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crackedpumpkin · 2 months

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𝐈𝐧𝐟𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐌𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐬 | 𝟎𝟑 |

[ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 ] | [ 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ] | [ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ]

The last time anyone picked you up was when you were getting your butt kicked by your previous master. He’d grabbed you by the waist, easily lifting you and slamming you back down onto the floor in a swift manoeuvre.

This is exactly the reason why you’re unable to fathom someone carrying you without the intention to fight or harm you. You stare grumpily at Cole’s face, legs dangling off his arm as he carries you to the ambulance.

“I’m fine, y’know. You can put me down now.”

He barely spares you a glance, scanning the crowd for any more injured people. “You’ve sprained your ankle — must’ve been when you fell in that pit. You should get it checked out.”

“Oh, so now you show me concern?” Your sarcastic jab doesn’t go unnoticed, his brows furrowing under his hood.

“What’re you even talking about?” Scoffing, you roll your eyes at the audacity of this man. Luckily, he didn’t hear what you’d uttered before about him being your soulmate and whatever.

In the meantime, the paramedics had checked on other guests who had mumbled grievances about the auction being cancelled. On the other hand, the mayor had personally announced that they would hold it again soon after checking the museum thoroughly to avoid an incident like this again.

You’re surprised when Cole decides to remain with you, citing his duties as a ninja to come to the aid of any injured citizens. The other four are on a makeshift stage set up by the mayor’s team, standing proud and tall as he speaks.

“And lastly, I would like to thank the ninja for once again, being the heroes we need. Additionally, they will be doing another meet-and-greet on the new auction date.” He pauses, noticing someone gesturing to him to hand over the mic to another. “Additionally, it seems that Ms Hamla has something to say.”

Your stepmother walks onto the stage without a single hair out of place, still in her emerald gown. Your eyes narrow in suspicion from where you’re sitting on the chair Cole had managed to score for you.

“What’s she doing…?” Your mutter doesn’t go unnoticed, Cole turning to look at you with curiosity in his gaze. His eyes flit between your glare and the famous writer on stage, before voicing his question.

“Do you know her personally?”

Laughing, a hint of bitterness gives away exactly how you feel about that. “You could say that,” You answer vaguely.

“Hello, citizens of Ninjago. First of all, thank you to the ninjas for evacuating everyone safely and securing the status of the threat. Truly from the bottom of my heart,” Her eyes somehow find yours from the stage. You hold a steady, yet defiant gaze. “Thank you,” She finishes softly, finally looking away.

“I will be here again on the new date of the charity auction,” She continues, her strong voice carrying the weight of her words effectively, “and I will also be selling a limited edition of a new book I’m writing, titled: ‘You Complete Me’. All proceeds will go to charity. I hope you will be able to make it.”

Scoffing, you brush off the odd look the paramedic gives you before he finishes bandaging your ankle. Chatters break out amongst the audience, everyone’s invested excitement helping fuel the eagerness of the mayor’s team.

She better not be expecting you to come again, though. Once is more than the amount you’re willing to do for her. Your vision is blocked by a pair of concerned eyes, Cole having knelt to check on your ankle.

“I’m fine,” You repeat with a sigh, letting him scan the now bandaged ankle. Wincing when he presses down on a sore spot, you quickly mask it with an annoyed purse of your lips. “If you keep doing that, I might end up hospitalised.”

“Fine,” He quickly drops your ankle, sucking a sharp breath through his teeth at your glare. “Sorry…” The tinge of guilt in his smile makes you feel a little bad for being so mean, but the very thought of confronting him about anything makes you feel squeamish inside.

Pausing, you recall the hooded figure you saw in the room he’d found you in. Do any of them know…? The scroll they held looked valuable, and if there’s anything you’ve learnt from watching detective shows and reading mystery novels, it’s that it’s never a good sign to leave any stone unturned.

“Hey,” you begin, faltering slightly when he looks up at you with a doe-like gaze. You ignore it, pushing past the way your stupid heart kind of squeezes. “Earlier in the exhibition room, there was someone. They had a scroll in their hands and it looked pretty important.”

“Well, maybe it’s just a common thief. We get some of those around these parts.” He replies lightheartedly.

“The scroll was glowing.” Now that got his attention. The disbelief in his eyes is more than enough for you to crack an amused grin, tilting your head to the side as you observe the cogs in his brain starting to turn.

“Glowing?” He repeats.

You nod. “Glowing.” Now having his full attention, you begin telling him about your encounter, and how the stranger had fled through the skylight with the weird gauntlet they had. He listens to every word with intrigue, the space between his brows creasing more and more until a full frown is on his face.

“Thanks for telling me this,” He says once you’re done, standing back up and dusting off the specks of dirt on his gi, “I’ll be sure to alert the others. Can I have your number?” You hesitate, raising a sceptical brow.

He pauses, shoulders tense as he tries to clarify his intentions. “It’s so that we can ask you some follow-up questions if we have any, and maybe you can provide Zane with a description so he can do a sketch.”

So much for never seeing each other again.

“Fine,” you shrug, keying in your number on the phone he hands you and adding your name. He takes it back and gives it a quick call. You pull out your phone as it rings, swiping left to pick up the call before holding it to your ear and going, “Truth or dare?”

“Neither, unfortunately,” he chuckles, pocketing his phone after hanging up. “Thanks for the info. You can send me the medical bill for your ankle, the ninja fund will cover it.”

“Ninja fund?” You repeat incredulously. If there were an award for the worst names of a foundation or charity, you’d give it to him, no questions asked.

He turns with a grin. “Ninja fund.”

You hesitate for a split second before making a decision. “Let’s not meet again, Cole.” His back stiffens, his steps slowing to a halt, clearly having heard you. He turns slowly, eyes wide like a deer in headlights as the realisation dawns on him that you know that he knows.

“I’ll- uh, do my best, random citizen!” He replies robotically, lifting his arm in an awkward salute before taking off to where the rest of his teammates are. You watch his retreating back with a half-smile, filled with pure amusement.

“There you are!” You’re ambushed by a sudden hug, the shock fading as you lean into your father’s embrace. The judge’s wig he still has on tickles your nose a little, but you repress the sneeze that threatens to ruin the moment.

He pulls away, firmly planting on your shoulders as he checks you over for injuries. “I was looking all over the place for you. Did anyone hurt you-” His eyes finally land on your bandaged ankle, looking up with a huge frown.

The sheepish chuckle that slips past your lips doesn’t help your case. “That’s it. We’re going home now.”

“What about her?” You reluctantly nod over to Emily who’s getting swarmed by reporters, her calm composure somehow irking you even more than Cole did.

“She’ll be fine,” His eyes soften when he looks over at her. The sight makes you feel queasy, looking down at your shoes and fiddling with your cuticles, picking away at them. “Come on,” He helps you up, placing an arm under your shoulder and walking with you to the car.

“Also,” He adds upon closing the car doors after helping you in, “Your classes are supposed to start next week. So till then, no going out until you’re better.” He holds up a finger, stopping you in your tracks as you part your lips to protest. You slouch in your seat instead with an annoyed frown, glaring out the window. A thought occurs to you, inhaling sharply when you realise something crucial.

You forgot to get the rest of the ninjas’ autographs.

— — — — —

School is boring. That’s a fact you’ll never grow accustomed to. Classes are typical, with few lectures that grab your attention. Professors are mostly chill, though there’s a Miss Grenadine in every school it seems.

All the pain in your sprained ankle had faded in about a week, two days after classes started. Luckily, this meant that Dad wouldn’t drop you off at school every day anymore, and you’d be able to take the bus or train as usual.

However, the time taken for your ankle to fully recover meant that you were mostly cooped up at home with nothing to do except decorate or rearrange your bedroom however you liked. Dad had painted your room a soft grey and installed a few pieces of IKEA furniture you’d bought online.

Your room began to feel more cosy, more like your own personal space. Before you moved, you were too lazy to redecorate and kept the pastel blue walls you’d painted when you were seven years old.

Now though, you’re trekking out of the university with your tote bag and an iced latte in hand, trying to beat the heat by taking refuge in the shadows of tall buildings around. Your laptop is dangerously exposed in the bag, occasionally hitting your arm as you walk down the street.

Your phone begins to vibrate, playing the opening lines of a trot song that Nico had made you put in as a penalty for losing a bet. You’d grown used to the cheesy tune over time, no longer bothered by it and actually embracing how cringy it sounds.

“What up?” You greet nonchalantly, hearing your dad’s soft chuckle on the other end.

“Hey munchkin, just wanted to check if you’re on the way to the monastery.”

“Yeah, I think I’ll reach home by eight. Want anything?”

Your dad hums over the phone, pondering. “No, I’ll be fine. I’ll get dinner for Emily. Make sure you don’t stay out too late though, you’re not used to the city layout yet.” He was supposed to drive you to the monastery, but a sudden work emergency needed his presence and he had to let you go by yourself instead.

To be fair, it did require a bit of persuasion on your side. He relented after a while and sent you the location. You just didn’t know that it’d be absolutely sweltering in the afternoon. Spotting a boba store only a few feet away, you quickly end the conversation.

“No problem, I’ll see you tonight! Bye!” The monotonous dial greets your ears upon hanging up, approaching the bored staff member who’s chilling at the cashier. “Hi, can I get an Earl Grey milk tea?”

She keys in the order with lazy fingers, practically jabbing at the screen and telling you the price. Warily taking out the cash in your wallet, you hand it to her with a small smile. The boba is made quickly enough to your surprise, the staff member’s swift movements leave you impressed when she hands you the packaged cup with a blank stare and goodbye.

Sweet, sweet relief.

That’s exactly what hits your tongue when you take a sip, gulping down almost a third of the drink before finding some semblance of self-control. This won’t do. You need to get there faster than walking under the hot sun.

Flagging down a taxi takes only mere seconds, leaving you astounded by the sheer amount of drivers who halted in front of you before demanding that you should choose them.

City life is intimidating.

You choose to go with a friendly uncle who wasn’t as aggressive as the rest, sitting in the back and sighing in relief as the air-conditioning hits. “Where to?” He asks, shutting the car door.

“Uh,” you double-check your phone, “The monastery of Spinjitsu please.” He gives a single nod, beginning the drive. You relax your upper body, tilting your head sideways to ease your tense neck. The smooth drive kinda makes you a little drowsy, but mainly relieved that you’re no longer exposed to the heat.

Would your new teacher be young and agile, or old and wise? Wondering about the different possibilities of what he might teach you does make you feel sceptical. After all, Emily’s the one who signed you up for it without your consent.

