#So I've decided that older Flower gets a little bit of facial hair. As a treat

[nonuggetshere]

Quick doodle page before sleep! Wanted to try our more things with their new head design

[chefdoeuvre]

Under Control

Kelly Severide

Pairing: Kelly Severide x Sister!Reader

Description: Even when you think you have things under control older brothers always worm their way into helping.

Words: 1,595

Requested: yes by @ticklepete; Okay so can you do a Kelly x Sister where y/n is being seriously threatened by someone who she had a run-in with in the past (like an arsonist or former victim, etc) and of course Kelly's overprotective brother side kicks in. Her being the independent woman she is gets a little annoyed but ultimately is thankful. I feel like #46 and #12 would work with this.

Warnings: mention of minor injuries, blood, fluff as per usual.

A/N: I just love Kelly Severide and his overprotective ways. This can be counted as a stand alone or a part two for Rivalry. I apologize in advance for any grammatical errors.

—

There they were again, flowers sent to the firehouse addressed to you. At first, you thought it was sweet how you had a secret admirer. Now after a month and a half of this you were starting to be fed up with it. Of course, you couldn't throw the flowers away they were too pretty for that, clearly, someone had spent a solid chunk of change to get them for you. Obviously, Kelly offered to tell Jay and get him to find out who they were coming from but being the stubborn Severide you are you declined.

The next shift came by in the blink of an eye and this time instead of a large bouquet of fresh flowers you were simply handed an envelope. The envelope didn't have a return address on it only the firehouse's and your name printed on it. You stuffed the envelope into your locker when the announcement system went off signaling a call. The call was a fairly normal rescue. Thankfully, there was a simple solution to saving the victim and it didn't take long to get them to safety.

After heading back to the firehouse you went back to your locker and pulled out the envelope that's been invading your thoughts since you got it. Ripping it open you unfolded the single piece of paper in it and let your eyes scan the words. Reading over them multiple times you felt a pit in your stomach. It was clear to see that they were threats aimed at you. This only confused you, if this wasn't some secret admirer who the hell was this? The words were generic threats you'd expect from a regular old crime show so that's not what scared you. It was the fact that they went through these lengths just to get your attention. Instead of doing what a rational person would do you stuffed the envelope back into your locker and tried to get your mind off of it.

Making your way out of the locker room you bumped face-first into a hard chest. Immediately two arms reached out and grabbed onto your shoulders to steady you. Looking up with wide eyes you're met with the familiar steel blue ones of your brother.

"Hey, you all right?" Kelly asked as he scanned your facial expression.

"Yeah, I'm fine." You nodded quickly.

You tried to sidestep away from him, but his strong arms kept you planted there. Given the fact that he's your brother, he knew you like the back of his hand and he knew what you were like when something was bothering you.

"No, you're not. Talk to me." Kelly urged as you all but looked him in the eyes.

Sighing you shoved his hands off your shoulder and turned on your heel assuring him that you were fine. In truth, you were far from fine but you'd deal with it your own way. Which was being majorly stubborn about it and completely ignoring the fact that you weren't okay. You made your way into the common room and took a seat in between Herrmann and Mouch who were watching an old movie.

Kelly, being the nosy brother he is took it upon himself to check out your locker. Granted he only knew your combination because it was your birthday and as your brother of course he knew you would use that as the passcode for your phone as well. Pulling open your locker the envelope fell out and he quickly pulled it open. Reading the words across the page he suddenly felt the urge to punch someone.

Soon enough, the announcement system went off signaling a call. Apparently, it was a large abandoned warehouse on fire which meant all of Firehouse 51's help was enlisted.

Pulling up to the scene Boden started giving out directions to each unit. Squad was taking the brunt of the work by checking the building along with some of Truck's help. You and Kelly were paired up to go the furthest into the building, biting back a joke about the sibling power duo the two of you were you headed into the burning building. Kelly stood close beside you with a clenched jaw, still angered by the threats aimed at you.

"We're clear on the West wing." Cruz's voice sounded from your walkies.

"Same on the East." Stella agreed.

"All good on the North wing. South?" Casey asked.

You and Kelly were still making your way through the building about to reply when you heard a shrill scream. Looking up in alarm, the two of you shared a glance before setting toward the sound.

Taking the lead you made your way weaving through the crates to where the sound came from. Another high-pitched sound shocked you into place before you started toward the louder noise again.

