#The Answer to Life the Universe and Everything

[mizzfizz]

XAVIER

This is the closest place to the sky. It's also the closest we can be to the stars. Many people say that you can hear the echoes of destiny here.

As the wind sweeps across the land, I see many things are being forgotten as the seconds pass... . Those memories float in the distant starry sea or sink into the sands of time. Like light slipping through our fingers, they'll scatter and become a faded remnant in the world.

Yet everything about you becomes clearer. Your sorrows, your joys, your body... And your soul... From the moment we first met, I treasured these memories in the depths of my heart. They've always shined brilliantly.

Here. I wrote you a letter. I cast an anchor into time and space to mark the moment of me writing these words and you reading them. I believe this tiny anchor will join the stars. It will serve as a guide for our paths. No matter how many times we travel through the vast, uncertain universe, we'll always meet, converge, and intertwine.

ZAYNE

I traveled across the Arctic to reach this hidden realm of ice and snow. The snow season here lasts for six months. Time itself seems to be frozen, and the pausing of seasons has become imperceptible.

A small cabin serves as my shelter on this desolate snowfield. When night descends, a small, warm light glows. I sit by the window and watch the snow fall.

And once the snow stopped, an aurora appeared. Fairy-tale colors spilled onto the sky. The snowy landscape transformed into a dreamland's ornament and settled into a peaceful slumber. Everything seems to have stopped moving... I desperately want to tell you about — The way the snow sparkles in colorful hues under the aurora. The way pinks rays melt and blend with the white horizon at dawn. And how the snow surrenders to a gentle caress of orange light at dusk. Snow and ice wait for these colors. Then all of them merge to write a winter poem that describes varying emotions.

I remember how we were nestled together to witness the night and the breaking dawn. We walked through all four seasons. They were as colorful and diverse as these shimmering snowscapes. I recorded every moment. So when you receive this, please join me in unsealing a poem about us.

RAFAYEL

In a land of romance, I'm on a journey to find inspiration.

Accompanied by the gentle sea breeze, the ocean reveals its varying hues under the sun. It carries emotions that are complex and endearing. It's just like when you pretend to be upset. You frown, but the corner of your lips curve ever so slightly.

The town is full of life. Scents, sounds, and colors merge into magical combinations around me. They're just like those fairy-tale dreams we've experienced.

When I got home, people told me that the buildings near this small post office housed a magnificent art collection. I wonder... Who were the muses that inspired those creators? For me... There has been only one answer to this kind of question. Every landscape becomes extraordinary because of you. And the inspiration they bring bursts forth and falls onto me like a wave lapping against the shore.

This letter contains all the amazing discoveries I've witnessed on my journey. And from this moment onward, I'm looking forward to the adorable expression you'll make when you receive this.

SYLUS

Do you see this valley? According to an old legend, a dragon was slain and buried here.

For countless years, the wind and the wings of birds carried that dragon's tale. It has passed through the lips of the travelers who find themselves here. Taurus City... I suspect you've already forgotten about it. Like that legend, our story is hidden in the valley. It can also be found... in the written records kept by the locals.

And here stands the oldest post office in the world. People believe in this immeasurable power of written words. They put their feelings and stories onto paper before using messengers to send them away.

It's a wonderful way to connect with others. I wrote you a letter for the first time, and a new bond was forged between us.

It won't be long until this letter stars its journey. You'll receive it one way or another. But perhaps it might idle on its path for a while. In any case, it will ride the howling winds and soar with traveling birds to bring you my sort... and reveal everything that I am and will every be.

NEW YEAR'S LADS LETTERS

XAVIER, ZAYNE, RAFAYEL, SYLUS

[impala124]

Bad Buddy 12

My thoughts on Ep 1 | Ep 2 | Ep 3 | Ep 4 | Ep 5 | Ep 6 | Ep 7 | Ep 8 | Ep 9 | Ep 10 | Ep 11

Me, at the end of this episode:

Oh, we have a 4-year time skip!! Interesting.

Pat, where is the Nong Nao doll? I don't see it on your bed. I need answers right now.

I like the transition from Pat putting down his toothbrush to Pran picking up his own. Very clever.

Pran, quick question: WHERE ARE YOU? I see the view in the background, and that's one of Singapore's most iconic buildings, if I'm not wrong, which is definitely not in Thailand. So, boy, what's your ass doing in Singapore?

At least he's still wearing The Watch, so I have hope. Pran's a yearner through and through, so I expected nothing less from him.

We all agree that Max is hitting on Pran, right? Pran's not having any of it, though.

Poor Pat, he doesn't look too happy when Korn and Wai mention revisiting the old days.

Not the fucking elevator flashback 😭😭. Oh no, the curry Pran made for him after he confessed that he liked him. Man, this shit hurts!!

I, for one, am not at all surprised that Pat joined his father's business after graduation. I could've told you that on the day we first met him.

Sidenote, but why are these 22/23-year-olds lamenting about getting old?

Guys, Pa graduated from university and is making a movie!! My baby's all grown up now!! *wipes tears*

Ok, Wai and Korn each have girlfriends. How about instead of saving for individual dowries, you both just ditch the girls and marry each other? Just food for thought.

But why aren't they bringing up Pat's love life? Is it still a touchy topic? I mean, it's been 4 years, and we don't know what reason they gave their friends for the breakup, though, so we shall see.

What do you mean someone else moved into Pran's room? It should've been preserved as a heritage site. Contacting the people at UNESCO ASAP.

Ink and Pa are on my screen together. My boys might be miserable right now, but at least my girls are thriving.

A high school reunion, you say? If I'm not wrong, Pat, Pran, and Ink went to the same high school. Are they going to MEET at the reunion????!

Wow, Ink misses her high school classmates. Definitely can't relate to that sentiment, bestie.

Pat, sir, is that a smile on your face at the possibility of running into Pran at the reunion?

Not Pat looking solemnly at the memory wall.😭😭

THIS IS NOT A DRILL. Pran is here at the reunion!!!

Okay, so just looking longingly at each other is all I'm going to get for now.

"But some things can never change." Pat, bestie, change is the only constant in life. Fuck everything else and go get your man!!

Are you really playing a game at your reunion if the prize up for grabs isn't something like an accommodation voucher for a night at a mid-budget hotel??

Not the trip down memory lane😭. Y'all are in the same room; talk to each other and put yourselves (& me) out of this misery.

A live performance, you say? And PRAN IS SINGING. Now, don't tell me it's the song he wrote to soft launch his feelings to Pat in high school.

Yes, he is. Pat, are you listening? I know you're hearing it, but are you LISTENING to it?

EXCUSE ME! What was that sweet smile you guys just exchanged? I need an explanation!! NOW!!!

A group photo with them being pushed towards each other, which could be a metaphor for the string of fate always bringing them back together. Love to see it.

Pat, let me introduce you to something called a cab. It's really effective in taking your friend's drunk ass home, especially when your ex is giving you THE LOOK!!

Okay, Pat's on the phone with Pa (probably?) and is complaining about being hungry. You know what you should do, Pat? Go to your favorite noodle shop and wait for your ex to show up so that you can talk things through.

WHAT DO YOU MEAN IT'S PRAN ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE DOOR AND ON THE PHONE??!!! My brain is malfunctioning right now.

"You said you'd sleep at your house." What in the hell is happening right now?

Crisis averted, the Nong Nao doll makes an appearance on the bed.

Okay, Pran, I see you wearing your 'happy hour' shirt while complaining to your boyfriend (?) about Singapore's air pollution.

One thing about them: they are going to use the fucking sponsored makeup remover on the other. It's quite endearing, actually.

BB Product placement stays superior till the end.

I need an explanation, stat!! Are you still mad I didn't pick you up at the airport? What is that boyfriend-ass statement, Pat?

Pran just referred to Pat as his boyfriend. "We've been together for too long."

WHAT DO YOU MEAN THEY NEVER BROKE UP IN THE FIRST PLACE??!!! I need a minute to process this.

My reaction till now, everyone, is the fucking Kuleshov effect in action, with me thinking that both of them are sad because of their 4-year-long separation, when in reality, they are just boyfriends missing each other.

Aww, a memory wall in their home.

Finally, THE GUITAR PICK that Pat made for Pran all those years ago makes an appearance!

So, according to the photos on THE WALL, Pat actually visited Pran in Singapore.

I do hope we get a home tour at some point; I'm really interested in seeing how Pran's OCD self blended his life with Pat's messy ass.

Unknowingly, from two people who couldn't be friends, we became two people who were more than friends.

So, they lied to everyone by saying that they broke up and began Secret relationship 2.0

Not them holding their fucking pinkies together when they pass by in the hallway ASFDGHF—

Time and space are just a construct when it comes to me and my blorbos because remember what I said when they were dating in secrecy the first time? I told them that they should have at least one person they are both familiar with to be in the know about their relationship to maintain a successful secret relationship. And Pran IRREFUTABLY heard me because Wai, Korn, Pa, and Ink knew about them this time around. I bet Einstein didn't foresee this coming.

Aww, they even visited Uncle Tong and Junior after they graduated.

I love that the parents aren't still getting along, because in such cases where the rivalry dates back decades, it feels abnormal to not continue doing so. It's almost like sunk cost fallacy but make it about rivalry.

However, I do love the little detail of Ming having to back off during their car face-off because Ming was the one who stabbed Dissaya in the back, figuratively speaking, all those years ago.

Not Pran rubbing the shirt all over his body to ensure that his scent lasts for a while💀 My boy is an actual menace.

Pat, sir, what are you thinking sending thirst pics to your boyfriend AT WORK?

They even held their pinkies together in their high school reunion photo.

Oh, I'm a happy camper because all my ships are sailing smoothly. The irony of Wai and Korn running the bar (where they used to fight with each other on a regular basis) together is just 😂 😂

Wai and Korn are soft launching their relationship, and no one can tell me otherwise. See, Pat is also a KornWai truther.

Pa, sweetheart, Ink was pining for you since she was in high school. I don't think you need to worry about her straying.

Keep up with shoving your couple photos down everyone's throats, though, just because y'all are hella cute together.

Korn does look like a middle-aged Asian uncle when he is complaining about the rival faculties breaking tables. Oh, how the tables have turned.

Yes, Wai, it's your penance for all the mess you guys used to cause all those years ago.

"Guys, I don't mind if you want to fight, but you must get a lover out of the fight, just like me." STAHP IT

Pran went from ordering three wontons to four—that's how you know he's in a long-term relationship, accommodating your partner without any prodding from their side.

Pran's "I brought your dad a bottle of liquor" is a solid strategy. There is nothing Asian dads love more than receiving imported liquor, even if they don't drink. A sure way to win some brownie points.

Kissing in front of the trashcans!!!! Oh, how far they've come.

Ming once again being the most Asian dad to ever exist by just randomly flipping through the newspaper just to appear busy.

As much as I love to hate on his quintessential Asian dad quirks, he is the most relatable of bl dads for me. Is he perfect? No, but I don't think anyone can say that he doesn't love his son.

Ink is accepted by Pa's parents, which doesn't surprise me one bit because she's perfect. PERIOD.

The dinner scene at Pat's house is a callback to the dinner scene in the initial episodes, when the dad was telling Pat to not let the neighboring boy win at any cost. Oh, how the tables have turned! Now, Pat is trying to curry favor with his dad for the said neighboring boy.

MING TOOK A SIP. Told ya, Asian dads just can't resist imported liquor.

The question of Pran's guitar. Did Pat keep it with him this time around too??!!

Ming crossed the LINE to deliver the mail, and Dissaya saw it.

Awww, his mom put it on his bed, which goes in line with my theory about parallels between Dissaya accepting Pran playing the guitar and him loving Pat. So, I'll be taking this as silent acceptance from her regarding their relationship.

I think both of them are ready to bury the hatchet, TO AN EXTENT, for the sake of their kids happiness.

Going off on a tangent for a bit, but bear with me. Let me take a moment to thank @respectthepetty for training me into thinking of love whenever I see the color pink because, what was the paint color the fathers used to draw the boundary between their houses all those years ago? Yes, it was fucking pink. It means that the answer was love all along. They were MEANT to fall in love to bridge the rift between their families. Talk about 'born to be together,' which was the exact sentiment Pran wanted to convey through The Song in high school.

Now, Pat coming into Pran's room through the window is a clear callback to the time Pat did the same to return the watch after Pran saved Pa. However, then he did it to tell Pran to not act friendly towards him in front of others, and now it's to spend some time with him without hiding from anyone, even their parents.

