust me, okay? If you get scared, squeeze my hand. And when I squeeze back, It means you’re safe. it means…”

He paused, pressing his lips against yours, slow and intrepid, “I love you.” 

It was the first time he said it. Whether it was the way your eyes made the salt in the air taste sweet, or how your hand tightened around his like an instinct, Taehyung knew regret was far more difficult to shake than fear. He had to say it, had to make it known to you.

And your body seemed to align with that same truth. The waves, though treacherous and unwavering, did not carry the same bite to them. You peered over the edge, squeezing tight to the hand in yours, and when you felt it squeeze back all the fear that once detained you had sunk, been swallowed by something far more emphatic than any ocean.

“I love you too.” In unison, two bodies leapt into the chaos as though they were powerful enough to subdue it, or perhaps, become a part of it. The tides ushered your bodies with an intent to pull you in deeper, however your hand remained with his. That same force, the one that helped you jump from a cliff, the one that tread alongside the chaos of water, the one that loved Taehyung, was an anchor that you believed would hold you secure in the ocean with him.  

Hoseok was the first to locate your somber resignation and through a silent alarm, Jimin squared his focus back to your face, glossed over with grief. Both battling off worry in their own ways, Jimin found a release by checking his phone, acting as though time had gotten away from him. It's not that he didn't want to be there for you, to ask you to unfold the pain you felt, to feel it with you like he’d done at the bridge. He did, however he knew it would be more appropriate if Hoseok filled that role. He knew he had to wait until you were the one to ask.

"Today was fun. Nice seeing you, Hoseok." He suddenly felt so mismatched. Eyes following how Hoseok's arms enveloped into warmth, it was an invitation not yet extended to him. "___, take care. I'll see you around."

"Bye, Jimin." You broke yourself in two trying to act normal. If you could speak without crying, you would have asked him to stay. Your hand tightened around the air you wished was him instead.

"See you next week." Hoseok said, cheer still lingering in his voice. He hadn’t spent any additional time letting your change in temperament go unattended. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Really, you don't have to ask every time. It's always the same thing." You pleaded in a way that insinuated this was some sort of favor. He knew it wasn't.

"I just..." Hoseok wilted as he felt your body lean away from him. "We need to figure something out."

"I know." Only you didn't. You couldn't possibly piece together what could be done.

"Hmm, there's this party." On cue, two sets of eyebrows moved in opposite directions. Yours sinking and his climbing. "No, listen-"

"No..."

"C'mon, just like one hour!"

"Hobi." Whenever you whined, it meant there was allowance for persuasion.

"I'll be with you the whole time, swear!" Hoseok's hands cupped yours. "Don't you wanna celebrate being back in school?"

"Why would I want to celebrate that?" You argued even though your cynicism never carried enough potency with Hoseok.

"Because! It'll be fun." Hoseok pulled a shield over his ears when he wanted something.

A beat of anticipation passed. You rolled your eyes in defeat because how could you let his eyes limp on the ends and his mouth hang in such a heart wrenching way.

"Fine." Hoseok cheered himself into wakefulness. Already prattling on about the plans, the pre-gaming, the outfits.

This, you thought, was rewarding enough. His eyes became a house of stars while his smile reached to his ears. Hoseok was happy, and it miraculously made way for you to be as well.

╌──────────═❁═──────────╌

It’s not that you thought this wouldn’t happen, just that you knew you would never be able to arm enough resistance to the gravity Taehyung seemed to have on you.

There he was. A stunning ray of light dressing him like a saint. You played out what would have happened two months ago. There would be a kiss before a verbal hello. A hand remaining at the small of your back, holding to make sure you would stay close. Love exchanged through a single glance, so palpable you would inhale something denser than air. It was almost impossible to remember why such a connection could waiver, let alone collapse completely.

You were already making your way back home and you didn't want cowardice to strand you in an unplanned detour. No, you were going to face this pain. The damage seemed to ricochet a bloodthirsty bullet in the caverns of your chest when you tried to avoid it anyway. Taehyung's notice of you was tardy, just a second too late to pretend he hadn't.

He hadn't been able to fully drain the life from you, leaving your mass of flesh half-alive, panting like unfinished prey. His hands were still red either way. It's what made seeing you feel vindicating. Him, faced with the aftermath of a mercy kill denied.

"H- hi."

"Hey."

The ice felt so unbroken, frost hardly even brushed away.

"How are you?" He winced at his own question.

"You know. Getting by." Your knuckles had turned white. It matched accordingly with your shallow breathing. "You?"

"Yeah, uh- same. Just preparing for the school semester and all." He was an artist as well.

It was actually what brought the two of you together. He asked for an extra pencil from you in class one day, bartering a boxy grin to repay the favor. Your eyes were still fresh, absorbent of the beauty the world had to offer. You loved the kind of beauty he offered.

"Mm. I hope everything worked out with getting your classes." You couldn't help but reference a time when menial information like a class schedule and a good meal at lunch were things you kept tabs on.

"Thanks. It did work out since a few students dropped classes last minute." He auctioned off a pained smile. You sighed and wished he hadn't.

"Good. That must be relieving."

You were frugal with your eye contact, gaze warily hoarding itself against the floor. Whether this was to protect you or him was unclear. How could you weigh the severity of earning unwanted pity against the punitive fear that he would not care at all? Both resulted with betrayal exploring the parts of you that had somehow remained unscathed.

"Yeah for sure." Both of your voices were forced, held at gunpoint but unsure of who exactly commanded the weapon. "Listen, ___, I've- um, I've been wanting to talk to you."

"About?"

"Um..." His hesitation was rewarding, shamefully so. You wanted to make him say it, to voice the ugliness of it all. How criminal he must feel, seeing you limp through the world, searching for whatever you lost that made his love deter. "You know. About... everything."

"Taehyung." Before, you only said his full name when circumstances called for sternness. Now, it was the default. The kindness with which you addressed him drowned somewhere between the initial heartbreak and the fourth night spent emptying yourself of him through tears. "I can't really do this right now."

"I didn't mean right now, just sometime." Maybe a week ago, you'd fold yourself in half trying to fit into his life. You'd take out a notepad, write down all the things that went wrong so you could fix it.

But you didn't want to be fixed for him, not when he was the one who broke the two of you.

"Tae..." His nickname slipped out like acid. You had to release how it burned in your mouth one way or another.

"Please? There's just so much I want you to know." He punctuated his gaze on your boots, the ones he gifted to you last Christmas. "Please?"

It was selfish, rash. You'd finally gained an ounce of momentum. It wasn't always much help but it was something. Would he really be cruel enough to lay waste to it all? Just because he wanted you to know the gritty details of how he now found you to be unlovable?

You do not have to be good. His words were a lullaby that breathed for you when your lungs could not.

"I-" You felt frustrated with him, released something once held hostage. "Can you just respect that I might not be ready?"

You ignored the sting of guilt when he nodded so hastily.

"Yeah, sorry. You're right. I'm sorry" He was profuse with his remorse. Again, you wanted him to stop.

"It's fine." You said quietly.

"It's just... seeing you now," There had been a twitch in his arm, a motion overruled. You wondered if it was to reach out to you. "All I want is for you to be okay, ___."

"Thanks." This conversation began to run stale. You adjusted your bag, somewhat of a prompt for Taehyung to bid his farewells. "I'll let you know."

It was a promise already half broken.

"Okay." He exhaled. "I'll see you around, ___."

"Yeah, for sure." Whatever love you still felt for him was undetectable, buried deep beneath the rest of your feelings for him. Not all of them were bad, but certainly overpowering and abstaining from anything close to love.

Taehyung watched you leave and still so much of you stayed with him. He hadn't noticed how long it's been since your voice had touched his ears, hadn't realized, until now, that he missed it. He didn't know what to do with this, so he did nothing and hoped complacency would work out this time.

As you left, the pain grew a little quieter. It felt empowering to be the one that walked away. You never realized how much bravery there was in this until now, how your legs continued forward as some sort of defiance to the rattling of your heart, the shivers running along your skin. It was the same feeling of when you jumped off that cliff all those years ago with him. But there was no cliff. Just a person who walked away and hadn't needed an entire ocean nor his loving hand to consume fear.