Either way, you’re actually kind of excited to meet this new teacher of yours.

— — — — —

“There is no fucking way I’m climbing up this many steps.” you stare in disbelief at the stretch ahead, unable to even see a glimpse of the foretold monastery your phone directs you to.

The distance is unbelievable, let alone the amount of cardio this would mean for you. Sure, you’re somewhat fit from the occasional jogging and kendo, but this? You’re not sure you’ll make it up there alive.

Maybe there’s a lift or wheelchair platform…?

You look around hopefully, only to be utterly crushed by the absence of any potential aid. Shaking your head with a sigh, you mentally prepare yourself for the journey ahead. Luckily, you have your drink in hand, so perhaps doing this under the sun won’t be as bad as you think.

Fifteen minutes later, you very much regret choosing today of all days to check this off the to-do list. Gritting your teeth, you turn around and take a break, collapsing on the step and catching your breath.

You’d made it halfway so far, but the sun’s relentless heat continuously beats down on your back, practically sweating through the already thin material of your black tank top. Regret fills you with the memory of an identical tank top in white hanging in your wardrobe back home, the current colour absorbing even more heat than it should.

You’d taken off the chic outer layer and stuffed it into your tote bag, though it’s becoming heavier with each step up the mountain. “Out of all places, they chose a mountain,” You mutter heatedly, gulping down the rest of your now warm drink.

After a few more moments of rest, you pick yourself back up, groaning as the joints in your hips pop loudly. “I swear, when I get there, they better have a towel or something…” If they didn’t, you’d be damned sure to get your hands on some water at least.

Encouraged by the thought, you pick up the pace.

Twenty minutes later, you finally reach the huge, ornate doors that stand tall above you. Sweat drips down the sides of your face, and your shirt soaked with sweat. God knows how your armpits feel.

You barely have the strength to push the doors wide open, opting instead for a simple knock. There’s no response. You’re practically on your knees, hands placed flat on the ground from exhaustion.

Just as you lift a limp arm to knock once more, the door opens.

“...Can I help you…?”

Looking up, your eyes widen upon seeing a familiar face. The Ice Ninja mirrors your reaction, kneeling and offering you a hand. “Come in, let’s get you something cold.”

Summoning enough strength to nod, you grab his hand and pull yourself up. Tiredness hinders your normal movements but certainly isn’t enough to keep a snarky comment from escaping your mouth.

“You guys ever thought about relocation?”

— — — — —

A shower and quick change of clothes kindly provided by Zane leave you a whole new person. Towelling your hair dry, you hand Zane the towel he lent from the supply closet. “Thanks, Zane, I don’t think I could’ve survived any training, much less meet Master Wu as I was earlier.”

He chuckles, neatly folding the towel. “It’s quite alright. I understand our location may not be the best, which is why we always have a guest room and shower available for those who visit.”

Depositing the towel into a random laundry basket in the hallway, he continues to guide you through the area. “Those are Nya’s clothes, by the way. She doesn’t mind if you take them; they’re usually meant for beachwear. What brings you here?”

“I’m supposed to be a new student. Emily signed me up for lessons here, since I had to quit my previous dojo when we moved to the city,” You explain, pausing to stare at the courtyard with intrigue.

“Oh? What did you do there?” Zane asks, stopping with you. The children who take lessons at the monastery run amok in the courtyard with joy, practising their moves and playing games cheerfully. You’re simply amazed at how they’re able to tolerate the heat. “The walls are built with technology that keeps the interior cool,” he explains, sensing your curiosity.

“That’s a dream come true,” You sigh wistfully, wishing that it was installed into the mountains so that your journey here wasn’t so treacherous. “I used to learn Kendo.” You resume your walk, answering his earlier question.

“Kendo is difficult. It’s very admirable that you’ve learnt it, and are continuing to learn other styles of self-defence.” He brings you to a large room with a tea set neatly laid out on a table in the middle, soft mats covering the wooden floor. “Master Wu will be with you shortly.” You smile in response, giving him your thanks as you sit down.

Once he closes the door, you take a sip of the tea in front of you. They’d been so kind as to already put ice cubes inside your cup, and leave a cooler filled with more drink alternatives like soda to the side.

Say what you will about the ninja and their team, but they know how to treat their guests.

The wooden doors are rather beautiful, you note. Few beams of sunlight pass through, giving the room an almost ethereal glow. Upon placing a hand on the carpet, you notice the coolness seeping through. They must’ve installed something underneath.

Withdrawing your hand and taking another sip, you let out a happy hum at the relief that greets your butt. Impressed doesn't begin to cover how you feel. The atmosphere is tranquil, and you begin to absentmindedly watch the water streaming down a small waterfall in the corner of the room.

The sound of a door sliding open jolts you to your senses, fumbling to put down your teacup. Standing up to greet whoever’s walked in, you’re surprised to see an old man holding a cane staring at you from the doorway.

Is he your new teacher?

“Master Wu…?” You trail off cautiously, not wanting to offend the man in case he’s someone else entirely. He enters the room, sliding the door back into place before turning to assess you.

His gaze is filled with clarity and knowledge, scanning your arms and legs as if knowing how to read even the subtlest scars on your elbows made from blocking your previous teacher’s blows. “I take it that you are Emily’s daughter?”

“Step-daughter,” You correct, though the immediate tensing of your shoulders doesn’t escape his notice. He chooses not to address it, sitting down opposite you and pouring himself a steaming cup of tea instead. “You’re Master Wu, right?”

“Indeed I am if you choose to continue with your lessons.” He takes a single sip, his behaviour akin to wine tasting as he frowns at the tea in his cup. Ascertaining that it’s up to standard, he continues to sip away while keeping a thoughtful eye on you. “I take it that the climb was tiring?”

Heat tinges your cheeks, though you’re unsure as to why you’re so embarrassed. After all, it’s not like you dedicate your time to hiking up a mountain every day. “Yeah. I take it that you guys haven’t thought about installing a lift?” As soon as the words leave your mouth, you cover it in shock.

Damn your impulsiveness, you curse yourself mentally. Your dad already warned you about keeping your mouth shut at times like this. Your previous master even lectured you on it when you said goodbye. You sneak a peek at Master Wu, hoping that you haven’t offended one of the most powerful men in Ninjago City, literally and figuratively.

Instead, he regards you with an emotionless stare. You hold your breath, awaiting a rejection. However, he cracks a smile, rendering you speechless. “We will begin our lessons next Wednesday after your lessons. You can coordinate with Pixal on the schedule.” He picks himself off the floor, dusting off any dirt that had gotten on his robe before exiting the room.

The door slides shut, and your hands fall to your lap. Disbelief is all you can register, replaying a frame-by-frame of your interaction with him and trying to figure out what he found so amusing. Does this signal good news or bad?

“Did everything go well?” You look up to see Zane poking his head in through the doorway. Once he spots the pure astonishment on your face, he chuckles, sitting down in front of you. “He was smiling when he left, so I’m sure it went well.”

“I…I don’t know. I think I pissed him off?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t think so. He rarely smiles, so you should take it as a compliment.” His reassurance soothes your nerves somewhat, and you manage to muster a smile.

“Thanks again for your help Zane,” you say gratefully, walking back through the hallways. He stops by the kitchen to grab a bag with your clothes inside, handing it back to you. The very girl you borrowed clothes from is in the kitchen, eyeing you with intrigue.

“The outfit looks good on you.” You recognise her face from the newspaper, an embarrassed flush on your cheeks when you feel underdressed in front of Nya and her gi. “You can keep it. I’m Nya.”

You shake the hand she holds out to you, heart warmed by her kind smile. “Thanks for the clothes. I was pretty much drenched by the time I got up here,” you laugh. She grins at your joking words. “Are you sure I can keep these though? I mean, they do belong to you after all.”

“I’m sure,” she easily waves it off, grabbing your hands with an excited glint in her eyes. “I’m just glad there’s gonna be another girl around! How old are you, anyway?”

“She’s Cole’s age,” Zane chimes in. You cast him a wary look, surprised that he even knew. Well, that and the fact that you’re still getting used to your soulmate being the literal earth ninja. Luckily, it seems that he hasn’t told anyone here yet about the connection between you both.

“Oh, that’s cool! You’re like an older sister then,” She says happily. “Well, don’t let me stop you from going home to rest. I heard you had an injury not too long ago from the charity auction. Do you feel better now?”

You swivel your ankle with a grin showing it off proudly. “Got it moving and all too.”

“That’s a relief! Zane, you should bring her home. I’d ask Jay but…he and Kai are currently preoccupied,” she trails off, pointing to the other connected room that’s out of sight, a few yells and what seems to be game sound effects reveal what they're up to.

“Anyway, I gotta get back in there with snacks. It was nice meeting you, I hope we get to hang out soon!” You wave goodbye, watching her leave with a bowl of chips in one hand, a bottle of soda in the other, and another bowl of salsa balancing precariously on top of her head.

Ninja things, you reckon.

“So, how do you know my age, exactly?”

“Pixal studied up on you. Please don’t be offended, we didn’t dig too deep. We just do it in case a villain tries to slip into the monastery in disguise.” Zane holds his hands up, the innocence in his eyes drawing a laugh out of you.

“It’s fine. We’re good. Plus, I get it. I’d do that too. It’s hard to trust anyone.”

His shoulders sag with relief, guiding you past the doors and to a space on the side of the monastery. “Please step back,” He instructs. You quickly move a few feet away, unsure of what ninja stuff he might be up to.

A single wave of his arms summons a huge dragon with blue flames that cover its entire being. It roars in greeting, moving its head down to nudge Zane playfully. He chuckles, hopping atop the saddle on its back.

You’re frozen in place not by fright or terror, but by pure amazement at the being before you. You’d only heard tales like this in stories or legends, so to see an actual mythical being right in front of you is quite frankly mind-blowing. A multitude of questions race through your mind, only for a single one to stand out among the others.

“Do you like, not feel heat? Y’know, being a robot and all.” He pauses, seemingly amused by your question. He ponders an answer, a hand cupping his chin in thought.

“I suppose not, as I have an automated cooling system designed to regulate my temperature so I don’t explode.” He replies simply, reaching his hand down to help you up. “Now, where do you live?”

You part your lips, not giving it much thought when you say your address. Realisation dawns on you when you see the expectant look on his face, your lips pulling into a beam filled with utter glee. “Am I going to ride Fridgey back home??”

He cocks his head, bewildered by the sudden name. “Fridgey, because he’s cold? Like a fridge? Whatever, let’s go!!” You dismiss any questions as you eagerly grab his outstretched hand, awed by how high up you are. Thankfully, the dragon is cold to the touch, an assumption you’d made based purely on Zane’s element.