"If not you, I won't allow anyone else to use it. Pran, when I catch you—

Not Pran, my resident menace, trying to wake up the green-eyed monster by mentioning that Wai may have used it before💀😂

Pran's dad providing the meta commentary with his "This show is just so good." comment.

Ah, forehead kisses, my beloved!!!

Man, the flashbacks to when they were kids overlapping with them right now are just the cutest.

Everyone gather around because I just had a very big-brained thought. Remember, in Ep 8, on the rooftop, Pat wanted to share their relationship with the entire world while Pran asked what's wrong with just wanting to keep it for themselves. What if, whatever happened with their relationship after that, was just exploring both their paths? They clearly tried Pat's way first because Pran cared about him, despite his worry, and it resulted in the Ep 11 ending. After that, they took Pran's way and we all saw how it panned out for them. It might've taken them four years, but their parents are kinda onboard with their relationship.

Now that we're on this subject, let me try to provide some context to Wai pulling down the curtain on their relationship. Not defending his actions, but me thinks it was very intentional that Wai heard Pran say that although he's worried about others finding out about their (Pat & Pran's) relationship, he's willing to take the risk because he cares about Pat more. Wai's vindictive ass heard that and went through his montage of Pran lying to me about his relationship with Pat moments in his head and decided to put Pran's words about caring about Pat more to the test.

We get a post-credit scene? Truly the gift that keeps on giving.

Of course it had to be on a rooftop! Wait a second. Pat's birthday is on 23rd April, and the first time Pat slept over in Pran's room is on 24th April. The psychological implications of it all (for me) can't be overstated!!

Pran, my menace-in-residence, was really showing his horny ass by saying, 'The winner can do anything to the loser.' Never change, bestie!!

Well, I got the house tour I asked for earlier. Fucking Architectural Digest could never.

They shut the door in my face, and I said thank you!!

Honestly, I don't think I've even processed the finale yet. It was very pleasing to my lizard brain, that's for sure. I need to sit with it for a few days, and I'll probably write something about my whole experience liveblogging this BB watch and my thoughts on some of the CHOICES made in the whole series. A sneak peek of few things that are marinating in my head are—

Pat associating Pran with home because he feels lost (I was only half-joking when I compared him to a lost puppy following Pran around).

The air of sadness around Pat that just goes unacknowledged for the most part.

Pran associating Pat with freedom because he feels burdened.

Pran feeling undeserving of Pat's love.

Like I said, I'll be thinking about them a WHOLE LOT.

Quick question: Were there any talks of a season 2? Because there are some easter eggs peppered throughout the series that deserve further exploration, and they definitely have issues they need to address and work through as a couple. This ending will only count as an HFN (happy for now) in my book. I'm putting this ending on par with the To My Star ending, and I adored To My Star 2, so there's that. Still waiting for To My Star 3, though that's a discussion for another day.

One thing I can say for sure is that I'm extremely grateful for the fandom that has welcomed me with open arms and engaged with all my ramblings each episode, because let's be honest, it was just a stream of consciousness.

I wouldn't have had nearly as much fun watching the series without you guys. I'll be camping out on the rooftop for so long that I'll be claiming squatters rights for sure!!!

Tagging the usual suspects: @shortpplfedup, @incandescentflower, @starryalpacasstuff, @7nessasaryevils, @greenteadumplings, @grapejuicegay, @madworld-bbs, @usodeshou, @tao-moonb, @fanatic-freakshow @desi-yearning.

[kingofbodyrolls]

Songs of the Heart (m) | pjm | chap 4: face-off

In the quiet glow of a shared evening, you finally ask Jimin about Jiwoo, peeling back the layers of his heart while daring to reveal the scars of your own. You speak of the ghosts in your past, of love that hurt instead of healed, and he listens—truly listens—with the kind of tenderness you never thought you’d find. Jimin is everything you didn’t know your soul was yearning for, and now, in this fragile, shimmering moment, it feels like the universe is whispering that maybe, just maybe, you can do this. That love, real love, might finally be within reach.

→ Pairing: jimin x reader (female) → AUs: musician!au (not completely idol!au), single dad!au, slice of life!au → Trope: strangers to lovers / neighbors to lovers → Genres: slow burn romance / fluff / angst / smut / comedy → Rating: mature/explicit/R18  (this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact.) → Word count: 6.8k → Warnings + triggers: mention of illness, past character death (Jiwoo), mention of past domestic abuse (hitting), mention of past emotional abuse, FEELINGS 😭 → Read on AO3? [link] → Author’s note: Alright, brace yourselves—this one’s a rollercoaster of angst and sadness, okay? Like, grab your tissues sad. 😢 But I swear, hold tight because the storm does pass. You’ll get answers to all those questions we’ve been agonizing over, and while it’s emotional, it’s also unexpectedly soft—like a cozy blanket after a storm. 🌧️ All the raw, messy feelings are on display, but here’s the twist: healing is happening, and everything will be okay, I promise! 🫂 So let’s dive in, feel all the feels, and come out stronger on the other side! This whole story is for my dear friend @remmykinsff! I hope you’ll love it 💜

← prev | s.masterlist | m.masterlist |  next →

The months slip by like sand through your fingers, swept away by the rhythm of work and the gentle pull of evenings spent with Jimin and his enchanting daughter, Hwa-Young. April has arrived, dressing the world in a delicate lace of blossoms, and with each petal that unfolds, you feel your own feelings for Jimin unfurl, tender and vibrant. Like spring itself, they bloom quietly, yet with an ache that demands to be felt.

And yet, you’ve kept your feelings hidden, a secret cradled close to your chest. Namjoon, ever the wise confidant, keeps urging you to tell him, to stop letting fear hold you back. “You’ll feel lighter,” he says, as though love isn’t a tightrope strung between hope and vulnerability. But the thought of laying your heart bare terrifies you. You’ve been down this road before, and the scars remind you that even the most beautiful things can break. Still, deep down, you know—Jimin is not like the others. There’s a gentleness in him, a quiet depth that sets him apart. Yet still, you tread cautiously, balancing between longing and fear.

Today, he’s invited you to his rehearsal—a glimpse behind the curtain of his world—and like the ever-supportive “friend” (oh, how that word stings now), you’ve come. From your spot in the empty venue, you watch him test his mic, strumming a few chords on his guitar before diving headfirst into his setlist. His voice, low and resonant, fills the space, spilling raw emotion into the still air.

You’ve heard these songs a hundred times before—on the radio, in quiet moments together, and the ones he’s been crafting these past months—but somehow, they strike a different chord tonight. Each haunting lyric feels like a thread, weaving something sacred, and his voice... oh, his voice. It reaches you in a way that words alone never could, wrapping around your heart, leaving you breathless and undone. 

Goosebumps ripple over your skin, and for a moment, you let yourself imagine—just for a moment—that the emotions he pours into his music might be meant for you.

As you watch him perform, lost in the way his fingers glide effortlessly across the strings, you find yourself wondering about the meaning behind his lyrics. What chapters of his life do they hold? What untold stories linger in the spaces between his words? Jimin is a mystery, and every haunting note he sings feels like a glimpse into a life he has yet to fully share with you.

“All right. With those sweet words of yours, you were doing your best to take every single thing from me. Look at yourself. Why don’t you want even more? You can want more. That suits you, babe. I hope you don’t change.”

His voice wraps around the room, raw and unguarded, and the lyrics cut through you, sharp and aching. There’s a truth in his words that stings, a vulnerability that feels too personal to ignore. It pierces your heart in ways you can’t explain.

A small part of you can’t shake the thought—these songs must be about Hwa-Young’s mother, no matter what he’s told you. He’s said they weren’t romantic, only friends, but these words… they feel too heavy, too deeply etched with sorrow and longing to be about just friendship. You can’t stop yourself from wondering if there are pieces of his past that are still too tender to touch, pieces he’s shielding even now.

And yet, as the melody rises, a weight settles in your chest. You remember what you told Namjoon months ago—that you weren’t ready to step into something complicated. And Jimin’s life? It feels like a song with too many verses, too many harmonies to untangle. The honesty of his voice, the rawness of his words—they’re pulling you in, but at the same time, the sheer depth of it all feels overwhelming. Why does love always have to feel so complicated?

You don’t even realize the tears streaking silently down your cheeks until you feel a small, warm hand wrap around yours.

“Y/N… why are you crying?”

The soft, curious voice pulls you from your spiraling thoughts, and you look down to see Hwa-Young gazing up at you, her big, concerned eyes watching you carefully. She’s been sitting beside you all along, a quiet witness to your unraveling.

You blink rapidly, trying to compose yourself, but the knot in your throat is hard to swallow. How could you explain this to her, this little girl who sees the world in innocent wonder? You can’t. You won’t.

With a shaky smile, you squeeze her hand and shake your head lightly. “I’m okay, sweetheart,” you whisper, your voice barely steady. But your heart clenches because you know the truth you can’t admit—not to her, not to Jimin, not even fully to yourself yet.

You’re falling, tumbling headlong into feelings for a man whose world is so much bigger than yours. And as much as you wish it wasn’t, as much as you long for simplicity, love never seems to come without its complications.

So, you settle on a simpler truth, wrapping it delicately in softness for her young heart to grasp. “Your dad is just so good at singing. It’s so beautiful, it makes me feel… sad in the best way.”

She nods thoughtfully, inching closer to you on the stools, her small shoulders brushing yours as if seeking silent comfort. “Daddy’s really good with words,” she says quietly, her voice carrying an innocence laced with wisdom far beyond her years. “He tried to make mommy happy with his words… but I think sometimes they did the opposite.”

Her statement lands like a whisper of thunder, quiet but resounding, leaving you staring at her. How could such a tiny soul speak with such weight? But before you can find a reply, she continues, her small voice carrying secrets as fragile as glass.

“When my mom got sick,” she murmurs, “he wanted to do everything for her…” Her words trail off, and instinctively, you lean toward her, drawing her into a gentle hug. Her warmth melts into yours, her resilience as humbling as her honesty.

“You know…” she muses after a pause, her tone lightening as her little legs swing idly beneath the stool. “Daddy never kissed Mommy.”

Her soft giggle catches you off guard, and you blink down at her, confusion flickering across your face. “Daddy never made love to my mommy either,” she adds with a grin, her words innocent yet jarring, sending heat rushing to your cheeks. You can’t tell if she fully understands what she’s saying, but her candor leaves your heart racing in your chest, your pulse hammering loud and unrelenting in your ears.

Your gaze instinctively shifts to the man she speaks of, and there he is—onstage, lost in his music, fingers coaxing melodies from his guitar, his voice weaving stories that feel like silk and sorrow all at once. If what she says is true—if Jimin never had that kind of relationship with Hwa-Young’s mother—then how...?

Questions bloom in your mind, wild and restless. And just as your thoughts begin to spiral, Jimin’s song comes to an end, and he looks up, his gaze locking onto yours across the room.

Time seems to halt.

The light casts a soft halo around him, his blonde hair glowing like threads of gold, his skin luminous under the stage lights. He looks ethereal, almost unreal, as if he belongs to another world entirely—a celestial being rather than a man who feels so deeply it hurts to watch.

And yet, it’s his eyes that anchor you, pulling you into the moment. They seem to see right through you, their warmth a balm and a spark all at once. Your breath catches, your chest tightens.

It’s in that instant you realize: you can’t keep dancing around these questions, these unspoken truths that hang between you like threads in a web. If there’s one thing you’re certain of, it’s that you can’t love a man while standing in the shadow of another. You deserve to know, to understand.

As Jimin gives you a wink, you feel the weight of the conversation you know you need to have. It’s time. Time to ask him about Jiwoo. Time to find out where she fits in his heart—and where you might belong in his story.

Jimin runs a hand through his hair, the strands clinging to his forehead where sweat beads at his hairline, and for a fleeting moment, you wonder if it’s fair—how effortlessly breathtaking he looks, even like this, raw and unguarded under the stage lights.  

Beside you, Hwa-Young slips her tiny hand into yours, her warmth grounding you in a moment you didn’t realize you needed. “I like you, Y/N. You’re nice,” she says, her words simple but disarming, like sunlight breaking through a cloudy sky.  

A lump rises in your throat, and you feel the sting of emotion prickle your eyes. It’s as though this day is conspiring to undo you, one tender moment at a time. Pulling her into your arms, you hug her tightly, your voice soft as you reply, “Me too, sweetheart. Me too.”  

The rest of Jimin’s rehearsal blurs like an impressionist painting—notes and movements smearing together into a beautiful haze. Before you know it, the three of you are seated in his car, the hum of the engine steady beneath the weight of your thoughts. Jimin’s voice mingles with Hwa-Young’s soft chatter, but your mind is elsewhere.  