╌──────────═❁═──────────╌

Dusk casted a blueness onto everything. It reminded you of the lost things, not just in your life, but everyone's. The forgotten things, abandoned things, things sacrificed and things surrendered. In some strange way, it helped to cope with loneliness, the idea that you were not the only lost thing in this world.

It was cold, a bit disheartening you had grown to feel so comfortable in this. Taehyung tinted the life you had shared, so much that you had forgotten what it looked like without him. You missed how he rested his head in your lap, how he turned his head into your hand when it brushed through his hair, how he used the backside of his fingertips to graze your cheek. It was a source of comfort and safety specific to you, but as you sat on your couch in the fetal position, you had no agency to stop him from doing the same thing to someone else's cheek.

You missed loving someone so fully, missed how it meant you were needed because it made you feel like something.

Now, you asked yourself, what could you be if not a home for his soul? More importantly, where had yours gone?

All these years, you were busy being someone else's. You dedicated yourself to others, set aside your own appetite for reciprocity, as though you could repay the absence of love by doubling down with yours.

Sure, you felt the cracks along your bones, felt the quiet exhaustion in your chest. However, you also felt the necessity to please, the gratification of sacrifice; it drove you this far in life all to break apart.

"Fuck." You released a deep exhale as your fingertips mimicked Taehyung's. If you closed your eyes, it was almost like it was really him performing that small gesture of love along your tear ridden cheek. Almost.

There was one person, besides Hoseok, that never took from you what they couldn't return.

Before you could convince yourself not to, your hand had already dialed in Jimin's number. And without attempting to rationalize it, you called him.

The rings felt like an alarm, warning you to end the call.

The ringing ceased, your pulse raged through your body.

"Hello? Who is this?"

"Hi." You said instead, knowing it confessed what you couldn't say out loud.

"___." He said, as though he was expecting this. And for some reason, it eased you.

Your hand dropped from your cheek.

"How are you?" He asked without sounding burdened by the unplanned call.

"I'm fine."

"Really?"

"Mhm."

"You called me just to say 'I'm fine' and 'mhm'?" He laughed fondly.

"Um... It's stupid, really. I- uh- wanted to hear your voice."

His laugh, even as it filtered through the phone, was lively, colorful. The room around you was a bit less blue, you could have sworn it. You had to stop yourself from thanking him out loud.

"It's not stupid. It's sweet."

"It's not... really. If I'm being honest, it's selfish. I'm just..." You sucked some air in. "Lonely."

His pause meant many things to you, all at once. Even in silence, you felt so much to decipher with him.

"I'm sorry. I get lonely too." Another part of him served to you, eager to be devoured. If a man like Jimin could be lonely, maybe you weren’t a lost cause.

"I guess it's pretty normal. To feel alone."

"Yeah, but it shouldn't be." 

"Yeah." Your voice was feeble.

"Hey, can I tell you something?" He asked.

"Sure."

"I'm selfish too." Jimin said this quietly, a hushed guilt overlayed his voice.

"How?"

"You remind me of someone. Someone I miss a lot."

"Oh."

"They passed away."

"Oh."

"Does that scare you?"

"No,” You contemplated. “I wouldn't use that word."

"Okay, that's good."

"Was it someone close?"

"The closest."

"That's really heartbreaking. I'm so sorry, Jimin."

"Thank you." He wasn't sure where his gratefulness came from, just that when you saw his pain he felt the need to thank you for it. "They were an artist. Just like you."

"When you said you like me..." You hated yourself for needing to ask.

"Yeah?"

"It was them you liked? Them you were looking for?"

"Well... Not exactly but... I... maybe a bit."

Your skin softened like a bruise. It wasn't betrayal, but it wasn’t exactly virtuous either. You wished it just felt okay, endearing to be someone that resembled such a beloved person in his life. You wished it felt like admiration only, and not another proposition to lessen yourself for the sake of someone else. 

You weren't sure if you were justified in feeling this, but you couldn't stop yourself from hurting.

He wasn't sure if he truly wanted you to become a replacement for his friend, but if you started to, he wouldn't know if he'd be able to stop you. If he'd want to.

"I see."

"I-" The panic was palpable, dry. It drained the simplicity that once made sense of the world, the one Jimin breathed life into just to drown it again. "I still like you though. You, not just because of the person I miss. I know it's not the same. You just remind me of them, that's all."

You wanted to be so much more than a reminder of someone who he missed loving, someone he needed back. But you were afraid of even having this desire. These tears were viscous, dread sinking down your face, wet and brutal. And at the same time, you were guilty just as much as he was. Had you not been tracing along the lines Taehyung had drawn first, just moments ago been failing to replicate an intimacy that you felt could be satiated through hearing his voice? 

You wanted to accept this part of life, the part that was messy. For once, you wanted to be messy, to create havoc with Jimin and walk away unconcerned with who would be the one to clean it all up. Everything in you felt a strong gravitation to forgive what hadn't been apologized for, to put those parts of his grief he could no longer carry into your own hands, to hold it for him just so he could know weightlessness again. The same way he had recolored the word for you.

How bad could the mess be if it was so beautiful and light?

"No, don't say sorry, please. I’m flattered, I think." You muted your microphone, let yourself weep with slightly more sound. Your pain could not be known. Partly because it hadn’t felt right to let it be. Mostly because you were scared. "I'm just... I'm sorry. Who was this person?"

"A dear friend. I'd known them for so long. We grew up together. Shared so much. I never thought I'd have to live life without them. I'm not sure I know how to." There had been a gentle tremor in his voice, though it was not out of fear. He did not agonize over judgment, not with you. Perhaps it's because he somehow knew when he spoke, it felt like he was reciting your own thoughts back to you.

"How long ago was it?"

"Two years ago."

"I'm sure it must not feel that way."

"Yeah... You know, I haven't taken a picture since?" He admitted and almost laughed at his own absurdity.

"Why's that?"

"It would require me to open my photo album, to see all the pictures we had. There's so many. I can't even bring myself to look." This was only half of the story. The other part was that he didn't want to capture life through photos and suddenly make it real. His camera roll void of moments that were without them. He never left denial. It was the safest stage of grief. One that did not catalyze death.

"Jesus. I know grief never really stops, but it doesn't even slow down, huh?"

"Pretty much. Um-" His voice didn't have the strength to silence his pain and neither did his eyes. "We used to always go to this cafe together, even when we were definitely too young to go alone. Our parents weren't the most careful, but that's another story. Anyway, it was always like a safe place for us, a second home. They took me there when I got in this huge fight with my dad, bought me hot chocolate. And I took them there when they came out to their parents, and were threatened to be sent away to some camp. It was an empty threat, but still. It was uh, actually the cafe we met at.

It's dumb, frankly. I just sit in there for hours and hope that maybe, if I wait long enough, they'll walk through the door and everything will be normal again. I'd get to see their smile. Hear their laugh, talk about their day. I could wait forever, live off scones and lattes. I still remember their drink order, still want to order it when I order my own."

"Jimin. It's not dumb at all. It's quite possibly the most devastatingly beautiful and human thing to do." It was out in the open now, the way you were weeping for him. No possible way to hide it, not when he'd offered such genuine pain to you. You tried to picture everything he told you, to honor the life that had been lost by making it real in your head, making them exist in the world even more by searing it into your memory. You felt it was the least you could do.

"Think so?" He didn't want to talk over the phone anymore. Now, he wanted to be able to see your face, whatever it could reveal to him, perhaps wipe your tears away. "I've never told anyone this. I'm sure they wouldn't see it the way you do."

You thought it parallel to a crime to know what Jimin does and think of it as anything but the utmost act of love.

"This whole time, it must have been so confusing for you. So hard to find hope. So lonely. And still, you're this... you're kind and unafraid of love, even when the worst of life tries to destroy the very idea of it. You're the one mourning someone, and you still listen to me cry over a stupid boy who broke up with me." You laughed, not out of humor. Perhaps remorse or irony. "I- It's unfair, someone like you had to go through this. All that love you have. I wish you had somewhere to put it."

"You-." Even though the subject matter had been locked in the rawest, most painful part of him, he felt warmth, felt your care blossoming in him like Spring. "I feel so seen with you, ___. I can't tell you how much it means to me. How much you mean to me."

"You... mean a lot to me too, Jimin."

It was true, he meant a lot. The fine print of said meaning was something you decided not to examine. For now.

