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cosmicalily · 2 days ago

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"to be loved is to be remembered" - a mini series by @cosmicalily. view series masterlist, and outline here

procedural memory | kim seungmin x fem!reader

procedural memory: a type of implicit memory that is categorised as the unconscious guide to the processes and tasks performed on a daily basis.

author's note: this might be one of my favourite seungmin fics i've ever written. and maybe i'm biased because he is my bias and i love strawberry matcha, but i think sometimes it's okay to be self indulgent. enjoy!

There were many things that Seungmin would do without realising, as if he was on autopilot. Actions that were ingrained into his daily routine, little activities that made up his day without his awareness. The way he made his bed, the double knot he always tied on his shoelaces, the route he took to the coffee shop where he worked. He loved his routine; he loved simplicity and consistency.

At work, he thought even less about his actions. He was a quick learner, and had mastered the art of perfect coffee early on. He heard the words ‘latte’ or ‘flat white’ and somehow the completed drink would appear in front of him thirty seconds later.

“Do you do iced strawberry matchas?” a voice asked, snapping Seungmin out of his coffee-scented daze. He looked at the shot he’d started running for a flat white and then at you, cheeks pink from the cold and eyes sparkling. A soft blue scarf was wrapped around your neck, covering your chin, and you wore a cosy navy cable knit sweater, just a little too big at the sleeves.

Seungmin thought intently. “We don’t,” he said truthfully, drumming his fingers on the benchtop. “But give me a second. I’ll try and make something for you.”

You beamed in excitement. “Thank you!”

“It’s no problem,” Seungmin gave a half smile back, digging around for the matcha powder. “Although, I have to say, who orders an iced drink in the middle of winter?”

Your cheeks flushed a little pinker and you rolled your eyes. “Shut up, it’s business for you, isn’t it? And I’ll tip, obviously, because it’s a custom order. They just don’t taste as good warm. I tried it once, and it was awful.”

“Was it?” Seungmin paused, tipping the ice cubes from your cup back into the tray and placing it into the freezer. “I’m going to try and change your mind. Out of confidence as a good barista, but also out of concern for your health, because you’re literally going to freeze as soon as you step outside with ice in your system.”

“And if I don’t like it?”

“It’s on the house.”

“Deal,” you agreed, leaning against the counter and watching as he poured the frothed strawberry milk, creating a little bear design. He leaned to grab a lid, but you knocked his hand away. “It’ll cover the art you did,” you protested, and he shook his head in amusement.

You breathed in the soft, sweet scent and took a sip, thinking hard. Seungmin watched intently, his attention distracted from the three coffee orders he had lined up to complete next. You smiled, and his face softened. “Good?” he asked.

“It’s shit,” you deadpanned, then burst out laughing. “It’s amazing! How much do I owe you for it?”

“Nothing,” Seungmin replied, eyes shining.

You opened your mouth to protest, but he gave you a warning look. “Do you do this often, then?” you asked, taking another long sip of your drink.

“What do you mean?”

“Save girls with silly drink orders from hypothermia.”

“Sure, it’s my favourite pastime,” Seungmin replied seriously, though his eyes twinkled mischievously. “No, not ever before. You’re the first, Strawberry.”

Your smile widened at the nickname. “Even if you’re lying, I feel special. Thank you…” you paused.

“Seungmin,” he finished, handing over a latte to a man behind you.

“Thank you, Seungmin. I’ll be back, I promise!”

He nodded. “I know you will. See you around, Miss Matcha.”

You snorted and walked towards the door, spinning around and blowing him a quick kiss. He winked and you burst into a fit of laughter, and once you were properly out of sight, he let a full smile creep across his face.

By your third visit to the coffee shop, he didn’t even need a prompt to make your order. By the fifth, your drink would be sitting, ready for you, extra hot. Even though you no longer had a reason to wait, you always stayed to talk to him, and he was thankful you did.

Soon, Seungmin became unconsciously aware of your routine, of your timing, of your daily scarf rotation. Once winter ended, he caved and made you your first iced strawberry matcha, which you declared better than any other iced drink you’d ever consumed. He still refused to let you pay, but he was always accepting of your newfound habit of leaning across the counter and giving him a quick kiss before you left for the morning. Initially on the cheek, but by mid spring, on the lips. Your kisses tasted of your mauve lipstick, cinnamon, and of course, strawberry matcha.

After a year of dating, you moved into his apartment. Seungmin, a lover of routine and consistency, found himself mesmerised by your sporadic actions and in the moment decisions. It didn’t frustrate him, the way he worried it would. Your presence was a constant, something dependable that he centred his new, irregular routine around, filled with evening walks and beach day trips. He learnt your habits, and soon, your actions were as familiar to him as his own. He would still make his bed in the morning, and you'd help him, finishing the job off with the two jellycat puppies you'd bought for your six month anniversary. He would tie a double knot in his shoelaces, and wait for you to slip on your ballet flats. Whilst you always had your signature drink at his shop, he knew you loved chamomile before bed, and there was always a mug of it by your bedside after you'd gotten out of the shower.

And of course, you did the same for him, but in your own way. You'd lay on top of him, playing with his hair for hours, explaining every single thing you adored about him. You cooked him dinner, and you'd sit on the counter beside him as he did the dishes. It was routine. You were each other's routines.

He kept working at the coffee shop, but now as a manager, although he always insisted on making your drink himself, and you would visit him, sometimes bringing your laptop and glasses with you to set up in a corner and work, other times bringing whatever book you were currently engrossed in.

“Hi baby,” you smiled up at him, stretching your arms and dog-earing your page.

“You know I hate when you do that,” he groaned, sitting beside you on the bench. Nevertheless, he pressed a kiss against your cheek and you giggled.

“I know, but like, it shows the love I have for my books. The ones that have crumpled pages and tea stains and frayed edges are the ones I read the most.”

Seungmin shook his head. “I’m just teasing. I love you and your broken books.”

“They aren’t broken-” you protested, but he cupped your face in his hands and silenced you with a soft kiss.

“I love you,” he repeated, eyes glossed over.

“I love you too,” you gazed back at him. Your book fell off your lap, but you didn’t move to grab it. The strawberry matcha Seungmin had brought over was probably cooling, but you didn’t care. It was moments like this where everything felt like muscle memory, where nothing felt new or uncomfortable. He was familiar.

He grabbed your hand, entwining your fingers in his. You gently stroked his thumb, then whined when he let go of your hand to reach in his pocket. “What are you doing?” you asked, then you paused.

He’d slotted a ring on your finger.

“You can say no,” he said, looking you directly in the eye. "You can take it off. But it feels right for me. I saw it in the window the other day and I didn’t even think, I just bought it. Which is crazy, because you know I overthink and overplan everything.”

“I know, you’re a dork,” you smiled, but your eyes were glassy. “Why the fuck would I say no? Of course I’ll marry you.”

Seungmin breathed out and pulled you in a tight embrace. He felt warm, he smelled like coffee, and the skin of his neck was soft against your cheek. “I’m glad, because I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life.”

“I’m only doing it for the strawberry matcha, of course,” you quipped, chuckling.

“I’m only doing it out of pity,” he added.

“Dickhead.”

“Asshole.”

You leaned against him, his arms around your waist. He kissed your cheek, your forehead, your shoulder, and you rubbed his back. A buzz went off in his back pocket, a reminder that his break was over.

“So,” he broke the hug, rubbing the back of his neck. “Your drink’s probably cold. So I guess, as a good barista, I probably have to make you a new one.”

“I’m gonna make out with you for hours tonight, Kim Seungmin,” you declared. “You’re my dream boy.” You blew him a kiss as he stood up, taking your drink with him, and he winked in return.

You watched his reflection on the steel coffee machine, and saw him smile.

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moni-logues · 2 days ago

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Reciprocity

Pairing: Yoongi x afab reader (Kintsugi couple) feat. A Fine Line Couple

Genre: established relationship

Word count: 5.8k

Summary: A couples' holiday with Suri and Namjoon highlights a particular problem between you and Yoongi.

Content: one reference to self-harm (cutting) but discussion of scars, oral sex (f. receiving), discussions of sex life stuff?, i guess some poor communication, overheard sex

A/N: yes, it's me once again with my favourite characters no apologies. i have been thinking about this since maybe even before i finished the series??? and i'm glad to have it finally out of my head. this is unedited and unbeta'd, written by me in the course of this one single day and well, here we are. This is set in the summer, somewhere a few months after the ending of the series.

* * *

“It’ll be fun!”

Yoongi just nodded and continued carefully folding clothes and packing them in a bag.

“You don’t want to come,” you continued, heart sinking a little.

“Of course I do.”

“Tell your face.”

He smiled then but didn’t want you to see it, turned around to fetch underwear from a drawer. When he turned back, his face was schooled into something a little more neutral, polite.

“I’m not saying it’s my first choice of holiday,” he explained, “but I want to go.”

“Good, because you’re coming whether you like it or not!”

You hopped off the bed, gave him a kiss on the cheek, and then moved into the kitchen to prepare snacks for the road. At the advice of your therapist, you were taking Yoongi at his word: if he said he wanted to come, you would believe him and it was not your responsibility if he was lying. Even though it felt like it was.

A week in the sun had been your initial suggestion. Somewhere where the heat wasn’t a curse, but a blessing. Clear blue skies and cool water. Peace. Unbridled joy where the real world couldn’t touch you. Even you weren’t entirely sure when it turned into a couples’ holiday, but it was an idea that neither Suri nor Yoongi would ever come up with, and you weren’t sure about Namjoon so it must have been yours. Sounded like the sort of thing you would say. Yoongi had said yes and let you do the research, find somewhere not too far away, easy to get to but far enough to feel new, to feel fresh.

He had been fairly tight-lipped about it since then. Got a little quiet when you brought it up, when you showed him tourism websites with activities laid out. He insisted he wanted to come but never quite managed to muster up the level of enthusiasm you’d hoped for. In a way, that was just Yoongi being Yoongi, but there was anxiety in you, too, and it was making you sensitive. You could see everyone hating the idea, hating the trip, having the worst time. The awkward silences, arguments about what to do or who should clean what. Namjoon had joked that he would have to force Suri to come and he had said it with a laugh but you knew it was true.

You turned your head and looked out of the car window at the increasingly green scenes around you and bit your lip. It felt incongruous somehow to not be happy and peaceful when the environment was so lush and bright with life. With ease. With a natural kind of solidity that had stood for hundreds or thousands of years and was still standing. You felt small and silly to be worried about this but it didn’t stop you worrying. Yoongi’s hand found yours and, like it always did, made a warmth start in your heart. You closed your eyes for a second of intense gratitude and then turned to him.

“It’ll be fun,” he said.

And it sounded like he meant it.

You and Yoongi arrived first, took the back bedroom overlooking the lake at Yoongi’s insistence because it was the better view. You had stopped on the way for groceries and you stocked the fridge, took out food to cook for dinner, since it would be about that time when Namjoon and Suri arrived.

The cabin was wooden and new, so new it still smelt literally pine-fresh. The sun was just starting to dip, dripping golden light over everything, spreading a thousand tiny diamonds on the surface of the lake. It couldn’t have been more picturesque. It made you want to send a postcard for the first time since you were a child. You settled for texting photos to Taehyung who told you to stop messaging him. Your ripples of anxiety were peaking, anticipating Namjoon and Suri’s arrival and what sort of dynamic it would bring, how it might disturb the peace of this place.

Yoongi tore you from the window and asked you to start peeling vegetables. You were glad of the task.

“-t I don’t want to be here, it’s just going to be weird.”

Suri’s voice came from the hallway and you froze. So did Yoongi.

“I don’t know why you keep saying that-” Namjoon - “it’s not as if we’ve never spent time with them. You like them.”

Suri’s hum in response sounded unconvinced.

You heard the kicking off of shoes, could follow their footsteps into the living room, around the corner from the kitchen where the two of you were hidden. Yoongi put down his knife and moved to go, intercept them before they said something you didn’t want to hear, but you put a hand out to stop him. Your stomach was sick but you had to hear it. Whatever it might be.

“She’s jus-”

And they rounded the corner into the kitchen, stopped in their tracks when they saw you.

“Hey!” Namjoon was the first to recover. “We didn’t know you guys had arrived already! Where have you parked?”

“’Round the back,” Yoongi answered.