There’s something bubbling beneath the surface of your chest—an ache, a pull, an unrelenting tide of feelings that refuse to be silenced. They prickle at your skin, a mix of anxiety and anticipation, urging you to seize this moment. You know the talk you’ve been dreading is inevitable. You can’t avoid it any longer.  

The car slows to a stop in front of Jimin’s home. His home—a place that has slowly begun to feel like your own in a way that terrifies and comforts you all at once. You follow them inside, the air heavy with unspoken words.  

Jimin pauses, turning to you with a smile so soft it feels like it might break under its own tenderness. “I just need to put Hwa-Young to bed,” he says, his voice low and warm. “It’s way past her bedtime. Do you mind waiting here?”  

You nod, settling onto the couch, the silence of the room wrapping around you like a blanket, but before Jimin can lead Hwa-Young away, she giggles and steps forward, her sleepy eyes sparkling with playful insistence.  

“No, daddy. I want Y/N to read to me,” she says, her little voice carrying a hint of mischief, though the puffy redness beneath her eyes betrays her exhaustion.  

Jimin exhales a soft sigh, but his smile lingers, a look of affection flickering across his face. He gestures for you to follow, his voice gentle. “Looks like you’ve been recruited,” he says with a small laugh.  

You chuckle softly, your heart lightening despite the weight of the day, and rise to follow Hwa-Young into her room. The familiar rhythm of bedtime routines feels comforting as you help her brush her teeth, slip into her pajamas, and settle her under the covers. As you sit beside her, her eyes glisten with a warmth that makes your chest tighten.

There’s a sweetness to this moment, so simple and pure, yet it feels like it holds the weight of something bigger. As you help tuck her in, you can’t help but think of the life Jimin has built—the love, the care, the quiet strength—and wonder if you could truly belong in it.  

“I’ve never seen my dad so happy since he met you,” she says, her voice small but carrying a truth that lands heavy in the space between you.

It’s like a gentle punch to your gut, the words so innocent, so pure, and yet they shake you to your core. Your throat constricts, an unexpected lump rising, as if the weight of her words is just too much to bear after such an emotional day. But you manage to smile—soft, fragile—and reach out to caress her forehead, letting the gesture speak for you when words seem inadequate.

You don’t need to say anything, because deep down, you already know—his happiness is something you’ve felt, too. That quiet, simmering certainty that there’s something more between you and Jimin, something undeniable, even if it’s still untold.

Hwa-Young interrupts your reverie, her small finger pointing to a well-worn book by her bedside. “Can you read this story for me?” she asks, her voice a soft plea. You glance down at the title, something about a princess who has faced the harshest of trials—siblings’ jealousy, the loneliness of her crown, a prince who offers help, but she stands strong on her own... until a single moment fractures her strength.

What kind of children’s book is this? you wonder, a touch bemused. But you say nothing, opening the pages, and as you read, her eyelids flutter slowly, the rhythm of your voice pulling her toward sleep like a lullaby.

As her breathing slows, her little body softening into the warmth of the blankets, you run your fingers gently through her hair, the silky strands slipping between your fingertips like whispers of tenderness. “Sweet dreams,” you whisper, the words barely audible, but they feel like a promise.

And in that moment, as she drifts off into a peaceful slumber, you realize that perhaps this—these quiet, fleeting moments—is the most beautiful thing you’ve ever known.

Then you step out of Hwa-Young’s room, the door clicking shut with a softness that feels almost sacred. The quiet hum of the house settles over you like a fragile veil as you make your way back to the living room. Jimin is there, sunk deep into the sofa, his posture loose with exhaustion. Even in the dim light, the weight of the day clings to him, but there’s something comforting about his presence—grounding, like an anchor in a restless sea.

You sit down beside him, close but not quite touching, and it feels like your heart is trying to break free from your chest. It thuds relentlessly, a drumbeat urging you forward. Today has been emotional, raw, and unguarded—a day of truths—and you decide, in this rare moment of quiet, it’s time to seize your courage.

“Jimin?” you breathe, his name barely more than a whisper as it escapes your lips. His gaze lifts to yours, tired but warm, his eyes carrying that soft, unspoken affection that always manages to disarm you.

“Hm?” he hums, leaning slightly toward you, his exhaustion not dimming the kindness in his face.

You hesitate, searching for the right words, your thoughts a tangled mess. It’s not a question you want to rush—it feels delicate, like glass. Your fingers fidget with the hem of your shirt, an outlet for your nervous energy, and your eyes flicker around the room as if the walls might give you answers. Finally, you steady yourself and exhale.

“I was wondering about Jiwoo… Hwa-Young’s mother,” you begin, your voice trembling with hesitation. “If you could tell me about her?”

For a moment, the room feels suspended in time. Jimin’s expression shifts, softening further as an almost wistful smile curls at the corners of his lips. His gaze turns introspective, like he’s reaching into a box of memories he hasn’t opened in a long time. Then he leans forward, his hands sliding over yours, steadying them, grounding you.

“What do you want to know?” he asks, his voice gentle, like the beginnings of a lullaby.

You swallow, feeling the weight of the moment press against your chest. “Well… everything you feel like sharing.”

He nods slowly, his gaze dropping for a moment as he collects his thoughts. When he speaks again, his voice carries a warmth, a tenderness that wraps around the edges of his words.

“Jiwoo was my childhood best friend,” he begins, his tone both nostalgic and reverent. “We were inseparable. Through school, through everything. She was… home. We had this bond that I think only happens a few times in a lifetime. She was the kind of person who could make the world feel a little less heavy just by being in it.”

His words settle in the air between you, and your heart clenches. You nod, urging him silently to continue, even though a part of you aches at the depth of the love he’s describing.

“We were there for each other,” he says, his voice dipping lower, as though he’s talking more to himself than to you now. “In every way that mattered. She wasn’t just my friend; she was family. My constant.”

You watch him closely, the soft glow of the room casting gentle shadows across his face, and though his voice remains steady, you catch the faintest glimmer of sadness in his eyes. It’s as though he’s letting you into a sacred part of his heart, piece by fragile piece.

And as he pauses, the quiet stretches, heavy but not uncomfortable, filled with an understanding that doesn’t need words. You brace yourself for what comes next, your fingers still caught beneath his, his warmth anchoring you as much as your presence seems to steady him.

“One day, she went to her doctor for what she thought was just a routine checkup,” Jimin begins, his voice dipping into something heavy, laden with the kind of memory that lingers like a storm cloud. “But then she called me right after… crying her eyes out because they told her she had cancer.” His body folds slightly at the recollection, shoulders slumping under the weight of the past, and your heart feels like it’s sinking into a bottomless well.

He pauses, swallowing hard before continuing, his fingers unconsciously tracing over yours as though grounding himself in the present. “She started talking about everything she hadn’t done… about the life she hadn’t lived. She was terrified. You know, Jiwoo always talked about wanting kids someday, but she never found the right guy.” His lips quirk upward briefly, bittersweet, before the sadness returns to his gaze.

You nod softly, the room seeming smaller, quieter, as his words draw you deeper into his world.

“I tried to tell her… over and over again… that cancer didn’t have to take her dreams away. That she still had time. But she didn’t believe it,” he says, his voice breaking slightly, the cracks revealing the depth of his pain. He exhales shakily, squeezing your hands as though searching for strength in your touch.

“Then she asked me,” he continues, his voice almost trembling with the weight of the memory, “if I’d have a child with her.”

Your breath catches in your throat, and you watch as his eyes shimmer with unshed tears.

“And I—” he sobs gently, his vulnerability raw and unfiltered. “I wanted to do anything for her. Anything. She was my best friend, and this… this was the one thing in life she wanted the most.”

A lump forms in your throat as you see his pain laid bare before you, unguarded and achingly real. Your chest tightens as the truth of his words settles deep in your heart.

“So even though I’d never felt that way about her,” he says, his voice soft but firm, “I said yes. I agreed.” His hands clench yours a little tighter, as though he’s afraid of losing something even now. “I donated my sperm, and she had her eggs fertilized. That’s how Hwa-Young came to be,” he finishes, his voice quiet but resolute, the ghost of a smile barely brushing his lips.

For a moment, silence stretches between you, but it isn’t empty—it’s filled with unspoken emotions, grief, and love, all tangled together in a bittersweet symphony.

His tears fall freely now, and you realize your own are trailing down your cheeks, unbidden. You don’t know where his tears end and yours begin, as they mix and soak into your joined hands. The moment feels sacred, fragile, as though the two of you are holding not just each other, but also the echoes of Jiwoo and everything she left behind.

And though your heart aches for him, for her, and for the beautiful little girl asleep in the room beside you, it also swells—because this man, with all his pain and all his love, is showing you a part of himself he’s never shared with anyone before.

“So, she became pregnant,” he begins, his voice trembling, “and she managed to carry to term, but…” He pauses, running his free hand over his face, wiping away the tears that seem endless. “Her cancer… it got worse. And she… she didn’t want to get treatment while she was pregnant. She didn’t want to risk the baby.” He huffs out a breath, a sound too broken to be a sigh, drying his damp cheeks with trembling fingers.

“After she gave birth,” he continues, voice cracking under the weight of the memory, “they gave her the terminal diagnosis.” His hands clench yours tighter, as if holding on to the present will keep the past from pulling him under. “And all I could think… all I could do… was try to give her everything she ever wanted—the child, the life, everything she dreamed of.” His voice shatters on the last word, and he sobs openly, the years of sorrow spilling out at last.

You pull him into a hug, holding him close as his grief crashes into you like a tidal wave. His sobs are muffled against your shoulder, but his pain is louder than words.

“I know,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion, “I know people have always questioned my feelings for her. Wondered what we really were to each other. But she… she was like a sister to me. My best friend. My constant.” His words falter as he pulls back just slightly to meet your gaze, his tear-streaked face lit by the soft glow of the living room light. “I don’t know how to explain the bond we had. She wasn’t my lover, but she was my everything. And when she died…” His voice catches, and he lets out a shaky exhale, eyes shimmering with fresh tears.

“When she died,” he whispers, his throat tightening with every word, “Hwa-Young was only six months old. I was so young… so unprepared to be a father. And my career was just starting. The spotlight was on me, but I wanted to shield Hwa-Young from it all. I had to shield her. But it’s been…” He takes another shaky breath, his voice breaking again, “it’s been so exhausting—carrying it all. All the grief. All the questions. All the feelings.”

Your chest aches as you watch him, the weight of his story pressing into you like a stone. You nod softly, words failing you, because how can you begin to comprehend the burden he has borne? How can anyone?

You tighten your arms around him, hoping he can feel the warmth of your care, the silent promise that he’s not alone. Slowly, gently, you move back just enough to look him in the eyes. His gaze is raw, brimming with sorrow and vulnerability, yet there’s a flicker of relief in the depths of his brown irises.

“I’m so sorry, Jimin,” you whisper, your voice trembling but full of sincerity. “You’ve carried so much for so long. You’ve given so much of yourself.”

And in that moment, it feels as though the two of you are suspended in time, surrounded by an unspoken understanding—a shared fragility and a promise of healing.

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper again, your voice thick with emotion. “I can tell how much she meant to you.” You pause for a moment, letting your thoughts form, delicate as flower petals. “If my best friend were dying, I’d do anything for him too—even giving him a child if that was his dream. I’d want to give him something to hold on to. Something to leave behind.”

Jimin looks at you then, and it’s as if the world stills around you. His eyes, swollen from tears, soften into something deeper—something like gratitude, like he’s finally been seen, truly understood for the first time.

“I think it’s beautiful,” you continue, your voice trembling, “what you did for her. The greatest gift you could’ve given her.” You reach out, drying the tears that continue to slip down his cheeks, your touch as tender as the words you’re trying to say. “And now you have her little piece of forever. A part of the love and the friendship you shared. That’s… that’s so precious, Jimin.”

Your voice cracks as the weight of his story settles deeper into your chest. You choke back your own tears, your breath hitching. “It’s really beautiful.”

And somehow, as broken as the moment feels, there’s a strange healing that takes root within you. His story pulls at your soul, stitching up places in your heart you didn’t even know needed mending. The depth of his love for Jiwoo, for Hwa-Young, only strengthens the feelings you’ve been carrying for him. And in this raw, vulnerable space, you no longer question his past or the bond he shared with her. No, now you see it for what it truly is—a love so pure, so selfless, that it only brings you closer to him.

Jimin’s breath catches, and then he sobs again, burying his face briefly in his hands before looking back at you. “Before she died,” he whispers, his voice breaking, “she made me promise her something.” He pauses, the air between you fragile and electric, like the calm before a storm.