╌──────────═❁═──────────╌

You already knew Jimin would be at the party. Hoseok was always so quick to share intel about the social life you were never so keen on. You could only contribute to socialization within the parameters of Hoseok. With him, you'd been able to hold conversations, elicit a laugh or two, garner acquaintances that exchanged nods as you passed by them on campus. Though, nothing seemed to stick with you. Those connections were a spark bound to fade.

This made you wonder how long it would take for Jimin's interest in you to expire. Even though you knew your connection with him was much deeper, you saved room for disappointment. Old habits die hard and this one felt immortal.

Your clothes could barely do its job tonight. Resting slightly askew, seams etching discomfort along your sides at just the right angle. But you'd already tried using this as an excuse to skip the party. The taxi two minutes away from the address denoted how weakly your complaints pushed against Hoseok. He knew how hollow they were, and hadn't bothered refuting such backless protests.

The music spilled from any opening that would allow it. There was some form of chaos contained in the house before you and Hoseok. You were incredibly out of your depth, hand gripping your friend's forearm. He winced, trying to fend off the slight burn at the sinking of your fingernails.

"Alright. Game plan." He turned to you. "Let's immediately try to find something to get us more drunk."

You nodded along like a cadet following orders. It made Hoseok chuckle, seeing you stiff and earnest.

"Just relax, ___" He ran his hands up and down your arms. "We already had like two or so shots, it shouldn't be too hard to get tipsy enough to enjoy ourselves."

You appreciated how he used inclusive language like 'we' and 'our'. The two of you, a team. He involved himself in your feelings, ensuring you never actually took to heart how truly out of place you were.

"Sure, sure." Your agreement only surfaced because of a six-year and counting trust in him. "Just need to find some vodka or something."

"Yes! God, I love drunk ___. You get so giggly and excited." He smiled, leading the way to the front door.

Inside, a tumultuous scene laid out like a battlefield. There was nonstop movement, a body always knocking into another, a place more exciting than the last. Your hopes to source any kind of alcohol began to recede. It wasn't a particularly overpopulated party, but you could feel the hunger, how rapidly these people took to abandoning their sobriety.

"Follow me!" He hitched his voice to a half-scream, barking an order that sounded more like a warning since he held your hand tightly and began dragging you mid-sentence.

"Okay!" You were lucky to be caught in Hoseok's wake. A few unknown faces recognized him, making way with an eager greeting.

"Hoseok, what's up?"

"Hoseok! Finally showed up!"

Many more renditions of these circulated on the way to find drinks. One person, however, hadn't crossed paths with you yet. You warded off disappointment through your continual search for him.

The mini bar sat against the back wall of the room, a few people departing as quickly as they approached. To your delight, it was still stocked, generously so.

"Who the hell is hosting this party?" This question was provoked by the sheer amount of alcohol and variety in this corner of the world.

"Honestly? Not too sure, but they're probably rich as fuck." He responded, already sifting through the options.

"Hey, glad the two of you made it." This was the first person to signify your presence, acknowledge your quiet company with Hoseok. You knew it had to be him. You knew, because suddenly, you captured that rare sense of belonging.

"Jimin!" Hoseok may have voiced excitement, but it had not surmounted yours. As you turned to him, you felt your words catch in your throat.

It was nothing spectacular, nothing you'd remember on anyone else. His hair styled in a way that accentuated the beauty dressing his features like a picture frame. His loosely fitted button up, undone at the top, sleeves folded halfway up his forearms, revealing just enough to want more.

"Hey!"

"Hi!"

The two of you had indecisively stood across from one another, unsure where to go from here. Your bodies a soft rebellion to the movement surrounding you. How easy it would have been to reach out, collect his warmth as your own through embrace.

Hoseok broke the stillness, handing both of you a shot glass full of something clear and pungent. Jimin watched you take it from him, steadying Hoseok's erratic movements with your palms, hands so gentle they made him into something delicate, soft, easily broken, and yet shielded from harm by how your fingers curled over his skin. He watched, treading in wonder of what it felt like to be touched in such a manner by you.

"Okay, cheers!" You spoke through a laugh, interrupting Jimin's reverie.

The shot slid like hot coal down your throat. Hoseok's face contracted into itself while you steadied your breathing to keep it from coming back up. The punishing taste nearly made all this not worth the trouble. But tonight, you wanted to breathe again, to throw fear in the air, even if it meant there would be a crash landing. Tonight, you left your grief waiting at the door. Jimin had done the same.

"Okay another!" 

"Damn, ___! I didn't expect you to be such a..." Jimin cautioned, making note of your spirited smile, "wild card."

"Oh this?" You'd finished pouring a second shot, holding out the bottle to the lip of his glass, alcohol eager to fill the emptiness. "This is just free therapy."

"___'s kidding. Kind of. It's like the only idea I had left that might pull them out of their slump." Hoseok explained.

"Ah, yes. The heartbreak." Jimin spoke as though it was an admittance to something.

"He knows?"

"He does." You confessed on behalf of him.

"How?"

"The bridge."

"The bridge." Hoseok's emphasis on the word assigned notoriety to that moment that was now referred to as ‘The Bridge’. Had your eyes been on Hoseok's investigative grin, you would have been more subtle. Jimin was too magnetizing. An affair of longing and reticence traveling from your smile to his.

"You know, I'm very excited to see how this goes." Jimin toasted, another shot of liquid courage burying your inhibitions as you gulped it down.

The three of you basked in laughter, excavating a bit of the tension. The fragments of your joy felt so complete with them, pulling from the bottom of your gut and falling into your hands like a long lost friend.

About three more shots in, you had to allocate more attention on where your feet landed. Your hands frantic for a crutch when your head couldn't provide stability or balance. Hoseok would be given hell for breaking the pact, wandering into the dance scene when he heard his favorite song playing. But you had Jimin, and Hoseok must've known that there was security for you in that, one more reason, besides him, to stay.

"Jimin!" Words sloppy and undressed of reserve, you let them rise from a part of you not often shown to the public eye. "You know something about you!"

"What? Tell me." He smiled. Tequila was a convenient scapegoat for how his hand found comfort on the groove of your waist, how your body curved against the invisible partition once held firm by sobriety. Jimin labored to keep his heart rhythmic upon feeling your torso fitting into the crooks of his so neatly.

"You, Jimin," Your hand slammed into his chest, "You are very, very troublesome for me."

"Why's that?" A glint of hope painted his words. His cheeks were a shade of desire that nearly formed a plea in the soft, pink expanse.

"Because..." The fabric of his shirt was welcoming as you inched your hand lightly along it just to feel the texture, and nothing else. At least, that's what you told yourself. "I was safe."

"What do you mean?" Curiosity settled in.

"I was safe," You rolled your head off kilter, a result of the drunken lapse in your neck muscles. His hand was quick to cradle your head back to the close quarters. "I was just in my own little world... I could just mope around all day. I was so close to being okay with loneliness. And then you came along."

You felt that your skin being the only part of you shared with him was not enough now. The boundaries contrived of fear had withered, and holding your bodies tightly together hadn't sufficed for the closeness you craved. You wanted to feel him in ways not derived from physicality, like if you pressed your hand deep enough into his chest, it would be no different than his own beating heart.

He had a mole on his neck. For some reason, you loved that he had a mole on his neck. Your finger had disobediently grazed against it. He tried not to let it show physically how it excited him, but you took notice of his Adam's apple rising then falling.

"Jimin." His name formed like a prayer in your mouth. "What do I do now that you've become a part of my world?"

"I-" He took in air sharply through a clenched jaw, hoping courage would follow suit. "I can't decide that for you."

Jimin embarked on his usual journey along your face, drifting down to your lips and staying there uncharacteristically long. They twitched under the cinch of his eyes.

"Hey." You whispered. "Can I- I want to..."

Before continuing, you drew in close. You barely spared any space between your soft breath and the shell of his ear.

"Kiss you."

"Yes." He swallowed what was left of his dignity and let the chill of how your fingers ghosted along his neck calm him. "I mean... please. I want you."

"Jimin." You pleaded back, only to make him, this moment, more real from the utterance of his name.

His thumb flushed restraint away from you, sliding down the curve of your cheek and gliding across your lower lip. There might have been a better, more responsible way to release the pressure building between two bodies needing more from one another. However, it didn't matter. Not when your thoughts stilled, when he took his lower lip between his teeth in an effort to make himself pliant so you could decide what was going to happen, when the world quieted into a whisper, then silence.