He was looking at Suri and you were looking anywhere but. Face burning with shame—that this was your idea, that it was all your fault, that you should’ve made you presence known earlier, that no one except you wanted to do this—you swallowed and smiled as brightly as you could.

“You made it!”

Your cheer sounded forced to you; maybe Namjoon and Suri wouldn’t hear it. Maybe they would believe you.

“Public transport is a fucking nightmare,” Suri said with feeling.

“I told you we could’ve rented a car,” Namjoon replied as if they had had this argument already.

“I’m not driving in these hills! You should do it. Right?”

You flinched when she turned to you and realised you had to answer.

“Uh-”

“Yoongi drove, right? Literally what are men good for if not chauffeuring you around?”

It was a lifeline for her, really, but you took it readily, gladly, anything to drive over the awkwardness and shame you were feeling.

“She has a point, Joon,” you said, grinning at him. “You could at least get a licence.”

Namjoon rolled his eyes indulgently, let you and Suri rib him a little more, smoothing things over at his own expense. You were deeply grateful.

“Come and help us do dinner,” you said, ferreting out more chopping boards from the cupboard, handing over knives and ingredients.

It would be fine, you told yourself as you diligently and with great focus, chopped an onion. It would be fine. It would not be weird. It would be fine. It would be fine.

It was fine. Dinner was cooked and eaten and cleaned up after. Drinks were taken on to the back porch, overlooking the lake, the heat lingering long into the darkness. It was not dissimilar to the other dinners you had had as a foursome. As long as you could forget what Suri might have been about to say, you were sure you could have a good time.

You woke the next morning, sun streaming sharply through a gap in the curtains. You rolled over, tucked yourself into Yoongi’s side even though you were already hot and sticky. You were willing yourself to fall back to sleep, even if just for a few minutes, and then you were sitting, eyes wide, ears trained.

There was no mistaking the sound of other people having sex. You grimaced, settled back down in bed and pulled the covers over your head.

“What?” Yoongi mumbled, not so much a word as a sound.

“Can’t you hear them?” you asked in a stage whisper.

Another grunt from Yoongi. Then you felt his body tense, followed by a sigh and a sleepy chuckle.

“You’re the one who wanted to come on holiday with another couple.”

You whined, prodded him sharply in the chest.

“Not because I was anticipating this! Do they have to be so loud?”

“This place is not exactly well sound-proofed.”

“I so don’t want to hear this.”

“Go back to sleep,” Yoongi said and he sounded like he was already halfway there himself.

“I don’t know how you can sleep now that you can hear that.”

Merely a hum in response.

You lay for a few minutes, desperately trying not to hear the only noise in the house, and then you gave up. Threw back the covers and went into the bathroom to shower. The rush of the shower might not exactly cover it but it would give you something to do.

“Hey,” Yoongi greeted the other couple when they came out to join the two of you on the back porch, where you were sitting with coffee and fruit. “Just a quick request: could you please have louder sex? I’ve been getting a little too much sleep recently.”

You and Suri both froze and you saw the blood swarm in her cheeks, red and hot. Namjoon just laughed.

“I’ll see what we can do.”

Suri swatted him harshly on the arm and he barely noticed, slung said arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, kissed her on the top of her head. If he felt embarrassed or awkward about it, it wasn’t showing. What was it like to be so self-assured, confident, relaxed about everything? Even with Suri’s face still pink, her mouth pulled into a scowl, furiously glowering at her boyfriend, he looked easy, his smile gentle and eyes bright. You envied him. You still felt silly and embarrassed about the previous evening, and embarrassed about hearing them have sex; he didn’t seem embarrassed at all to be heard.

Yoongi had insisted on washing up after breakfast. Didn’t let anyone else so much as carry a bowl back to the kitchen. He was taking his time on it, deliberately, carefully, putting off what he knew could not be avoided.

He was rarely unaware of his own body. Vigilant at all times about its exposure. He had suffered years of summers under long sleeves and trousers, would suffer higher temperatures, more humidity if he had to. He regretted everything he had done to himself, but not in a way that prevented him doing it again. No amount of shame or embarrassment would stop him, it seemed. Not that it happened much these days, but the possibility was always there.

Even when he was with you, he couldn’t let go. Even though you were sweet and kind and loving. Even though he knew there was a part of you that understood. Even though he could kiss your thighs where you had cut them and love you so much that it hurt, love your skin, love your scars (hate that you had them). Even though you kissed him, all over, generous and unsparing, even though you said you loved him, all the parts, every bit of him. He knew what he was and he found that breaking the habit of hiding himself was harder than the hiding had been in the first place.

With his task finished, and all the others he had made up for himself (cleaning counters, fluffing cushions, clearing the dryer of lint even though they hadn’t used it), he had come to the point he could no longer avoid. He moved slowly up the stairs, towards the bedroom you and he were sharing; he stopped halfway up. He could see you through the door, left ajar.

Your bikini was floral, cutesy, every bit you. The smile formed on his mouth before he had registered the sight. Then it was wiped away because he saw your face: your worried eyebrows, lip caught between your teeth. Your fingers ran over the scars on your thighs; your face turned towards the window, from which point Yoongi knew you could see Namjoon and Suri, already out, lounging. He could see cogs turning in your head, first this way then that.

And then it wasn’t just the scars. You fussed with the top, fussed with the bottom, turned in the mirror to check yourself from the side, twisted your head around to catch yourself from the back. You ran a hand over your face. You picked up a slip of fabric—some kind of cover-up, a dress?—and held it up against yourself.

He knew he shouldn’t be spying like this. He wanted to leap the remaining stairs and take you into bed where he would show you exactly what he thought of your body: your perfect, desirable, soft, body that he loved and loved to love. He wanted, briefly, to throw Suri in the lake and hope there were eels because he knew you were still thinking about it: last night.

He knew that it didn’t matter much what he did because it wasn’t that easy. It wasn’t as easy as being told you were fine. He knew because you told him all the time but he still felt like there was something wrong with him.

He carried on up the stairs and knocked on the door as he entered. Your face was immediately bright, free from clouds, as clear as the sky outside.

“Coming outside?” you asked as he moved in closer, couldn’t stop himself kissing you just once, putting all his love into it, however brief, however small.

“Yeah, just coming. You go ahead.”

You nodded and skipped out and there was a deep tug in his chest. There was a pit of snakes in his stomach but, fuck it, he’d been bitten before. Everyone out there beside the lake knew him, knew what he was if not in full, lurid detail. He took a deep breath and fished around in the bottom of his bag for the pair of swimming shorts he had bought in a moment of madness and packed because he wanted to make the effort for you. He hadn’t expected to wear them—they were still fully tagged and pristine, ready for refunding—but here he was.

He hadn’t anticipated the difficulty. He sat for ten minutes at the dining table in the kitchen, willing himself to get up and go outside. His legs weren’t all that bad, not the lower half. No one would care. You’d seen them before anyway. It wasn’t a big deal. He was telling himself all the right things but he couldn’t make himself move because he was thinking about all the people who’d seen him in his grossest state. Thought of the things some of them had said. Thought about their reactions. Thought about yours. Tried to focus on that. Reminded himself that it was you out there and his best friend. Suri was still a question mark but he also thought that she could go fuck herself if she had a problem with it because he was still prepared to fight her for potentially upsetting you.

“I don’t know. I’ll go and see where he is.”

Your voice floated over to him and that was it, the alarm call, the deadline reached. He stood from the chair and made himself move with he didn’t know what power.

“Hey!” you cried, arms outstretched to welcome him as he approached the group. “I was just coming to look for you—thought you might have got lost.”

He smiled, let you kiss him on the cheek, direct him into a sun lounger, sit down with him on it, not quite in his lap but almost.

Suri raised a hand in way of a greeting; she was flat on her back, sunglasses on, straps of her bikini tucked away, her tiny body sizzling in the sun. Namjoon sat next to her, under the shade of a parasol, dug out of the cabin’s garage, book in hand. He nodded at Yoongi and kept reading.

“I’m going to go in the lake,” you said, one hand resting on his calf. “Do you want to come?”

He was putting all his energy into not looking where you were touching him, not noticing, pretending that this wasn’t the first time for he couldn’t remember how many years that he’d not been fully covered in front of people. He wasn’t sure what his face said, if his mouth said anything at all, but you were standing and holding out your hands for him so he must have said yes, let you lead him to the edge of the water and then jump in.

The water was colder than he’d expected. He gasped and swallowed a lungful, came up spluttering. He wiped the water from his face and pushed his hair back. He blinked the water from his eyes and each frame brought you closer, until your arms were around his neck and your lips on his.

“I love you, you know that?”

He nodded.

“I love you, too.”

“I know.”

Did you? Did you really know the full depth and breadth of it? The way he loved you was desperate and whole. He had loved desperately before, loved anxiously, a long time ago when he still thought it was possible he could be loved. There were times when it terrified him. You terrified him because you loved him and it was impossible. Panic seized him and he wanted to run, run anywhere, get as far away as possible until you and your enormous heart were nowhere to be seen. Then you would call him or you would touch him and the panic disappeared, a low-grade anxiety in its place.

He hadn’t realised he had given up on it. Before you let him kiss you, before you kissed him back and said things he never believed he would hear, he had retired the idea of being loved. It wasn’t for everyone and it wasn’t for him. He took what he could get and accepted that his lot in life was nothing more. But he met you and it hit him square in the face: that he’d stopped expecting joy. That he was fine because he never expected what he deeply and desperately wanted: to be loved.

And that’s why you were terrifying. Because he was getting used to you. Getting used to being wanted. Getting used to the idea that he could be wanted. Sometimes he thought he was expecting it. Expecting you to let him in your arms, in your life. He had to remind himself that he wasn’t owed anything, didn’t deserve anything. It was the other way around: he was in debt for everything he had been given by you, for being given you at all.

They say if you can’t beat them, join them. It was an expression Yoongi was apparently taking very seriously, as he slid his tongue down your torso, fingers already slipping through your lips, sinking deep into your soft, wet hole.

You were less keen to join Namjoon and Suri in being overheard so you pressed a pillow to your face and moaned into it, still louder than you’d wanted to be. You bit down hard on your lip as your back arched from the bed. Every time, it was an aria performed like a concerto, Yoongi doing the work of a full orchestra suite at once. It was lethal and moving the ease with which he played you and it was somehow never the same twice. Never had anyone spent as much time with his face between your legs and it showed: he had learnt, with apparent ease, seemingly everything about what got you off: had learnt how to do it in a rush, how to take his time, how to make you squirt (a surprise more to you than him), how to edge you until you wanted to die, how to make you come and somehow keep coming. He had, on one unfortunately memorable occasion, given you a charley horse and a third orgasm simultaneously.

You were approaching your second now, with sweat seeping into the bedsheets, and Yoongi’s tongue laving at your clit, his fingers rocking inside you. It was suffocating with the pillow smothering you, your hot breath making it damp, your breathing thick and swampy so it made you light-headed. You couldn’t have kept any quieter even if you’d be able to try; all your attention and energy fell on the mouth at the apex of your legs and the fingers inside you. An experience so in-body, it almost pushed you all the way out again, like your consciousness was hovering outside your skin, alert and alive, an electrical wire in a puddle of water.

You came hard and gasped for breath when you pulled the pillow from your face. Yoongi kissed his way back up to you, sticky marks all over your sweat-wet skin. He was damp, too, tiny curls of hair stuck to his forehead, the T-shirt he slept in stuck to his back. You peeled it back, ran your hands over him, were reaching for the waistband of his boxers when he pulled away.

“I’ll wash up and then make breakfast, sound good?” he asked, climbing out of bed and reaching for trousers.

The words died in your mouth. You could see that he was hard, see the discomfort in the way he adjusted himself as he dressed; you wished you could see into his brain. It wasn’t the first time, not even the second or third and you didn’t want to have the same conversation again, with another couple in the house, with company. Knew it wouldn’t get you anywhere if you did. Knew he would not fuck you nor would he give you a real reason why not. You rolled onto your side, away from the door and pulled the covers around you, despite the heat, despite the sweat. You lay and you stewed and you wondered just what exactly you were doing wrong.

You tried to forget about it and it had been easy until you glanced over to see Namjoon swat Suri’s backside with his book, saw her retaliate by squirting water on him from her bottle, saw him pull her down in a tumble that was entirely playful until she kissed him. You turned away because you’d already heard enough, you didn’t need to see their foreplay.