“I suppose ‘Fridgey’ is a somewhat suitable name.”

“Somewhat? It’s perfect!” You laugh maniacally when he takes off, holding tight to the sides of the saddle as you soar through the sky on a dragon’s back. When else would you ever be able to experience this? “Today is the best. day. ever!!!!”You whoop, daring to lift a single arm to feel the clouds.

Euphoria floods your veins, ignoring the concerned looks Zane sends your way. Breathing in the chilly evening breeze sends a rush of delight down your spine as if injected with morphine.

Nothing can get you down now, not even the soft rock music that begins to play in the back of your mind.

— — — — —

A knock on your bedroom door makes you turn, thankful to be distracted from your assignment. Opening it, however, multiplies the stress tenfold. Emily stands at your door dressed in her usual nightgown, pulling the cardigan around her in an attempt to calm down.

You remain silent, giving her the bare minimum courtesy of not slamming the door in her face at the very least. Waiting proves futile, however, and you’re unable to hold back your eye roll as she drags out what she’s trying to say.

The slight motion of you starting to close the door seems to bring her to her senses, finally revealing her intentions. “How are you feeling? I was so busy during the past few days setting up a new date for the charity fundraiser that I didn’t have the time to check on you.” She asks quickly, perhaps sensing your impatience.

“I’m fine. Look, I’m busy doing my assignments, so what did you want to ask? Besides, my ankle already healed a couple of days ago, so you’re kinda late to the party.” Sarcasm coats each word, unbothered by the hurt that flits across her face.

“I’m sorry…” She says quietly. You sigh, crossing your arms and leaning against the doorway, keeping the door open. It’s an unspoken sign that you’re willing to hear her out, whatever it may be.

She realises this, her eyes lighting up as she seizes the chance. “Do you remember the book I mentioned during the speech? ‘You Complete Me’?” You nod, raising a brow. She moves a concealed hand from behind her back, holding out an object to you.

“I, uh, saved you a copy.” You stare at the book in her hands, recognising the name on the cover as the very book she’s talking about. “I know it’s not your usual genre, but I was hoping maybe you could give it a read sometime…?” Her voice trails off hopefully, looking at you with an almost pleading gaze.

You mull over your options. Accept it and shove it somewhere in your room? Or reject it and get scolded by your dad?

Option one it is.

“Thanks.” You say shortly, taking the book. Delight fills her face, practically beaming when you do. She claps her hands together excitedly. “Let me know what you think when you’re done!” You wave off her words, closing the door behind you.

She’s too happy to be hurt by your actions, and her footsteps bound down the stairs with an enthusiastic note. Sighing, you push the book into a random bookshelf, mentally deleting the memory from your head.

Maybe you can sell it to get some money. You shake off the thought. She’d probably hear about it somehow, and that means your dad would know. You didn’t like the potential argument that would follow.

The book shall remain holed up for all eternity, you decide.

Collapsing back into your bed, you waste no time unlocking your tablet and checking your calendar for tomorrow’s appointments. A visit to the dentist, a quick stop at Papa’s Cakeria, then a quick session at the cafe nearby to finish the assignment you leave unfinished on your desk.

The bakery’s name makes you pause, a finger hovering over the black-coloured tag. Of course, you had to be reminded of your soulmate, now of all times. As if having his music occasionally filling your head still wasn’t horrible, the fact that you’d been overly cautious not to run into him again is a nightmare in itself.

The ninja is always around and about, and you’d already run into Zane a couple of times including earlier today. You’d met Jay once when he helped you get your purse back after a thief tried to run off with it. Well, you say helped, but in reality, he showed up just as you tackled the thief, using a random stick to beat him to a crap.

Thankfully, it seems that Cole is always updated about your location, making sure he’s never in the vicinity. Listening to music helps to gauge the distance, and though you’d never admit it out loud, you’re thankful for this soulmate ‘feature’.

Now though, the memory of your interaction during that night haunts you. Try as you might, you can’t deny that the pan au chocolat was one of the best you’d ever had. You pull up their menu, excitement flooding your veins when you see that they sell a multitude of different cakes, including red velvet. Luckily, orders can be made in person, and the fact that your dad’s birthday is coming up is the perfect excuse to order more.

He did say that you could use his name to speed up an order as a fellow cake enthusiast…

Biting your lip in thought, you decide to take a chance. Besides, what’s the worst that could happen? You’ve already made your disdain for each other evident anyway. It’s just a one-off thing.

Musketeer [ 10:00 PM ]: Hey, it’s your soulmate here. Was just wondering if the offer to speed up an order at Papa’s Cakeria is still valid?

There. Sent. You place your phone screen-side down, unwilling to submit to impatience for his reply. A ding alerts you to a new notification, abandoning all resolve and snatching it up eagerly.

Cake Enthusiast [ 10:03 PM ]: Yeah, of course. I promised after all, even if it’s you

You raise an offended brow, your temper flaring up again as you decide whether to keep being nice. Unfortunately, your love for pastries wins out.

Musketeer [ 10:03 PM ]: That’s a relief. I need to speed up an order for my dad’s birthday cake, and I was wondering if you’d be able to help me with that

You watch the floating bubbles on the screen that indicate him typing a reply, growing frustrated when it takes longer than expected. Is he going to help you or not?

Cake Enthusiast [ 10:07 PM ]: yea sure. What time are you heading there?

Frowning, you type a response, not thinking much of it.

Musketeer [ 10:07 PM ]: idk like 2pm?

Cake Enthusiast [ 10:08 PM ]: ok

Musketeer [ 10:08 PM ]: wait howre you going to help me speed it up??

Cake Enthusiast [ 10:08 PM ]: youll see tmr

“You’ll see tomorrow?” You mutter in bewilderment, about to type a response. However, stubborn pride gets in the way, and you turn off your phone instead, placing it on your bedside table. A chime indicates another message, but you refuse to check it.

Plopping your head onto the pillow with a huff, you try to quell the frustration you can feel building within you. It’s incredible how a short text exchange can get you so worked up over nothing.

“Calm down, he’s already agreed. You’ll get your pastries soon…” You chant to yourself in the form of a mantra, finally calming down fully. Whatever. You’ll find out tomorrow, you suppose. And if not…There’s always your new friend Zane who can pass on a message in your stead.

Satisfied with the thought of potentially exacting revenge, you begin to drift off with a smile.

Only to be interrupted by more soft jazz in your head.

— — — — —

“You’re back.”

Jay pauses his game, glancing over at his friend who’s just gotten out of the shower after returning from patrol. Cole raises a brow, adjusting the towel that hangs low on his waist. He grabs another, starting the process of drying his hair.

“I didn’t get any supper this time if that’s what you’re gonna ask.” He tosses the towel he used to dry his hair at Jay, the latter letting out a screech when it lands on his face. He chuckles, taking his time to scroll through his phone.

“That’s not what I was gonna ask, thank you very much,” Jay huffs, dropping the towel on the floor with a disgusted frown. An excited glint in his eyes is all Cole needs to see before realising that he probably wanted to talk or gossip about something. Probably gossip.

So, he puts down his phone and stares expectantly, waiting silently for his friend to start speaking. True enough, Jay immediately starts to talk about how Nya met someone new, and Master Wu taking in another student. However, the name that slips from Jay’s mouth is the last thing he expects.

“Who?” Jay repeats your name once more with a tilt of his head, not thinking much of it until he sees the baffled look in Cole’s eyes.

“Why? Do you know her?”

“Know her-?!” Cole stops himself from speaking, dragging a hand down his face with a frustrated groan. Every single day without fail he’d keep a wary lookout for your presence, and the moment a single note was played in his mind he’d flee from the area. “N-no, I don’t know her.”

You didn’t want him around, and it was made abundantly clear. But now, as a student of Master Wu, he’d probably get at least some of the ninjas including him to meet her!

Talk about a worst-case scenario.

He’d had just about enough. How is he supposed to get on with his life now? He sighs, wringing his head in his hands and completely forgetting that Jay’s still in the room with him.

“What’s with him?” He recognises the voice as Nya’s, lifting his head to stare blankly at her. Jay shrugs, choosing to resume his game instead of dealing with Cole’s possible mental breakdown.

“At least put some clothes on, damn.” She tosses a shirt at him. He puts it on without comment, running a hand through his damp hair as he tries to figure out how to deal with the bomb that Jay’s brought him.

“Anyway, guess what?” Nya’s chirpy voice distracts him for a moment. “I met someone new today! She’s supposed to be Master Wu’s new student. She seems pretty cool, and Zane said that she’s your age, Cole!”

Screw this. Maybe that invitation for a vacation from Vania is still valid. I could stay there for a week. Maybe a month.

Why is he even feeling this frustrated anyway? He’d done nothing to deserve this. Sure, he was a little rude or cold when you first met, but he had good reason to do so. Besides, he’s pretty sure he’s more than made up for it by quite literally saving your life.

Right?

“Cole? Did you hear me?” Jay shakes his head, nudging Nya’s side as she glances at him with concern.

“I already told him about it, but he pretty much short-circuited when I said her name,” Jay snorts. “You’d think she’s her ex or something-”

“She’s not my ex,” Cole deadpans, glaring at Jay from the corner of his eyes. “She’s just…someone I met before.”

“Ohhh….She’s an ex alright,” Nya whispers loudly with a nod.

Giving up, Cole heads back to his room instead. Trying to reason with them would be futile. His phone buzzes limply, the screen damp from the remaining shower water on his arms. Laying on his bed, he unlocks his phone and scrolls through social media, smiling at a thank you video a few people had made for the ninja.

The image of your figure standing close to him that night at the charity auction flashes through his mind. He tries to push it aside, but his mind keeps drifting to your sly gaze, and the playful smile that played on your lips during your conversation.

The same smile that vanished once you made eye contact with him as the Earth Ninja.

The phone drops to his chest, placing a hand on his face and rubbing it in hopes of curing it of the intolerable pang that resonates at the memory. He never needed a soulmate before, and he definitely didn’t need one now.

The soft fabric of the black shirt settles on his chest, bringing him some form of comfort as he wrestles with his thoughts. If Master Wu’s already accepted you, it just signals an inevitable meeting.

May as well start trying to be amicable somehow, so that no one can figure out the connection between you both.

But how?

As he tries to find a solution that would ease all his worries, the phone vibrates loudly. Picking it up, a text notification from you makes his heart drop. He slams the phone back down onto his chest, eyes wide.

Is this a sign?