A collision transpired, erupting from the friction of your lips tangling messily, greedily into Jimin's.

He kissed you the same way he danced, soft and experienced, as though this was something he had rehearsed for. How many times had this moment been a fantasy starved in Jimin's mind? You couldn't bring yourself to find an answer, to care. When the warm flush of his tongue introduced itself to you, everything in you was dedicated to giving sustenance to him.

His hands held you, moving in ways that only brought you closer. Jimin was pulling threads loose, unraveling into a mess that only knew how to want you. Your back was warm where his need pressed into you, and you returned the favor with how your hands brushed into his hair.

"___." His voice, echoing into you, speaking life into you. Reinventing you, through the way he said your name. "Not bad too bad of a kisser."

Both your eyes had been lidded, found it difficult to open them and make what just happened real. But he knew your smile emerged, feeling your lips stretch into joy.

"Shut up." You nudged him. And when his body leaned, yours followed, crashing against him like a tide on the shore. You opened your eyes, feeling emboldened yet slightly unprepared. "Jimin."

Open your eyes, you pleaded, I want this to be real. I want to be found by you, now.

And when he did, his finger wiped a tear away, one that did not ask permission to fall. Something in your body had sunken and fear had infiltrated where desire had once sat. What could he possibly find in you that Taehyung couldn't? What could you be for him if not the remnants of someone he loved more? This was maybe too advantageous, too much for your brokenness, his brokenness to handle. You cried harder, but remained soundless.

I'm falling out of love with you.

What if it happened again?

"Don't cry. I'll shut up, if that's really what you want." His joke landed him another smile from you. "Did I- Was this not okay? Not what you wanted?"

"No!" You said with such immediacy. "I- it's exactly what I wanted. I'm-"

"What's wrong?" You hated when he did this. When the confusion, the implausibility of it all had lost its stake. His tone, it was comforting, tempting and made this so difficult.

"I don't know. But there's something wrong with this... with us." You'd stopped trying to figure out the tears, but he had not stopped his hands from cleaning up the mess of frustration falling against your cheeks.

"Why? Why does there have to be? Why can't it just be simple? Just a person who kisses another person. Why can't it be right for you?" He sounded more like he was trying to convince himself of this.

"It's just not, okay? I haven't figured it all out but it's not. There's too many things. Both with me and you." Jimin winced when you freed yourself from his arms as though you'd severed off a body part of his own.

"___. Don't do this. Just stay." He managed to grab hold of your hand, holding tightly. Holding, thinking it was the only way to keep his limbs intact. "Please, stay."

"I can't. It would be too hard..." You ran your thumb over the back of his hand, trying to soak in what he felt like. "to keep myself from you. And when- if I kiss you again..."

Jimin's eyes set fire to the spark in your body.

"I want it to be right. For the both of us." Your feet found its grip, all the empty noise clearing away for your voice. Because you knew you were right, you hadn't felt this determined for something in a long time. Whatever it meant to make this moment right, it would be something you found out for yourself.

"If that's what you need." His lips pursed. Words he'd wanted to say sealed for your sake. "Can I see you again soon, at least?"

"Of course." Your hand fell to your side, finally, resigning once again to solitude.

He nodded, already forgiving towards the things he never knew he could miss from someone other than his late friend. You saw hope strangled into disappointment. You wanted so badly to keep true to this promise, only if fear would allow such grace.

"Bye, Jimin." His heart jumped. There was a faint finality in your farwell.

"Bye , ___." He watched you leave, losing sight as your body was swallowed by the crowd. It looked the way the light filters through the trees, like starlight that finds a pocket to hide in during the day.

You found it was easier to just let the crowd move you rather than moving yourself. You knew it would land you somewhere on the outside of the mess of dancing and laughing and talking. On the way, you spotted Hoseok, smiling and dancing so radiantly.

"Hobi!"

"___!" He grabbed both your hands, leading you into a groove to the music.

"Very funny." You played along for a bit, only because you hadn't been able to spend a lot of time with him. "Hey, listen! I'm gonna go!"

"What?" He bent down so he was in a better earshot of you.

"I'm leaving! Going home!" The frenetic swaying around you only reminded you of why.

"Why?" His voice, tense and sharp, made you laugh, only to ease his worry.

"It's okay, Hobi! I had a great time, I'm just tired!"

"Okay well I'm coming with you then, just give me a few." He said decidedly to which you shook your head with more firmness.

"No! You're having fun. I'll be okay." You brought him close, hugging until his body was convinced away from tensing. "I'll text you when I'm home safe."

You knew that offer would deliver the final blow, his protectiveness satiated.

"Okay, love you, ___. Thanks for coming. I hope it helped you."

On the one hand, Taehyung had only entered your mind once tonight. Admittedly, this was an accomplishment to some degree. Memories staying put, for the most part, staying exactly what they were supposed to be: memories, and not the past persisting through grief. Your mind kept busy with more pressing matters.

"I think it did help, actually. There are some things I need to figure out. Love you, Hobi."

He nodded, archiving the questions he'd already begun forming for a later time. You smiled and made your way to the door.

The air was crisp, abundant. A slight breeze pulled the residual heat of the party from your face. You knew things would be different after tonight. Whatever conclusions it could make about Taehyung, or endeavors it would make with Jimin, all that lied so far from where you were now. For now you stood still, eyes shut, and let your hands unfold at your side, waiting to receive.

╌──────────═❁═──────────╌

“I came here as fast as I could.” Hoseok panted out with hands full of two wine bottles and an assortment of snacks. You smiled, even a meek laugh found its way between the fever of your tears. “God, look at you.”

He ushered past you, setting down the empty calories and alcohol on your counter before swiftly wrapping you in his arms. At this, the tears began to grow furious, your breath ruggedly thrashing against your throat and lungs. You weren't sure where exactly your hands were holding, just that they tightened around him, and it felt as though your rage could not hurt the world when he held you like this.

“Hobi…” You said. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?” He tried not to let it scare him, the way remorse plunged a fist into your heart. There was no reason for you to be apologetic towards him, towards anyone. “___, I’m worried for you.”

“Hobi, I just don’t know what to do. Why? Why is this so hard for me? Why can’t I just fucking get over him?” 

“Because, it is hard.” Hoseok’s hand secured your head onto his shoulder, slowly growing damp from being a receptacle for your crying. “I wish I could take your pain away from you. You don’t deserve this. I mean, you guys were planning to build a life together. I saw it too, saw how much dedication your relationship seemed to have.”

Your legs felt weak, burning where the muscles strained to hold you upright. Through instinct alone, Hoseok slowly kneeled to the ground and kept his arms around you, leading you to sit in the nest of his body. He felt this was all he could give you, his entire body. Skin to skin, exacting hollow and desperate demands that some parts of your ache would displace into him. He hoped it would be enough this time around.

“How could he do this?” You spoke rather softly now, the ebbs and flows of your emotions were an unbridled wind storm that had suddenly decided to let the air stay where it was. “Hobi, everytime I try to get over him, I feel this emptiness. It scares me. I feel like I am nothing without him. How did I let that happen? How did I lose myself?”

“Even if you did, lose yourself, that is, that doesn’t mean you are lost completely. Because there’s so much of you that I love, that I have held onto. And I didn’t fall in love with Taehyung’s partner. I fell in love with you. And to me, no matter what, you are always going to be the person I love.” His hand brushed through your hair, repetitive motions that seemed to wash away your anguish. “You’re still my best friend. I think that should count for something. You are so much more than you could ever know. I haven’t lost you yet, and I plan on keeping it that way.”

For a while, both of you had stopped talking. The only sound repelling a stark silence was his soft breathing. 

“___, remember the first dance competition I attended after I got that bronze medal?” He asked. Your lips parted, but sound had receded somewhere deeper than your throat. It was too difficult to reach for it, so instead, you nodded plaintively. “I told my own parents not to come. I was so afraid of losing again. I didn’t want to give anyone except for myself the disappointment of my failure. Of not being good enough."

It surprised you, how openly he spoke about his fears, especially since those fears were surrounding dance. He was perfect, and still he was afraid. The whole world, it seemed, sought safety in their own ways. Even the most skilled dancers could fear a stage.