You lean closer, your voice soft but steady. “What did you promise her?”

His lips tremble as he exhales, gathering the strength to say the words. “She made me promise that I’d find love,” he says, his voice heavy with the weight of years spent carrying that promise. “But I… I’ve never been able to. Not until…” His words trail off, and suddenly he moves closer, so close that your foreheads are touching.

You can feel the warmth of his breath against your skin, the steady rhythm of his heart echoing in the quiet between you. Your chest tightens, and you inhale deeply, summoning every ounce of courage.

“Jimin?” you whisper, your voice barely audible, trembling like the edge of a song.

He sniffles, his voice rasping but soft. “Yeah?”

Your eyes meet his, and in them, you see everything—his pain, his hope, and something new, something meant just for you. You exhale shakily. “I think…” you pause, grounding yourself in the moment, “I think I’m falling for you.”

A stunned silence stretches between you, and then he exhales, his lips curving into the softest, most genuine smile you’ve ever seen. “I think…” he says, his voice almost breaking with emotion, “I think I’m falling for you too.”

The weight of his confession hits you both at the same time, and suddenly, laughter spills out between the tears. It’s unsteady and messy, but it feels so good—like the tension and sorrow of the past have finally given way to something warm and freeing.

You cling to each other, laughing and crying, your hands tangling in his as the world around you fades away. It’s chaotic, it’s raw, and it’s imperfect—but it’s yours. It’s the start of something neither of you can deny anymore. And for the first time, it feels like everything is exactly as it’s meant to be. Just right.

You wake to the soft prod of a small finger poking your cheek. A sleepy groan escapes your lips as you stir, shifting against a source of warmth beneath you. Blinking your eyes open, you’re met with Hwa-Young’s beaming face, her smile bright enough to rival the morning sun.

“Are you and daddy together now?” she asks innocently, her big, curious eyes studying you with a playful twinkle.

Confusion flutters through you until you glance down—and your heart stops. You realize you’ve been lying on top of Jimin, his chest a comforting pillow throughout the night. Heat rushes to your cheeks as you sit up abruptly, your movement jostling him awake.

“Wha—what?” Jimin mumbles groggily, his hair adorably tousled as he sits up too, looking at you with sleepy, startled eyes. His blush mirrors your own, painting his cheeks a delicate rose as realization dawns on him.

You laugh nervously, running a hand through your hair in a feeble attempt to ground yourself. Jimin chuckles too, rubbing the back of his neck, though his embarrassment doesn’t erase the tender smile tugging at his lips, “Muckin’ aren’t you up early?”

Hwa-Young, ever the morning sprite, shakes her head matter-of-factly. “No, no, you guys slept in. So, are you dating now?” Her voice is sweet, but her question lands like a thunderbolt in your chest, setting your heart racing.

How is it that a child’s innocent words can so effortlessly crack open your emotions, leaving them raw and exposed?

Jimin turns to you, his eyes wide with surprise, then softening into something deeper—something vulnerable yet sure. Your gaze drops to your hand, hesitantly reaching for his. When your fingers touch, his warmth steadies you, grounding your swirling thoughts.

You swallow the lump in your throat and look back at him. “If you want this,” your voice is barely above a whisper, “then I want this too.”

For a moment, the world stands still. Jimin’s smile grows, tender and genuine, his eyes brimming with quiet joy. “I guess… I guess we are,” he says, his voice carrying the kind of softness that makes your heart flutter.

Your eyes flick to Hwa-Young, her grin impossibly wide as she watches the exchange like she’s been waiting for this moment forever. “Would that be okay with you?” you ask her gently, your voice laced with sincerity. After all, this little girl holds a piece of Jimin’s heart, and you’d never want to intrude on that if she didn’t welcome you.

Hwa-Young’s response is instant—a squeal of pure delight as she throws her arms around you both. “Of course, it’s okay! I’ve been waiting for this to happen!” she cries, her excitement contagious.

Her small arms mash you and Jimin together in a tight, giggling hug, the three of you becoming a tangle of laughter and warmth. Jimin’s arm curls protectively around both of you, and you feel him press a light kiss to Hwa-Young’s hair.

Your eyes meet his over her head, and in his gaze, you see it all—the joy, the relief, and the quiet promise of something beautiful beginning. You’re a mess of laughter and emotions, but in this moment, wrapped in their embrace, everything feels right. Like the first rays of sunlight after a long night, you feel hope bloom in your chest, warm and endless.

The rest of the day unfolds in a blissful haze of warmth and laughter. With Jimin and Hwa-Young, it’s all simple joys—playing silly games, dramatic rounds of charades, and bursts of giggles during hide-and-seek. The house feels alive, filled with the kind of happiness that settles in your soul like sunlight after a storm.

When evening falls, Jimin takes over the kitchen, whipping up dinner with a grace that mesmerizes you, even in its simplicity. The meal is delicious, and afterward, Hwa-Young’s sleepy yawns signal bedtime. You offer to tuck her in once more, her tiny arms wrapping around your neck as you read her favorite story until her soft, even breaths fill the room.

By the time you find yourself nestled in Jimin’s bed, the world feels quieter, softer, like it’s holding its breath just for the two of you. You lie beside him, the dim light casting gentle shadows across his face. His presence is steady, grounding you in a way that feels both new and eternal.

Your gaze lingers on him, your chest swelling with emotions you can barely contain. Pride, gratitude, love—it’s all there, an unspoken symphony playing between your heartbeats. Slowly, your hand reaches out, your fingers brushing against the softness of his cheek.

“Thank you, Jimin,” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper. His eyes meet yours, warm and patient, as if he’s willing to wait forever to hear what you have to say. “Thank you for sharing the love you had for Jiwoo.”

His hand moves to cover yours, gently pressing it against his cheek. There’s something in his touch that feels like a promise—like he’s anchoring you to him, silently vowing to keep you close, to never let you go.

“You were really brave,” you continue, your voice trembling with the weight of what you’re about to say. “So I want to be brave too.” You blink, inhaling deeply, willing the courage to surface. “I want to tell you about my relationships.”

Jimin nods, his head sinking deeper into the pillow as his eyes remain fixed on yours, filled with quiet understanding. He doesn’t rush you, doesn’t push—he just waits, offering you the safe space you need to unravel your thoughts.

“You’ve met my brother Yoongi, of course,” you begin, your voice soft but steady. “Both him and my best friend Namjoon… they’re very protective of me.” You pause, swallowing hard. “Because,” you sigh, your breath hitching as you press forward, “because I have a bad track record with men.”

The words hang in the air, heavy and raw, but instead of recoiling, Jimin shifts closer, his hand gently intertwining with yours. His touch says everything you need—it’s okay. Take your time.

You exhale shakily, your gaze flickering to the ceiling as memories resurface. “I’ve been with men who didn’t value me, didn’t see me for who I was. They took pieces of me, left me feeling smaller, like I wasn’t enough.” Your voice cracks, but Jimin’s hand tightens slightly around yours, grounding you. “It’s made me cautious, made me put up walls I didn’t even realize were there.”

You glance back at him, your voice softening. “But you’re different, Jimin. You’ve never made me feel small or unsure. With you, it’s like… like I’m finally breathing fresh air after years of holding it all in.”

His thumb brushes over your knuckles, his gaze unwavering, filled with something so tender it makes your chest ache. “You’re not small, Y/N,” he says quietly, his voice steady but rich with emotion. “You’re more than enough.”

His thumb brushes over the back of your hand, grounding you with the warmth of his touch as a tear slips free from your eye. He doesn’t speak, but the steady rhythm of his fingers against your skin tells you that he’s listening, that he’s here.

You inhale shakily, the words heavy on your tongue but begging to be said. “I don’t know why, but all the men I’ve been with—they’ve either been manipulative, cheating, or full of red flags I should’ve seen but didn’t,” you murmur, your voice trembling under the weight of memory. “The most recent one, Mark… this was a few years ago…”

You pause, closing your eyes as you brace yourself. His hand tightens slightly on yours, a silent assurance that you can take your time.

“He hurt me,” you continue, your voice barely above a whisper, “not just emotionally. He was cunning—so good with his words, so convincing. He made me believe every lie he told, every false promise.” Your voice cracks, and you force a laugh, though it’s brittle, hollow. “And then one day… one day, he hit me.”

The words hang in the air, raw and exposed, like a wound that never fully healed. You dare to glance at Jimin, and what you see makes your chest ache—a storm of pain, anger, and heartbreak swirling in his eyes, all for you. He says nothing, but the way he looks at you feels like a vow: No one will ever hurt you again.

You laugh softly, the sound tinged with bittersweet triumph as you add, “So… I hit him back.”

His eyes widen for a moment, and then a spark of something else—something close to pride—flickers in them.

“I don’t go around hitting people, I swear,” you say quickly, shaking your head with a small, self-deprecating chuckle. “But Mark? Mark deserved it. And then I left him. For good.” You let out a deep sigh, sinking further into the pillow, as though shedding the memory and its weight. “I haven’t dated anyone since. Not because I didn’t want to, but… I’ve been scared. Scared it would all happen again.”

Your gaze drifts to Jimin, and your hand moves on its own, your fingertips brushing against his lips. The softness of them makes you shiver, makes you feel something you haven’t felt in a long time—hope.

“But you…” your voice falters, your touch lingering against the plush curve of his lips, “you’re not like the men I’ve known before. You’re gentle, and kind, and so good—so good it terrifies me. And yet…” You pause, the confession tightening in your chest like a butterfly trapped in a jar. “And yet, I’m still scared.”

His lips part slightly beneath your fingers, a breath of warmth brushing against your skin as his eyes lock onto yours, steady and unwavering.

“Scared of this,” you whisper, your voice cracking with vulnerability, “of letting you in, of giving this—us—a chance.”

Your hand trembles as you pull away, but before you can retreat, Jimin reaches for you, his fingers curling gently around yours and pulling your hand back to his chest. You can feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your palm, strong and reassuring.

“But I want you,” you admit, your voice barely audible, the words spilling out like a confession to the night. “I want to try, even though I’m scared.”

For a moment, the world holds its breath. His hand moves to cradle your face, his thumb brushing away the tear that lingers on your cheek. “You don’t have to be afraid,” he whispers, his voice soft but full of quiet conviction.

And when he leans in, pressing his forehead to yours, it feels like a promise—unspoken but unmistakable. The past may have left its scars, but with him, you feel the fragile beginnings of something new. Something healing. Something worth the risk.

He inches closer, the warmth of his body drawing yours like a tide to the shore, and the gap between you dissolves into nothing.

“Mark sounds like a fucking dick,” he murmurs, his voice low but laced with quiet fire. “I’m proud of you—proud that you stood up for yourself and left. And I swear to you,” his voice softens, trembles with a vow he’s desperate for you to believe, “I’d never do anything like that. Ever.”

He’s so close now, your noses brushing, the air between you charged and trembling, and it would take nothing—nothing at all—to close the gap and press your lips to his. But you hold back, caught in the moment’s fragile beauty, afraid to shatter it.

“You deserve so much more than what you’ve been given,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. His breath mingles with yours, his words steady and sincere, but then they falter. “And I… I just hope I won’t disappoint you.” He exhales shakily, his vulnerability like an exposed nerve. “I haven’t been in many serious relationships.”

You study him in the dim light, your gaze tracing every detail that makes him so heartbreakingly human. The tiny freckles scattered like constellations across his skin. The slight curve of his crooked teeth when he speaks. The crescent moon shape his eyes take when they crinkle, even when he’s this close to breaking. The ink that stains his finger and wrist, marks of stories and promises etched into his flesh.

Everything about him is imperfect. Everything about him is beautiful. And your chest tightens with the force of it all, the way his presence fills every hollow part of you without even trying.

“Maybe…” you murmur, the words catching as your eyes lock with his, “maybe we can figure it out together?”

Your breaths intermingle, his so warm against your lips it feels like a whisper of what could be. His eyes search yours, wide and shimmering with something fragile, something hopeful.

“I’d love that,” he breathes, his voice soft but sure, and then he moves—finally closes the distance.

When his lips meet yours, the world tilts and stills all at once. His taste is intoxicating, a delicate blend of something musky and sweet, like vanilla threaded with amber. It’s not just a kiss—it’s gravity, pulling you into his orbit, tethering you to him in a way that feels both grounding and weightless.

You wrap your arms around him, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as though holding on to him could anchor you in this moment. His touch, the way his body molds to yours, feels like home. Like comfort. Like every shattered piece of your heart finally has a place to rest.