Musketeer [ 10:00 PM ]: Hey, it’s your soulmate here. Was just wondering if the offer to speed up an order at Papa’s Cakeria is still valid?

Oh, that’s right. He processes the message, remembering that he had promised before the whole theft incident took place. He sends a quick agreement, though rereading it makes him wince.

Musketeer [ 10:03 PM ]: That’s a relief. I need to speed up an order for my dad’s birthday cake, and I was wondering if you’d be able to help me with that

Cake Enthusiast [ 10:03 PM ]: ok

He deletes the message, trying different variations of agreement before finally settling on one that he decides isn’t hostile-sounding or rude. Pausing, an idea hits him. His fingers hover above the screen, barely touching the keypad. The moment of hesitation doesn’t last long, however, when he finds himself typing a response and sending it faster than he can process.

Cake Enthusiast [ 10:07 PM ]: yea sure. What time are you heading there?

Musketeer [ 10:07 PM ]: idk like 2pm?

Is he really about to take the risk? What if you grow to hate him even more? He sighs. What is there to lose? If you leave, so be it. If you never see each other again, so be it. At the very least, maybe you’d be able to reach some form of an agreement to keep things civil between you two.

Cake Enthusiast [ 10:08 PM ]: ok

Musketeer [ 10:08 PM ]: wait howre you going to help me speed it up??

Cake Enthusiast [ 10:08 PM ]: youll see tmr

He sends another thumbs up before placing the phone on his bedside table to charge. Looks like he’ll be postponing tomorrow’s patrol.

#ninjago #lego ninjago #cole brookestone #cole brookstone x reader #cole x reader #ninjago x reader #cole ninjago #lego ninjago x reader #cole brookstone x female reader #cole brookstone #ninjago cole

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thebestsetter · 1 month

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A never ending cycle

A/n: this is completely based on a fic of a friend of mine. If you're a portuguese speaker, you should really check her works, they're amazing! Her user's @esposa_do_shidou on tiktok!

~ Tw: This is kinda angsty and has some cuss words (use of the f word 2 times) and violence. If you're sensible about any of these topics, I suggest you don't read this

He didn't deserve this, she was sure of it. Even though he could be a little annoying sometimes and really liked to mess with her, Kaiser was a nice guy. He was familiar with suffering and didn't want anyone to go through what he went through as a child, and a person who lived what he did didn't deserve to suffer even more. But, as the wise writer Luís de Camões once wrote, sometimes good people go through bad times. And that was exactly what happened to Michael Kaiser.

-Sit still! If you keep moving I won't be able to completely clean the wound - (Name) said while firmly holding his chin and rotating his face, looking for more bruises - I still want to know what happens everytime you come here looking for me. I brushed it off for a long time, but now I'm curious. You always come here with a black eye and at least one new scar. Keep it up and you'll show up without a tooth by next week - she sighed, putting her arms on her lap - I just don't get it. Why won't you tell me? Don't you trust me?

(Name) and Kaiser had been friends for almost 5 years, and lately they've started to follow a routine: every week, at least 2 or 3 times, Kaiser shows up at her door, with more bruises than the last time he went there, so she can take care of him. She rubs alcohol on his wounds and gives him food. He then says goodbye, leaves and returns the same way (if not worse) the next day.

She never asked what happened to him, even though she was dying to know, because she didn't want him to feel pressured to tell her. The girl was sure he'd tell her eventually, but even after 6 months of following this same routine, he never once mentioned anything about what happened when he was out.

-Hm - Kaiser hummed, a bit uncomfortable with the conversation. He knew it wasn't the first time she thought about it. If someone came up to him all bruised, he'd want to at least know what happened to the person, but she never asked him about it. And he was grateful for it. He was grateful for her.

The truth is he wanted to tell her. He wanted to tell her about his father abusing him ever since he was born. He wanted to tell her about his need to steal to survive and tell her that her food was actually the first homemade thing he ever ate, and he felt like crying everytime she cared for him, because no one showed him that much care before. But he was scared. He was afraid that when she found out about the robberies, she would be scared of him and wouldn't want to see him anymore. He'd lose her. And it's not like he didn't know the feeling of losing something (besides his soccer ball, he never had anything to lose anyway), but he knew she was the only good thing in his life, and he couldn't even contemplate the thought of losing her without his stomach turning all over and his eyes suddenly became wet.

-Really Kaiser, you can't keep coming here if it's going to be like this - she started, getting up from the chair she was sitting on - I'm saying this because I care about you, and I want to help you through the hard times.

-You can't help me - he said, looking at the floor.

-Maybe I can! If you just tell me what is going on, I can help you!

-My life is none of your business - he said, also getting up from his chair and facing her - I already told you you can't do anything to help, so maybe just shut your fucking mouth and stop being so nosy. - he didn't know why he got so mad at her at that moment, but it was too late to take his words back.

-Mihya, I like you. I don't want to force you to tell me about what happens when you leave my house, but I want to help you. Please, tell me.

-Shut up.

-Michael, it would make this whole situation easier for the both of us.

-Shut up.

-Please Kaiser, I just want you to trus-

-I SAID SHUT UP!

A loud noise echoed across the room, and (Name) slowly brought her hand to her now red and swolen cheek. Meanwhile, Kaiser looked at his hand that was in the air and had just hit the person he cared about most. He was still processing the whole situation, but he was sure of one thing: he regretted what he did.

-I-I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me. I-I… - he started, stepping closer to (Name) so he could hug her. But she took a step back and gosh, should a single action hurt one's heart so much? Because Kaiser was sure he heard his heart breaking when he looked at her form: she was cowering with fear, flinching everytime he tried to get closer to her so he could apologize for what he did. The thing he feared the most came true: she was scared of him. Terrified, even.

-Get out of my house - she muttered, still holding her cheek.

-W-what? - he asked. He heard what she said, but didn't want to believe it: she couldn't really be kicking him out of her house, could she?

-I told you to GET OUT! - she shouted at him with tears in her eyes, and Kaiser felt his own tears starting to form and travel his cheeks and chin before wetting the floor underneath him.

He really wanted to stay. Hell, he wanted to get on his knees and beg her not to leave him. Tell her that he meant nothing he said or did. Tell her that she was the best thing that had happened to him, cause she showed him what love was. But he felt like he wasn't worthy of it. He wasn't worthy of her.

So, with one last look inside the house he grew accostumed with, he left.

It was probably for the best anyway: you know what people say, the abused becomes the abuser, right? If he got too close to her, he would hurt her more than he already did. He was dangerous. He was just like his father.

Hugging his sides, Kaiser started to walk "home". The only thing that could be heard were his sobs and hiccups. There wasn't anyone around, but even if there were people around him, he was too sad and broken to care. He just knew one thing: he fucked up. But he was stubborn, and he was going to fix this no matter what it took. He cared too much for (Name) to just give her up like that, so he wouldn't back down without fighting.

#bllk x reader #bllk x you #bllk #michael kaiser #bllk kaiser #blue lock x reader #blue lock #blue lock x you #blue lock kaiser #kaiser x reader #blue lock angst #bllk angst #angst

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sophieakatz · 9 months

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Thursday Thoughts: Microlabels

Almost ten years ago, when I first told someone who loved me that I was demisexual, he replied, “Do we really need all these labels?”

I don’t remember what I said back then, but my answer now is, “Well, I don’t know about we, but I need this one.”

Labels are the words we use to describe the world around us and our experience within it. Language is full of labels. Our earliest language-learning activities include sorting things into categories. This is the red block; this is the yellow block. Elephants and giraffes are zoo animals; horses and cows are farm animals; cats and dogs are pets. Toothbrushes and toothpaste are bathroom objects; forks and knives are kitchen objects.

Some of these distinctions are more important than others. It doesn’t really matter if you build a tower of red blocks or yellow blocks. However, leaving a knife in the bathroom is a bad idea, and so is attempting to keep an elephant in your house (not that I haven’t been tempted to try). You’ll also find that not all categories are universal. Is octopus an edible animal? Depends where you go in the world and who you ask!

The point is, it’s natural to use labels to define our place in the world and how we interact with it. I call myself a writer because I am someone who writes; this is important to me. Calling myself a writer explains something about who I am. It makes it easier for me to apply for writing jobs. When I hear other people call themselves writers, I know that we have something in common that we can connect over. I know that these are people I might be able to talk with or who might be interested in having write-ins or book clubs with me. In this way, labels help us find and create community.

Now, “writer” is a pretty broad category, so our experiences won’t be exactly the same. However, I can use a more specific label. I can call myself a fantasy fiction writer, a poetry writer, or a themed entertainment show writer, which helps me find people who identify with those more specific labels and have even more in common with me.

People who are not writers and are not interested in finding other writers don’t need the word “writer.” It doesn’t help them as much as it helps me. It’s not their label.

Demisexual is an asexual spectrum microlabel. Asexual describes someone who experiences little to no sexual attraction. It’s a broad label that covers a variety of experiences. Demisexual describes someone who only experiences sexual attraction towards someone after forming an emotional bond with them.

Before I read the word “demisexual” about ten years ago, I didn’t know that there were other people like me. I thought that there was something wrong with how I experienced attraction towards others. Knowing that there was a label not only made it possible for me to understand that there were other people like me, but also made it possible for me to find them and find community with them. Having words like ace and demi in my vocabulary make it easier for me to explain my experience to other people. People who aren’t demisexual don’t necessarily need this word. But I do.

When you hear a microlabel for the first time, especially if it’s one you do not identify with, it’s easy to dismiss it. It’s easy to think, “That’s not really a thing,” or, “Do we really need a word for that?”

The answer is, “Maybe you don’t need that word, since it doesn’t describe your experience, and that’s okay. But clearly someone needs it. We all have the right to put our experiences into words. We all deserve the chance to know that we are not broken and to find other people who are like us.”

#thursday thoughts #writing #writer #writblr #asexual #asexuality #acespec #demisexual #ace #demi #microlabels #queer #lgbtqiaplus #2slgbtqia+

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castielific · 1 month

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20 questions for fic writers

How many works do you have on A03? 25

What's your total word count? 454 434 words

What fandoms do you write for? Supernatural. My first english fics were about Teen Wolf. Before that, I wrote in french about House MD and Stargate Sg1.

Top 5 fics by kudos:

Baby One More Time (sterek): 4 142 kudos

Carry You Home (sterek): 2 157 kudos

Fancy and the Tramp (destiel): 1 147 kudos

But she's the Devil in Disguise (sterek): 1 030 kudos

Grace my Soul (destiel): 891 kudos

Do you respond to comments?