“Did you guys buy ice-cream?” Suri asked later that evening.

“No,” you answered. “Do you want some?”

Suri nodded.

“Yeah, there’s a shop down the road; I’ll go and get some. Anyone else want any?”

“I’ll come, too!”

Suri looked surprised, her mouth open (to put you off), then she shut it and shrugged.

“Ok.”

It was quiet, initially, just the soft rush of wind in the tops of the trees and the slight crunch of the gravel track under your feet.

“Can I ask you something?”

The rhythm of Suri’s feet faltered and then started smoothly again. Her answer was slow to arrive.

“Yeah, I guess.”

Embarrassment was worming through you, on its way to stifle you, to choke you so the words wouldn’t come out.

“You and Namjoon have good sex, right?”

Suri didn’t just falter but stopped completely. She looked at you guardedly, suspicious. You could feel her attempting to put distance between you, even as her feet kept still.

“Is that... ar-, we’re trying to be quiet,” she answered eventually.

You laughed not because it was funny but because you were nervous.

“No, it’s not about that. It's... I mean, you do, right?”

“Yes.”

You were stuttering over your next question, not having planned this conversation, not really knowing what you wanted out of it.

“Don’t you and Yoongi?” Suri asked, beating you to it.

“We do. Kind of. Yes, but also...”

Your face was flaming, hot pricks of sweat beading in your scalp at the embarrassment of this, at having to ask someone about your sex life—someone that wasn’t Taehyung anyway—someone who definitely did not want to be having this conversation either.

“The thing is,” you persevered, “he goes down on me, like a lot. Or not a lot but sometimes, well, often, he...”

Your fists clenched and unclenched at your sides.

“He goes down on me and then we don’t have sex and I don’t know what I’m doing wrong or why he doesn’t want to fuck me.”

You let it out in a rush, looking somewhere over Suri’s left shoulder because you couldn’t bear to look at her directly, to see her face reacting. She was quiet for a moment or two and you stewed, boiling in your self-consciousness, steaming with shame.

“Have you asked him?”

“Yes, of course! He just says he doesn’t want to or ‘it’s ok’ or that I don’t have to reciprocate or that he’s fine. But I'm not fine! I’m clearly shit at sex! And blowjobs because he doesn’t want those either!”

And it was the embarrassment, mostly, but you felt tears burn in your eyes, felt your bottom lip wobble and as much as you did not want to have this conversation, you certainly didn’t want to cry during it.

“Does Namjoon ever...” and you couldn’t finish the question because you knew the answer and didn’t want to hear it.

“Nah, if he’s even the slightest bit turned on, he’s doing something about it. Well, I'm doing something about it, you know what I mean.”

You cursed softly, tried to kick at the gravel in your flipflops.

“I just wish he would tell me what I’m doing wrong so I can fix it.”

Your embarrassment, bright enough to have burnt away now, had left you sad, miserable in fact, that you couldn’t please your boyfriend and he was being too nice to tell you so. Sad because you couldn’t give him what you wanted to, what he gave you. Miserable that you were failing where you wanted to succeed.

“Do you ask him directly at the time?”

“Huh?”

“I mean, look, I’m the last person who should be giving anyone relationship advice of any kind, ok? I really don’t know how to do anything but are you asking him why he doesn’t want to have sex right now, or have you talked about it at a completely unsexy time? Because Namjoon is barely sapient when his dick is hard; his brain is entirely in his crotch.

“Literally the only thing I have learnt over the last year is that, as horrible as it is, you have to talk about stuff, especially when you don’t want to talk about it. So maybe just talk to him again but- oh, I don’t know! I’m not good at this. But if he’s not given you a proper answer, make him give you one. You should at least know what the problem is, if there even is one, right?”

You thought about it. Thought about how quickly you let the subject drop, let Yoongi brush you off because you didn’t really want to have the conversation at all, didn’t want to know the answer—or rather you didn’t want to hear Yoongi say it.

You nodded, thanked her quietly for her help and you walked the rest of the way to the shop in silence. You picked an ice-cream at random and a random one for Yoongi, too, then you walked back. Suri tried to make conversation with you and you were grateful for it, for her. You didn’t know if she liked you, found her impossible to read, and often got the impression that she’d rather be anywhere else, but she was making an effort and it meant something to you.

“Can I ask you something?” you started timidly as you settled in bed that night.

“Yeah.”

You were quiet for a moment and Yoongi frowned, trying to work out what had upset you. You had been quieter than usual all evening and he wondered if Suri had said something to you; you had come back from the shop with two melona ice-creams, which you hated.

“Am I bad in bed?”

He blanched. Didn’t really understand the question because you weren't. Not in the slightest. The sex he had with you was as close to perfect as sex could be. He sometimes felt deranged in how much he wanted you, felt dirty for it even, like it somehow besmirched your honour for him to think about you when he touched himself. Like he would contaminate you with his need to have you. It often took all he had in him not to fuck you.

“What do you mean?”

Your mouth was pouty and your eyebrows drawn close. You didn’t look angry for which he was grateful, but you were sad and frustrated for which he was not.

“You go down on me all the time and then we don’t have sex after! You don’t let me reciprocate! I can’t do it better if you don’t tell me what I’m doing wrong in the first place!”

It was like static was fuzzing up his brain. He knew the words but couldn’t understand them coming out of your mouth. He had thought he was doing the right thing. Giving not taking. Or taking only sometimes, but keeping the balance firmly tipped towards you. You always offered because of course you did: you were wonderful and kind and, for reasons he could rarely fathom, you cared about him.

“Yoongi!”

In a tone he almost never heard, genuinely annoyed, if also pleading and anxious.

He blinked, tried to find an answer.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Of course you do! It happened this morning! It happens at least half the time! I don’t understand why you don’t want it.”

And his heart was suddenly hammering because he could see that he had got it wrong but he wasn’t quite sure how. Colour drained from his face because you were upset, really, genuinely upset and it was his fault and if he could have squashed himself like a bug under his own shoe, he would have.

He tried to see what he had not seen, what he had missed, what maybe he had ignored. Could only see instead the times before, with other partners, when he’d try to initiate and be rebuffed, when he never asked for anything because he knew he wouldn’t get it anyway and, besides, it was ugly to ask, to want, to demand for something someone else didn’t want to give. He had spent so much time and effort learning his partners’ bodies, trying to make up for everything he lacked. He knew he was good at it. Knew it, was sure of it. Wasn’t he? Was it not enough? Was he still missing something?

“I do,” he said, voice hushed as though it hurt to say. “I do want it.”

“Then why do you always brush me off?”

He felt stripped like old paint. Had to look at you, though the embarrassment was excruciating.

“I didn’t think you really wanted it.”

And it sounded stupid when he said it out loud, really stupid, but it was the truth.

“What?!”

You really needed to hear him say it again. That he didn’t think you wanted it, even though you had explicitly asked. Even though you had sometimes tried, feebly, to insist.

“I...”

But he didn’t say it again, looked as though he couldn’t. Looked as desperate as you felt.

“Why do you think I would ask, I would offer, if I didn’t want to actually do it?”

“Because you give. You’re... You’re nice to me.”

“Oh, fuck.”

And you took a deep breath, tried to blink away the tears, sent them rolling down your cheeks instead.

“Yoongi, what the fuck?”

You saw him move, inch away just slightly, and you remembered who you were dealing with. Because he was Yoongi, your Yoongi, and he was warm and soft and sweet and funny and smart and you loved him so much that you forgot sometimes he still hated himself. Saw his denial now not of you but of his own desires. Remembered how long he had spent silently loving you without asking you to so much as hear a confession. Remembered how close you had both come to absolutely nothing at all, his disbelief overpowering his belief and his heart and his hope.

You could see it from his side. See what he was trying to do, even if it was madness. Even if it was wrong. You could feel him retreat even now, tucking himself back inside his tortoise shell.

“I’m so-”

You didn’t let him finish, would not let him apologise. You kissed him, tasted the salt of your own tears between you, leant into him, let your arms wrap around him and pressed your lips to his, to his cheek, to his hairline, to his jaw.

“Yoongi, I love you.”

“I know,” he replied, but you weren’t sure if he really did.

“I’m glad you think I'm such a nice person and everything, but I promise, I’m not offering out of the goodness of my heart. I’m asking because I actually want to. Like, really want to. Like, really enjoy myself and want you to enjoy yourself and want us to both enjoy ourselves together, y’know?”

He nodded, couldn’t quite hold your gaze.

“I’m serious. You need to know that I want to fuck you, ok?”

And you laughed, though you were trying not to, even if it did feel a little ridiculous, having to convince your boyfriend that you wanted to have sex.

He nodded again.

“You promise I’m not a bad lay?”

And you watched his face flick through shock and outrage and a kind of disbelief that become laughter.

“You are not a bad lay, I promise.”

“And what about blowjobs?”

“Also good.”

“You promise?”

And you sat yourself in his lap, legs straddling his hips, sinking yourself low, pressing against him.

“I promise.”

“What if I say you have to prove it?”

His head cocked to the side, playful, squinting at you, and you didn’t think that it was over, that he was suddenly convinced now, but with the burden of Being Terrible at Sex lifted off you, you felt not only lighter, but the deep, heavy, familiar drag of desire raise its head.

“Prove it?”

You shifted your hips again, deniably but definitely, and put your lips to his ear.

“Prove that you like it when I suck your cock.”

His hands gripped you tightly; you felt the bob in his throat when he swallowed as you pressed kisses down his neck and a stirring in his boxers that you sank even lower to press yourself against.

“I’ll prove it if you prove that you like it when I fuck you.”

“Deal.”

You were late up that next morning and Namjoon greeted you both from the back porch.

“Hey, a little request: could you maybe be louder when you fuck? Suri and I are actually sleeping a little too well.”

#yoongi fanfic #yoongi x reader #bts x reader #suga x reader #suga fanfic #bts fanfic #yoongi smut #bts smut #suga smut #bts fanfiction #kintsugi fic

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gem-de-lune · 2 days ago

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Daily Vibe Check 11/10

Seunghan only today (I am still doing all members every other day so I will do them all tmw)

How is he feeling today?

2 of Pentacles + 8 of Swords

He is feeling a bit anxious and stuck waiting in this situation. Simultaneously he is juggling a lot of responsibilities and has a lot to think about and prepare for in regards to this situation. It's not very negative, just kinda meh. He may just be physically tired is what I am getting tbh. (I literally like fell asleep for a few miniutes during my meditation before pulling)

What is he thinking a lot about today?

Queen of Wands + Knave of Pentacles

He is mainly concerned about how to protect himself, his peace and his assets

He is moving things around and preparing for a gloomy day because he does not want to be burned again. He is thinking a lot about how he can prevent this.

How does he feel about his chances of coming back to Riize?

7 of Pentacles

He believes that with hard work and patience it's not something impossible. He is feeling very optimistic about this. It's funny to note that is this a 7 card too! I think he is feeling confident and hopeful.

Checking up on SM's stance/what are they doing?

The Emperor + Ace of Wands + Knave of Chalices + The High Priestess

The first thing that came to mind in seeing these cards all together was "Alchemy" or literally like "cooking" in a sense that we are trying to find a bunch of ingredients for the perfect dish we have never made before in history. Essentially, with the Emperor, we have an emphasis on external endeavors and maintaining control. With the Priestess we have an emphasis on the internal and seeking out truths that may be hidden to bring them to light. Then with the Ace of wands- which btw I pull frequently when discussing SM's stance on Seunghan's return- we are seeing action being taken quickly with an intentional and pointed purpose. With the Knave here, it's very introspective energy.

In regards to what we know SM to be, i would say that they are very much active regarding the situation despite silence. They are planning but they are also monitoring, where did they go wrong? How can they prevent this? What will happen if they bring him back? I do not see that there is push back on whether they want to, it is about how to do so effectively without stirring the pot too badly. It's about making sure things stay in control regardless of the outcome. They may want to do a certain thing, and they may try- but they will ultimately DO what ends up being more stable. They are, right now, trying to figure out what avenue is more stable, or how to make their decision more stable.

Final Notes:

I want to reiterate that SM is a corporate entity. Just because they want to do something doesn't mean they will. Just because they say they'll do something doesn't mean they will. And thats when they will say "it didnt work out/could not come to an agreement". This is what I meant by showing them what would happen if they brought Seunghan back. We also need to expend some effort to make coming back a welcoming and positive thing that cannot be overshadowed by OT6 outrage. To do this, we have to create a positive and highly visible image for Seunghan across Korea. Let's work hard!