This—he—is what you’ve been waiting for. And as the kiss deepens, you realize he’s not just what you want; he’s what you need.

→ Permanent taglist: @nora12379 @jeonsbabygirlsworld @fancypeacepersona @ktownshizzle @pjmxxjm @ajoonniice @kookiewithluv @mikrokookiex @rapmonjoon94 @parkitrighthere

→ Series taglist: @13-manggaetteok @mima795 @hnnnjm @flaneuseonthestreets @miniesjams32 @graydolan12 @rinkud @allie-in-the-moon

→ Author’s endnote: okay, real talk—how are you holding up? Because oh my god, I was absolutely SOBBING while writing this. Like, ugly crying, tissues everywhere, red-nosed Rudolph levels of chaos 😭. But I swear on all that is good and fluffy, things are finally looking up now! No more gut-wrenching, soul-crushing angst (well, maybe just a sprinkle here and there for spice), but I promise, it’s time for healing 🥹 So grab your emotional support snacks, because we’re entering the soft era! 🫶

© @/kingofbodyrolls 2025 // Please don’t copy or repost! You are more than welcome to reblog it, leave a comment or ask me anything about the story 🥰

[hugherin]

HEAVEN CAN'T HELP ME NOW.

when zaya decides to spend her vacation in Davos to escape from reality, but ends up crossing paths with Nico Hischier, who has the same goal. pt. 1, pt. 2, pt. 4.

pairing: nico hischier x oc! reader.

warnings: none <3

You hesitated, the cold of the night feeling even sharper as the voice echoed again. Slowly, you turned around, already knowing who you would see.

"Andrew?"

He was there, standing with the same confident posture as always, but something about him was different. Perhaps it was the contrast between New York and Davos, or perhaps you were the one who had changed.

"Zaya. I knew it was you." He took a few steps closer, his face illuminated by the warm lights of the lobby. "What are you doing here? In Davos, I mean."

"Vacation." you replied, trying to keep your voice neutral. "And you?"

"Same. Needed a break from the city. Isn't it funny?" He chuckled softly, as if the coincidence were some sort of private joke. "Two New Yorkers ending up here, on the other side of the world."

You offered a brief, forced smile. "Yeah, funny."

An awkward silence settled between you, heavy with unspoken words and memories neither of you wanted to revisit.

"Are you okay?" Andrew asked, tilting his head slightly. "I mean, since... well, since we broke up."

Your eyebrows shot up, surprised by his directness. "I am. And you?"

"Yeah, of course. It’s just... you seem different." His gaze lingered on you with an intensity that made you want to escape.

"Maybe because I am different." You crossed your arms, whether to keep warm or to shield yourself from the conversation. "Time does that to people, don’t you think?"

Andrew smiled, but there was a trace of sadness in his eyes. "I guess it does. Well, I won’t bother you anymore. It was nice seeing you, Zaya. Maybe we’ll run into each other again?"

"Yeah, maybe." You kept your tone distant as he walked away.

Pulling your coat tighter around you, you stepped outside the hotel. The air was icy, biting, yet strangely comforting. The northern lights were already dancing above, as if they had been waiting for you. Shades of green, lilac, and gold swirled together, undulating like a melody only the universe could hear.

You found yourself on a wooden platform that extended beyond the hotel, a space designed for guests to marvel at the natural spectacle. Alone, except for your thoughts, which gathered like snowflakes — silent but persistent.

Andrew.

Seeing your ex-boyfriend here, thousands of miles away from where you thought he belonged, left a strange unease in your chest. It wasn’t sadness or longing. It was something deeper, more unsettling: a mirror he had held up, showing a version of yourself you barely recognized.

For the past few years, your life had been a race against time. Endless meetings, unreachable goals, nights too short and days even shorter. You always justified the exhaustion by telling yourself you were building something, but now, looking back, you weren’t sure if you had built anything other than a gilded cage.

Andrew had been part of that. Not because he was toxic or problematic — he wasn’t. But your relationship had been an extension of that same suffocating routine. Planned outings that felt like obligations, conversations squeezed between phone calls. Nothing flowed. Nothing grew.

You sighed, your gaze fixed on the sky, as if seeking answers among the stars. It was ironic how only now, far from everything, you realized how stagnant you had become.

And somehow, Nico was the opposite of that.

The way he talked about the simplest things as if they were extraordinary. The taste of the local coffee, the texture of the snow, the way the sunrise painted the mountains. He had an almost irritating ability to find beauty in the mundane, something you had forgotten how to do.

But it wasn’t just that. Nico made you feel alive.

When he was around, it was as if a part of you, long dormant, was waking up. You laughed more. You felt more. And for the first time in years, you wanted something you couldn’t quite name.

As these memories danced through your mind, the aurora seemed to grow even brighter, as if the universe wanted to join in your thoughts.

"I need to change." you whispered, the words nearly swallowed by the wind.

You needed to leave behind the safety of a predictable, monotonous life. You needed to embrace the unknown, even if it was terrifying. Deep down, you knew that staying as you were wasn’t living — it was merely existing.

Meeting Andrew had been a painful reminder of that, but also a gift. He had forced you to face the truth: the life you had in New York wasn’t enough.

And Nico... He was the spark you didn’t know you needed. You weren’t sure what that meant or where it might lead, but for the first time, you were willing to find out.

You stood there a while longer, breathing in the frigid air and letting every nuance of that night imprint itself on your memory.

You thought you were alone — until the sound of footsteps echoed on the wooden platform behind you. Your heart quickened as you turned.

Nico appeared, hands stuffed in the pockets of his coat, an easy smile on his face.

"Do you always sneak up on people like this?" you asked, still startled.

"No." he said, tilting his head slightly. "Do you always step out into the cold alone to think about life?"

You shrugged, wary. "What are you doing here?"

"Some teammates are staying at this hotel. The bar was getting unbearable, and then I saw you step outside..." He paused, glancing at the northern lights. "I figured this would be more interesting."

"Interesting? Or just spying?" you teased, crossing your arms.

"Let’s call it intellectual curiosity." he replied, stepping closer. "So, what brought you out here? Escaping something too?"

You hesitated. "Not exactly. I guess I just needed some air. Things can get... stifling sometimes."

He raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "Stifling how?"

"You know, expectations, the kind of stuff that makes you feel like you’re stuck in a bubble." You looked at him, surprised at how much you were sharing, and quickly added, "Anyway, I just needed to clear my head."

Nico fell silent for a moment, his gaze fixed on you before he smiled in a way that made your stomach flip. "You should pop that bubble, then."

"It’s easier said than done." you retorted, looking back at the sky.

"Maybe it’s easier than you think." he said, leaning casually against the platform railing. "When was the last time you did something just because you wanted to, without worrying if it made sense or was practical?"

You thought for a moment. "I have no idea."

"Exactly what I figured." His sideways grin was both infuriating and endearing. "I bet you have a mental list of things you’ve always wanted to do but never dared to try."

"Like jumping off a cliff?" you joked, raising an eyebrow.

"If that’s on your list, let me know. I’d love to see it." He laughed. "But seriously, Zaya. You should try doing things that have absolutely nothing to do with your routine."

"Like what? Give me an example."

"Ah, that would ruin the surprise. And I’m terrible at making lists on the spot." he said, tilting his head as if analyzing you. "But I guarantee that if you try, you’ll feel more alive."

"Alive?" you echoed, skeptical.

"Yeah. You know... that feeling where the whole world is buzzing around you." His smile was playful, but there was genuine warmth in his eyes.

You rolled your eyes, unable to suppress the smile tugging at your lips. "Alright, poet. I’ll think about it."

"Just think?" He took a step back, already starting to walk away. "I thought you were braver than that."

"Good night, Nico." You tried to sound firm, but the amusement in his voice disarmed you.

"Good night, Zaya." He glanced back one last time before disappearing into the lobby, leaving you standing there, still smiling, his words echoing in your mind.

The muffled sound of snow falling outside was the first thing you noticed as you woke up. The room was quiet except for the faint hum of the heater, and the soft light of dawn seeped through the curtains. You stretched lazily, your mind still clouded with memories of the night before.

Dragging yourself out of bed, you pulled a cozy sweater over your pajamas before heading to the small kitchenette. Making coffee was almost a ritual — an anchor.

The coffee machine hummed softly as you waited, your eyes drifting to the fogged-up window. Outside, the world was a sea of white, with snow blanketing everything in an untouched layer. It was beautiful, almost too perfect.

The smell of coffee filled the air, and you poured yourself a mug, cradling it in both hands to absorb the warmth. As you turned to walk toward the armchair by the window, something caught your attention.

A folded piece of paper was tucked under the door.

Frowning, you set the mug down on the table before bending to pick up the note. The fold was neat, and your name was written on the front in casual handwriting.

"Zaya,

I figured you could use some ideas to step out of your comfort zone. Consider this a challenge.

— Hischier.”

Your curiosity grew as you unfolded the note, revealing a list:

Zaya’s List

- Jump into a frozen lake (I bet you won’t dare).

- Ski off the trail (but only if you survive the lake).

- Hike up the mountain to watch the sunrise (bring hot chocolate).

- Sing karaoke at the tavern. Pick a terrible song.

- Attend the town’s Masquerade Ball. (Don’t you dare say no.)

You chuckled softly, surprised by his boldness and how he seemed to know exactly what you needed — a little push.

But one thing still puzzled you. How did he know your room number?

You hesitated for a moment before grabbing your phone and dialing his number. He picked up on the third ring.

“Zaya, calling me already? I thought you’d ignore the list.”

“How do you even know where I’m staying?” you asked directly.

“I have my ways." he replied, laughing.

“Ways? That sounds suspicious.”

“Let’s just say I’m good at finding things out. What do you think of the list?”

“It’s ridiculous.”

“Ridiculous but brilliant, I know.”

You rolled your eyes, even though he couldn’t see it. “You seriously think I’m going to jump into a frozen lake?”

“I’m certain you will.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Oh, you will.” The confidence in his voice was both infuriating and oddly captivating.

“I should ignore you, but…” You hesitated. "What’s the address and time for the masquerade ball? Since it seems so essential.”

He laughed, a warm, light sound. “It’s in two days, at the hall in the main square, 9 PM. You’ll stand out, I’m sure of it.”

“We’ll see.”

“Can’t wait, Zaya.”

Before you could reply, he hung up, leaving you with the note in hand and a smile you couldn’t quite suppress.

The night arrived shrouded in mystery. The hall in the main square looked like something out of a dream — a mix of classic elegance and magic. Delicate lanterns hung from the arched ceiling, casting a warm golden glow over the space. Masked figures glided across the room like characters from an old tale, their elaborate outfits catching the play of light and shadow.

From what you’d read, it was a charity ball benefiting a nearby retirement home. It wasn’t surprising Nico had invitations—he was not only born here but also a well-known figure.

You hesitated at the entrance, adjusting the mask that covered half your face. You’d chosen something understated yet elegant, with black lace details to match your dress. You didn’t want to draw too much attention, but there was something thrilling about hiding behind a mask— like you could be someone else, just for a night.

Your eyes scanned the room, searching for a familiar face—or rather, a familiar mask. Nico had mentioned he’d be there, but the hall was crowded, and he had a knack for disappearing.

A waiter passed by with a tray of sparkling wine glasses, and you grabbed one, taking a sip to calm your nerves. The string music filled the air, its rhythm making your body instinctively want to move.

And then, you felt it.

A light touch on your shoulder, followed by a low, amused voice in your ear. “I like the dress. It suits the whole mysterious vibe.”

You turned, and there he was.

The mask Nico wore covered most of his face, intricately detailed in silver that shimmered under the lanterns. But you recognized the smile. He held a glass in one hand, the other tucked casually into the pocket of his perfectly tailored black suit.

“And you? Do you frequent masquerade balls, or are you just an expert at looking out of place?” you teased, hiding your smile behind your glass.

“Out of place? I thought I was nailing the mysterious alter ego.” He tilted his head slightly. “You look stunning, by the way. But I imagine you already know that.”

“And you’re still laying it on thick with the compliments.”

“If it’s true, it’s not overdoing it.” He extended his hand, his eyes glinting behind the mask. “May I have this dance?”

You hesitated for a moment, but there was something about the way he looked at you—a confidence that felt impossible to resist. Setting your glass on a passing waiter’s tray, you took his hand.

He led you to the center of the room, where other couples were already dancing. The music shifted to something slower yet still lively, and Nico’s steps were surprisingly steady, as if he’d done this a thousand times.