Not all of them. Mostly because sometimes I'm not sure how to respond and feel ridiculous saying the same thing again and again. I appreciate them all though. They all make me so happy and I'm grateful to those who takes the time to leave one. They always make my day.

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Like Clipped Petunias (destiel). This is my darkest fic. I've had people telling me they had PTSD from it. The end is really angsty and horrifying. It was not supposed to end this way, but this is where the story took me. In the end, I think it fits.

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Grace my Soul (destiel) comes to mind. Baby Jimmy is such a delight and the last chapter of that fic is my favorite one.

Do you get hate on fics?

I don't remember ever getting any. I did have a few problems with people stealing my stories or posting them elsewhere. In the past, I also had a few stalkers/stans sending messages that creeped me out (especially for my french fics).

Do you write smut?

Yes! I didn't used to for Teen Wolf, but I've realized that fic with a higher rating tends to get more views (which I get because I rarely read pg13 or under myself), so I started writing it. I both love and hate writing those parts. It always feels kind of awkward to share those imageries, I'm never sure what words to use or how far I should go.

Craziest crossover?

I have a WIP that was a Psych/Teen Wolf crossover.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Yes. More than once. I've had a few cases of people putting their own name on my stories, but mostly people repost it without my consent on other websites such as wattpad. Ao3 is the only place I post, so if you see one of my story elsewhere, it's been stolen. Please warn me if you do.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes! It's such an amazing thing to think about! I have had translations in spanish, russian and chinese.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Once or twice. To be honest, I think I'm too OCD for it to work, I want it exactly as I want it lol. Help from betareaders is precious though, sometimes they write a couple paragraphs for me, or help me reformulate some things better, or just brainstorm the stoyline with me and give me brillant ideas. Fics are always better with some help.

All-time favorite ship? Destiel forever bb

What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Frozen Inside (sterek) is the only WIP I've ever posted. I feel terribly guilty about it because it's been more than half a decade now and people are still asking me for a sequel. Sometimes I read it over and try, but it's just...done. Thankfully, the last chapter could be taken as a end. Kind of. God, I feel awful and I'm so sorry.

I also have tons of unpublished wip that are nearly over. I wish I'll be able to end them, because there are some stories I really really like.

What are your writing strengths?

Hyperfocus. My best stories come out that way. I'll write fifty thousand words in two days or not at all. Sadly, I can't control it. Inspiration also tend to come at the exact moment I can't possibly write, which is sooo frustrating.

What are your writing weaknesses?

Description and world building. I tend to focus too much on the action and dialogues, but forget to tell about where they are and when. I let readers fill the blank way too often, which is something I really need to work on. I've been trying to rewrite some of my fics into original stories and that made it very obvious to me.

Thoughts on dialogue in another language?

It depends. Sometimes the translation is in the end note and it can put me out of the story, especially if it's an important part of the dialogue. If it's just a few words or if it's done in a way you understand it anyway, it can be beautiful!

First fandom you ever wrote in? Stargate SG1.

Favorite fic you've written?

The Guy Next Door (destiel), I think. I laughed, I cried, I squealed, I facepalmed. I must have looked like a maniac writing that story. Castiel was very fun to write for that one. Dean...I wanted to slap Dean so many times while I wrote. I had no control over him, I swear, he kept on being an idiot and made me scream at my screen.

I was surprised earlier, that this fic is not in the top five stories because it's one of my personal favorite.

This exercise was very fun to do. I won't tag anyone, if you feel like doing it, just do it, I'm curious to read about all of you!

#supernatural #destiel #dean/cas #destiel ao3 #ao3 #sterek #teen wolf #sterek ao3 #writing #fanfics #fics #fic stuff #spn #dean/castiel #deancas

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the-greek-mythos-project · 2 months

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The Greek Mythos Project

Hello everybody, my name is Camila and I am the creator of The Greek Mythos Project. My pronouns are They/Them and I can otherwise be found on Tumblr as @ixhkor-and-ambrosxa. Any and all questions can either be directed here or there and I'd be happy to help any of you :).

So... What Is This Project And Blog About? Well, it's about The Greek Mythos Project. The Greek Mythos Project is a new thing I've created here on Tumblr in order to showcase smaller artists waiting to get out there, feel like their audience is too niche, and to ultimately learn more about Greek Mythology. It originally stemmed from a smaller, more personal project where I intended to 'rewrite' all of mythology in order to learn more about it and to generally get back into writing, but as I thought more about the specifics, I realized how time consuming and burnt-out I would be. That thought lead to another and another... and then I was like: what if I release this idea into the world and allow others to participate in it? Then I'd still be able to learn more about all of it, but I could also meet new writers and see more writing styles. So, here we are, with a blog & all.

What Is The Project's Main Goal? The ultimate main goal of this project is to showcase others' work. I myself--as a writer of lesser-known characters--know how hard it is to get that niche audience or even gain the courage to let loose those 'weird' headcanons so I wanted to provide an easy way to get that. I want to know those niche writers and characters and 'weird' headcanons--one of my general hyperfixations is worldbuilding! So, even if nobody else wants to read it, I want to. I want to know, I want to learn, and I want to be. So, the ultimate goal is getting out there, but there are some lesser and more personal goals such as networking, learning to work with wider and more diverse audiences (knowledge, headcanons, and otherwise), and having something bigger than myself to work on so I don't end up spiraling. It lets me know, as someone who struggles with mental health, that there's always going to be something to fall back on, such as this project :).

What Is This Project Exactly? The Greek Mythos Project will hopefully be a long AO3/Wattpad fic made up of the POVs and Stories of various characters in Greek Mythology. The end project will hopefully be arranged in chronological order and include as many stories and versions of the stories as they can. The possibilities and submissions can be endless but the only restriction this project asks for is that it keeps to one POV only. I ask this because this is the vision I am hoping to pursue but there will be a companion-fic set that you can submit to if you want a Multiple POV submission. Each chapter that we post will include your socials, how to find you, how to find your other works, the submission-fic notes, personal notes on the fic, and anything else you or we decide is best to put. Of course, you can opt out of any and all of this and I can just put anonymous <3. This project is essentially a mass Character Study/Introspection, if you'd like it in more simple and fandom-based terms :).

What Are The Project's Requirements? Other than having only one POV... there aren't really any. Of course, there's a level of trust and respect required on both sides once we all start working with each other, but that's just the basics. The word count can be anything, Spicy & More Graphic scenes can be taken once we have a coordinator for that and/or get further into it, and hopefully we'll have editors and beta-ers if you, as a writer, want or require them. If anything, I can help edit and work with you. This is a pretty formless job; it can be writing, it can be art, it can be mood boards, it can be collabs. As long as everything's communicated effectively, nothing should be a problem.

How Do I Submit? Currently, the best way to submit things is through the Ask Box on this page. I'll also be opening up the submissions tab/thing but I have zero experience on my part with it so the safest bet's through the ask box. Same thing with private posts, they don't always work so, when in doubt, go to the ask box :). Feel free, whenever you submit via the ask box, to put a little line at the bottom or top with your information, any notes, etc for me to put in when I eventually post this. Also, please check in on this blog every once in a while in case we need to ask to clarify something <3.

Can I Participate Even Without Socials? Yes, you absolutely can! Our ask box will always have an anonymous option and even if you have something or another and just want this to be separate, feel free to tell us you want to be anonymous! I and those who I may be working with will completely get and respect your privacy! /pos /gen

What Is The Project's Deadline? As of now, there isn't one. This project is supposed to be long term, which means it should still be going five or so years from now (depending on how the world's going at that time, at least) and so there is no deadline going on for the submissions-end. On my end, I plan to start picking it up and publishing around Late-August or July because I hope by that point, we'll have some submissions or at least be working a lot more on this as it picks up and also I know this month is really stressful for a lot of people with final projects, exams, etc and getting ready for Summer so hopefully that'll be a decent amount of time to really get things going.

Can I Help Out? Yes, you absolutely may! I'd love some editors to help back me up on things, beta-ers, Spicy-Scene coordinators (because that's just not my editing cup of tea) and other people that's going to be crucial to bringing this to light. Again, this project is based on community and I love people so feel free to reach out so we can work together to see what's the right fit, aka schedules, genres, etc! I might even create a discord server if we get large enough!

Any Other Comments? Feel free to ask questions. This and my main account are always free to pop in if you'd like, just know that it might take me a while to get back to you... it's a bad habit :(. Also, fandom-based characters and chapters are completely on the table! I personally find it much easier to write in a fandom-based setting so if that's your jam, feel free and make sure to tell us where you're comin' from so we showcase it! At some point, too, I'd love to make a little 'spreadsheet' thing on here to show who's working on who to maybe get people out of their shell or introduce others or maybe even collab on stuff!

Anyway, I think that should all be it :). Feel free to ask questions, interact with us, or even share the #The Greek Mythos Project on other platforms if you'd like or with friends! Also keep up with us on the same tag for updates, questions, or even maybe prompts/challenges if ya'll would like :). See you at some point and have fun!

Edit: Below Are Little Clarification Posts Along With Updates & Stuff That Seem Important <3

The Greek Mythos Project: What We Accept Within Submissions [Link Subject To Change As More Is Added]

The Greek Mythos Project: The Submission Process

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awooghan · 1 year

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24 to 25 ✧.* y.ji (part one)

➳ PAIRING: jeongin x fem!reader

➳ GENRE: fluff, angst, childhood friends to lovers, christmas

➳ WARNINGS: mild language, mentions of food, long as hell, i put the ‘slow’ in slowburn (in my defense this trope does not work without it), i’ve checked like 1922847473 times for inconsistencies but if there are any pls be nice it’s my first long fic ;w;

➳ WORD COUNT: 47.7k (part one: 25.9k; part two: 21.8k) i'm so sorry

➳ SUMMARY: “stay for christmas?” was a phrase jeongin first uttered to you when you were both ten years old, but neither of you had any idea the bond those three little words would hold as the years go by. (inspired by “24 to 25” by stray kids)

➳ NOTES: IT’S FINALLY UP!! i’m so sorry for the wait, i really really wanted to get this right and it took me wayyy longer than i thought it would. but i love how it turned out and i'm so proud of it. i hope y’all enjoy :’)

i’ll include more to the note when i'm not in such a rush to get this posted but tysm to everyone who helped me in writing it! @crispy-chan jas thank you for beta reading (i’m so sorry it was so long) your comments were really sweet and really reassured me that i was doing okay <;33 thank u @pearleechai and @gloseoks for helping me out with that one part i got stuck on for like a week lmaooo. to elsa specifically, ty for all ur help and encouragement in the couple chapters i asked for help on :D i’m sorry it meant u had some of the fic spoiled for u tho ;w; lastly, @svtbabies hopie u have been my lifesaver from start to finish w this fic. thank u so so much for planning w me and for the multiple times you’ve saved me from a huge writer’s block. i wouldn’t have been able to complete this without you, so ty for everything <33 also ty for the banner lol

➳ IMPORTANT!!! this fic is so long that i have to split it into two parts. i'd use the legacy editor but i can't toggle btwn the two anymore 😭 i did not intend for it to be this lengthy but anything for childhood friends to lovers i guess

[part one] | part two

network tags: @straykidsland

9 years old. (prologue)

“Come on, Y/N, you can’t cling onto my shirt forever,” your mother urges you with a small chuckle.