#astrology #kpop #tarot #riize is 7 #riize is seven #smsupportsbullying #riize #seunghan #anton #eunseok #sungchan #shotaro #sohee #wonbin #bring back seunghan

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cry-stars · 2 days ago

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Komaeda and Dementia: Part 1 of 5: Introduction and Overview of FTD

Hi everyone!

I’m an aspiring Komaedologist with an interest in dementia. I often see people doubting Komaeda’s stated diagnosis of frontotemporal dementia, since it presents differently in him than in the common portrayal of dementia in the media. While his portrayal may not be completely accurate, there is a lot of truth to it, and there are many symptoms visible in-game. I wanted to share a few posts about dementia symptoms that we do see canonically in Komaeda’s portrayals in SDR2 and DR:AE, and share some information regarding his specific diagnosis as opposed to Alzheimers, for example.

I work with people living with dementia as a recreation worker. This means that I see them living their daily lives, and know about difficulties they might have with recreational or day to day activities. There are a lot of observations that I might make that can’t be backed up scientifically yet, but do make sense in a practical way. Everyone with dementia is different, and since I work with seniors for the most part, some observations won’t transfer onto Komaeda. However, I’ll do my best to back up whatever I can with sources.

This post is just for fun and to give people ideas. It means a lot to me to see a fascinating and endearing character like Komaeda portrayed with dementia, since it is a sad and terminal disease, and I usually see it end badly in my job, so I hope to give people ideas on how to portray it, or just to notice things in a different way they might not have before!

My main sources for this post and the following ones include “Dementia Diaries,” which is a really cool project where people with dementia talk about their experiences, National Institute on Aging, Alzheimer’s Association, Alzheimer’s Society, and my own work experience. I plan on doing more posts about specific symptoms that we see in Komaeda later, but I would be happy to hear from other people who have dementia knowledge, or to answer any questions that I can.

For the most part, I'm only going to be talking about SDR2 and a little bit of DR:AE. I haven't finished watching the anime yet and have not read any of the manga. If anyone has ideas from any of those sources, I would love to hear about them!

Overview of FTD: Which Variant does Komaeda Have?

There are two major forms of frontotemporal dementia. The first, which Komaeda likely has, is the behavioural variant (BvFTD), which is also the most likely for young people to develop. This variant of FTD mainly affects behaviour, empathy, judgement, and planning.

Komaeda is less likely to have the other variant of FTD, primary progressive aphasia. This form of FTD mainly affects language skills, including speech and comprehension.

Komaeda doesn’t seem to have very much trouble with understanding the concrete content of what people say to him, but he does occasionally seem to have trouble fully comprehending hidden meanings behind statements (for example, taking statements literally rather than as sarcastic). To me though, this is less connected to him not being able to understand the words or content of statements, and more not picking up on the emotions hidden in the statements (which I’ll address more in the behavior post). He does seem to have some trouble with word-finding in the Japanese version of the game, but again, it doesn't inhibit his ability to express himself given enough time to speak.

Another thing to note about FTD is that, in its early stages, it mainly affects behaviour and language processing, as stated above, rather than memory. In later stages, memory does start to be affected as well, but it’s different from Alzheimers (probably the most well-known form of dementia) in that memory loss isn’t the main symptom.

FTD’s prognosis is about 6-8 years. Komaeda states in his fifth free time event that his life expectancy is between half a year and one year. However, he is also referring to his lymphoma diagnosis, meaning he expected to die from a combination of both illnesses within that time frame. In SDR2, Komaeda is probably in the early to middle stages of FTD, since he was diagnosed right before entering Hope’s Peak, and was a Remnant of Despair for some time without treatment, so while we can see evidence of memory issues (which I will address in another post), it’s something he’s able to cope with and isn’t a debilitating symptom yet.

One more observation: while dementia as a whole is usually seen in elderly people, Komaeda’s specific frontotemporal dementia diagnosis has an earlier age of onset, usually between ages 40-65, and is rarely seen in elderly people. Even though being diagnosed in high school seems unlikely, it is not impossible. According to Alzheimer Society Canada, early-onset or young-onset dementia (between ages 18 and 65) accounts for 2-8% of all dementia cases.

Thank you for reading! I plan on making five posts total. The other post topics will be Outward Behaviour, Judgement/Thought Processes, Other Symptoms, and Writing Ideas.

#nagito komaeda #danganronpa #sdr2 #komaedology #danganronpa analysis #i'm really excited to do these #they might take me forever (even just this one took me a million years dfjkhfdfd)#but i hope they can be interesting or useful to someone #thank you to windcarvedlyre for the encouragement to post these #and for the help looking for sensory overstimulation moments in the game #i feel a bit shy tagging someone in the body of the post but i want to acknowledge you here hehe

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intrepidacious · 3 days ago

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❤️ a good time!

tat!bucky’s favorite (or least favorite) thing about twelve

… why not both?

cause and effect

chapter summary: How Bucky fell in love with Twelve: Slowly, and then all at once.

pairing: bucky barnes x time witch!reader

word count: 1.8k

warnings: light angst and negative self talk (this is bucky y'all); some light pining 🤭please note that my blog is rated 18+. minors dni. ageless/empty blogs will be blocked without warning.

a/n: i've literally had this one in my drafts for about two years and i hadn't actually planned on posting it for a while yet but i did promise distractions. and i missed him. i always do.

this is part of the time after time universe but can be read as a teaser and/or a standalone 💚

Bucky’s relationship with time has been fractured ever since a cold day in January that stole away the life he was headed towards and turned him into the monster underneath a child’s bed.

It’s hard to feel good about the concept of time travel once a lot of your own time has been taken away from you. Even now, there’s only so many things in his life he has control over; like the fact that he’s actively choosing to go back to therapy now, or that he’s able to keep a pet for the first time since he was thirteen years old. Stupid little things, like what kind of food he wants for lunch or whether he should take the stairs or the elevator.

Every single one of these things he’s fought for tooth and nail, clawing his way out of the past and carving out his own space in reality again, struggling, trying, hanging on like he wasn’t able to all those decades ago.

He’s probably still failing.

Some days, clinging to the present is tense and brings him nothing but grief. Sometimes, it feels like he’s going to have to mourn the past forever, whatever might have been; and maybe that’s his sentence.

He wouldn’t have wished it on anyone. He deserves worse.

And then there’s you.

Flickering in and out of time, constantly moving, changing in the time it takes him to blink.

It’s infuriating to him, the way you get to use your powers. The way you don’t need to think about consequences, because they don’t have to be permanent, don’t have to be something you need to live with for the rest of your life. To you, time has always been something that can be changed with a single snap of your fingers. Whatever you do can just as easily be undone.

Once you decide you’ve seen enough, you can just take the scene from the top.

And you’re so stubborn.

You’ve already seen how this goes on if you let it, and so you’re always right, end of story. There’s an ease to your steps because of it, a nonchalance in every movement, and it makes Bucky’s blood boil to see it so plainly.

With all the good that you could do, you choose to do nothing instead; to stay out of the picture entirely and burn through your powers just because you can, wasting them all on things that don’t mean anything.

How many lives could you potentially save?

Instead, you consume disturbing amounts of caffeine and then continue to provide running commentary to the world around you based on things that, to him, never happen at all. "Do this", "don’t do that", "take the other one", or, his absolute favorite, "don’t make me fix that".

Why not? he wants to ask, say, demand. Why not fix all of it?

It takes a while for him to realize that all of your fire means you’re burning from both ends. In fact, it takes Becca.

"You should bring her by sometime," she tells him on a rainy afternoon. "While I’m still alive and kicking."

His little sister just turned ninety-eight. Her kitchen sideboard is filled with black-and-white pictures reminding him of all the things in her life that he missed, arranged in perfect little wooden frames.

"And why would I do that?" Bucky asks, scowling at his cards.

"Because you keep mentioning her," Rebecca says dryly and whisks the cards onto her pile with quick fingers.

"You gotta be kidding me," he groans, noting down her points. "And I don’t."

"Do, too. I don’t remember you being this terrible at this game."

"Because I haven’t caught you when you’re cheating."

"Exactly. It’s embarrassing." She wins the next trick, too. "How’s Tuesday?"

"Am I clairvoyant now?"

"I was thinking lunch."

"No." Finally, he gets a couple of points down. When he glances up at his sister again, she’s looking at him expectantly and he sighs. "What?"

"You can’t fault me for being curious," she says. She has just as many opinions as she did when she was sixteen. Her eyes are still the same, too, the same shade of blue as his and the same glimmer of archness as their mother.

"Don’t you think it’s weird?" Bucky says, finally giving in. "The whole … time thing?"

"I think it’s very weird, but so’s you returning from the dead and kvetching about it." Her eyes narrow when he starts to protest. His mouth closes again. "Besides," she continues, shuffling her hand around, "it doesn’t sound all that fun."

"To have the power to never make mistakes?"

"To have to live through every mistake twice without anyone knowing."

Something about her words strikes him like a match, and so he tilts his head and squints at her and thinks that maybe, just maybe, he’s got it wrong.

That you carry not only your past, but all the futures you’ve seen that never came to be; all the what ifs having turned into answers.

And he thinks, how nice. And then he thinks, how horrifying.

It’s a thought that follows him over the next couple of weeks, and it starts reframing your interactions for him, in a way.

"Will you stop staring at me," you say without looking up from your book.

Honestly, he can’t. He’s still trying to pick up on it, the split second between before and after, that little change of your posture, your hair, your face, that tells him more time has passed for you than it has for him.

It’s more of a feeling than anything else, something right at the back of his mind telling him that something is different if he concentrates on it enough, but he’s never sure what it is. And he doesn’t like that; not one bit.

So Bucky crosses his arms and leans back. "Why?"

A flash of irritation makes your nose twitch, even though you still refuse to meet his eye.

"It’s rude, for one."

"Noted." He waits for the two that never comes. "Anything else?"

And there it is. A blink-and-you-miss-it kind of moment, like the air shifting around you ever so slightly, a certain knowing glint in your eyes when you roll them and get up.

"Annoying!"

He can’t help it. He wonders what your original answer was.

***

Bucky’s relationship with time changes slowly, the deepest cuts carefully mending themselves until looking back doesn’t feel like getting his bones ripped apart anymore, until he looks at you on a cold day in January and realizes he’s fucked.

At first, he hopes that it might be a fluke. A trick of the light, maybe, or seasonal allergies. That’s the reason why his eyes are drawn to your face as soon as he enters a room; the closest source of discomfort always the thing he seeks out first. That’s the reason why his chest constricts like that.

But the truth is, he knows this feeling has been building slowly; he’s just been unwilling to admit it.

Something soft and delicate has started to nestle in that gaping hole inside his chest, unbothered by the walls he’s so carefully built up.

He’d never planned on you.

Fuck, if he’d known in the beginning, he might’ve …

No, he thinks. He wouldn’t have changed anything.

Because you’re too good for him, anyway, and he knows it. Smart and strong and funny and gorgeous and capable of things he’s not sure he’ll ever fully comprehend; and it’s worse than that, because he knows you now.

You’re grouchy in the mornings and you make terrible jokes when you’re nervous and you have a strange feud with his cat and your smile makes him want to put his fist through the wall because what is he supposed to do with any of this?

He’s not made for this dance anymore. That part was taken from him so long ago, and he’s delusional to think that anything or anyone could return it to him after all the bridges he’d been made to cross and burn. Why would someone like him deserve to be given tenderness anymore in this life? Why would anyone want to try?

But that foolish thing blooming inside him feels a lot like hope, despite of what he keeps telling himself.

There’s just something about you that keeps pulling him in, and honestly, he’s tired of fighting it. Then again, the thought of you feeling the same is nothing short of ridiculous.

He’s not the same guy as he used to be. Hell, sometimes he’ll look at old photographs and barely recognize himself.

He remembers life before, and maybe that’s what makes this so hard. He remembers talking to pretty girls, their bright smiles, their soft skin underneath his hands. Good times were easy to come by, even though life was hard in a different way, then. But he was good at it; acting on his feelings alone used to be simple, fun, second-nature almost.

It’s different now.

It used to be different only once before, and look where that’s gotten him.

No, he can’t say anything. Not ever; or not yet, at any rate.