“I didn’t know you could dance." you remarked, trying to keep up with him.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me.” he replied, a playful smile on his lips.

“Like what?”

“For example,” He spun you effortlessly before pulling you back, closer this time. “I like making strange lists to help people stuck in their routines.”

“Yeah, I figured that one out already.”

“Okay, then another: I’ve never been to a masquerade ball before. I’m improvising.”

You laughed, relaxing more in his arms. “You’re doing pretty well.”

“And you? How are you doing with the challenge?”

“I’ll jump into the frozen lake tomorrow morning if that’s what you’re wondering,” you said with complete sarcasm.

“That’s one I wouldn’t miss."

The conversation flowed easily as you danced, and for a moment, the rest of the room faded away. The music, the people, even the masks—none of it seemed to matter besides his presence.

When the song ended, Nico didn’t let go immediately. You stayed there, close enough to feel his warmth, your eyes locked. Behind the masks, it felt like there were no secrets—just the electric tension of something new and unexpected.

“I told you this ball was essential." he murmured.

“And I still think you’re exaggerating.”

He tilted his head, as if about to say something else, but then smiled. “Maybe. But I have a feeling you won’t forget tonight.”

Before you could respond, he pulled you into another dance, as if the world outside could wait. And for the first time in a long time, you believed it could.

The space between you shrank with every step. His scent—warm and woody—mingled with the slightly crisp air drifting in through the open windows. You found your gaze straying to the details of his mask, as if trying to read something hidden there.

“Are you analyzing me?” he asked, raising an eyebrow behind his mask.

“Maybe." you replied with a playful edge, a smile tugging at your lips.

“And what have you figured out so far?”

“That you love attention but pretend you don’t.”

He laughed — a genuine, contagious sound. “You’re good at this.”

“Not as good as you are at making ridiculous lists.”

“Ridiculous, but effective.”

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable. Instead, it carried a certain ease, amplified by the way his eyes remained fixed on yours, as if he were seeing beyond what you allowed.

“You said you’ve never been to a masquerade before.” you remarked, breaking the quiet. “What made you come to this one?”

“Because you came.”

The answer was straightforward, without hesitation, and you felt heat rush to your face, even with the mask partially concealing your embarrassment. He didn’t look away, and you realized he hadn’t said it to impress — it was simply the truth.

“And if I hadn’t come?”

“I’d probably be at the tavern with my teammates. But something told me you wouldn’t miss this.”

He smiled again, and you realized you were smiling too. As the music ended, you both stopped dancing, though he didn’t let go of your hand right away.

“Want to get out of here?” he asked, his voice low.

“Get out?” you repeated, raising your eyebrows.

“Not literally. Just… away from the ballroom. There’s a balcony out back with an amazing view of the mountains.”

The idea of escaping the crowd seemed tempting, especially with him. You nodded, and he led you through the room, effortlessly weaving past other dancers.

The balcony was wide, illuminated by a few lanterns hanging on the stone walls. Snow fell in light flakes, melting as they touched the warm wood of the floor. Outside, the air was colder but purer, and the view was breathtaking: snow-capped mountains glimmering under the soft moonlight.

“Definitely better than the ballroom.” you remarked, hugging your arms against the chill.

“Agreed,” he said, slipping off his jacket and draping it over your shoulders before you could protest. “Better?”

You nodded, feeling the immediate warmth.

The two of you stood there, side by side, silently taking in the mountains. The wind toyed with strands of your hair, and you noticed Nico watching them, as if trying to decipher something unspoken.

“I didn’t expect this." you said finally, breaking the silence.

“This what?”

“This trip. You. Everything feels… different from what I imagined.”

“Different is good?”

“It is. I think it is.”

He smiled, and the way his eyes softened when they met yours made your heart race.

A stronger gust of wind sent snowflakes swirling, sparkling under the moonlight. You pulled his jacket closer, inhaling the faint scent of him that lingered in the fabric. There was something about it that warmed more than just the cold night.

Nico was still beside you, closer now. He leaned on the railing, staring at the view like he was trying to absorb every detail. The confident smile he often wore had faded, replaced by something more thoughtful.

“Enjoying the night so far?” he asked, his voice quiet.

You turned to him, meeting his gaze through the mask. “More than I expected.”

“Good. My reputation depends on it.”

“Oh, really? And if I’m not impressed?”

He tilted his head, his smile returning, but this time with a hint of challenge. “Then I guess I’ll have to try harder.”

“And what else do you have to offer?” you teased, though your voice came out softer than you intended.

Nico didn’t reply immediately. He studied you, his eyes glinting as if he were reading something you hadn’t realized you were showing. Then, he stepped closer, until the space between you felt almost nonexistent.

“I could show you." he said, his voice so low it was nearly a whisper.

Your heartbeat quickened, but you didn’t pull away. There was something in the way he spoke— each word deliberate yet impulsive.

“Are you always this confident?”

“Only when I’m sure of something.”

“And what are you sure of right now?”

He smiled, a blend of assurance and tenderness. “That you want this as much as I do.”

Before you could respond —or even think of one — he closed the distance.

The kiss was warm and unhesitating, as though he knew exactly what he was doing. At first, it was firm, almost teasing, but then it softened, growing deeper and more consuming. His hands alternated between your waist and your hair, and the world around you seemed to vanish. No more cold wind, no more snow, no more mountains—just the heat of him, the pressure of his hands, the way he tilted his head to draw you closer.

Time blurred. The kiss carried a rhythm that shifted between bold and gentle, as though he were exploring every nuance while still leaving room for you to take the lead.

When you finally pulled apart, it was just enough to meet his gaze again. Your breath was unsteady, and his smile had returned—smug yet impossibly endearing.

“Impressed now?” he murmured, looking into your eyes like he didn’t already know the answer.

[ryanthedoctor11]

1. Apple Juice

2. Sharks

3. Very much so

4. Mimi's Delivery Service by Good Kid

5. Day

6. Only the 1

7. I liked them well enough, they aren't very common outside Britain and I don't live there, but I was able to try them once. Didn't like the purple one though

8. Red

9. I don't think I have a "worst" texture, I know there are some I dislike, but I can't think of them off the top of my head

10. When I was playing a game with my family, and one of the prompts was technology that kids wouldn't know and (to annoy my mom and grandma) I replied "iPod" only for my youngest cousin to actually ask "what's an iPod?"

Questions:

1. What's your favorite TV show?

2. What's your favorite movie?

3. Who is your comfort character?

4. What's your favorite video game?

5. If you had a TARDIS what would you do with it?

6. What's your favorite form of creative expression?

7. What is your favorite genre?

8. What's your favorite color?

9. What is the answer to life, the universe, and everything?

10. What is the air-speed velocity of an unladen swallow?

@lylaaaaaaaaaaaaaa @cipher-fresh @j-the-l-a-d @rbysunday

Ten questions to ask a mutual

Instructions: prev asks ten questions and you answer them, then ask ten new ones and tag ten people to keep the chain going! I’ll go first

What is the weirdest thing you’ve eaten? (For me it’s the time I accidentally drank ants)

do you like purple or green more? (For me it’s a 50/50 I love them both)

what is your favorite two color color combo? (For me it’s purple and gold)

are you a cat or dog person? (Dogs 100%)

what is your favorite painting (Miranda by John William Waterhouse)

Mountains or beaches? (Mountains)

what’s your favorite dessert? (Lemon bars)

are you right or left handed? (Right but I used to be left handed)

salty or sweet? (Sweet)

summer or winter? (Winter)

I’m tagging 11 people but it’s whatever

@wra1th-k1ng

@bladevoyager

@tragedyanddust

@kindred-spirit-93

@urfavgreekmythnerd

@sickneurotic

@ry-diggity

@we-are-but-dead-stars

@thestarryfalls

@tamaruaart

@hermesmoly

[simpjackie]

Hiii, do you have any headcanons of dating shauna in the wilderness or dating shauna if the plane crash never happened and reader met shauna at college?? thank youuuu

Thank you for the ask anon! I hope you enjoy it! Sorry for some mistakes English isn't my first language :D

Warning: the usual stuff that happend in the yellowjackets wilderness. Dating Shauna in the wilderness:

♡Before the plane crash, you and Shauna weren't exactly friends, playmates at best, but you were brought together by shared classes and soccer practices. You only know her as Jackie's everlasting shadow or some lost puppy always following her. However, after the crash, Shauna's nature shines. She's resourceful, always coming up with small solutions to make life a little easier.

♡It started with practical things: working together to gather firewood and sharing small tasks around the cabin. Over time, it evolved into something deeper, a mutual understanding that didn't require words.

♡The turning point in your relationship came one night when you were sitting alone by the fire; she came to you, her face pale, her hands trembling. She admitted that she thought she might be pregnant, and you were surprised (surprisingly). The reality of it, paired with the circumstances of the winter coming, was just so overwhelming. But you promised her and yourself that she wouldn't go through it alone. From that moment, you're at her side – giving her some of your portions, helping her skin animals or shielding her from unnecessary stress when the others argue over food.

♡Your relationship unfolded like a secret meant only for the two of you. She became your refuge, and you became hers. You started noticing all the small things she did for you, like saving a piece of meat or patching up a tear in your university jacket when you weren't paying attention.

♡When Jackie died, it was a turning point for both of you. Shaunas withdraws, haunted by guilt and the loss of her best friend. While the others start whispering behind her back about her talking with the corpse, you are trying to help her, like sometimes coming with her to the shed, sitting in the cold beside her, listening as she talks about Jackie, about the good, bad and complicated stuff. She even told you why she slept with Jeff. To feel seen, not to be just Jackie's shadow.

♡After you burned the body (and ehm other stuff :d), Shauna comes to you a few days later, handing you Jackie's gold necklace with trembling hands. "I don't know why I kept this," she admits. You don't push her for answers; instead, you hold her close to your chest.

♡Nights with Shauna become sacred. She leans into you, her voice soft as she talks about memories of home—her mom's house, her favorite books, the sound of thunder outside her bedroom window. It is her way of holding onto pieces of herself, and you listen like each word is a gift.

♡You became her safe space. The person who sees her not as the strong one or the girl who keeps it together but as someone who needs care and love just as much as anyone else. And despite everything going on, you hold onto the hope that one day, you'll make it out of the wilderness together.

♡In the wilderness, love wasn't grand gestures or declarations. It was survival, shared silences, and the unspoken promise that you'd do whatever it took to protect each other. With Shauna, it felt like enough.

♡I really think although she seems like the tough guy, whenever she's around you, she becomes a huge softie (I mean at least when its only the two of you). She cannot resist you in anything. If you ask for it, she will try her hardest to obtain it for you.

♡She is super duper protective of you and will literally fight anyone at the cabin if they even look at you badly :D.

♡Shauna probably always asks for your opinion when it comes to her ration, whether the shirt looks good on her or whether it would be weird if she wore some of Jackie's clothes… She keeps asking you so she can hear you praising her.

♡You even once talked about names for the babies. It was late at night, and everyone around you was sound asleep. But to your delight, the next day, Shauna did as it never happened because she despises the unborn child in some way.

♡You fought about it that day. Shauna told you that she would be sleeping with Tai in the attic, but you gave her your best puppy eyes and said, "But I can only fall asleep next to you." Shauna's eyes immediately softened. You even heard Van in the background yelling, "Whipped!"

♡Even when she's not big on PDA and will smack you lightly if you try to do something before the girls, coach and Travis, but in the middle of the night, she loves giving your forehead kisses even when she denies it.

Dating Shauna at the college:

♡You first met in an early morning history lecture in your second year. Shauna always sat at the same spot near the back corner, tucked away like she didn't want to be noticed, her head buried in her laptop as she took notes from the lecture. You see her occasionally glancing up, her brows furrowing as she dissected the professor's lectures. Shauna never raised her hand or participated if she wasn't called on, but when she spoke, oh god, you develop a crush just from that; her insights were sharp and thoughtful, and she was really smart.

♡The two of you officially crossed paths when the professor paired you for a final project. Shauna was organized and a little bit of a perfectionist, the kind of partner everyone wanted but never appreciated. You and Shauna spent hours and hours together, changing only the surroundings of the library or the study room. You were surprised by her dry sense of humour and her little habit of doodling in the corners of her paper when she thought you weren't looking.

♡It didn't actually take long for these study sessions to turn into something more casual. One rainy evening, as you both worked late on the project, you asked Shauna if she wanted to grab dinner with you, and to your surprise, when she agreed, you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. Over the greasy burgers and strawberry milkshakes, you found yourselves talking about everything: her childhood, her love for writing and how she still played soccer for the college soccer team (more to it later). She even told you she hated soccer in high school and that she joined just because of her best friend, Jackie.  And you weren't eating up all of this information.