"I don’t know how the hell you even found the stadium in the first place." He chuckled, the delicate rumble in his chest was nourishing when it echoed through your ear. "But when I finished my performance, there you were. Exactly two rows from the front. You showed up. I remember exactly how I felt. In that moment, I was good enough for you no matter what. I was good enough. You loved me more than I could ever love winning. That’s the kind of person you are. To this day, before my performances, I close my eyes and imagine your little hands clapping like crazy, your eyes entranced with me all those years ago. You’re the reason I still dance today.”

You looked up at him, and him down at you. He smiled because your eyes never changed. The way you looked at him, it never changed at all. “I know it’s hard now. But you will get through this. I know you will. You need to show up for yourself, the way you showed up for me, again and again.”

You couldn’t deny this, deny the friendship that survived the harsh shift of the seasons, and many things do not make it through the Winter. But you and he always had. As your grief ripped through your body like a dam corroding, water pulsing through as though it was your own heartbeat, when the ugliest emotions emptied, you were left with one thing. You were left with love. 

“You’re right. I know I can still do it. I know because I will never stop loving you, Hobi. There’s a lot more I need to figure out, but I’d say that’s a strong start.” Your arms regained something you hadn’t known it was missing, and whatever it was, it allowed you to hold him back, the way he held you. “Thank you, for helping me believe again. For believing in me.”

“That’s just what we do, ___. Always. Promise me when you do find yourself, find whatever you’re looking for, that you’ll let me stay by your side?” He asked out of courtesy, because he already knew your answer, could feel it as your chest rose and fell against his.

“Always.”

╌──────────═❁═──────────╌

Jimin watched the stars vigilantly. There was a credence stressing at the dead center of his eyes. He thought he was going to miss something. Some sort of astronomical miracle. 

He’d never seen a shooting star. It felt juvenile, how he clung to the rail of his apartment, how something so banal was arresting him away from sleep. The breeze snuck beneath his shirt, but he ignored how his body searched for warmth. He needed this tonight, to glean anything but a cold-shouldered stillness in the night sky, to come face to face with something and watch it come alive.

In some impossible way, this might make sense of it all. What he felt for you, what you meant to him, when it's right to hold on, and when it's time to let go. How could he know when his heart was shrouded in grief, when he sought answers in the sky only to uncover even more silence, a galaxy of questions he couldn’t answer. He felt audacious to think the stars uncertain where they were fixed along the dark canvas above. The falling of one would be submission to clarity.

All he knew was that he wanted to call you and that your voice, gentle and steady, was perhaps the only remedy for a silence so formidable. All he knew was that when he reached for an answer himself, he found his hand, instead, reaching for his phone, to call you.

Jimin hadn’t tried guessing what reasons you had to pick up, just that when you did, and your voice heavy with sleep filled his ears, he was grateful to them. 

“Jimin.” You almost sounded pleased. “You know it's two in the morning, right?” 

“I lost track of time.” He said, half-invested in responding to you. 

“Mm.” A pause traveled between your phones. You, tucked under a drowse, felt your eyelids weaken. You spoke, breaking the undefinable silence just to keep awake. “What made you lose track of time so late at night?” 

“I was just stargazing.” The reverence softened his voice into a whisper.

Of course. You thought. Of course Jimin was stargazing the night before he had an 8:00 a.m. class.

“Can you come over?” His voice remained a whisper, but it blared through the phone like a scream.

“What?” You said, only so he would repeat it again.

“Come over. Please? You said we would see each other soon, but you haven't reached out.” When he said this, your heart ached, punishing you with sharp pulses. 

It wasn't necessarily that he was persuasive. You were already out of bed, staring out of your window, watching the same sky Jimin was. “Okay, I’m coming. Just give me ten minutes.” 

Jimin exhaled. His restitution felt a bit more grounded, like he was moving in the right direction. And as you drew near to his apartment, the sky had lost its might. With you here, the world below felt brighter than any light the sky could offer.

You knocked. It felt too formal; you were compelled to just wait at the door, hoping your presence alone would summon him without having to sound it out. The door was eager, quick to open. Jimin’s hair was lazy, falling tiredly on his forehead. It was new to see him this way, the rawness of him, the way he looked right before he let himself sleep, let his guard rest for the night.

You looked the same way to him. Raw, intimate, vulnerability taking over where your body softened for sleep.

“Thanks for coming.” He reflexively pulled you close. The incident at the party afforded him an inclination to hold you, and you to hold him too. 

“It's nothing.” You let your exhaustion spill out, soak into Jimin through how you leaned against his body as though it were no different than a bed. “I-”

He loosened his arms, not to let you go, but to soften the embrace a bit. It somehow made you feel more held by him.

“I missed you.” You said.

“I missed you too. Watch the stars with me?” He felt your head nod, then pulled away to lead you to the back porch. The outside air did not offer the same comfort as his apartment, but as you sat down with Jimin, he was warm. You didn’t need to take cover inside to keep the cold at an arm's length. Never, when you were with him.

“I’ve never seen a shooting star.” He admitted. You thought it endearing. He would be someone who cared about experiencing the simple wonders in the world. 

“Let’s change that.” You asserted such conviction in this, as though it were not up to chance, but will. “Tonight.”

He smiled, eyes peeling from the sky to catch sight of you. So beautiful, He thought. You felt his stare, a presence against your face that resided with fondness in a way that made you nervous.

“If you keep staring at me you’ll miss it. Eyes up, Jimin.” You commanded, and he obliged more out of respect to you than the heavens above. The stars looked so dull, entirely unimpressive compared to you.

"It's funny." He spoke of a thought that must have ruminated long before he said anything. "It's funny what you notice when you spend enough time somewhere. What stands out to you."

"Yeah? What did you notice in all your days at that cafe?" You asked.

"Lots of rude customers. Tired employees. People living their lives as fast as they can. And..." If you were looking, you'd see the smile that crept on his face. "And you. I always noticed you."

"Really?" You were suddenly aware of how close you were to him. The night winds felt like nudges, quiet urges to move you even closer.

"Yep. You didn't live your life fast, didn't feel like you were trying to escape it. And one day, you just stood at the back of the line, for almost five straight minutes. I thought, 'What are they waiting for?'" He kept the realization private, that he saw himself in you. A soul in waiting.

"And you must have thought the answer was some overly familiar writer and dancer who stares at strangers more often than appropriate?" When you laughed, he laughed with you. It was simple, a momentary feeling of delight. And it still managed to mean the world to both of you.

You were amused more than taken off guard when you heard a digitized camera shutter go off. When you looked over, you saw the aftermath of a secret photo being taken. His hands moving sharply down to his lap and a smile covering up his tracks, like a kid caught doing something they weren't supposed to.

"What was that?" Your expression cut in half, eyebrows furrowed and mouth half-grinning.

"Nothing!" Jimin locked his head towards the view of the sky as though it was true.

"You're so weird." You said and it hadn't sounded like an insult to him.

"You just looked too beautiful." Your heart would not still at this. You couldn't bring yourself to figure out what it meant, that yours was the first memory to be memorialized in his camera roll since his friend died. It was far bigger than you, more than you could ever understand. Your mouth opened for a response that wouldn't come. So, you said nothing.

Five minutes passed, though it felt much longer. Silence stretched out time like a marathon, leaving you desperate for rest, for time to stop altogether. Still, you remained pensive, even went so far as to sparse out your blinking just in case it caused you to miss a crucial glimpse of the night sky.

“So, why exactly do you want to see a shooting star so badly?” You asked, your voice protruding from your mouth as white clouds.

“Dunno. I just want to.” It was an unconvincing, partial truth. It hardly satisfied you, but you let it go for now.

“You know they say some of the stars we see right now have died long ago.” 

“Really? I didn’t know.” Jimin felt daring, placing his hand over yours, bracing for you to either pull away or push closer. You chose the latter and his breath released with a smile. 

“Mhm. Even the stars as they appear above us now are actually what the light looked like long ago, since light takes a long time to travel and stuff. It’s like a little time capsule don't you think? A way to see into the past.” You turned to him and gathered his beauty. His eyes reflected the stars, but the longer you stared, it seemed maybe the entire fabric of the sky, all the beauty scattered along it, had been fractals of light from his eyes. 