Sometimes, though, Bucky lies awake at night and listens to the rain knocking against his window, and he remembers how much easier falling asleep used to be when he had someone next to him and his mattress didn’t swallow him alive.

He’ll remember the dark circles under your eyes and wish it could be as easy as asking, too. He wonders if there’s a universe you remember where he tries, but he doubts it.

These days, he knows his mind again. And it’s not a burden he wants to share.

You have enough to carry on your own.

Maybe, he thinks as he stares up at the ceiling at three in the morning, maybe there’s still a certain comfort in your powers, in knowing all the possibilities, but it also means constantly losing something that’s real; always mourning the life that isn’t.

He can relate to that.

And maybe that means you can relate to him, too, at least a little bit.

It’s odd, how comforting that last little thought is to him.

When he does eventually fall asleep, you make your way into his dreams, too, sometimes. Those times are the worst.

You’re you, and he’s him, and there’s a sort of "us" in the both of you that doesn’t exist in real life. So when you let him lace his fingers with yours and press your lips to his forehead and it feels easy, that’s usually the point when he wakes up, heart tumbling over itself, right hand tracing the ghost of your touch, always too much, never enough.

He knows it’s not real.

He knows it’s just an indulgence; selfish, really.

The problem is that whatever small hope has decided to settle in his very core is impossible to kill, no matter how much he pushes it down; and he’s not sure he wants to lose it again.

Secretly, silently, serendipitously, you make him have faith in the future again.

But it’s not time for it yet.

if you want to read more about these two (plus a lot of time related shenanigans), read the main series here. or check out the rest of my bucky fics, that's also an option 💚 i don't do tag lists but you can follow @intrepidacious-fics for update notifications

#bucky barnes x reader #time after time #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes series #marvel fanfic #mcu fanfic #inbox #sleepover time #tiff 🌤

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krisluxxee · 22 hours ago

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SUN CONJUNCT MOON SYNASTRY | ASTROLOGY SYNASTRY SERIES

EVERY RELATIONSHIP HAS IT’S UP’S AND DOWNS AND NO ONE RELATIONSHIP IS PERFECT. HOWEVER, THE SUN CONJUNCT MOON IN SYNASATRY WILL FEEL LIKE THINGS ARE PERFECT BETWEEN YOU AND YOUR PERSON. LET’S JUST ADDRESS THE BAD FIRST AND MOVE ON TO THE GOOD- SIDE NOTE: THAT’S IS HOW THIS RELATIONSHIP OPERATES. THEY WANT TO ADDRESS THE BAD AS QUICKLY AS POSSIBLE, NOTHING LINGERS WITH THEM.

I DIGRESS. NOW, THE BAD TO BE NOTED WITHIN THIS SYNASTRY ASPECT IS THE POSSIBILITY THE PARTNERS HAVE SOME KIND OF SIBLING VIBE. BEFORE YOU GET MAD, DISGUSTED OR BOTH- HEAR ME OUT. ASTROLOGICALLY, THE SUN AND MOON PLAY A ROLE IN SEXUAL PARTNERSHIPS IN WHICH DIFFERTIATES AND DEFINES A PLATONIC RELATIONSHIP FROM A ROMANTIC ONE. THEREFORE, THE SUN AND MOON ALONE DO NOT NECCESARILY ACTIVATE THE SEXUAL ENERGY, HENCE WHY I GET REALLY CLOSE SIBLING, TWIN VIBES. TO ELABORATE ON THIS FURTHER, THE SUN PERSON RECIVES COMFORT, FAMILIARITY AND A FEELING OF PROTECTION FROM THE MOON PERSON. THE MOON PERSON RECIEVES VALIDATION AND APPRECIATION FOR THEIR ABILITY TO MAKE THE SUN PERSON FEEL AT HOME IN THEIR COMPANY. IT REMINDS ME OF CLOSE SIBLINGS THAT ARE PROTECTIVE OF EACHOTHER WHO MAY TEASE AND TERROIZE THEIR SIBLINGS BUT THEY’LL BE DAMNED IF SOMEONE ELSE DOES. WHICH LEADS TO MY FOREMENTIONED POINT ABOUT THIS COUPLE GETTING ON EACHOTHERS NERVES BECAUSE THEY QUITE LITERALLY ACT, LIKE, NEED AND WANT THE SAME THING. IT’S LIKE TWINS HAVING ONE TOY AND THEY HAVE TO SHARE. AT TIMES, THE SUN PERSON WILL TRY TO DOMINATE THE MOON PERSON AND THIS IS EQUIVALENT TO A BULLLY SECRECTLY BEING INSECURE. THE SUN PERSON WILL PROJECT THEIR HIDDEN WEAKENESSED ON THE MOON PERSON, WHO IN TURN WILL ACT THIS OUT, SUBCONSCIOUSLY FOR THE SUN PERSON.

THE SUN PERSON MAY ALSO HAVE UNDERLYING JEALOUSY FOR THE MOON PERSON BECAUSE THE MOON PERSON IS ABLE TO EXPRESS EMOTION, VULNERABILITY AND GAIN SYMPATHY THAT THE SUN PERSON DOES NOT. IT’S LIKE CHILDREN GETTING IN TROUBLE BUT ONE OF THE SIBLINGS GETS A LESSER PUNISHMENT OR BLAMED FOR EVERYTHING WHICH CAN CREATE TENSION AND JEALOUSY BUT DUE TO THE LOVE THEY HAVE FOR EACHOTHER, THE SUN PERSON AT SOME POINT WILL GET OVER IT AND THEY’RE BACK TO BEING LOVING “SIBLINGS”.

TO GET AWAY FROM THE SIBLING COMPARISONS, IN ACTUALITY, THIS COUPLE WILL ARGUE AND THEY WILL GET HEATED BUT THEY TEND TO GET OVER IT QUICKLY BECAUSE THE LOVE AND NEED THEY HAVE FOR EACHOTHER OVERPOWERS THE ISSUES, JEALOUSY, AND INSECURITY THAT THEY BOTH BRING OUT IN EACHOTHER. WE OFTEN COMPLAIN ABOUT SOMEONE BEING TOO DIFFERENT FROM US BUT IT’S THE SAME WHEN SOMEONE IS TOO SIMILAR TO US AS WELL. SOMETIMES WE NEED SPACE AND THIS COUPLE IS NO DIFFERENT. THEY BATTLE WITH THE NEED OF NEEDING SPACE BUT ALSO FEELING EMPTY OF INCOMPLETE WHEN THE OTHER ISN’T AROUND. THIS SYNASTRY ASPECT PRODUCES CO-DEPENDENCY AND DESPITE THE NEGATIVE CONNOTATIONS AROUND SUCH A WORD OR DYNAMIC, I DO NOT SEE A PROBLEM WITH THIS. MOST PEOPLE WHO FEEL NEGATIVELY ABOUT CODEPENCY ARE JEALOUS THEY DEPENDED ON SOMEONE AT SOME POINT AND WAS LET DOWN. LET’S BE REAL.

THIS LEADS TO MY NEXT POINT. FOR THOSE WHO HAVE THIS SYNASTRY ASPECT, WITH SOMEONE YOU CAN REST ASSURRED THAT THE MOON PERSON WILL ALWAYS HAVE YOUR BACK & THE SUN PERSON WILL ALWAYS HAVE YOUR BACK- RIGHT OR WRONG. THIS MAKES OTHERS MAD ESPECIALLY IF FOR EXAMPLE, THE SUN AND MOON ARE CONJUNCT IN LIBRA OR 7TH HOUSE CONSIDERING LIBRA AND 7TH HOUSE ENERGY DEALS WITH THEMES OF JEALOUSY, ENVY AND SADLY, 3RD PARTIES TRYING TO TAKE WHAT YOU HAVE BUT I DIGRESS. DESPITE THE SIGN THE SUN AND MOON ARE IN WITH THIS SYNASTRY, OTHERS WILL TRY SO HARD TO BREAK YOU UP BECAUSE THEY ARE JEALOUS, THEY DO NOT HAVE SOMEONE THEY CAN DEPEND ON NO MATTER WHAT. THIS IS ANOTHER WHY I INTIIALLY COMPARED THIS SYNASTRY TO THAT OF SIBLINGS. THE FAMILIES OF THIS COUPLE WILL WELCOME THEM IN LIKE THEY’RE A DAUGHTER/ SON FROM ANOTHER MOTHER LITERALLY. BOTH FAMILIES WILL LOVE THEIR PARTNER AND BECOME SO CLOSE.

IT’S VERY HARD TO BREAK THIS COUPLE UP BECAUSE FAMILIES ARE INVOLVED AND FOR THE SUN PERSON, THEIR MOON PARTNER PLAYS A MAJOR ROLE IN THEIR IDENTITY AND HOW THEY’RE SEEN BY OTHERS. WHEN WE HEAR OF COUPLES WHO “ YOU DON’T SEE ONE WITHOUT THE OTHER”, IT’S DESCRIBING THIS SYNASTRY ASPECT. I CAN SEE THIS SYNASTRY PLAYING OUT AS CHILDHOOD, MIDDLESCHOOL, HIGHSCHOOL OR COLLEGE SWEETHEARTS- EVEN THE GIRL OR BOY NEXT DOOR.

THIS SYNASTRY ASPECT CAN ALSO PLAYOUT WHERE THEY PRODUCE BABIES AT A YOUNG AGE BUT STAY TOGETHER AS ADULTS AND MAYBE EVEN ELDERHOOD- IT’’S A BONUS IF THEY HAVE BIG FAMILIES THOUGH THAT MAY VARY IF PERHAPS THE SUN AND MOON ARE CONJUNCT IN AQUARIUS FOR EXAMPLE.- BUT YOU GET THE POINT. THIS IS A SWEETHEART SYNASTRY. THE SUN PERSON ABSOLTULEY LOVES, ADORES AND NEEDS THE MOON PERSON AND THE MOON PERSON FEELS THE SAMEX 2 , THOUGH IT’S NO COMPETITION. THIS ASPECT ALSO IS VERY TRADITIONAL SO IF THE MOON PERSON IS THE WOMAN, SHE’ WOULD BE “EXPECTED” TO HAVE THE CHILDREN, STAY HOME, TEND TO HOME, AND CATER TO THE NEEDS OF HER MAN AND FAMILY.

THE SUN PERSON WILL BE THE PROVIDER, ESPECIALLY IF HE’S THE MAN AND HE WILL BE VERY LOYAL, LOVING AND DEVOTED. IN THE VICE VERSA, IF THE MAN IS THE MOON PERSON- HE WILL STILL PROVIDE AND BE ALL THE THINGS I LISTED ABOVE HOWEVER, HE WILL BE MORE EMOTIONALLY EXPRESSIVE WHEREAS, THE SUN PERSON BEING THE WOMAN WILL BE MORE DOMINANT, MAKING ALL THE DECISIONS AND HANDLING THE FINANCES- THE FINANCES THE MOON PERSON, IF HE’S A MAN MAKES. HA.

A FRIEND OF MINE HAD A CO WORKER WHO ALLOWED HIS “OLD LADY” TO HANDLE ALL THE FINANCES, HOUSEHOLD, CHILDREN AND TO MAKE DECISIONS AND ALL HE WAS EXPECTED TO DO WAS GO TO WORK. WHENEVER HE GOT PAID, HIS ENTIRE CHECK WENT TO HIS WIFE, WHOM HE REFERRED TO AS “OLD LADY” AND SHE TOOK CARE OF EVERYTHING. HE DIDN’T HAVE TO WORRY ABOUT ANYTHING BUT GOING TO WORK AND HE LIKED IT THAT WAY. SO IF THE MOON PERSON IS THE MALE, THE RELATIONSHIP DYNAMIC MAY MANIFEST THIS WAY BUT DUE TO THE UNCONDTIONAL LOVE AND TRUST THEY BOTH HAVE FOR EACHOTHER- IT WAS NEVER A PROBLEM.