"I've been waiting for you." A deep, gravelly voice sounded from behind a large crate.

"We have to go, this place isn't gonna last long." Kelly chided looking between you and the wooden crate.

"That doesn't seem to be in my agenda, Lieutenant Severide." The deep voice tutted.

You and Kelly shared a look of confusion. How the hell did this guy know who he was?

"Oh, allow me to introduce myself." The man all but cackled as he stepped out from behind the crate.

In his hands was a familiar-looking bouquet of flowers. He had a devilish smirk planted on his face and dark eyes that made him look demonic.

"It's Charles, but you can call me Chuck." He greeted with a sickly sweet smile and looked dead at you.

Kelly immediately stood to step in front of you and practically growled at the man.

"Cool it, Kell." You shoved your brother aside with a roll of your eyes.

"All right, Charlie was it?" You crossed your arms nonchalantly, "take your flowers and leave or I promise you I'll let the hound at you." You gestured a hand toward your fuming brother.

Of course, you were naturally sassy, but in times of danger, your sass levels would go up by a hundred. Was this the smartest idea to agitate the guy who lit this place up? No, probably not, but your instincts decided otherwise. The man was rendered speechless, to say the least. He was expecting a sobbing woman not a lady who could even out sass Jay Halstead on a good day.

While the man was a blubbering mess Kelly took the initiative to call it into Boden because of course this had to all go down in a burning building. A few moments later you turned on your heel and began dragging Kelly with you.

"What the hell are you doing?" Kelly berated.

"I'd rather get the hell out of dodge before I turn into a crispy treat." You hissed pulling him toward the exit.

Chuck still stood there trying to mutter out a response when he bolted after the two of you. Pushing Kelly ahead of you, you turned around to see Chuck barreling toward you. Grabbing his wrist in a tight grip you all but dragged him out of the building. Just in time the three of you made it out of the building before a huge explosion erupting out of the ceiling.

Out of the corner of your eyes, you caught sight of the Severide sibling's favorite detective and pulled Chuck along with you.

"I think your package was sent to the wrong building." You shoved Chuck forward as Jay pulled the man's arms behind his back and cuffed him.

"Thanks, Y/N." Jay nodded with a smirk adorning his features.

"Anytime, detective." You flashed a quick smile before heading back to your fellow firefighters.

Letting out a breath you didn't know you were holding you ripped your helmet off and dropped it to the ground.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Kelly placed his hands on your shoulders before pulling you into his arms.

"Oh, come on. That was totally badass." You chuckled.

Kelly stared at you bugged-eyed, tilting his head in confusion.

"Come here, you big teddy bear." You wrapped your arms around Kelly's waist, hugging him tightly.

Locking your hands behind him you pulled back hissing in pain.

"What? What's wrong?" Kelly scanned you for any injuries.

"Damn bouquet had thorns in it. I'm fine though." You scrunched your brows pulling at the thorns embedded in your palm.

"What do you mean you're 'fine'? You're bleeding!" Kelly exclaimed.

"Dude, they're just thorns." You dismissed.

Kelly pushed you toward Gabby and Sylvie wordlessly as you wiped the little bit of blood escaping your hand.

After getting all cleaned up and heading back to the firehouse you went to find Kelly who was hunched over his desk in his bunk room.

"Thank you." You spoke up leaning against the door frame.

Kelly snapped his head toward the sudden voice.

"What?" Kelly asked with a small smirk.

"I said it once, that's it." You crossed your arms with a pout.

Kelly raised his brows and you let out a defeated sigh, "thank you for being my protective brother, even if I don't need you to be." You stepped forward and placed your hands on his shoulders with a small smile.

"It's in the job description." Kelly reached his hand up to ruffle your hair.

"Seriously, how many times do I have to tell you not to touch my hair?" You laughed, pushing his hand away.

"You're gonna be the death of me, I swear." Kelly rolled his eyes playfully.

[ephemerlskies]

the beauty of after | pjm

⇢ pairing: jimin x f reader

[other members - taehyung]

⇢ genre: drabble, fluff, widower!jimin, angst (barely), artist!taehyung, the FLUFFIEST piece i've written so far, jimin is an old man

⇢ word count: 3.5k

⇢ warnings: themes of grief/loss, major character death (oc), mentions of death

⇢ summary: on your seventieth wedding anniversary, jimin celebrates in solitude by describing your face to an artist. it surfaces more fondness than grief to reminisce in the memory of his late partner.