You stiffen up in your spot at the edge of the picnic bench, and your eyes bounce between the several children on and around the playground equipment. Mixtures of squeals and cheerful laughter ring above the Christmas song playing from the outdoor speaker your new neighbors, the Choi family, set up. You forgot if it was the one with the son older than you or the son your age, though—you didn’t exactly bother to learn their names when your mother introduced you.

“Go on, Y/N.” Her voice fills your ears again as she gently pushes you off the bench. Speak of the devil.

Shoving your hands in your pockets, you kick the dust with your feet and you keep your gaze cast down on the ground. You didn’t want to socialize—why would you want to make new friends when you had perfectly good ones back in your old neighborhood? Why couldn’t you just go back there? Or just snatch your mother’s dingy old flip phone for a couple minutes to send them a message?

Besides, most of the children here don’t seem like ones you’d be particularly… compatible with. You shouldn’t be one to judge, but the majority of the ones doing laps on the playground equipment couldn’t have been older than five or six. At your big age of nine years old, there’s not much you would have in common with a literal kindergartener. Plus, it seems like they had all formed a friend group of their own, and you’re more than content just watching them chase each other around, gleeful, high-pitched squeals bubbling from their sticky mouths.

Turning your head slightly, you find a group of teenagers sitting around another bench several feet away from all the adults, two of which had their bottoms perched on top of the table as they faced their friends. You would approach them, but just like how you wouldn’t exactly favor befriending the five-year-olds with crayons up their noses, the teenagers likely thought the same of you. Closing your eyes in despair, you groan to yourself and resort to dragging your feet across the dirt.

Why did you even have to move?

As you let out a sigh, you perk up at the fact you could see it in the cold air. It sparks an insurmountable amount of joy for some reason. Perhaps it’s because of the timing of the puff of air with the line, ’Jack Frost nipping at your nose’ that rings from the speakers at the other end of the small neighborhood park, but it causes a giggle to slip past your lips. It’s almost like a new light under the already-dimming sky, the soft pinks and oranges slowly dissipating as the sun begins to dip behind the mountains and give way to the overcast above.

However, you quickly get distracted by the sight of a boy your age—or at least, you assumed—and you hesitantly step closer.

And there he was.

He was short, upside down on the monkey bars, and wearing the most obnoxious shade of purple you had ever laid eyes on. You aren’t sure what hurts more: the sun in your eyes or staring at his sweater.

Looking away from the light gray clouds that hung above the park, you let your gaze fall to the boy. He watches you quietly as he continues to hang upside down, and you notice the small smile that paints his slowly reddening face.

Here goes nothing, you guess.

“Um… hi.”

He stays silent, staring at you with his beady eyes.

Gulping, you continue. “I’m Y/N.”

He mumbles something back, but you can barely make out what he says and you tilt your head slightly in confusion.

“Huh?”

“My name is Jeongin,” he repeats, only the slightest bit louder.

A smile of your own quickly forms on your face. You raise a hand up for him to shake, and he just stares at it for a second before moving one of his outstretched arms to meet you, his hand grasping yours at an awkward angle. You both can’t help but giggle as you give your best attempt at a handshake.

“Nice to meet you, Jeongin,” you say, slowly pulling your hand away and letting his drop above, or rather, below his upside-down head. “I’m Y/N.”

“You said that already,” he says, and his bluntness makes you chuckle.

Slowly, Jeongin maneuvers himself so he’s sitting on top of the monkey bars instead of hanging upside down. Once he gets upright and steadies himself from the blood rushing down from his head, he stares back down at you.

You stuff your hands into your pockets and heave out a sigh. “My mom says I need a friend,” you explain your current plight to Jeongin, and you find his soft gaze once again. It’s strange, really—you’ve only exchanged a few words with this boy, but you already feel comfortable enough to complain about your mother’s nagging to him.

You suppose that helps your next words spill out more easily.

“Want to be friends?”

You watch Jeongin expectantly as he looks down, picking at a piece of lint on his hideous purple sweater. He ponders your question for a minute, and you feel a wave of relief wash over you when he finally nods in response. If your mom wanted you to have a friend so badly, there you go. You got one.

You stand there awkwardly, your eyes drifting back up to the sky for a moment. It occurs to you that you’ve never asked someone to be friends with you; it’s always just kind of happened.

And now you’re stuck, unsure what to do next.

You let out another huff of air, another smile tickling your lips as you watch the faint, white puff form in front of your eyes. Then you look back up at the boy in the obnoxious purple sweater, who seems just as amused by the cold air as you as he lets out his own breath, exhaling like a small dragon.

A chuckle escapes your parted lips as you watch him, kicking his legs lightly as he stares up at the sky. After another minute, you speak again.

“Can I sit up there with you too?”

Nodding his head, he mumbles a small “yeah” and the corners of your mouth twitch up as you hurriedly climb your way up onto the monkey bars. You dangle your legs through the same section as Jeongin’s, and you shift your position slightly as you steady yourself.

A gust of cold air causes you to shiver and as a response, you pull your puffy coat closer to you. This seems to make Jeongin chuckle fondly, and you feel his eyes linger on you for a second before he looks out at the horizon. Neither of you are tall enough to see much above the houses in front of you, but you figure you can use your imaginations to picture what lies beyond that. It’ll have to do.

You both remain silent for a while like this, allowing the chatter and Christmas music below to fill the air around you. It’s comfortable, it feels like a weighted blanket wrapped around your shoulders—which is funny to say because you’re sharing this moment with a kid you’ve barely known for ten minutes. You don’t mind, though. By the looks of it, and the friendly glances you exchange with each other, Jeongin doesn’t seem to, either.

Suddenly, a cold, wet spot falls onto your nose, causing you to gasp and look up.

“Is that…”

Jeongin tilts his head up as well, and he chuckles when another wet drop lands on his face. Meanwhile, you’re in awe. You let your mouth fall open, and your eyes swirl with pure wonderment as you watch the white crystals above you flutter down. It sends chills down your spine, but wraps you up in a cocoon of warmth at the same time.

“Snow…” is all you manage to mumble.

Jeongin turns to you, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Have you never seen snow before?”

You glance at him once, shake your head, and look back up at the sky.

The boy’s jaw drops. It almost mirrors your dazed expression, except his features are twisted in surprise. But it’s true—snow was something you had only witnessed in movies. As far as you were concerned, the fluffy, white particles only ever graced the stop-motion characters on the old-timey Christmas cartoons you rewatched every year, or the main couple in whatever cheesy Hallmark movie your parents decided to indulge in.

That is, until now.

You didn’t know at that moment what type of future you had in store, but you know one thing: the snow is beautiful. And as you follow Jeongin down the monkey bars and to your first snowball fight, you have an inkling that you’ll be sticking with him for a while.

Maybe this move won’t be so bad after all.

10 years old.

You let out a huff of air, letting your chin bore into the palm of your hand. Unfortunately, though, the air inside a school classroom doesn’t allow you to watch it come to life. Sure, you had a heater and the bulky coat your mother gave you to thank for warmth, but at what cost?

No matter how hard you try to focus on the math test that was laid out in front of you, you just can’t. Not when the outside seemed to beckon you like a siren, begging you to come out and indulge in the ever-approaching Christmas atmosphere.

It’s all tempting. So, so tempting. Everything else seemed to be falling into place—the air has started to get colder, Christmas music has been playing 24/7 in the stores since November, you’ve worn every ugly Christmas sweater you could get your hands on at least once in the last two weeks, and you’ve begged your mom for a cup of hot chocolate every chance you could get.

Now you just need it to snow, and you need it badly.

After you scribble a random answer for the question you’ve been stuck on for five minutes, you throw your pen onto the table and lean back in your hard, plastic chair in defeat. This was too much mental torture, espically when you could hear Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer faintly playing in another room.

You can’t take it anymore.

Hopelessly, you stare at Jeongin, who somehow sleeps peacefully next to you. You’re sure he’s been asleep since he sat down in his chair. His head lays on his arm, which is covered by his purple sleeve. You snicker at the sight and pray that one day he grows out of that abomination of a sweater.

Your eyes drift back to your stupid math test, silently praying again that the torture won’t last for much longer. You were just one step away from greasy pizza and store-bought sugar cookies until your stomach hurt while The Polar Express filled the dim room. Well, one step away is technically two more questions, but it still feels so far.

You begrudgingly answer one of the questions then slump back into your seat, burying your head in your arms. You’re so close to freedom, but you still feel held captive by the test, like it’s shackled your arms and legs to your desk while Rudolph down the hall taunts you, dangling the coveted Christmas cheer over your head.

You don’t even care if you get the questions right anymore. You just scribble down some scratch work that seems somewhat coherent and circle whatever answer is closest then shove your test in your teacher’s hands, eager to get that nasty piece of paper away from you. Then you’re left to wait… and wait… and wait.

It’s unfair. You weren’t meant to be doing a math test the last day before winter break. You weren’t built to be suffering silently at your desk because some people didn’t know how to do long division. (Well, neither do you, but that’s besides the point.)

But nevertheless, you wait… and wait… and wait.

And then, finally, the last student turns in their paper.

The second the teacher plops the pile of tests on her desk, you practically spring up from your seat. You revel in the sweet, sweet freedom, but although your classmates seem just as relieved, they also seem painfully slow. That might also just be all the candy from your teacher’s goody bag pumping through your veins, but it made no difference to you.

Acting as self-appointed leader, you hastily motion for other kids in your class to move the tables to either side of the room, forming a sort of tetris with the desks, while others line trays of food across them. The pizzas are laid out next to different bowls of chips and festive little chocolates in the shapes of snowflakes and snowmen. Small Christmas-themed cups sit at the end of the table with giant bottles of bright, sugary drinks for you to choose from. Like, the ones that are bigger than your face. That’s how you know it’s good.