I REMEMBER TELLING MY FRIEND, WHO TOLD ME ABOUT THIS COUPLE, “ MAN I WISH I TRUSTED AND LOVED SOMEONE THAT MUCH TO ALLOW ME TO DO THAT”. WITH ME SAYING THAT COMES FROM A PLACE OF ADMIRATION BUT FOR OTHERS, IT’LL BE OUT OF JEALOUSY. IF THAT MAN IS THE MOON PERSON, OTHERS WILL JUDGE HIM BY CALLING HIM “PUSSY WHIPPED” AND WHATEVER ELSE THEY CAN MUSTER UP. IF THE MOON PERSON IS THE WOMAN, MOST MODERN WOMAN WHO ARE MORE THAN LIKELY BITTER SINGLE BABY MOMS OR INDEPENDENT WOMAN WHO DON’T NEED A MAN, WILL JUDGE THE MOON PERSON BY ACCUSING HER OF BEING IN A CONTROLLING RELATIONSHIP, OR GROWING UP TOO FAST OR TRYING TO INFLUENCE HER TO FIND SOMEONE ELSE TO GET MORE EXPERIENCE.

HAVE ANY OF YOU SEEN LOVE AND BASKETBALL? MONICA AND QUINCY WERE THE MAIN CHARACTERS AND THEY HAD A CHILDHOOD SWEETHEART VIBE GOING ON- GRANTED IN COLLEGE THEY BROKE UP BECAUSE OF COURSE OTHERS DREW A WEDGE IN THEIR RELATIONSHIP IN ADDITION THEM TRYING TO PURSUE THEIR CAREERS AND OWN IDENTITIES WITH SOME JEALOUSY BEING MIXED IN.

EVENTUALLY THEY GOT BACK TOGETHER, GOT MARRIED, HAD THE KID AND SUCCESSFUL CAREERS IN THE END. SO, THOUGH I MENTIONED ABOVE, IT WOULD BE VERY HARD TO BREAK THIS COUPLE UP, IT REMAINS TRUE. THEY CAN PHYSICALLY BREAK UP BUT THEIR HEARTS AND MINDS ARE ALWAYS ATTACHED TO EACHOTHER.- ALWAYS.

FOR THOSE ON THE OUTSIDE LOOKING IN- IF YOU COME ACROSS SOMEONE WHO HAS AN EX AND THEY SHARE THIS SYNASTRY ASPECT, WITH THAT EX, I WOULD JUST MOVE ON BECAUSE YOU MAY HAVE THEM PHYSICALLY BUT THEIR EX WILL ALWAYS BE THERE AND THE UNIVERSE WILL ALWAYS LEAD THEM BACK TO EACHOTHER.

#astrology #krisluxxeeempress #astrology observations #astro community #astro observations #astrologer #astrology aspects #sun conjunct moon #moon synastry #sun synastry #love astrology #astro notes #composite chart #synastry #natal chart

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cosmicjoke · 3 days ago

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Hello, hello, I hope your day's going well. I was wondering: Levi has always had a very traumatic life, so he's never really been able to meet himself outside of who he is when he's trying to survive. Not that we've seen, at least, save for the lollipop scene. With the opportunity, what sorts of hobbies do you think Levi would like if he tried them? (Or specific board games, since he likes board games in This Life, After?)

Ah, this is a great ask! Very insightful, I think. I love the way you put that, that he's never had an opportunity to meet himself outside of who he is when he's trying to survive. I think that really conveys the tragedy of Levi's life up to the end of the series, that he's literally been in survival mode since he was born. Thank you first of all for reaching out!

Hmm, you know, that really is one of the more fun things to think about, I think, in terms of Levi's life post-canon, how he'd really, for the first time in his life, get to discover what things he might actually enjoy and have fun doing. As you said, Levi's life has been such a struggle, and so difficult and traumatic, that I don't think he ever had the chance to indulge in much of anything. The most Levi probably ever got to relax in canon was through drinking cups of tea. Everything else consumed by a sense of desperation, fear and uncertainty.

As I've said before, I think who Levi naturally is, is a very quiet and gentle person. He only became violent because his circumstances in life forced it on him. But outside of the context of that desperation, I imagine Levi to be a very quiet and withdrawn person who enjoys simple things. I think Levi is probably most content just being around people he loves. I think that's part of why we see him settling down at the end and staying in one place with Gabi, Falco and Onyankopon. I think Levi loves people and just wants to be with them, and he doesn't really need anything bigger or grander than that. I don't think Levi would have a particular inclination or need to see the world as long as he could be with other people. I think he would be happy and content just to have a roof over his head and clothes on his back and for the people in his life to have the same things. Just to have a general sense of security. I think that also means Levi would enjoy mundane, peaceful activities, like gardening, or maybe knitting, lol. As you pointed out, I have Levi playing a lot of board games in my story. I think he would enjoy building puzzles and reading books, etc... I also think Levi might enjoy cooking. Basically, I think Levi would enjoy family activities, too, having dinner with everyone, maybe listening to the radio, and so on. Anything he could do with other people. And of course anything he could do to help other people, like we see at the end of the anime, with him handing out candy to children, and on the cover for volume 35, helping to plant trees. I think Levi did and likely still does feel most fulfilled doing things for others, so whatever he's able to do in that regard, I think Levi would engage in that. Maybe he would also volunteer at a soup kitchen, or if he's able, help build housing for refugees, etc...

Anyway, that's all I can come up with for now! But hopefully it answered your question! Thanks again for asking!

#Levi Ackerman #attack on titan #shingeki no kyoujin #asks

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demigod-shenanigans · 2 days ago

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Actual lengthy reply time finally (sorry this took me literally forever)

Yeah I did not want Leo to be alone right after this, and I didn’t want Piper to be alone with it either. Canon may refuse to let them go to Jason’s funeral, but I will let them grieve together, damn it!

The backstory/pre-plot part actually ended up being quite a bit more than just a prologue, it’s the first few chapters, but I hope it’ll still feel well-paced and fitting when we get around to the rest of them! I wanted to take the time to get into all the feelings and set up/resolve some stuff, plus sticking to the ToA timeline I had to get to the point where Apollo is back on Mount Olympus, which takes a minute. Most of it is relevant and will be back to haunt Leo later!

Responding to the bullet points by putting the relevant numbers in front (not sure why it apparently changed all of yours to 1. in this reblog, they’re correct if I look at your post?? Very strange)

2. Yep! Leo not feeling loved/worthy of love was a huge deal in HoO, and all canon did was put a girlfriend on it and pretend we’re good now, but we will not be doing that here! Leo will learn to recognize that he’s loved, and if it’s the last thing he does :)

4. This bugged me so much in HoO you have no idea. I actually kind of prefer HoO to pjo just because I adore all the characters, but plot wise it’s all over the place and we really miss out on a bunch of friendship stuff because it’s so focused on all the love triangles. I need more platonic Argo bonding!! Let them all be buddies!!

5. This is partially me being demiromantic but many if not all my favorite ships are characters that have strong platonic bonds first. Something something marrying your best friend. I also feel like Leo and Jason both took forever to realize they were into each other (Leo grumbling about Jason constantly being hot in his general vicinity being the reason why he doesn’t have a girlfriend will always crack me up, lol, and Jason spent so long doing what he thought he was supposed to/what was expected of him, including his relationship with Piper, that he didn’t really get to stop and properly have a sexuality crisis for ages) so I wanted to re-establish that for the fic, especially since valgrace fics are kind of split on whether they have jiper happen and break up like they did in canon or just never have them date at all

6. I couldn’t resist sneaking that one in. Insert lame Apollo dodgeball Leo Valdez joke LMAO

7. <3

That’s such a smart way to put it!! Leo is dealing with a lottt and we’re going to get into it a bit more in future chapters but yeah he’s definitely avoiding talking about some of it (in both the way that we the audience don’t see all of it and in him and Piper actively coping via distracting themselves and not talking about some of it)

Honest confession: I really struggle with Shel. I’m glad she exists, but she’s basically an OC when you try to work with her in fanon, because she really only exists to confirm Piper is sapphic and canon gives us absolutely no information on her. I know she’s Cherokee, I know she’s sapphic, I know she likes hiking and I think she has a piercing? That’s it. She’s just kind of a nothing character, which is fine in the books but makes it very hard to work with her in fanon content. Can we have at least a little additional input on her please? 🤲

Glad you think that works well!! Especially because I actually don’t find myself that funny? Though I think it probably helps that I’ve got a general tendency to get attached to traumatized joke coping characters, so I’m pretty familiar with it conceptually. The last book series I fixated on also did this a lot (intense explorations of grief briefly interrupted by memes LOL)

The audience knows stuff!! But Leo was not around for that! And he’s processing a lot at the moment but that just really makes it sink in how much he missed, both because he was gone for so long and also when he was there but so caught up in his own problems (and especially in seeing how “happy” Piper and Jason were apparently without him, because again Leo doesn’t feel worthy of love and has spent a lot of time in foster families who weren’t that great and made him feel like they’d eventually decide they didn’t want him anymore) that he didn’t see the cracks that Piper now tells him were there basically for the whole relationship. So yeah it’s a shock. On a lot of levels. But it’s a lot less earthshaking than the shock of Jason being gone, and therefore easier to focus on. The Piper related changes may or may not also hit him sometime in the near future ;)

Quotes section (please just in general know I’m delighted you did this it brings me suchhh joy to see what bits touched my readers the most):

-No spoilers, but I will say there’s a reason the fic starts out with memories of Esperanza. And yeah, the whole Jason situation is tearing open a lot of old wounds, specifically because of how similar it is: a situation Leo was unable to do anything to change that he feels responsible for (even though, realistically speaking, he isn’t). A loved one that got ripped away from him far too soon that he never got the chance to say goodbye to. A kind of desperate ache that nothing is ever going to fix.

I have a couple of grievances with ToA, and the way none of Jason’s loved ones are allowed to stay mad at Apollo is definitely one of them. Like, it’s established Jason died because of Apollo’s broken Styx prophecy! We’re told that’s the reason it happens!! Piper is the only one who gets to be mad at him at all, and even then she’s only upset for a single scene and has forgiven Apollo the next time they meet. Grief can be messy and nasty and people lash out sometimes! Not everyone needed to immediately be totally fine with the fact that Apollo got Jason killed!

-Glad you enjoyed that joke! I’m not super good with machinery so I worried I’d struggle with working that part into his narration but there’s some references to it I’m actually really happen with, and this is one of them :)

-Something something Leo is of the opinion that Piper should hate him how he hates himself! Also in this context, feeling a little evil about the fact that one of the reasons Leo doesn’t go to the Camp Jupiter funeral is that he thinks everyone would blame him for Jason’s death. The reality of it is that they wouldn’t! But when his mom died his aunt did blame him and so he automatically assumes that this time everyone will look at him and see that same blame written all over his face.

-English being my third language (technically second language going off of how well I actually speak it, I learnt French first but my French is shit lol), I’m really glad to hear it haha

-All of their lives are fucking weird, it’s a demigod thing, but Leo’s almost got everyone beat just based on the fact that the Queen of the Gods went out of her way to come babysit him. It’s even funnier because I’m pretty sure none of the others know this except for Piper and Jason. I wish we’d seen him tell Percy and Annabeth, I feel like that would have been a very funny interaction.

-There is something related to Leo in that box, which may or may not be something I’ve mentioned on this blog before ;)

-Unfortunately for Leo, there’s a bit more stuff he has to deal with before the Plot can start. For instance, the fact that he is (theoretically) in a relationship right now.

I’m so so glad you enjoyed this!! I’ve read and reread your comment a whole bunch of times now, and every time I do I get this huge grin on my face. This is the kind of comment i don’t get a lot but that when I do get it I’ll treasure literally forever. You made my whole month with this and it’s made me very excited to get back to the fic (which between exam phase and hospital stuff I haven’t gotten to work on nearly as much as I hoped lately)

The choiceless hope in grief

Summary: Leo Valdez has lived and died for the gods. Their war has shaped his life since he was a baby. With Gaia defeated, he sort of hopes he can finally rest. He has friends and some semblance of home to return to for the first time since he was eight years old. Just this once, he allows himself to hope the good things might stick.

But the gods aren’t done with them just yet, by the time Leo finds his way back, Jason is gone.

This time, Leo decides he’s done just taking the Fates’ bullshit lying down. If getting his best friend back means striking a deal with the gods and venturing into the Underworld… well, it’s probably not even the most reckless thing he’s ever done.

The caveat of said deal? He has to trust Jason will follow him, or his self-doubt will doom them both.

And after the life he’s lived, Leo is so intricately familiar with self-doubt that he could probably trademark the word.

Or: The only possible way for Orpheus to succeed is if he learns to think of himself as a person worth loving.