♪ playlist: serendipity - bts • i'll never love again - lady gaga • lover - taylor swift • love of my life - queen • my everything - ariana grande ♪

[important] a/n: i am so so sorry to everyone for constantly reposting this, but my tags haven't been working. hopefully this is the last time i have to repost this!! also HAPPY PRIDE!

“Thanks for doing this for me.” The young artist had already begun mixing paints on his palette, eyeing the canvas before him to scale the size of his portrait.

Jimin was gentle with the way his eyes traveled along Taehyung’s face which was free from the age wrinkles that Jimin had grown used to seeing. He nodded as to say your welcome, a jaded but genuine smile reaching his lips to the ends of his face.

It was difficult to gauge which one was more nervous from how Taehyung had nearly knocked over his easel various times within the stretch of setting up his supplies and the lack of stillness that fraught Jimin’s hands which were trying, and failing, to fold politely in his lap.

“This is for an art project? For school?” Jimin asked, deciding that half-empty questions fit better in the air than the awkward silence funded by the lack of proper acquaintance. Not to say he wasn’t indeed curious about this whole ordeal.

“Yeah. My professor wanted us to have someone describe their significant other to us and we have to draw them based on the description! I hope I do your partner justice.” Jimin’s heart grew warmer when the enthusiasm from Taehyung’s voice made his intentions clear. He was an aspiring artist simply using his craft to procure something emotional and raw.

Jimin was the fortunate soul Taehyung had stumbled upon during his walk home. A single, elderly man sitting on a park bench, an appropriate setting for someone Jimin’s age, had aroused some curiosity in the younger man to strike up a conversation.

The slightly hung head, the pair of kind eyes trailing the various passersby, and the astounding hint of melancholy had colored Jimin in an entirely different light than anyone Taehyung had ever met.

Whatever his story was, Taehyung made it a goal to depict it with every bit of honesty and emotion he could engender from his paintbrush.

“I think it would be hard to make anything of ___ look bad." Jimin assured, feeling his shoulders fall away from his ears and his hands finally rest atop his lap.

“___? Is that her name?” Taehyung repeated it internally a few more times in an attempt to imagine what you looked like before Jimin started on his description.

He looked over to the older man, picturing an older woman sitting beside him on that park bench. His mind meandered to what kinds of things you two would talk about, or if you two were the type to construct a haven in sweet silence. Maybe Jimin would say something that would make you laugh and you would join in on the repartee with ease.

What made you laugh? How many times have you been on a plane? Did you like the color yellow? What was your favorite genre of music? What made you cry?

The questions began to bundle like a colorful bouquet of diverse flowers, waiting to be delivered into the hands of a loved one.

“Yes. Beautiful right?” Jimin’s smile faded a bit, the only evidence of it expressed through a slight curve sitting at the ends of his mouth and the crow’s feet incising his skin much more prominently than the rest of his wrinkles.

“Very beautiful.” Taehyung decided to arm himself with one of his finer brushes. He could already feel the unwavering desire to capture the most intricate of details partly for a good grade in this class but partly for the sake of keeping true to his word.

He wanted to do you and Jimin justice. To make this nothing but ornately accurate.

“How would you describe her facial structure?” The artist positioned his arm with his brush in hand, ready to dispatch the ink amassing at the tip of the synthetic hairs to the white, empty canvas.

“Soft. Perfect to fit into my hands.” Jimin stared down to the mentioned body parts, reminiscing the countless times he would scoop your face between his palms for no reason at all other than to revere your beauty. “Round cheeks. Smooth and warm skin.”

Taehyung couldn’t resist how the pang in his heart reflexively surfaced a fond smile in reaction to Jimin’s endearing description. He peeked away from the canvas before making any initial marks and gathered the loving gaze Jimin had been directing towards his matured hands cupped around the empty space that should have been your face. Then, he knew exactly which set of emotions he should embed into this portrait.

“What about her eyes, what do they look like?” Taehyung asked to acquire another image of how he should paint you, while already outlining the basic curves of a head that would quote unquote fit perfectly in Jimin's hands.