♡Shauna was hesitant to open up at first, but you didn't care or mind, finding her small quirks endearing. For example, she had these small habits of twisting her necklace when she was nervous and always carried a book in her bag, "just in case." You started to notice weeks into your project that she started bringing you coffee when you looked tired, or you found her little sticky notes in your notebook with words of encouragement.

♡Shauna fell first for you, thought she would never admit it. You caught her stealing glances at you during study sessions, her cheeks flushing pink when your eyes met. She was subtle at first, lingering near your dorm after she walked you to it, her excuses of needing to know you're safe, even when you were capable of defending yourself.

♡You were the one who asked Shauna on an official first date. It was probably in February, and the two of you were walking from your study session. She was rambling about a new book she had read when you interrupted, blurting out, "Do you want to grab dinner with me? Like... a date?" Shauna's eyes widened in surprise, but then she smiled, a shy small smile that made your heart skip a beat, and nodded.

♡I think Shana is not an overall jealous person, overprotective? YES, but she still has her moments of jealousy. If someone flirts with you at a party, she doesn't make a scene (like Jackie would :D), but you notice her moving closely to you with her hand subtly resting on your back. Her tone growing slightly edgier when she addresses the person. Later that night, in the safe of your dorm, she'll admit it with a sheepish grin, saying, "I didn't mean to be territorial, but I couldn't help it."

♡Even in college, Shauna still plays soccer, dragging you to every one of her games. Watching her play, you can't help but admire Shauna's determination and grace on the field. And after every match, she'll come over, sweaty and grinning after another win, and ask, "Did I look cool out there, or was I a mess?"

♡Dating Shauna in college is a blend of unexpected adventures and quiet intimacy between you. She is still not for grand gestures but will show you her love with small gestures like bringing you coffee, snacks or tickets for a film she knows you'll love. Although she's still figuring herself out, after being so long just in Jackie's shadow, Shauna's presence makes you feel safe. In her, you can find a partner who is loyal and always willing to meet you halfway (sometimes not without a fight).

[peachhcs]

I need to see like Blair going to Samy for girl talk and relationship advice. I feel like they would have a super cute relationship.

you guys just read my mind so well because i also got another ask about this :) i feel like blaire is like mack asking will a hundred questions about his sex life but she’s just less blunt about it hahaha but of course samy is more than happy to answer the questions. it makes her feel like a big sister since she’s the youngest

au masterlist

the two girls sat together in the sap center thirty minutes before puck drop. they had been making small talk and talking about their semesters so far when blaire finally found the courage to ask samy the question she’s been thinking about all night.

“hopefully this isn’t weird but did you enjoy your first time?” the dirty blonde asked shyly, her voice low so the others around them wouldn’t catch the conversation.

samy, a bit caught off guard but smiled nonetheless, “yeah, it was fine. why do you ask?”

“oh, i don’t know. i’ve never really..gone that far with a guy before,” blaire admitted almost embarrassingly.

“that’s okay. i feel like people hyping up the first time is always so overrated because there’s no right or wrong way to do it. it’s however you want it to go,” the brunette shrugged a bit. hers wasn’t magical or anything, but the guy she did it with was really kind and made sure she was okay more than anything.

“your first time wasn’t with will?”

“no, it was with this guy i had a small thing with my junior year of high school. he was nice and we’re still friendly with one another,” samy chuckled thinking about tyler and she wondered what he was doing. all she knew was that he was at the university of delaware.

“did it like..hurt?” blaire couldn’t help but ask because obviously she didn’t have a mom to talk about this stuff with and her brothers were definitely out of the question.

“i mean..kind of at first? the pain usually subsides as you keep going but if it hurts at all and you wanna stop, don’t hesitate to voice that,” samy’s never really had someone ask her about this stuff before, but she was more than happy to answer blaire’s questions.

she even got a small wave of deja vu when she was 16 sitting in her kitchen asking grace all the same questions.

“i feel like mack and i wanna take the next step but i don’t think either of us really know how to because we’ve never..” she trailed off.

“it can be awkward at first to talk about it but i guess you just kind of go with the flow? see how everything plays out and if it’s something you really wanna do. once you do it the first time, it kind of breaks the barrier for all the other times.”

“yeah, that makes sense. sorry for bringing it up,” blaire flushed but samy quickly shook her head.

“don’t apologize. asking is important. hopefully i was somewhat helpful,” the brunette giggled and blaire smiled.

“you were, thank you. i feel like you and will are like our older siblings or something,” the thought made both of them smile. with samy and will being the youngest siblings, having someone younger than them look up to them was a nice change of pace after looking up to people all their lives.

“i always wanted a younger sibling growing up because i hated being the youngest,” the youngest hughes laughed.

“i can’t believe you grew up with three brothers older brothers. one was a lot for me,” blaire remembered all the times mason would bully her and carter and boss them around.

“it was definitely an experience, but i love them. they’re my rocks. i look up to them a lot,” samy grinned. she was glad they grew out of the being annoyed at one another phase and could actually get along because quinn, jack, and luke were the whole reason why she was the way she was.

she couldn’t imagine a life without them really.

“i’m glad you have that relationship with them. i wish i had that with mason. ever since our mom died and he went to college, he doesn’t ever talk to me anymore,” blaire frowned. samy frowned too and quickly squeezed her arm.

“i’m sorry.”

“it’s okay. i’m learning to be okay with it and maybe mason will come around one day,” the figure skater shook her head and managed another smile.

“well, you have us. i can only imagine how much the rest of our friends will like you whenever you meet them. hannah and julianne will love you, i know it,” samy grinned.

“your friends seem so cool. i see you guys interacting on instagram a lot,” blaire giggled, her wide smile returning.

“they’re so crazy, but a good crazy. will’s dev friends are some of my closest friends,” the brunette thought about the boys all the way in boston.

“i bet you get a lot of fans wanting like inside information about them or like rare pictures,” the two girls giggled.

“actually, i’ve learned that some people have found my vsco that i used to post a lot on in high school and they found the craziest old photos of the guys on there. a lot have also found my private spam account requesting to follow to get those pictures too,” samy laughed.

“that’s crazy.”

“yeah, those girls will do anything for pictures of their favorite hockey players. i don’t blame them though.”

“i feel like having a private instagram is so smart though. i’ve never thought of that,” blaire hummed.

“i made it a few years ago because i wanted to be able to post things for just my close friends. fans are crazy detectives though and have found it,” the youngest hughes said with a small shake of her head.

“wow,” blaire mumbled. the two girls glanced back out at the ice to find their boyfriend’s, puck drop getting closer.

they were skating around the ice getting last minute passes in. samy smiled seeing will down there locking himself in to play the sport he loved. her and blaire were sporting their boyfriends’ jersey’s tonight together. with samy there, a few fans recognized her and wanted pictures and with blaire slowly becoming more public, they started recognizing the younger girl too.

“okay, this might also be another weird question, but like..what does it feel like when the guy..you know..” the younger girl didn’t wanna finish the sentence in such a public setting and samy couldn’t help but laugh.

“uh..well..i guess..warm? i don’t know a better way to describe it. usually, you’d like…with them and it’s all just one big good feeling,” the brunette cringed at her words.

“how long does it last for?” blaire raised her eyebrow.

“uh..well..like..a few seconds at least?”

“i’ve heard that it’s normal for guys not lasting a long time,” blaire kept talking and samy flushed. she glanced around to make sure no one was really listening to them.

“your very first times, yeah. it’s fairly normal. some guys will try and build their stamina though,” the soccer player shrugged.

“how long do you and will..go for?..”

another blush coated samy’s cheeks, “it depends i guess. 5-10 minutes?”

“wow. that’s a lot,” the dirty blonde mumbled.

“it all depends on what you guys like you know? some people can go long, some people like to keep it short. will and i are in between i guess.”

“do you guys do it every time you visit one another?”

samy’s face had gotten so red she worried other people would notice, “maybe we can talk more about this in a more private space,” the girl giggled and blaire quickly flushed, forgetting for a moment that they were in a hockey arena full of fans.

“right, sorry.”

“don’t apologize, i like the questions. we’ll keep talking,” samy winked and blaire smiled.

[idea-less-author]

I'm rewatching Doctor Who, and first of all, I forgot how much I not only loved this show but also Rose Tyler as a whole. Also nine needs more love. Anyway, I just finished episode 1×6 Dalek, and all I could think was how interesting it would have been if the Dalek survived and joined the time traveling duo. Walk with me a second.

We all known the Daleks, what they're like, what they are, what they've done, what they're capable of. But, this Dalek has spared 2 human lives. It's just kinda meandering with Rose questioning everything. It just wants freedom, but what does that mean really? The Doctor comes in and threatens it, sees that it's changed due to Rose's DNA, and is feeling something other than hate for the first time in it's existence. It's no longer a true Dalek, but it's still alone. It asks Rose for it's final orders. And, what if, she says no. And doesn't change her mind.

This is the first time the Dalek has ever felt the full spectrum of emotions. Of course it's over whelmed. It's neever felt anything more then maybe anger and hatred and now there are so many new things to feel.

Grief for what it once was and for all it once knew, fear of all of the unknown ahead, I'm sure some guilt for not only what it has done, but for even allowing itself to be changed in the first place. It gained human emotions for the very first time, moments after finding out that it was alone, and after being tortured for who knows how long. It's standing with the being that ended the time war by massacring both of their people, and the woman who' s DNA changed you so fundamentally that you know longer know what you even are. You're feeling sunlight for the very first time. That does not sound like a being that should be making life changing/ending decisions at that moment.

So, what if Rose refuses to give that final order. She recognizes all of the above. She's a lover, she's compassionate, she's emotionally intelegent. She doesn't like the suffering of anyone, including her enemies, but death would not be her first answer. It hasn't been before, it wasn't after, so why this time?

No, what if instead Rose chose to be kind to the Dalek by being a bit crule, and refusing it's request to die. Instead she convinces the Doctor to bring him aboard the ship. She picks the Dalek up, right out of the exoskelton, and not only gives the Dalek, it's first ever physical contact, but a new home. (I understand that the Dalek is squid-like and slimey but honestly I don't know how much Rose would care about that when trying to show compassion. Hell she tried to show compassion by carressing the Dalek earlier in this very episode.)

Nine would not be thrilled with these developments. You want to bring one of the creatures that helped end his people, terrorized the Universe, and is the reason that his alone, onto HIS Tardis? Are you mad? And they would bicker a bit. Shouting would happen, and the Dalek might even be on the Doctor's side. But I think in the end Rose would look at Nine with her big doe eyes, passionate about life in the way that she always is, and he would cave. He would be upset and cross (with himself mostly), but he would let Rose bring it onto his ship. I mean the Dalek has changed, and let's be real, he's the reason the Daleks alone, as well as himself. He had his reasons, but do they even matter at this moment? With this Dalek?

Now the next episode does take place near immediately after this one on station 5 and whatever, but even with the Dalek I think that the adventure with what's his name (I can't be bothered to look it up atm but you know the guy) can go much of the same as it did. The Dalek get's let on the Tardis recovering from it's ordeal, rethinking everything, and what the implications for it are now that everything is different. I think all of the Canon episodes for this season are much of the same too, just add a couple of new adventures showing the Dalek what life can be now with a full sectrum of emtions. And because it got these emotions from Rose, probably a shit-ton of compassion. I also think that it would start to build itself a new mechsuit, or whatever you want to call it. But this time, it has more uses then just death, destruction, and conquering.

The Dalek and the Doctor would have a whole frenemies thing. The Doctor doesn't trust the Dalek because it's a Dalek, and the Dalek knows that the Doctor should be it's number one enemy. But, they are cohabitating. And Rose wants things to work out, so they try to not be hostile. But every now and again, they find themselves... talking. Specfically when the Dalek is working on it's new suit, the Doctor will, help? Tbh it starts out with him being extreamly suspicious of the Dalek and wanting to keep an eye on it. Which leads to helping, segestions, being a sound board. And if I'm being honest, if it were a someone other than Nine I would say that this would be the time he notices what's happening and go and skulk around for a it before the cycle happens again, but I honestly think Nine would notice, and just continue on. Get to know the Dalek. Trust in Rose. At some point I do think that the Dalek chooses a name for itself, at Roses prompting. No idea what, but just another way that the Dalek changes and differenciates itself from the rest.