Word Count for chapter 1: ~5k

Rating: Teen and Up

So! *claps hands together* I’ve been threatening you guys with my Orpheus Eurydice valgrace fic for a while! Technically I wanted to wait to post this until I’m completely done writing the fic, and I mostly intend to stick to that! I’m only posting this now because I have a minor surgery tomorrow and I’d rather be anxious about fic related things than about the surgery in question. So, take this chapter as a preview of sorts, more to come soon-ish but probably not immediately!

A couple of important notes before we start:

-TW for suicidal ideation. It’s less Leo actually wanting to die and more his canon behavior of “I’m doing something extremely reckless that might succeed but if it doesn’t, my death is an acceptable consequence”, paired with general grief related self-loathing, but if you think you’re not in the right headspace to read about that, come back when you are or at least tread carefully. This fic pics up at the end of The Burning Maze, so especially the beginning is pretty heavy on the grief stuff.

-Since ToA is vaguely canon to this fic, Leo and Calypso are technically dating in the beginning, but they don’t really interact positively as a couple (honestly they don’t interact that much in general) and break up pretty early on. Just be aware in advance that they’re still together for a little bit.

-Fic title is from Talk by Hozier which is maybe a painfully obvious pick but it was too perfect for me not to use it.

Chapter 1: Leo and Piper have an extended sleepover

It wasn’t a discussion between Leo and Piper whether or not to go to Jason’s funeral. They came to the decision that they wouldn’t silently—or as silently as one could come to an agreement when all parties involved were sobbing.

Maybe it should have been a discussion. There was a part of Leo that worried he’d regret this later—his refusal to take this chance to say goodbye and let himself grieve.

But Leo remembered his mother’s funeral. Remembered the way his aunt Rosa had looked at him like she knew his mother’s death had been his fault. Leo couldn’t stand the thought of people looking at him like that again.

He also didn’t remember his mother’s funeral bringing him any sense of closure or comfort. He’d stood at her grave, afterwards, just as desperate and afraid and utterly inconsolable as he’d been before the funeral, except it had suddenly felt sickeningly final. The wound it had torn in his soul had kept bleeding for years, and the scars would stay forever. He didn’t need any of Apollo’s shitty oracles to know Jason’s death would be exactly the same.

At this point, Leo was pretty sure his sanity was being held together by a combination of jokes and a truly questionable amount of duct tape.

Beyond all that, though, Camp Jupiter was a battlefield right now. It would continue to be a battlefield for the foreseeable future.

Leo wasn’t a coward. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to go back and help. But one of his best friends was already in a box, and there was no way in hell he’d risk the other.

With how tightly Piper was clinging to him, maybe she was thinking the same thing.

For all his big talk about dragon escorts, Festus did most of the actual escorting on his own, occasionally torching what Leo hoped were monsters and not random public monuments. Leo, for his part, spent most of the journey crammed into the backseat of the car next to Piper, sandwiched between her and a bunch of moving boxes that seemed determined to flatten him into a Leo-shaped pancake whenever they took a sharp turn.

He’d spent so long thinking about seeing her and Jason again.

He’d talked Calypso’s ear off about them the whole journey, to the point where it had clearly started to annoy her. He’d thought about various ridiculous entrances he could make, and the fact that he’d probably get yelled at, but he’d also thought about sitting together by the campfire, sharing nachos. He’d thought about Jason hugging him so fiercely that he couldn’t breathe, and Piper cussing him out while she held him, making him promise never to do anything that reckless again.

Now Piper was actually holding him, and Leo couldn’t feel anything. There was a numbness in his chest. He wasn’t sure he had it in him to ever feel happiness again. Hell, even if he did, what was the fucking point? Every time anything even remotely good happened in his life, it got ripped away from him again.

They didn’t talk a whole lot for most of the drive. They cried until it felt like they couldn’t anymore, clinging to each other like desperate children.

Even if they’d wanted to talk about what had happened, Piper’s dad was right there, and despite the Mist usually working overtime for them, having him overhear seemed like a gamble. Or, well, maybe that was what Leo told himself. Maybe he just wasn't sure he was ready to hear it all. He still felt like he couldn’t think. He was overwhelmed to hell and couldn’t stop fidgeting.

Several hours into the trip, his stomach started grumbling. Piper dug through the bag at her feet and offered him one of her PB&J sandwiches, but Leo couldn’t eat. He hadn’t skipped a meal in forever—he’d been homeless and unsure when he’d even get access to the next meal enough times that it had been all but tattooed into his skull that he couldn’t afford to—but he couldn’t even think about eating without feeling sick. He thought about Jason. He thought about the state he’d left Camp Jupiter in and the fact that they hadn’t even been able to give the dead their proper funeral rites.

Had Leo’s help made any difference at all? Had anything he’d done in his life changed things even slightly?

Leo knew the Fates had intended for it to be fire that fell—for him to burn in a bright, hot blaze and turn himself to charcoal. But he’d refused to stay dead like a good little pawn, and now Jason was gone, and it was all his fault.

He wasn’t sure how Piper could even look at him right now, but he was beyond grateful that she was holding onto him as tightly as she did. It was the only reason he didn’t fall to pieces completely. The cog at the heart of Leo’s machine had broken in a way that made it utterly beyond repair, and now it felt like a matter of time before the whole thing came apart. Piper holding him was the only reason his remaining pieces were still functioning.

It should have been impossible for Leo to fall asleep under these circumstances, but he’d been traveling for hours and fighting before then and he’d cried out his remaining energy, so eventually, the world started to fade around him, reduced to just the sound of Piper’s breaths, until finally, those went, too.

~~~~

It would have been kinder, maybe, if Leo had dreamed up some shitty visions promising violent death and/or the end of the world. That would have been business as usual.

Instead, he dreamed of his time on the Argo II—of one of those early nights when the different groups were still getting to know each other, having a brief moment to breathe between their ridiculous tasks and saving the world.

It had seemed reasonable to catch each other up on what had happened on their end. Percy, Hazel and Frank had talked about rescuing Thanatos, and Piper, Jason and Leo had told them what had happened with Hera in turn.

This would have been a boring intel conversation at best, seeing as Leo had been there for all of their part, but they’d grabbed snacks and sat on cushions on the floor and made it a whole bonding activity. Jason had been wedged between Piper and Leo, and they’d taken turns storytelling.

And Jason had bragged. So much. But he hadn’t even had the decency to brag about himself like a normal human being. Instead, he’d talked about how capable Piper and Leo had been, somehow managing to make Leo sound like the coolest person he’d ever met. Which was ridiculous, considering he’d met everyone else on their team.

And sure, Leo made it sound like he thought he was amazing all the time, but he was exaggerating, which everyone, himself included, knew.

Jason didn’t seem to have gotten the memo, though. He had one arm wrapped around Leo the whole evening, and he got all starry-eyed when he talked.

“Leo took on three Cyclopes by himself. Three!”

“Dude, stop!” Leo had laughed, shaking his head. “I know I’m incredible and you’re blessed to be friends with me and stuff, but you weren’t even conscious for that part.”

“Still happened, though.” Jason had beamed at him. “You’re amazing, dude. I would have died about fifteen times on that mission if it hadn’t been for you. You guys should’ve seen him.”

It would have been easier if Leo had thought Jason was just trying to talk him up to the others to make them more willing to trust him after how badly he’d messed up in New Rome, but Jason wasn’t the type. He’d looked like he honestly believed every single word he was saying.

So, of course, Leo had refused to seriously deal with any of the things that made him feel.

“Sorry, Pipes, but I’m pretty sure your boyfriend is in love with me. It’s the fire powers, I’m afraid. I’m just too hot to resist,” Leo had joked instead, and Piper had untangled herself from Jason’s other side to throw Doritos at Leo, and everything had been right in the universe.

~~~~

Waking up from that, blearily blinking himself awake in the car full of moving boxes and remembering… that was a worse punch in the gut than waking up from most nightmares had been. And Leo should know. He’d had so many of those over the years that he was basically a certified nightmare expert at this point.

Leo wanted to go back in time and spend forever in that one evening, living it over and over and over again until the Fates or a temporal paradox or something eventually killed him. He wanted to hold on to what they’d been back then—the three of them together and happy and whole,back before they’d realized what the prophecy really meant.

He wanted to stay wrapped in Jason’s arm and hear him laugh at whatever stupid joke Leo came up with while he and Piper threw snacks at each other like ten year olds. He wanted to believe he could actually be the person Jason was bragging about—this invincible hero that could do just about anything and saved people’s lives.

But Leo had never been that hero. Even his sacrifice had been the selfish decision of a coward who wasn’t ready to die just yet. Jason had been their Superman. The guy who could fly and threw lightning and saved people from falling to their deaths. Jason had been the hero. And ultimately, that had been what killed him.

Leo wasn’t exactly sure what he planned to do once they got to Oklahoma. He should have been heading back to the Waystation, to give Calypso the normal life he’d promised. But he wasn’t thinking about Calypso, or the Waystation, and the thought of a normal life had gone out of the window the second he’d seen the coffin. Besides, the Waystation would mean people asking questions, wanting to know about his mission and asking him to talk about his feelings, and he didn’t want that.

The only thing Leo really wanted to do right now was not think.

By the time they got to the house, it was so late that cross-country dragon flight seemed inadvisable for visibility reasons alone, so Leo agreed to stay the night. Festus nuzzled him for a bit, got a fuel snack from the canister Leo had brought and then folded down into his million pound suitcase form for the night.

It took a little under two hours to carry all the boxes inside, which was an annoying amount of time to be carrying boxes but seemed like an absurdly short amount to move the contents of an entire life.

They spent some time in search of the necessities that needed to be unpacked, but the house was still furnished and also had running water and electricity as of a few days ago, so it wasn’t that bad.

While Piper went in search of some ancient camping gear so Leo wouldn’t have to sleep on the floor—this seemed silly to him, the floor was far from the worst place he’d ever slept—Leo asked Piper’s dad if he could help with dinner.

Tristan looked relieved at his offer, actually. He’d been staring at the assorted vegetables with a slightly lost expression, trying to hack at one of the zucchinis with a butter knife. It seemed like he was trying to remember how cooking worked and had just discovered he had absolutely no idea.

Considering how long he’d been an insanely rich guy with a personal cook, Leo guessed that actually might have been a pretty accurate read on the situation.

“You might want to try a sharper knife,” Leo suggested, which made Piper’s dad look absolutely mortified. “Try not to chop off any of your fingers, though. I think Piper’s been traumatized enough for one week.”

The words were out of his mouth before Leo could think to stop them. Tristan didn’t laugh, but at least it didn’t seem like he’d be tossing Leo out of the house over this. Maybe he realized people sometimes said stupid shit when they were grieving. Maybe Piper had just warned him in advance that Leo was like this sometimes.

Tristan just went to find a different knife, which would have maybe been concerning if he hadn’t gone back to hacking at the vegetables a moment later.

“Well, at least this one is actually cutting through the zucchinis. That’s already an improvement.”

“Yeah, I’m basically a cooking expert,” Leo said with a grin, only half-joking. He went to peel and chop up the carrots, and was done with those and about half the mushrooms by the time the poor zucchini had been hacked to bits.

“You and Piper went to school together, right?” Tristan asked after a while of them quietly chopping vegetables for the casserole, trying to make sense of things with information he didn’t have and that, judging from past evidence, probably would have made his skull crack. “You and her and Jason.”

“Yeah. We went to Wilderness school together.” Leo winced, trying not to think too hard of Jason while also trying to remember the lies they’d already told Piper’s dad. At this rate, he was pretty worried his own skull would crack, too. “Then all three of us switched to a different school. Then I was gone for a while.”

Tristan nodded like this made perfect sense, though he mostly seemed lost in thought. That was a little rude, in Leo’s opinion. If he went through all that effort to remember their elaborate setup of lies, the least Piper’s dad could do was appreciate it!

“I’m glad you’re here now, with everything that’s happened. Piper was really upset when you left,” Tristan said, still with that faraway look in his eyes. “The last few months were hard for her. Between the move and the breakup, she really could have used a friend.”

Leo promptly lost all rights to make fun of Piper’s dad and his vegetable chopping skills because at the word ‘breakup’, the knife slipped and he nearly sliced off two of his fingers.

“Fuck! Ow!” he said eloquently, trying to avoid bleeding all over the cutting board in his attempt to get to the sink. “Jason and Piper broke up?”

The question sounded absurd even to his own ears. Why would Jason and Piper break up? They’d been happy together.