“They were kind. They always had this sparkle in it. A real sparkle, like she trapped the moonlight in her eyes.” Suddenly, Jimin's lungs were not merely occupied with air, but with an oxygenated memorial of your eyes which made his inhalations feel weighted. “They were bright and always looked at me with trust and care. Even when they had tears in them, you could have mistaken those for diamonds.”

The image was stark in his own eyes, and if he closed them then he could have been transported back seventy years to when your wedding vows were announced to the world. How your eyes looked at him and glimmered an overwhelming beauty that nearly evaporated the over-rehearsed words from his memory. Before you could roll those moonlit pupils at his fall to silence, he hastily declared the oaths that bound his heart to yours forever as if he couldn’t stand a second longer keeping those promises in.

“Were?” Taehyung articulated thoughtfully as he could with clear indication to question the past tense manner of Jimin’s narrative.

“Yeah. She has passed.” It was still difficult to feel those words ordered as such verbalized by his tongue. They tasted bitter and stale, as if they had been waiting somewhere inside to be recognized.

He wasn't aware of how his hand was now placed against his chest until he felt the heavy throbs of his tired organ. Through this, it might be that he was searching for your heartbeat that he could once identify through the his own.

“I’m so sorry for your loss, Sir.” Taehyung’s hand almost fell away from the canvas, until reality restored his maneuvers and continued the lining of your face.

His focus was oscillating from the mostly white canvas, save for the thin strokes of black, to the man uncoated from his reserve through the smile that deepened the indentations of his face.

“Jimin. Call me Jimin.” He said, breaking whatever ice that froze the two of them in discomfort. That nervousness had melted away with the minutes until they both felt warm and comfortable.

“Okay, Jimin, could you describe anything else about her? It doesn’t have to be physical. This is more about emotion.” Taehyung’s brush had been hard at work, dutifully printing every hint of love that Jimin relayed and materializing it onto the portrait.

“Her smile was warm. The biggest one you would ever see. I swear, everyone she met noticed it. It was genuine. It was the smile of someone who never had mal intent and always ready to share her happiness to all those around her. Seeing it every day, it reminded me that, with her, I was always home.”

From the day he met you, eye contact was a difficult task to compass since your smile had always demanded his full attention. Each time you flashed your grin, he felt as if it was purposeful, the extension of your joy onto him. The way you made him feel every bit of bliss you felt because you were the type to believe everyone, especially Jimin, deserved to feel happy.

And each time he was endowed witness to your smile, it articulated his goal in life quite clearly: molding his actions into a kindle for your smile and doing everything in his humble power to cherish those angelic beams of joy.

“Whenever she would smile, your day would get a little bit better. And I was lucky enough to spend most of my life with her, so my days always got better. She always smiled. Like she knew how much it meant to me.”

“Sounds like ___ was very happy.” Taehyung said during the interval of giving shape to your lips. What remained on the canvas was the widest smile Taehyung could craft, knowing it was not nearly as big as the one Jimin described.

“She was. She was sad too, and angry. You did not want to see her angry, let me tell you.” A chuckle had fallen from his mouth as he postured the memory of your scowl to the forefront of his recollection. How you would equip this number when Jimin would do something particularly dumb, or when your kids were being scolded for reasons that didn’t seem as important now.

There was nothing that compared to how you could emote with your entire face in a poise that suggested your feelings willed your every movement. How you would scrunch your nose and your eyebrows would reach the middle of the space between them; the frown of your lips would pull your entire face lower. He would take your anger seriously at the time, but in retrospect, he would give anything to see that disgruntled expression again.

And he would simply smile, and perhaps snap a photo for a keepsake.

“I hope she was happy most of all. That’s all that matters, Taehyung. Make the ones you love happy. I hope I did that well enough.” Jimin began to question if he made you happy. One day, when he joined your parted soul, he would find that out for himself.

He knew beyond doubt that you had accomplished sparking joy into people's lives simply by being you.

“I will. That’s good advice, Jimin.” Taehyung made himself present in his wonders about you, despite how he was absent from your life.

From the way Jimin described you, he fully understood that Jimin wasn't speaking from the functions of a brain. The portion of his mind that conducted speech could have been rejected entirely. These words, the thoughtful description, the sentiment flowing from his voice were sourced straight from the heart.

One that felt incomplete without its other half.