Now while this is all happening, they are still going on the rest of the adventures in the season. Jack joins the T.A.R.D.I.S. team. I think he'd kinda love a Dalek that's no longer a Dalek, who wants to live life, and maybe do some good for once. He joins the building sesions. Rose is there, it started off as her chaperoning The Doctor and The Dalek, but it just became hanging out and providing commentary fairly quickly. They're all having a grand time. It's strange, but it's theirs. Then Station 5 part 2 happens. The Doctor, Jack, and Rose get yoinked into their respective game shows. Rose gets disitegrated. Their Dalek and the T.A.R.D.I.S. are found and The Doctor and Jack are mourning. Their Dalek knows something is off. They figure out that the Daleks are back. They go to the Emperor.

Now I can't quite decide if Our Dalek would even be tempted by the emperor or not. Maybe at first? but It's changed so much. The Emperor likely wants nothing to do with It anyway because It's no longer a True DalekTM. And Our Dalek has changed so much. SEEN so much. Has been cared for by Rose Tyler, which we all know is a life chaging experience.

Once again I'm not entirely sure how the fight against the Daleks end for Their Dalek. It gets sent with Rose to protect her while everyone else fights and dies against the Daleks. It help Rose get back. Or It stays behind with Jack and The Doctor, completly fine with sacrificing it's life to save humanity as long as Rose is safe. If we go that route there are several ways you can go from there. It dies fighting what it once had been a hero. It dies, and comes back like Jack. In that case I think that It would continue on with Jack as a companion. Or maybe It goes It's own seperate way from Jack after resuraction. It lives, no need to be resurected. It could continue on with The Doctor and Rose. It could be left behind with Jack. It could stay behind with Jack. It could decide to go separate ways from the Doctor and Rose (I don't think Ten would be as tolerant of Our Dalek and It would sense that, so It goes on it's own adventures. Or maybe it goes and finds Jack after The Doctor becomes Ten.) Idk So many ways that it could go and I like a lot of them. I think bringing It back like Jack and letting them Travel together is my favorite.

I was just overtaken with this idea and had to share. I have no idea if this had been done broe, I'm sure it has, but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯. I just started rewatching and it's over taken me. I'd love to hear other people's thoughts.

[passionatelyxlust]

Lust could not help thinking in any other circumstance, he would find the corporeal realm a fascination that needed every corner and crevice explored just to understand the inner machinations of what breathed life into it. Walking through anything and everything, unseen and possessing freedom no one can explain. Knowing what he knew now about Azriel's past, on the other hand, reminded the prince that some universes beyond comprehension were far more dangerous than the simple playground someone would expect for a dream witch like Azriel. Underestimating and disobeying the general laws nature intended is what killed the man's younger brother, so even Lust can heed on the side of caution watching where he stepped in a world he had no business being in. "Oh, that's just...great. I wasn't sure how powerful they would be on that end, but flying sounds exciting " Lust turned his hands every which way as a distraction from the queasiness, looking up in time to watch the other prince return at his side. "There isn't a second where I haven't thought about my brother." As Azriel grabbed for his hand again and led him through the door, the demon's thoughts filled the confines of his mind with nothing but Gluttony. The happy memories, the times they sought comfort in each other when the other princes scoffed at their relationship. The smooth-talking Gluttony who cracked jokes and defended him at every turn from their brothers. He didn't notice the unusual steps they were taking, the speed, just spending the moment thinking about the one person that he missed more than anyone from his fractured family. Lust's gaze immediately fell upon the mansion's interior as soon as they entered, the familiar marble columns and ornate chandelier hanging above their heads in the main entrance welcoming the pair, but this was not the home he left behind. "What the hell is Kai doing here?" Lust mumbled distractedly, attention more on the catastrophe left by whatever tornado swept through the place. "This isn't how I left it, Az, Jo never would've let the house fall into such disrepair. I don't understand..." He couldn't bring himself to dwell on it for too long, instead opting the other lead them, floating practically, to Gluttony's bedroom.

The second his gaze absorbed the same chaos that had been left throughout the mansion, Lust knew in his heart that this was his fault. Something very extreme happened in his absence, enough that it sent Gluttony and Josephine off kilter, something like the King. Of course, maybe he came looking for information where Lust was hiding Azriel and his brother never gave him a satisfactory answer. The sight slammed into the demon with a gut punch that sent his eyes nearly watering. From the notebooks and the discarded papers, to his brother's tossed away crown and the dagger dug into the desk's wood surface that no prince would ever have laying around out in the open unless they valued their life, nothing prepared Lust than the sight of his two best friends huddled together in an embrace. "I've never seen him like this before." The man whispered sadly, moving over to Josephine's side of the bed and reaching over a hand to brush his fingers against her cheek. It went right through the succubus and Jo stirred, but she didn't awaken either herself or the prince. "If I knew what would happen if I left-" He still would've made the same choice to protect his Prince, but at least he potentially could have taken his family along. "He's in pain, I can feel it." Lust moved around the bed, eyes never leaving Gluttony. Mourning whatever consequence befell his brother and hoping he wouldn't resent him for it. "I won't release your hand, I promise." The prince reached forward and clasped Azriel's hand, giving it a squeeze, "Just take me to my brother. I need to know what happened."

Azriel watched Lust take in his surroundings warily, not out of fear for himself, no. It's because he knew how alarming it could be for the first time—remembering what it was like to slip into the astral plane himself as a small child, though back then, it was a fantastical world free from perils. The witch now knew what it was: a deadly world of destruction, his own or otherwise if he wasn't careful. He'd brought many people to their early graves in this realm with ease and zero hesitation. He tried to see it through the Prince's eyes, and he knew it looked like something straight from Alice in Wonderland. "This was the easy part, unfortunately," Azriel replied, moving towards the farmhouse door he'd left open in the corporeal world. He wasn't even sure if he could leave and didn't know how far the barrier to keep him in went. Az paused briefly, unsure, before lifting a hand to push through the threshold and walking his entire form through. "Looks like the wards don't keep me strapped in this dimension. That's good," the witch mused as he crossed back to where he'd left Lust. "The fastest way to your brother is to think of him and step through the door. Next time we have time, I'll take you flying," the witch promised before taking Lust's hand in his and guiding him to the door. In this dimension, Azriel was connected to all dreaming beings– feeling the pull of their minds beckoning him like a siphon to his astral body. Initially, it used to be too much for him to feel, which was why he sought solace in his brother's dreams. Safer. Now, locating people the moment they dreamed was easy for him. It was late in the night already, so he figured that the Prince they were locating was in the mansion that Lust resided at previously. Like a homing beacon, the witch latched onto Gluttony's familiar magical signal and guided the two through the threshold. Space and time moved through the astral dimension, the steps the duo took feeling more like a moving walkway in an airport; propelling the two until they pushed through the doorway leading into the mansion. Azriel's eyes opened to take the space around them. The mansion looked the same as it did in the waking world, only cast with a different hue and it was... trashed. It was not like there was a fight, but as if no one cleaned up after themselves for ages. That wasn't the only thing that threw him off; there were four dreaming entities, and one felt like his brother. "Weird," Azriel stated with furrowed brows before turning to the Prince he'd carried with him, "Kai's here." Shaking his head, he pointed his gaze towards where he knew the Prince of Gluttony resided, and he could instantly feel a strong emotion pulsing; it left a taste of despair on his tongue, dreams so poignant that it leaked out of of the Prince and leeched into the plane around him. "C'mon, I can feel your brother and it's not... good." The duo didn't need to walk when Azriel was leading. Most of the time that Azriel was in the astral plane, his feet never touched the ground. However, that takes years of practice to control and the last thing they needed was for Lust to propel into the stratosphere like a helium balloon. Instead, he held Lust's hand tight and moved the duo up from the ground floor to the second-floor wing of the mansion like they were in zero gravity before pushing into Gluttony's room.

It was like he had feared. Something had happened and whatever it was, it was causing a nightmare to come off of Gluttony in waves. The two of them stood in the oppulent bedroom, and it reflected much of what he'd seen when the two made it to the mansion in the first place. Clothes strewn, notebooks littering the floor, loose leafs of paper crumpled and tossed in every direction. Glutton's crown, or what he assumed belong to the Prince, on the floor at the foot of his bed and a curious looking dagger that seemed to even glow within his realm sticking out at an odd angle in his desk as if stabbed into the surface in anger. Looking at the source of the despair, the dreams he could taste even so far away, Gluttony laid in a near fetal position with the blankets and sheets tangling his limbs tightly. The succubus that Az had come to know in passing pressed against the Prince's back with arms wrapped tight in his middle and her forehead pressed against his spine. "They're both having nightmares," the witch murmured, dropping Lust's hand briefly to walk closer to the bed and crouching; observing the dynamic between the sleeping duo. Black, wispy clouds of energy radiated off of the two, however the aura around the Prince was stronger; more palpable. Deep inky tendrils wrapping around him tightly, drowning him. Azriel waved a hand closer to the energy causing the tendrils to reach out towards him like a sunflower following the sun. "I haven't seen dreams this strong in a long time. I'll have to dispel the energy once we get inside his head." Holding a hand to Lust, he nodded towards Gluttony, "once we get into his mind, don't let go of my hand until I say it's okay. One wrong move can spell badly for all three of us."

[neillium]

A courple of h2g2 doodles

[seeminglydark]

I had no idea u were 41 ! I'm rlly glad u decided to pursue this

42 now! That ask is a year old, someone sent it to me after I posted that one of the youth I worked with at the time bought me my very first flag cuz he couldn't believe I'd been on this earth for 41 years and didn't have a pride flag.

Doing a lot of things later in life it seems. Never to late to try 🖤

[in-case-i-die-daily]

Book

song: the main character (live at the vermont hollywood, los angeles, ca)

word: 42 / 449

[shock-micro]

one morning, a researcher pondered about life, the universe, and everything. to a race that has conquered both time and space, what new frontiers were there? would there ever be an unknown again? sure, there was still plenty to find out, plenty to look into, but it would all be figured out in time, always in time, a resource humanity had in spades as of late. where else could you go?

they continued to think as they worked. the work was routine, but the subject was certainly not. their company had recently uncovered a massive ancient device, surrounded by incredibly preserved, intricate, even calculated architecture. the inner workings were entirely alien, bearing only a passing resemblance to regular warp tech thanks to the massive star diamond at its core.

as the researcher surveyed the temple that surrounded the device, they couldn't help but think that it had some sort of religious ties. on the rim of the open roof were intricately-carved constellations, in patterns unrecognizable. the structure itself almost seemed to amplify something, as if something important was being shouted to the cosmos. if that was the case, though... wouldn't we have heard?

a lull in the work came as they began the process of dating the device, when an answer struck the researcher.

you go beyond.

for just a moment, it was as if a thousand pieces had suddenly fallen into place, aligning into a clear picture. the strange mechanisms, the unconventional application of warp tech, the amplification factor of the temple, it all worked in harmony for one goal. the date confirmed it- this was the newest "ancient" discovery yet. only the researcher knew it now, but that title would likely remain until the end of time.

the strange mechanisms, they weren't unfamiliar, they simply were never used in this way before- usually used to access the timestream. combined with a star diamond... they could send someone directly to it, perhaps even somewhere beyond. this wasn't just a teleporter, it was a method of ascension! that was the reason for the structure, too, it was a symbol for the journey ahead!

the researcher struggled to maintain their composure as they hurried to their director with the findings. debates raged on, as they do, but in the end, their theory prevailed. the researcher, gemini west, came to be known as a legend in her field, later managing to activate the device for the first time in eons. for once, humanity could rest easily knowing its future was secured, with horizons still yet unseen.

did you know: traveling across time and space has a risk of stripping you of your gender? turns out the raw potentiality of pure time is prone to completely neutralizing it, unless you already have a pretty strong handle on your identity. early time travel scientists often came out as nonbinary shortly after testing their work, which was thought to be unrelated until it became an immutable pattern.

unshielded exposure to the timestream can also cause glowing stars to manifest in the skin. they usually fade after a bit, but repeated or prolonged exposure can cause them to become permanent. strangely, despite constellations being a largely human construct, the stars often show up in recognizable shapes, with the lines connecting them and everything.

even more intriguing, though, are the shapes we don't recognize. trips to alternate futures and timelines have proven that they often do have meaning to someone, somewhere out there in time. on one occasion, someone came back with a symbol that, for all intents and purposes, was invented for a video game. turns out, it eventually reached common usage in a certain future, as a symbol for survival!

[ms-anthrope-cellaneous]

the only time math makes sense:

[days-until-good-omens-miniseries]

42

[thelostgirl21]

When you realize that you're among the very first Millennials to now have the answer to the Ultimate Question of Life, the Universe, and Everything.