Surely, Piper’s dad had to be talking about something else.

To Leo’s shock, Tristan nodded.

“A while ago, yes,” he said, but he didn’t go into details—possibly because Leo was bleeding all over the sink. “We should bandage that. Do you think you need stitches?”

“No, the cuts aren’t that deep,” Leo decided, turning on the faucet and holding his bleeding hand under the stream of cold water. Maybe he should have been more concerned about the injury, but his mind was still whirring at the thought of his best friends breaking up. Unfortunately, the cold water stung like hell. He hissed with pain. “Sorry for making your kitchen look like a crime scene right after moving in. Usually, I at least have the decency to wait a day or two.”

Because the house was a small, cozy place and Leo had not had the decency to curse quietly, Piper appeared in the doorway a moment later, an alarmed expression on her face.

“What happened?”

“I’ve been bested by a stupid potato,” Leo cursed, holding up his bleeding hand and wiggling his fingers for emphasis. He figured out immediately that this was a mistake. “Ow.”

“Stop that, dumbass!” Piper cursed, moving to stand beside him. “Sink was the right call, but you need to use soap or the cuts could get infected. Dad, any chance we have gauze lying around somewhere?”

Tristan didn’t seem to question why his daughter had immediately jumped into emergency medical treatment mode. He just abandoned the cutting board and headed for the front door.

“Not exactly sure what box our regular medical supplies are in, but I’ll get the first aid kit from the car. I’ll be right back.”

“Do we have to do the soap?” Leo whined, because fuck, that stung, but Piper nodded with a scary expression on her face, so he complied. “How do you even know this stuff? Are we sure you’re not secretly an Apollo kid?”

“I know this stuff because I’m friends with a bunch of morons who have zero sense of self-preservation,” Piper cursed, gritting her teeth. “You shouldn’t be around knives when you’re this distracted.”

“I can usually cook just fine when I’m distracted. Your dad was the one who told me you and Jason broke up in the middle of this stupid potato,” Leo said defensively. “Is that the Mist messing with him?”

That was the only explanation his mind had supplied so far that made any sense to him.

Piper shook her head. “We really did break up. That was a few months ago.”

Leo felt his jaw hit the floor.

“What the hell happened? You were together for ages. I thought- you always seemed so happy.”

“I know, but-” Piper broke off abruptly when her dad came back inside with the first aid kit. Demigod stuff, then?

Leo’s mind was racing. The breakup was a completely stupid thing to focus on, considering everything that had happened in the last few days. He knew that.

But it was easier to try and make sense of this than it was to try and make sense of the fact that Jason was gone and he’d never get to see him again.

“Is it alright if we do this somewhere else?” Piper asked her dad, taking the first aid kit from him.

“Of course. It might be easier to patch him up when you’re both sitting down, anyway.” He turned towards Leo. “Thank you for your help, but I think I can take it from here.”

Leo sent a silent prayer to whichever deity was responsible for protecting vegetables—Demeter, probably?—and gave what he hoped was an encouraging thumbs up with his uninjured hand before he followed Piper into the hallway to presumably be reprimanded some more.

~~~~ They ended up sitting on an old bed that looked like it had lived a long, miserable life and was excited for retirement, but the wooden frame thankfully didn’t break down under the weight of the new mattress or the additional weight of them sitting on said mattress. Piper explained that this had been her dad’s room when he’d lived here as a child, and that it would probably become her room now. Then she went very quiet and focused on bandaging his hand, clearly avoiding looking at him.

“It wasn’t because of me, was it?” Leo asked. The thought made him feel ill. “Please tell me it wasn’t something like, I don’t know, you two being unable to stand being around each other after what happened to me. I think I’d actually have to blow myself up again if it was.”

He tried to make it sound like a joke, but it didn’t feel like one at all. The thought that he'd managed to ruin his best friends’ relationship on top of everything else made it hard to breathe.

When Piper shook her head, it felt like a whole boulder was lifted off his shoulders.

“I actually think we would have broken up sooner if you hadn’t gone missing. We leaned on each other a lot after you disappeared. It wasn’t until we realized we wouldn’t find you and things started to settle down a little that I had time to think. And when I did…” Her voice went very quiet, and she still didn’t look up at him. “I realized I wasn’t happy in the relationship. I don’t think I ever was.”

“How did I not know that?” Leo wondered quietly. “I just… you two seemed happy to me. What kind of garbage best friend am I?”

Piper shook her head. “It isn’t your fault. I was telling myself I was happy for a long time. It’s almost- sometimes I wonder if I was charmspeaking myself. That maybe I kept saying I was in love with Jason until I convinced myself I actually was. And with Hera and my mom setting it up… I love-” her voice caught in her throat, and Leo felt like maybe he needed to throw up, “-loved Jason, but not like that.”

“Pipes, I’m really sorry.” Leo squeezed her shoulder. “That sounds like it was super hard for both of you.” Leo felt awful about the fact that he hadn’t even been around to comfort either of them, but it wasn’t like he could fix it now. It was just another item on Leo’s unending list of epic screwups he’d never be able to make up for.

“Jason was… well, he took it exactly like I expected him to. He was surprised, but he didn’t get angry or anything. He mostly seemed okay. Part of me wonders if maybe…” But whatever Piper had been thinking about, she seemed to decide it wasn’t important. “It was hard to get a proper read on him, and as nice as he was about it, things were still super awkward after. I'm terrified he died thinking I didn’t care about him.”

And then she was tearing up again, and Leo thought he would shatter if she cried.

“He knew you cared,” he said as earnestly as he could manage, pulling Piper to his chest again. “You love way too annoyingly for him not to have known. Hell, even I know you love me, and we both know I’m a fucking nightmare when it comes to this stuff.”

“I missed you so much,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around his back like it was the easiest thing in the world.

“Oh, I’m about to make you regret saying that,” Leo said, forcing himself to smile. “I’ll bring it up each and every time you say you find something I do annoying.”

“You’re annoying as hell, but you’re still my best friend.” He could feel her tears dripping onto his shoulder, and he knew that would make him start up again too. “I don’t know how I’d do this without you.”

And well, passing away from dehydration after crying too much would be a really lame way to die the second time, but everything was just too much right now, so if that was how he went, Leo wasn’t sure anyone could blame him.

~~~~

For the next couple of weeks, Leo stayed.

Helping Piper and her dad unpack was the perfect way to keep himself occupied and not have to think. Usually, a mundane task like this probably would have driven Leo nuts. But right now, it was a bit of a godsend—if not literally, at least figuratively. Being productive was always so much easier when it was done in order to avoid something you wanted to do even less. There was a reason his spaces in the foster homes had only ever been tidy when he had exams coming up.

He helped cook, too, and Piper’s dad became increasingly less garbage at it the longer this went on—like muscle memory was finally kicking in after years of disuse.

It was mostly good—listening to Piper reminisce about trips she’d taken with her dad and where she’d gotten the weird variety of items she kept in her room. When they weren’t unpacking, Leo and Piper played video games or watched movies or explored the area. Twice, during the night, they took Festus on a little flight to a nearby fast food place. Finding a parking spot was a bit of a nightmare, unfortunately. Leo would submit a complaint about their inability to accommodate celestial bronze dragons the first chance he got.

The first time they tried hiking—Leo didn’t even like hiking, he’d spent enough time outside for several lifetimes, why did he do this to himself—they got hopelessly lost in the woods, and of course, due to demigod bullshit, neither of them had brought a phone, so Google Maps wasn’t an option. It was probably for the better. The last thing that situation needed on top of them being lost was a monster attack.

They were already jokingly planning out their new life in the woods when, thankfully, a girl their age came to their rescue.

“A human being! Thank the gods. The squirrels weren’t talking to us,” Leo greeted her, which had Piper shout “Please ignore Leo!” loudly from the branches of the tree she’d been climbing.

The girl lifted her head, spotted Piper and promptly burst out laughing.

“What in the world are you doing up there?”

“Trying to get a better vantage point,” Piper sighed, making her way back down the tree. “We’re hopelessly lost.”

“Well, nice to meet you, hopelessly lost. I’m Shel,” the girl said, still grinning. Leo decided immediately that he liked her.

Piper had almost made it back down when she somehow missed a branch and fell the rest of the way. In comedic movie fashion, Shel moved before Leo had the chance to and caught her mid-tumble. “That was a bit of a dramatic way to get my attention, but you’re cute, so I’ll allow it.”

“Oh yeah, Piper’s got a bit of a thing with falling for people that way,” Leo commented, and Piper gave him her most murderous look while she got back on her feet.

“You guys need help getting back?”

“Please, yes,” Piper said immediately. “It turns out we’re both garbage with maps.”

“Maybe you just need a tour guide next time,” Shel suggested, winking at Piper, whose face turned scarlet. Leo wasn’t even mad about being the third wheel for once. He’d give her so much shit about this later.

And he did. And then Piper properly came out to him—no label or anything, mostly as extremely confused but sure she liked girls, which also made a few additional pieces click into place regarding her breakup with Jason. She ended her anxiety-riddled explanation by thanking Leo for being so normal and annoying about all this.

Which was how Leo realized he’d apparently never told Piper he was bi.

Or maybe he had, and it had gotten lost along with their other memories of Wilderness. Stupid memory-stealing babysitters.

Well, at least they got to hug about it now.

~~~~

It was strange how normal some days felt when nothing would ever truly be normal again. When in every moment Leo and Piper spent together, the gaping hole that had been ripped into their trio was so blatantly obvious.

The benefit and problem of this friendship was that Leo and Piper were both experts at not talking about things they were struggling with.

This wasn’t exactly news. From what little Leo did remember of Wilderness School, they’d spent months not talking about his mom, or about the fact that Piper’s dad kept canceling their weekend plans. They’d both known there were things left unsaid, but as long as they’d been able to cheer each other up, that hadn’t really mattered. It made sense, honestly. Put two people who hadn’t had a shoulder to cry on for ages in a room together and see what happens!

Right now, this meant they were expertly ignoring the box of belongings Piper had picked up from Jason’s school. It had been pushed so far under the bed during that first night that it was no longer visible, and neither of them made any effort to move it out of its new home since. They ignored the topic of Jason, period, until it inevitably hit them in the face again.

It was mostly dumb shit that set them off. Piper automatically reaching for vanilla ice cream at the grocery store because it was Jason’s favorite—seriously, who in their right mind even liked vanilla ice cream?

Sometimes, Leo would make a joke and burst into tears instead of laughing because he knew it would have cracked Jason up. They found old photos unpacking. One time, Piper’s dad suggested they make tacos and they started simultaneously bawling their eyes out.

Leo had spent a long time exactly like this—pretending everything was normal and okay when it wasn’t either of those things until he inevitably broke down. Then he’d started to actually feel sort of okay whenever he was with Jason and Piper. Now, he was sure he would spend the rest of his life pretending.

His appetite was too used to being stuck in survival mode for him to bow to nausea for long, so he went back to eating properly after a few days. He still cried himself to sleep most nights. He kept dreaming about Jason. The memories wrapped themselves around him like a safety blanket that he knew would get ripped away again in the morning. He always woke up feeling empty. Sometimes, he wished he could just go to sleep and never wake up again.

But other than that, it was mostly good.

Then demigod communications went back up, and everything went to hell.

———

Chapter notes:

Fun fact! I originally planned for this chapter (as well as the next few chapters) to just be backstory in my head and for me to maybe do a flashback or two. Unfortunately for me, Piper McLean waltzed into the room and refused to leave.

I do actually think the fic works better this way, but it will take a second to get to the plot! Hopefully you’ll enjoy the whole journey :)

I may not be able to have Leo and Piper go to Jason’s funeral without seriously messing with the plot of Tyrant’s Tomb, but I could at least pick the most evil reason possible for them not to go!

Side note: I sort of forgot that Hedge and Mellie were supposed to be here according to TBM, but by the time I remembered I already had this chapter written out and, as someone who cannot be bothered to figure out how to write them, I decided to just leave it. ToA is vaguely canon to this universe, but only for the most part. Some details are inaccurate, and I think that’s okay.

Anyway, thank you so much for reading! Comments and reblogs super, super appreciated as always!!

List of people that at some point asked to be tagged when I post this: @poppitron360 @ginnyluna @keefessketchbook (feel free to comment if you want to get taken off or be put on the tag list for future chapters!)

#tchig

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