“So, one of these stars…” His pain surrendered to tears, nearing collapse as he continued speaking. You wanted to cry too. You would have, if only you let yourself. “Maybe we’re actually seeing it burn when my friend was still alive.”

“Maybe… Definitely.”

You acted as though the stars appearance didn’t take light years to travel to Earth. Much longer than any human walked along these grounds. For him, you wanted it all to be true. That the stars were time capsules, delivering a much less distant past back to us when the world rests, reminding us how love remains in loss through how light remains even in darkness. For him, each and every star would persevere when someone’s life did not have the same chance to. 

“That also means,” His hand fastened around yours. “There are stars up there when your heart wasn’t so broken. All those stars…” Using his other hand, he gestured to the specks of light, “They remember the person you were before that wasn’t full of pain and loss. I hope they remind you that your happiness is enshrined into the universe. That some piece of the universe burns brightly as a reminder that you can love again. That you will love again.”

If it was true, what Jimin said, if you would love again, you knew precisely who it was you wanted to love. 

“Do you think the stars will remember us?” At this question, he turned towards you.

You're going to miss the shooting star. You caught the reprimand in your throat, and instead let yourself be seen. You couldn’t protest. Not when he seemed to see beneath the shell of your being. When he looked at you, his eyes were full, and in turn, you must’ve been the fullness that made it so, your soul flowering petals, becoming real, becoming yours.

“I think the stars would recite prayers just to get the chance to burn for us.” He was a romantic. Everything about him moved in order to love the world. You wanted to do the same thing. 

“If that’s the case…” You kissed his cheek, a brief warmth traded where your lips touched him. This time, it was you who left him with a parting gift. “Please, trust me. I will come back for you. But I need to be there for myself right now.”

I will come back for you.

He never knew it would be so consoling to hear that, couldn’t have guessed that it would make him want to wait for someone other than his late friend. But when you said it, the stars rewrote themselves for you.

“I'll wait for you, ___.” He let go of your hand.

You walked away, but differently from how you had done so with Taehyung all those months ago. You made strength into something much kinder than a weapon against pain. You made it into love. Your footsteps were resolute, even as they took you away from Jimin. The stars that had yet to burn would remember your promise, would someday become a light of hope in someone else’s night. 

You took the long way home tonight.

For so long, you thought happiness would be a product of you belonging to the world, finding a place or person that would accept the shattered, unfinished mess of your soul. But right now, you didn't need Taehyung, Jimin, or even Hoseok to find a warmth that made itself seen through your smile. This moment, it belonged to you, this was something you could call your own. The world settled, the stars echoed their light like a song, the night stilled for a brief moment so that it could be a part of you.

The starlit streets had shed a calming, generous glow, allowing a blanket of light to tuck yourself into. You were alone, though the usual bout of distress or longing hadn't intruded on you. When you peered back up to the soft stars, you loved how its light made the world look blue, like a galaxy full of possibilities.

I am the world, too. Your whisper hadn't reached the ears, hearts of those you missed. But it reached you, and you felt as though that made it just as meaningful.

╌──────────═❁═──────────╌

Three months. It’s been three months since you had seen Jimin. It’s been three months of breathing slow in the midst of terror, shuffling from class to class, spending time with your best friend, painting everything that made you smile and everything that made you cry, locking doors without the need for his reminders, and rediscovering the beauty life had to offer you. Three months, and you felt that there was nothing fragile about you. Not in the way your arms held onto all the things you had to love, including yourself, especially yourself, or in the way you moved against gravity, against the odds. Looking back at your memories with Taehyung no longer felt like you’d unearthed a corpse. It felt like something sweeter, like watching the sun set or clouds pass by overhead. 

On a particularly warm Sunday evening, you wrote a letter to Taehyung, though you had no intention to actually send it out to him. It was something to soothe your soul, to let go of what you once believed to be your future and embrace the unexpected.

Dear Taehyung,

I wish you knew how afraid I was. Then maybe, we could make more sense of what happened to us. I loved you, and a part of me will always love you. I think that’s exactly what scared me. Loving you meant so much to me, maybe more than it should have definitely more than it should have. You told me that I never let you close enough. And you were right. But not because I didn’t want you to be close. I just didn’t know how, didn’t know it was even possible for someone to want that from me. I don’t even think there was enough me, enough humanness, personhood, whatever you would like to call it. There was nothing that you could get close to. I hadn’t learned at that point what it meant to be my own person. That’s what made loving you so natural to me, so necessary. I was shapeless, like water, filling any container that would accept me. Did you feel it too, Taehyung? Did you feel the way my entire being spilled into a mess on the floor when you emptied yourself of me?

Perhaps I should thank you for knowing this was not enough, not what a relationship should feel like. Because in never becoming someone for myself, I could never truly be at peace. I felt like it was all I was good for, loving you, and when you left me, the one thing that proved my worth was gone. I worried maybe this meant I hadn’t deserved to love you in the first place. I realize though, it was never that. 

What I was looking for was always in me. I need to understand myself, to be kind to myself. Nothing can tell me what I deserve except my own actions. I want to move forward with bravery and acceptance. It’s still scary, but I know there’s so much life for me to experience, for me to fall in love with. It never had to be you. I do not need to be a person that lives for others only. I can live for myself, too. There will be a day when I forgive myself for what I couldn’t do for my own heart.

So, thank you, for giving me a chance to live for myself. I understand now that love can look like many things, but letting go is possibly the hardest, most selfless act of love. You have done this for me. I’m still learning things, still growing. But I know that just means I’m heading towards something. Something bigger than what we had. Goodbye, Taehyung.

With love,

___

You didn’t want to be water, formless, waiting to take shape within the dimensions of another person’s soul. You wanted your own soul, something that could house all the allure of being alive. You wanted love to be your choice to make, not some calling that fell into the hands of someone who could never love you in the right ways. And there was a choice you did want to make, someone you knew would never let you erode back into water.

It was 4:30 p.m. If you started running now, you could outrun the odds of being too late. That was on the chance that he would still be there. But knowing him, trusting in the unwavering love of Jimin, you’d take that chance anyday. 

The wind divided where your body surged through it. There was a force stronger than your muscles, more willing than your heart taking you to the cafe. When you arrived, the sun settled into a muted warmth. The metal door handle grew temperate from the grip of your hand. The large window framed this moment, almost still, eager to be introduced to movement. 

And there he was, patient as ever, occupying the same table, stretching into a love that lied so far away. You never felt more sure of yourself that you could bring it closer to him.

I will come back for you.

The second you opened the door, his attention was stolen from his phone. A number of things flashed through his eyes, as though they were spelling out a eulogy. 

“What’s with that face? I told you I’d come back.” You tried your hardest to steady your breathing. 

“___.” His eyebrows hiked up high, incising lines into his forehead. Surprise had never looked so endearing to you. “Wh- What are you doing here?”

“Um, you know…” You bypassed asking permission, filling the empty seat across from him. If only you knew, any table he found himself at always had a seat waiting for you. “Just visiting the area. Decided to get some coffee.”

“Were you now?” He was quick to settle back into stride with you. The two of you pretended not to notice that you had no intention to order, hadn't even bothered to get in line.

“Yeah. You know, I was just thinking.” You spoke through a mild suffocation. Breathing was still precarious, but it had not been due to the running anymore. “I think I have to stop waiting for things to ‘feel’ right.”

“You think so?” It was the same charming lilt in his voice, but you developed a familiarity with it. You missed him.

Had he missed you too?

“I do. I have to start living my life. Even though it’s hard and sometimes right and wrong aren’t very obvious. I do know I’ll be one step closer to finding that ‘right’ I’m looking for if I try. Try everything, but especially love. I want to try at love, whenever I’m given the chance. You helped teach me this. And because of you… I mean…” One more sigh, and you welcomed air into your lungs with ease. “I could be spending this Friday evening doing anything else.”

“But you’re here.”

“I’m here.” When you answered, it wasn’t only for Jimin. “I used to be so scared of the things that make me happy.”

“And now?”

“You make me very happy, Jimin. And I am not scared of you. And if you’ll have me, I’ll stay.” You sighed, took his hand, and intended to never let go unless he asked. “I'll make sure that when you wait in here all day, you won’t be waiting alone."

"You don't need to do that." He said, smiling through tears.

"Why?" Your heart pounded.

"Because you're here now." His other hand covered yours. "I don't have a reason to wait here anymore."