“Do you miss her?” He had to inject a bit of courage in this question in the hopes it wouldn’t be overstepping any boundaries. Though, Jimin was ever so gentle with the way he moved through life and met Taehyung's requests with kindness so far.

“Very much.” A stout crack fissured through Jimin’s voice and prompted him to swallow down the sob ruminating in his throat. “I miss her more than anything in the world. More than the flowers miss the spring and wait for winter to pass so they may bloom again. These days, I’m just waiting for spring.”

Jimin had intertwined his hands together, pretending it could fill the hollow space of his palms just as well as your hands would. He knew though, this was an emptiness that would always remain unfulfilled the minute your heart stopped beating with his.

“It will come. Soon enough. She’s waiting for you too, I’m sure.” And your flower will bloom. Taehyung created the contours of your eyes and paid a sizable amount of attention to depicting that highly emphasized sparkle.

What would a painting of you be without those acclaimed glints of moonlight floating in your irises? It wouldn’t be a painting of you at all.

“Do you have a special someone in your life right now?” Jimin took over the role of the questioner and placed Taehyung in the position of the questionee. It was enough for now to repair his composure.

“Not at the moment, no.” The majority of his focus was fixed on the painting but spared just enough to answer Jimin’s inquiry.

“Well, whenever you find them, I hope you appreciate the small things. I never knew how much the small things mattered until ___ was gone. Like how she notoriously had every barista put extra cinnamon on her coffee drinks. When I would forget to add it, she would pretend to be mad at me. She'd roll her eyes and tell me I’m ‘losing it’ or she would say something dramatic like ‘what has this world come to, Park Jimin?’” His pause filtered the room with a peaceful property.

Jimin utilized the silence to ponder the moments he once hadn’t given as much as a second thought to. The same moments that would entrap him in a catatonic gaze on rainy days or during cold, lonely nights.

“She would still drink the whole thing, though. She was kind in that way. Never really letting those things go unappreciated.” His eyes fell to the floor, though he was not seeing the weathered carpet spread across the substructure. He saw none other than your eyes.

The moonlight he had the privilege of viewing up close and personal, and uncrowned the orbiting rock in the sky of its esteemed title.

“Now every time I see cinnamon, I think of her. Of her peculiar love of it and even though she loved cinnamon so much, she’d love the effort I put in even more. She always loved me generously.” There had been friction within Jimin’s throat that made it warm and swollen ever since he started talking about you. His words dislodged through labored projections, but his voice overtly strewn hints of sorrowful longing in each statement.

“She sounds very loving. I can’t imagine how lucky it was that you met her.” Though his eyes were trained on pressing the delicate illustrations of your face onto the canvas, his ears were employed in listening intently to Jimin.

He had no idea who you were, however, he was sure he too would have fallen in love. Of course, anyone would have done so through the perception of someone who had devoted his entire heart and life to loving you.

“How long were you two together?” He asked to obtain an addition to his bouquet of knowledge about you.

“We were married for seventy years but we dated for three years before that.” Jimin’s eyes were not alone anymore.

They loaded quite a collection of tears, barely keeping at the bay of his eyes, and the vision of your face when he proposed that the two of you should seal your love through something as trivial as a diamond ring.

It was irrational, not only the fact that pricey luxuries such as rings were well beyond his budget. Jimin knew that embellishing a silver band on your finger would not be enough to earn a lasting relationship or settle your commitment to him. A piece of jewelry could not entail the immense love harbored in his chest. The proposal wasn’t the end of a happy story, rather the beginning of a lifetime to learn and unlearn the elements of loving you.

Even the bumps in the road, knocking him or you away from each other, were never enough to conclusively sever the connection. Dedication and work knotted your heartstrings together. The biggest bump, your death, was the final blow that nearly disentangled them.

Nearly. But when Jimin said ‘until death do us part’ he never realized that vow held some false hope. Of course, he wouldn’t let you go, or rather he couldn’t let you go, even after you passed away. It wasn’t that easy when his heart synchronized with yours the moment he fell in love with you and he already decided to become someone who was worthy of loving you.

Now he was that man. Someone who matched the degree of kindness you always provided him. The man who would disregard any prior engagements if you called and needed him, rest assured you would do the same for him. The man who proudly held your hand, knowing the world envied him. The same man that was cultivated through growing beside someone that cared for every part of him, down to her last breath.

In that way, death was never a contender to part him from you.