Hushed whispers of excitement make their way around the classroom as everyone settles down, wrapping themselves in the blankets they had brought to school for today. You take a seat next to Jeongin on the carpet right as the teacher switches the projector on, placing your paper plate filled to the brim with junk food in between you two as you get comfortable.

“How many cookies did you grab?!” Jeongin gawks, marveling at the sight. Whether it’s from amazement or concern is unclear.

You smile smugly at him. The light from the projector as your teacher sets up The Polar Express illuminates his baffled stare. “Not enough.”

He blinks once. “We’re not gonna split it?”

You giggle and push the plate closer to Jeongin, but not without swiping a Santa-shaped cookie from the pile. “I never said we weren’t.”

Jeongin just laughs at you and shakes his head, but the fact that he takes not one, not two, but three cookies from the plate tells you he’s just as excited as you. He attempts to remain nonchalant, though, as he wordlessly pushes a plate stacked with pizza towards you.

Grinning at him, you pick up a slice, the grease glinting in the low light. “Thanks,” you mumble as you take a bite.

Rolling his eyes, he continues to laugh. “Don’t mention it.”

There’s something about being next to Jeongin as you watch The Polar Express together, fluffy throw blankets draped around your outstretched legs that catch the crumbs from the snacks you two share, that brings you a sense of comfort. Excitement courses through your body, but somehow, you also feel oddly at peace.

It even seems to transport you to another world, and you forget you had even painstakingly suffered through a math test leading up to this in the first place. Eventually, your mind stops paying attention to the movie—it’s okay, though, because you practically know the story front to back. Instead, you find yourself daydreaming about being awoken in the middle of the night like the boy in the movie, and finding yourself on the fantastical train with Jeongin. A small smile decorates your face as you ponder, imagining all the chaos you could get yourselves into as you made the magical journey to the North Pole together.

However, when the other kids start to gasp and point towards the window, you’re brought back to the real world. Looking over to where they were pointing, you’re greeted with a powdery blanket covering the grass outside, and a grin instantly spreads across your face in delight.

Finally. It’s snowing.

You aren’t the only one to jump up from out of your seat in hopes of rushing outside to experience the first snowfall of winter. And you aren’t the first one out of the classroom door either. The calls from your teacher fade into the background like white noise as you scramble out from under your blanket and make a dash for the door as quickly as you can.

“Y/N,” Jeongin calls right before you can run outside, and you turn on your heel.

He speed-walks, then speeds up to an awkward half-jog to where you stand as he digs his hands through his pockets, and you can’t help but chuckle. It takes him until right after he stops in front of you to fish whatever this thing was out. Was it an early Christmas gift? The dreaded cheese touch? You are about to find out.

A crumpled piece of paper falls out of Jeongin’s coat, grazing his hand as he yanks it out of his pocket. He picks it up and unfolds it carefully, squinting at the note.

Leaning over, you peek over his shoulder and furrow your brows as you try to decipher the writing scrawled on. “’Ask Y/N about Christmas’?” You turn your head to the boy. “What about it?”

Jeongin eyes widen for a second as he tries to remember the context of the note. “My parents wanted me to ask if you wanted to…”

You tilt your head. “Wanted to…?” You repeat.

“What was it that they said?” He mumbles to himself. He looks up, his eyebrows furrowed, and then something seems to click. “Was it… stay? Stay for Christmas?”

You blink, watching the boy with inquisitive eyes. “Stay for Christmas?” you question.

“Yeah, stay for Christmas.” He hums, and his voice grows more confident as he continues. “Yeah, that’s what they said to ask!” He’s now grinning, and his movements become more animated. “Yeah! Stay with us for Christmas Eve! You have to come, Y/N, it’s a Christmas sleepover! It’ll be fun!”

You light up like a, well, Christmas tree at the idea. You could already picture the absolute blast you’re going to have. Chasing each other around in your pajamas as Christmas music rings in your ears? Eating the cookies his mom laid out for Santa until you're sick? Finding the jolly man himself? And imagine playing in the snow in the morning after ripping your presents open!

“That sounds so fun!” You squeal, beaming from ear to ear. “I'll have to ask my parents, but I'm sure they'll let me go!”

“Y/N, Jeongin,” your teacher interrupts your enthusiasm, her arm propping the door open. “You can’t stay inside by yourselves, come on!”

“Coming!” you two call back in unison, and then you glance at each other. You catch a mischievous glint in Jeongin’s eyes before he bolts for the door, outstretching his arm in front of you before you can react and outrun him.

“Race ya!”

“Hey!”

…

“Mommmm! Daddddd!” you drawl out, a frown stretched across your face as you bounce on the balls of your feet. Your finger impatiently hovers over the doorbell, and if your parents took any longer to grab… whatever they brought for Jeongin’s parents, you would just mash the white button yourself. Or you’d teleport yourself inside; forget the doorbell entirely.

You follow their movements attentively, your fists balled around your backpack straps and teeth pressed against your tongue to keep yourself from complaining more. You had already gotten an earful in the car, not to mention some confused glances when you mentioned the long-anticipated sleepover you had stayed up until the ungodly hours of 10pm preparing your backpack for. If they thought that was late for a fourth-grader, imagine their horror if they knew of your and Jeongin’s plan to stay up all night and see Santa Claus!

Regardless, you couldn’t pinpoint why your parents raised their eyebrows and snickered at the idea of you sleeping over at Jeongin’s house. Maybe it was the fact that you had your hair messily thrown up into a ponytail and that your light-up Christmas sweatshirt was maybe a size too big—I mean, say what you want, but you’re perfectly dressed for the occasion.

You were sure that was the reason. And certainly not the fact you were practically jumping out of your skin—maybe acting a little bit too excited—to get inside to see your best friend.

Your parents just didn’t understand that this was a pivotal moment. Plus, you’re getting cold. One can only stand outside for so long.

After what felt like hours of waiting, the door finally swings open to reveal Jeongin’s mother, welcoming you and your parents inside. You release your backpack straps from your grip and sprint past your mother, shouting a “Hi, Mrs. Yang!” as you rip your shoes from your feet.

Shaking your backpack off your shoulders, you make a beeline for Jeongin, who puts down his video game controller when you come into view.

“I made it, Jeongin!” you grin from ear to ear, tossing your backpack aside.

“Yay!” he breaks out into a grin and scoots over.

You plop down at the spot next to him, grabbing the spare controller as you watch the mustached man on screen walk right into a brown mushroom and die. And in World 1-1, you may add.

“Let me on! Let’s get this sleepover started!” you mash the ‘A’ button repeatedly, hoping it somehow speeds up Jeongin getting back to the main menu. Oh, were you ready to kick his sorry butt.

Suddenly, you hear bouts of laughter echo from the hallway. You tear your eyes off the screen, finding your and Jeongin’s parents entering the living room. If it weren’t for the wall that your father leaned against, he would have collapsed to the floor from how hard he was laughing.

“Jeongin, you told Y/N there was a sleepover?!” Jeongin’s mother exclaimed in between giggles.

Jeongin looks up from his game, his eyebrows drawn together. “Yeah?” He blinks, his voice laced with confusion. “That’s what you said to ask?”

His mom laughs even harder at his reply, her hand over her mouth. “Honey sweet, no!”

Jeongin‘s mouth twists into a frown. He opens his mouth to speak, only to close it again.

Mrs. Yang takes a minute to regain her composure before explaining to the boy, “I meant to ask her to stay for the evening, not the whole night.” She tries to keep a straight face, but another giggle slips out. “There’s no sleepover.”

Jeongin looks down, avoiding eye contact with the four adults laughing at his mix-up as heat rises to his cheeks. Dropping his game controller on his lap, he covers his face with his hands, and lets out a nervous chuckle as his face slowly turns red.

You would’ve been lying if you said you weren’t disappointed that you couldn’t try to see Santa with Jeongin, after all. Despite this loss, you try your best not to laugh at your friend, covering up your giggles with awkward coughs to save Jeongin from more embarrassment. You know both his and your parents will never let him live this down.

And frankly, neither will you.

11 years old.

“You son of a nutcracker!” You cry in unison with Buddy the Elf, your mouth stuffed with an audaciously big chunk of cookie. Maybe you got a bit carried away, but you couldn’t help it if someone was kind enough to bring a platter of fresh-baked cookies to the annual neighborhood Christmas party. It might have been the Choi family—the one with the son your age—which makes sense since they’re hosting the party this year.

Looking up from the gingerbread house he was carefully decorating, Jeongin stares at you with a disgusted frown as you struggle to break down the cookie.

You look back at him innocently, trying not to laugh. “Hi,” you wave, your mouth still full.

Jeongin shakes his head at you. “I worry about you sometimes.”

“You should.” You swallow most of the bite, wincing as you feel it go down.

Gulping down the rest of the cookie, you prop your chin in the palm of your hand as you pull your attention away from the tv and watch Jeongin. He bites his bottom lip lightly, glancing back and forth between the gumdrops and peppermints around the island and the gingerbread house. He squeezes out some icing, poking his tongue out in concentration, and sticks a peppermint window to the food structure.

Smiling at his little creation in progress, you gently poke one of the small candy canes that stand around the house. Jeongin quickly pushes your hand away, letting out a small whine.

You chuckle at his reaction and do it again, and he swats your hand away once more. “Stop itttt~”

You giggle and hold your hands up. “Okayyy, okay.”

You silently follow his movements with your eyes before they flick down to his sweater. It’s hideous, as most holiday sweaters are. The cartoon reindeer with a head too big for its body taunts you, but at the same time it just screams Jeongin. But there is no trace of that obnoxious shade of purple, and you thank whatever deity is above you for it.

Jeongin studies the gingerbread house for a moment, gently turning the brown building around. He takes a yellow gumdrop in his hand and hovers it over a spot on the roof, squinting ever-so-slightly as he imagined how it would look in the final product, whatever he imagined it to be. You stay quiet and just let him go—you know better than to interrupt Jeongin’s creative process.

“What if you did rows of gumdrops on the roof?”

Mrs. Choi, on the other hand, doesn’t know better. The one with the son your age, that is—he tagged along with you and Jeongin for lunch a couple times. What was his name again? Beomgyu, right?

You notice the corners of Jeongin’s mouth twitching downward before he catches himself. “I don’t know,” he says, putting the gumdrop down. “I’ll figure it out.”

Mrs. Choi shrugs and just lingers around, mumbling something about how it reminds her of Hansel and Gretel. You thought she had a point… kind of. You had always heard of the tale of Hansel and Gretel and the house made of candy, but considering it wasn’t much of a Christmas story, you tended to ignore it.