The most skillful thing a writer can do is to choose silence and eventually, action.

The momentum of his racing heart led him to this, to his lips reuniting with yours. This time, it wasn’t starvation that fueled his kiss. It was far more buoyant than before, deeper as you cupped his cheeks. You pressed your lips harder into his as though to test the boundaries of your skin. 

When you’d burned through the momentary passion fostered from two hearts colliding, he turned his face into the caress of your palm, leaving behind a chaste kiss there too. 

“___.” Jimin’s whisper left a compassionate chill in your hand.

“Yes?” It didn’t take long for an urge to reconnect your lips to settle back in when his thumb grazed your jaw. 

“Let's go home.” His eyes were brimming with tears, finding company with your eyes, love flowing freely between them.

It wasn’t important where home was, just that hope emerged when you nodded, allowing him to move on from this memorial overrun with inhibitions. He was ready; he wanted this cafe to be embalmed in something sweeter than aimless longing. Perhaps, grief in its most loving form, the kind that does not keep him static. 

Even as the mouth of worry formed into a grimace, neither you nor Jimin turned away. Your skin was bound through a commitment, one where water is water and you are human, flesh, bones, blood and all.

You passed through the door as if it was an altar. There was a vow embedded in your departure, communicated through your hands lacing into his. To grab hold of the goodness wherever you may find it, to look for it, and most importantly, to love yourselves enough to untether your hearts from the tired grip of the past. Because neither of you belonged in the past anymore.

It was undeniable. The only place you belonged was in this moment, one that brought you and Jimin together. 

“Look up.” He said. “Beautiful, isn't it?”

Your gazes lifted into the sky. The night was tepid, the most beautiful shade of blue, a calmness making the air around the two of you weightless and open. 

And those stars.

“Yes, it is.” Yes, we are. You recited again, to yourself.

“Let's give them something to burn for, my love.” He said, guiding you forward, guiding you home.

╌──────────═❁═──────────╌

a/n: i hope you all enjoyed reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it! take what you need, leave what must be let go. embrace love in all forms. as our boys say, love yourself. i believe in you. <3

[anxietywriter]

assorted prompts!

no particular theme, just a few ideas that i think are neat :3

a character that really likes journaling, and another character that accidentally happens upon it and reads a few lines

"You are so much more than what people say you are."

a character waiting for their flight in the airport. and the stranger that asks to sit by them because they're near a charging area.

addendum to the last one, finding out they're sitting next to each other for the whole flight.

the trope of a cafe being too busy and having to share a table with someone they don't know lives rent free in my head

alkf soulmate au soulmate au soulmate au, i personally like the matching marks one the most, but a lot of other popular ones i've seen are to do with eyes meeting and seeing color, touching and marks forming in the shape of that touch, being able to write on their skin for their soulmate to see, and shared dreams

maybe because i'm a sucker for angst but i'm also a big fan of soulmate au's in which one character's soulmark disappears or covered because of scars or a near death experience. not just because of the complications it creates for their fated to find them, but also the feeling of losing the one thing that connected them to their soulmate

painting/studio mates that are always working together. always in the studio together, working on projects late into the night. and it's this almost silent rivalry of who can make the most progress or who can stay in the studio the latest. how they always examine each other's painting and critique them in front of the whole class. at one point, they get to talking, reluctantly admitted to each other's skill. catch feelings. become each other's muse/inspiration. the works.

something about the tragedy of watching someone go to college in a major they hate. that they would be disowned if they chose their passion. how they were only happy in the one art class that their schedule allowed them to take. painting the walls with your name, if you can't remember this moment at least that room will. there was pain in the thought that they could've double majored. if only they knew about the possibility sooner.

like it's so tragic to me watching character be groomed as an heir to a big company or throne, when all they want is to know peace away from that world. they want the freedom to choose but can't for fear of losing everything they have. they will go through the motions if only to survive for the few moments of joy. but my favorite trope? when we see them find others that bring them the peace they crave. or y'know. when they leave their whole life behind, bright-eyed into the unknown.

i fucking love au's. i think i mentioned a pokemon au before but like aughhh love them. idk i just like thinking about what pokemon a character would use and what their ace would be. ALSO if they would be the kind of person that wants to beat the gym masters, win pokemon beauty competitions, use them for help in their profession, or just like, as a little guy, just a pet, what an adorable friend.

[podracerbarrelroll]

Thinking of that post about parents who relentlessly track their kids' cell phone location and internet history and every move in the name of keeping them 'safe' without their knowledge or consent. Also about the article I read awhile back about the developing social expectation that parents not let children go anywhere alone (which I couldn't find, but this one is more recent and similar).

For one thing. In the United States, violent crime has decreased since the 1990s and drug use among teenagers has gone down overall since the 1970s (skip to the charts on page 161 if you want to click through them). The world is not actually more dangerous today than it was when Gen Xers or older Millennials were kids.

But I'm sure there are parents out there who think that any chance of bad things happening means they must keep as close an eye on their kids as possible or they're bad parents. Not using every tool at their disposal makes them irresponsible, and tracking phones is just what you do today because the technology is available.

To these people, I would like to say:

How would you have felt about your parents listening in on all your conversations on the house phone and routinely going through your room and reading any diary or journal you kept? My parents did that, and I can guarantee you that it did not feel good, and I am still (in my early 30s) extremely protective and possessive of my things and hate anyone touching my phone or computer without my permission for any reason.

Yes, your kid might do drugs, and they might be a victim of violent crime. Tracking their every move does not necessarily prevent that. However, it does make it more likely they will leave their phone at their friends' house when they're sneaking out to go to a party they didn't tell you about and then they don't have that phone to call you for help. It also makes it more likely that if something does happen, they will not go to you for help or tell you about it for fear of getting into trouble.

Parental monitoring works best when parents have good, open, and caring relationships with their teens. Teens are more willing to talk to their parents if they think their parents can be trusted, have useful advice to offer, and are open and available to listen and talk. Teens who are satisfied with their relationships with their parents tend to be more willing to follow the rules. Not by, y'know, subjecting them to your own personal surveillance state.

Children are not perpetual children. They are future adults and need to develop the very necessary skills of learning how to make their own decisions. Not allowing this is how you end up calling your adult children's college professors because they've fallen behind in classes, because you've created a risk-averse, conflict-averse adult with no idea how to manage their own schedule. (This is also how you get accidental conservatives obsessed with following the 'rules', but the other post describes that better.)

On that note, you cannot control your children their whole lives. They will eventually grow up and move out when they're eighteen or twenty or twenty-five if you insist on them living with you through college. If you've never let them go to a party or have a single alcoholic drink, how the fuck do you expect them to know moderation when they're older and the consequences for fucking up are worse?

Conversely, you may get a kid that grows up, leaves, and doesn't talk to you at all. My parents literally told me that I didn't have a right to privacy because I was their child and living with them. While I do still talk to my parents, I purposely put physical and emotional distance between them and myself when I left for college, and I do not and have never gone to them for life advice or for comfort when I'm having a hard time.

And finally. Consider finding out, ten or fifteen years from now, that your child is dating someone who tracks their cell phone location at all times, goes through their phone and computer at random, and restricts where they go and who they spend time with, perhaps because this person pays more of the bills. If you've shown your child that surveillance and isolation is love, how the fuck are they gonna recognize the hallmark signs of an abusive relationship?

Even my parents expected me to get to school and back by myself, either by walking or taking the bus, from the time I was in kindergarten. I spent a lot of non-school weekdays at the public library from the time I was in middle school. So, when I left for college and moved to a new town, I knew how to take the bus by myself and how to navigate an urban area without the advantage of a car and how to deal with being around other people in public. The idea of gen Z kids lacking even that experience is a fucking shame.

[iluvmegantheestallion]

My unpopular opinions and rants

● public interviews on YouTube are lame as fuck, they go around asking dumb ass questions that will trigger people and they'll go around adding those stupid edits that make no sense and then people will always answer the dumb questions with a stupid answer. It got repetitive, old and corny real fast.

● ASAP rocky is only relevant because he's with rihanna. She's keeping his name alive. He's only relevant because he benefits from pretty privilege, and rihanna still with him, and they have kids.