“Wow.” Taehyung was not sure of how else to elaborate how genuinely impressed he was. “What's the secret? How did you manage to stay together for seventy years? I mean, people these days get divorces like it’s a quit button you can press when you get tired of playing the game.”

Jimin, despite the teary glaze over his eyes, pulled a laugh from his throat. Without warning, he fell into the trench of all the long-forgotten fights bred from pettiness or misunderstanding. Many of them were over financial or familial issues. And with the lens of a seventy-year perspective, Jimin traded shallow grudges for an important realization that certain things remain standing after the dust settles.

“We would fight. A lot, actually. Even in those perfect relationships, people always fight. But I remember now, if it were a fight over money or anything else that was expendable, there wasn’t a question in my mind of which to choose. Between the world and ___, I always choose her. I always choose love. It’s more important than anything because when you truly love someone, you want to understand them. You want to work through problems instead of leaving them to pile up and collect dust.”

Jimin’s eyes now settled on Taehyung, who had already been staring at Jimin, then continued with all the sincerity he could deploy.

“Taehyung, always choose them. Choose love. I know I did and I have no regrets. I know if I chose to stay angry at her, I would be wrestling to forgive myself.”

Taehyung’s face muscles felt tired, his smile’s permanence hadn’t allowed for them to rest.

“Anger, annoyance, frustration, jealousy? Those all fade away. In a week or a month, you’ll stop being angry at some point, but you will never stop being in love. So choose love. It’s a permanent fixture in your heart.”

Taehyung set his brush down, and the picture resting on the easel was completed and then some. He didn’t mind. Taehyung truly enjoyed the sentiments Jimin kindly shared with him, as it would have been far duller to paint in silence.

Not to mention, he discovered a love story that went untold by movies and fairytales. It was a true love story. Something so real, Taehyung fell in love just by capturing Jimin’s tale and translating it into visual art.

Because this image of you was what Jimin saw when he pictured you. The picture of you shrouded in abundance by the highest grade of love.

“I’m finished, would you like to see?” Taehyung lifted the canvas from its resting spot, turning it slowly since Jimin’s nod was geared with apprehension.

Jimin’s heart nearly bore a hole through his chest, and it would fall out to where you were resting. He was afraid of facing you, or any rendition of your face, since it would be the first time in two months that his eyes beheld anything resembling his late wife.

When the canvas turned, so did the final page of the story. The story Jimin had been purposefully writing with long-winded prose and repetitive words to stall the commencement of it. He wasn’t ready to let go, that is until his eyes beheld the painting which etched fruition of something that felt further from him than you.

Closure.

“It’s beautiful.” Jimin’s tears were disobediently running down his cheeks. “It looks exactly like her. My love. My ___.”

It was not simply a painting garnished under the guise of an academic assignment, but an ode to the grand love Jimin had carried in his heart for seventy years and counting.

“I’ll be sure to send it to you after it’s graded.” Taehyung declared in a decided manner, now fighting back tears of his own, though it was a losing battle since he already felt the empathetic stains wetting his face.

“Thank you.” Jimin whispered soft enough that Taehyung barely caught it, but loud enough that his gratitude glazed the painting with its finishing touch: acceptance.

Now it was time to let go.

“___.” He said once more.

Jimin realized what could emerge even after your physical existence had run dry. That, even though you were no longer alive, there was a ceaseless supply of lessons Jimin still learned from loving you. He learned he could guiltlessly reflect over the years and memories. Resonating the most with him were the ones he spent choosing something more powerful and decisive and resilient above all else. Choosing love.

It colored his world into something vibrant and enchanting. There was still an unquantifiable amount of love pouring from his chest without a hint of diminishing. It was a force that stretched its reign beyond graves and long, lonely years of mourning. This love was alive, and breathing joy into Jimin’s life. It would continue breathing joy into Taehyung’s life as well as the painting, marred with your semblance.

He also realized you can never fully fall out of love. Just as pain never departs, and one simply learns to live with it, to become stronger and versed in the realm of sorrow, one never falls out of love, you simply learn to live without them; you learn to trudge on without the deity that derived something as powerful as love through the biggest smiles, the glistening eyes, the heaps of cinnamon, the unremitting kindness, and the perpetual act of choosing love.

And that the beauty of loving you was no more breathtaking than the beauty of after you.