● Hannah baker from 13 reasons why is a trash character, and I never liked her. She's a liar, a fraud. She was a bully in her old school, she was out here thotting and bopping fucking with 5 or 6 dudes the whole love triangle playing victim. Hannah Baker was just merely a narcissist who didn't want to take any conuntability for her own actions.

● the reason why your kids don't know their purpose. or what they want to be, or don't wanna talk to you because you treat them like an investment. I don't have kids and don't plan to, but some parents out there need to stop treating their kids like an investment. Please stop hoping your kids go to college so you can brag about them, Please stop hoping your kids get an amazing job that you wanted them to get so you can brag about them because if you treat them like an investment, they're going to grow up in the real world not knowing who they are or what they want to with their lives and end up being depressed because they spent their whole entire life trying to please you.

● Being a perfectionist is not a good thing. Stop saying like it is a good thing. It's merely just self sabotage disguise as a perfectionist. You believe in yourself because you're scared that you put your work out there. A lot of people are going to trash it, dismiss it, and you don't want people to have an opportunity to give you a negative opinion.

● Kim Kardashian did more for black people than Obama ever did. Obama just did nothing but be black and did a whole bunch of shit for all the communities, but he didn't do shit for black folks.

● Normani is missing something. The only reason why normani isn't really blowing up is because she took too long to introduce herself. We still know her as the pretty black girl who can dance and sing. There's really not a lot to her I think she's pretty boring.

● don't hang around with bums that complain all the time about how their life ain't shit and how they are annoyed and depressed how they can't stand this. Don't hang around with those types of people. Because those be the same people that be jealous of you and will grow to resent you if you keep hanging around them.

● On my block, season 4 was the worst season. It was a waste of time, it was complete garbage, and I was so annoyed how they rushed through it and everybody was dating each other, fucking each other, everyone was going there separate ways, it made no sense and they killed off so many characters.

● most people have kids for selfish kids but won't admit it. Let's be honest Many people will sit up here and say,'I want kid till I'm 25 or 30' because a lot of y'all just want people to take care of you, so you don't end up being alone. Many people plan to have children by 30, 31, or 35 because they want someone to be there, they want an aesthetic of having a child, and they don't want to feel left out because all there friends of people there close to have children.

● The early 2000s Era had better music than the 90s Era. We had Ashanti, Aalyiah, Jennifer lopez, gwen Stefani, Eve, Destiny's child, Timbaland.

● J Cole is overhyped he's an amazing rapper and singer, but I just see him as a regular rapper.

● jhene aiko doesn't get enough credit for her work. Yes, she's praised for her voice and talent, but let's be honest, she isn't praised and rewarded like she really should be that she built and created for herself her songs are unique and she's very creative, she's really slept on and very underrated.

● There's a difference between being a good person and being nice. At the end of the day, just because you're nice doesn't mean you're a good person. Don't sit up here and say,' I'm a good person. At the end of the day, people never reciprocate." it like bitch stfu. Maybe you're just a people pleaser. Being a nice person is very different from being a good person because a good person is kind knows how to treat everyone with respect and a nice person will tell everyone what they want to hear to keep the peace and put on their best face to make sure everyone likes them solely because everyone likes a nice person, but not everyone respects a nice everyone.

● never ever trust somebody who counts favors. If somebody trying to bring all the nice they did for you, never trust those people. People who count favors are not good people there willing to hit you up one day to remind you of those favors to get what they want from you.

● before you go out of your way to listen to your parents about what you should do with your career, please give yourself a second look at your parents and see if there happy of there own career you don't want to take advice from a miserable bitch. If your parents aren't happy with there careers why the fuck would you lisen to them on what you should do with you life and how you can make money.

● Coi leray benefits from pretty privilege if she was ugly she wouldn't be where she is today.

[bettyfair]

Waiting for Hockney.

Here goes nothing... In 2008 a documentary was released that changed my life. It has 6.5/10 stars on IMDB and one of the three comments on the trailer reads "The guy seems like a desperate hack".

I've not watched it 10 years and it has no Wikipedia entry for me to check my recollections. Here is my review.

The film opens with voice over reading a letter addressed to the titular Hockney. Billy Pappas is our man, we don't know him yet but he reads his own words as if they've been smeared on the walls in his own excrement. "The vehicle for the spirit of urgency and intensity which occupies my being is drawing" he reads, his own letter displayed in its all caps glory. What does that mean? Fucked if I know.

Billy goes into some minor detail about his art work that he wishes to show Hockney - an incredibly detailed portrait that took him just shy of 9 years to finish. That's right - a portrait that took nearly a decade.

He works standing up, drawing under 20x magnification, later he will describe a months work as taking place within a printed full stop. He talks about how he reeducated himself on all aspects of drawing. Eye school, ear college, left cheek university. Billy graduated from them all.

At the start of the documentary (I think) he's finished the portrait. Supported over the years by his mother, a local vicar (or whatever Americans call them) and a man who has Dr before his name. At the end of the documentary Billy will say they've supported him to the tune of $300k. They enable him to work day in and day our on his obsession, fixating intensely on small details in the search for greatness. His mother is anxious and overbearing.

The film doesn't show you the work until (spoiler alert) Hockney sees it himself. It does however reveal very early on that this portrait is of Marilyn Monroe - the superstar actress who died some 40 years before his portrait even began. Alarm bells ring already, he's drawing from a photograph?

He wants to bring the photo something that it doesn't have, a presence. He chose her why? Because she represents fame and all it's over exposure? He chose this photo because it's blurry. Make it make sense.

The details are hazy on me, my number one recollection is the anxiety the film makes you feel. Billy puts Marilyn and Hockney on such a pedestal, throughout the film the portrait is referred to as 'Marilyn' as if he has created beyond art and into life itself. 'She' represents his obsession and 10 years of his life, 7 hours a day he gave to her standing up in his mothers spare room using a homemade sling to rest his tired arms. I cannot bare it. It terrifies me.

The last 15/20 mins of the film are a hard watch. He finally shows his creation to Hockney and his entourage, one man in particular speaks for Hockney - a rodent looking man who for sure thinks himself better than you. He expertly rips into Billy's work, and by that, also into Billy himself. You see 'Her' for the first time and you are underwhelmed, a perfectly passable drawing that, had he drew it in one day, I would have said 'Holy shit!' knowing it took 10 years, well, still 'Holy shit' just not in the same way. She merges into herself, and you see so clearly how little Billy brought to the table. There is nothing about her, nothing that has not been captured by the 1000's of other artworks, pictures and sculptures of her that came before. "Have you ever thought of doing a quicker sketch?" Hockney asks.

So many of Billy's shortcomings are within his masterpiece: an emptiness despite such attention to detail. He cannot understand the world around him, he gives so much of himself that it makes me uncomfortable, yet at the same time there is so little revealed of him and nothing said that matters. It's like he whipped his shorts off just to reveal his bare, smooth ken-doll like genitals.

Rodent man laments on how you cannot notice the detail in 'Her', in a gallery it would not be clear or visible.

10 years of Billy's life - 8 and a half on Marilyn, 1 and a half getting her to Hockney, concluded in underwhelm. Rodent man calls Billy naive, of the art world he says "that's not his world" although I don't think he needed to be specific to just the art world. Why did he pick Marilyn he asks? Not to Billy obviously, because really - deep down - Billy doesn't know.

Is this art? Not the drawing no, but why does this picture weigh so heavy on me? I could not have this in my house - it's too valuable. It represents everything to Billy, it represents his need for approval and his desperation: it intimidates me. Billy has this burning desire for approval from someone else, something we all have. I badly want people to tell me i'm cool and that my fringe makes me look AT LEAST 40% less like a primary school teacher with a well organised set of felt tip pens. Billy dedicated 10 years of his life to that approval, even before knowing he didn't get it, it made me uneasy. It's the desperation right? I think it's the lack of awareness that kills me most, i'm not convinced by Billy at the end of the film - allegedly coming to terms with life after Marilyn. He doesn't seem to have learnt the core message of the film, which I feel is - hey! Don't put your life into another persons hands you smooth dicked fuckwit!

After all this we see Billy in his car reading the dictionary. He tells us he usually travels with 3 dictionaries on him. He wants to focus on the words and the meanings and he describes himself as obsessed. I don't think Billy knows what he means by that, but he's not wrong. Later he gets a job as a bartender and is pleased with $40 that he heads home with. His mother defends him with her life. Marilyn rests in her basement.