“Oh, that reminds me…” she says to herself after a minute, walking over to the dining table where all the parents sat around. You lean over in your seat and listen closely.

“Beomgyu keeps bugging me about having a sleepover with Jeongin,” Mrs. Choi says as she approaches Jeongin’s mom, her voice carrying over the rest of the chatter enough for you to eavesdrop.

Mrs. Yang nods, a small smile playing at her lips. “That'd be fun for them, when can he come over?”

You blink. It’s… it’s that easy for him?

The two mothers begin talking about schedules or appointments or some other boring adult thing. Whatever it is, you tune it out and turn back to Jeongin, who has opted for an array of different colored gumdrops carefully spread across the roof.

“You’re,” you hesitate, “You’re allowed to sleep over with Beomgyu?”

“Yeah,” Jeongin hums. ”I’ve slept over at his place and he’s been begging to come to mine.”

He chuckles, gluing on another gumdrop, until his words sink in and he fully processes them. His eyes then widen in realization, and he lets the tube of frosting drop from his hand before marching over to his parents.

“Mom,” Jeongin taps on his mom’s shoulder until she turns to him. “Why does Beomgyu get to sleep over but Y/N doesn't?”

You lean over again, hoping to overhear an explanation from Mrs. Yang. All you hear is laughter.

Laughter? That’s it?

You squint as you lean further in their direction, as if squinting would increase the volume of the conversation. All you could observe was a confused look from Mrs. Choi, and a fit of giggles from Mrs. Yang. How helpful.

“Did I ever tell you what happened last year?!” your mom practically shouts to Mrs. Choi, proving your efforts unnecessary.

“Oh my god, you have to hear this! It’s a good one, it’s so cute,” Mrs. Yang gushes, glancing at a flustered Jeongin.

The boy frowns and buries his face in his hands, growing more frustrated. “Mommm!”

A smile tugs at the corner of your lips as your eyes flicker between the now-insanely-embarrassed Jeongin, and his parents’ delight at retelling the account of ‘stay for Christmas’. As Mrs. Yang continued, Jeongin sinks deeper and deeper into himself, and you could practically see a little pinkish-red aura surrounding him.

“And so he tells her…” Mrs. Yang's voice fades into the background when you look out the window and gasp.

Snow.

Before you can register it, your legs are already pushing yourself off the stool, and then you’re running and shoving past other partygoers as you make your way to Jeongin.

“Jeongin.” You tug on his sleeve as you try to get him to move his hands away from his face. However, he swats your hand away.

“Shut up,” he whines.

“No, look,” you try again, tugging more. “It’s snowing!”

Hands instantly falling from his face, he looks out of the window you were motioning at and gasps as well. “Snow.”

Quickly, you glance at Mrs. Yang, making sure she’s still in in-depth story mode before you grab onto Jeongin’s hand and pull him outside into the cold. You shiver lightly as the winter air nips at your nose, but welcome it nonetheless.

“Wanna make a snowman?” you suggest.

Jeongin shrugs.

“Suit yourself.”

Humming to yourself, you squat down at an empty spot and begin to pile some snow together. A small smile decorates your face, perfectly pairing with your rosy cheeks.

I mean, how could you not be happy right now? It’s the first snow of winter. It may be your third first winter, but you swear each one gets more magical than the last. You know Jeongin would agree, no matter how cranky he may be right now.

“That’s like the fifth time my mom’s told that story this month,” the boy huffs after a minute, kicking at the snow in front of him. “It's not even funny anymore. I was a stupid ten-year-old.”

Looking up from the small base of the snowman, you let out a laugh. “I mean… you were ten last year.”

“Y/NNN,” Jeongin whines.

“And it was kinda funny—”

“Y/N!”

You feel a sudden blast of cold hit your side and you let out a yelp, shielding your face with your arms. Gasping, you look back up after a second to Jeongin preparing more ammunition. Suddenly, you’re in the mood to wipe the shi—sorry, poop-eating grin from your best friend’s face. One nice, cold wipe.

“You ass!” you shriek, gasping and covering your mouth once you realize what you had just said. Thank goodness your mom didn’t hear you or she would’ve brought out the bar of soap.

“That’s what you get!” Jeongin cackles back, hurling another snowball your way. This one also hits your coat, splattering into pieces once it collides with your stomach.

“Oh, it’s on!”

12 years old.

The final bell rings across the school to signal the start of winter break. Students of all types make their way out of the main entrance, leaving you and Jeongin in a rather quiet hallway with your locker still open.

Whilst you clear it out, the fruitful voice of Jeongin’s new club buddy fills your ears.

“‘Sup, babies.”

You and Jeongin jump at not only the sudden voice, but also the feeling of an arm going around both your shoulders. A year older than you, Jisung, whom Jeongin had met through the middle school’s anime club, sports round glasses that sit on the bridge of his nose. His hair is a chestnut brown, split right down the middle to frame his face.

Jeongin shrugs Jisung’s arm off of his shoulders, but his other arm stays around you. “How are my favorite underclassmen?” Jisung coos, reaching around to ruffle Jeongin’s hair.

Jeongin jerks his head away from Jisung’s hand, a groan escaping his lips. “You’re never gonna let that go, are you?”

“Nope!” Jisung says, flashing the younger boy a dopey grin.

Chuckling, you duck under Jisung’s arm to grab your backpack as Jeongin scrambles to fix his messy hair. You aren’t sure when or why Jisung started referring to you two as ‘babies' when he was only a year older. He once said something about “taking Jeonginnie under his wing” when you first met him, but that’s the closest thing to an explanation that you got.

Once Jeongin manages to tame his hair, he looks at Jisung with a shimmer in his eye. “Did you pick what we’re going to watch next?” he asks, referring to the next club meeting. It wouldn’t be until after New Year’s, but you figured they’d want to plan ahead now while they’re technically still in school.

“Not yet, but I was thinking of going with a classic,” Jisung muses before turning to you. “You should really join us, Y/N.”

You hum in response, pushing your lips into a line as you ponder it. Of course Jeongin had tried to get you to watch anime with him before, but it was just something you found difficult to get into. “Maybe,” is all you say, mostly to make Jisung happy.

“Yeah! Anyway,” Jisung quickly moves the conversation along, slinging his arms around both your shoulders again and pulling you two closer to him. “What are you guys doing for Christmas? We should do something!” He gleams, glancing back and forth between you two. “With our parents’ permission, of course.”

As Jisung gazes longingly at a dog passing by, yours moves to Jeongin and you giggle at the sight of his cheeks tinting pink. He says nothing, but when he looks up and notices you staring at him, he rolls his eyes.

At the silence, Jisung finally tears his eyes away from the dog, who stops at a street pole for a sniff, and looks between you and Jeongin again. “What's up with you two?” he gulps. “You’re acting weird.”

Jeongin makes a sour face. “You’re acting weird,” he tries to rebut, but he only proves Jisung’s point.

Jisung stops suddenly on the sidewalk. He tilts his head at Jeongin and squints, searching the younger’s face. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Jeongin deadpans, turning his heel to continue the walk home.

“Noooo.” The older boy pulls him back by the hoodie before he can walk away. He gets all up in Jeongin’s face, crossing his arms and furrowing his brows suspiciously. “There’s something going on, isn’t there?”

Nosily, you watch as Jeongin opens his mouth to speak before quickly closing it again. He seems to want to shrink into himself, and you both know why. To his dismay, you find it wholly amusing.

“Baby, come onnnn,” Jisung bounces in place as he chants, “Tell me, tell me, tell me…”

Deciding to ignore the boys’ shenanigans, you look up at the clouds and begin to think about your own plans for Christmas, a small smile forming on your lips.

You’ve always loved the holidays, but after settling into your new neighborhood, it grew on you and swept you off your feet like never before. It’s way more than just the snow—it’s the joy swirling in the air when Christmas music finally begins to play on the radio. It’s the sparkle in the night sky when the whole town shows off their colorful lights. Maybe it’s also the inhuman amount of hot chocolate and sugar cookies coursing through your veins. You’re not hyped up on sugar right now, but Jeongin would be hopelessly shaking his head at you if you were.

It’s way more than just beautiful snow, but it seemed to add a magical touch to Christmas that you never felt in your old neighborhood.

It came like clockwork, too, just like the Christmas party, and you’re eagerly counting the days until both come to life for the first time this season. Especially the Christmas party. Your and Jeongin’s schedules only matched up for lunch this year, and you’re in dire need of some quality time with your best friend.

“Y/N?” Jisung gently shakes your shoulder, interrupting your train of thought.

You blink a few times. “Huh? Yeah?”

“What are your plans for Christmas?”

You look back up at the sky, your lips curving upward again. “I’ll be with my family on Christmas. I'm not doing anything much for Christmas Eve, though,” you say with a giggle, emphasizing the ‘eve’. “It depends.”

Jisung continues to look at you—and Jeongin—with an eyebrow raised. “On what?”

You have to take a breath to try and compose yourself before you continue.

“On—”

“Can’t you let it go?” Jeongin cuts you off with a whine. “It was basically two years ago!”

“‘Cause it was two years ago,” you continue to giggle.

Jisung blinks, trying to figure out this inside joke you two are bickering over, but the poor boy is just as confused as when the conversation started. “What was two years ago?”

“Oh my god, Y/N,” Jeongin grumbles, but it’s hard to take him seriously when he’s failing miserably trying to hide a smile. You just flash your brows at him, and he slides out from under Jisung’s arm and heads straight for you.

A teasing grin grazes your lips, and you gently push Jisung’s arm off of you so you can run away.

“You do this every year!” Jeongin cries out, attempting to reach for your backpack.

“‘Cause it’s funny!” you shout back.

You can feel Jeongin’s fingers brush your shoulders every now and then as he chases after you. Giggles bubble from your throat as you try to make a break for it, tricking him by going the opposite way to where he is. However, he catches on to your attempt to escape and grabs you quickly. His arms wrap securely around you and pull you back as he hugs you, his laughter loud in your ears.

You let out a surprised squeak as you try to wriggle your way out of Jeongin’s grip. “Jeongin, I was kidding, I was kidding!” you cry out in between giggles.

“You always do this!” he giggles too, refusing to let you go.

“I'm sorry! I'm sorry!” you squeal. Tears start to prick your eyes from how hard you’re laughing.

Jeongin lets his arms fall and his lip juts out into a pout. You turn to him and quickly match it.

“Sure, you are,” he mutters, enhancing his frown.

“I mean it, Jeonginnieee.” You lean closer and let your arms slip around him. “I'm sorry.”

He stays stiff for a second before he wraps his arms back around you and smiles. “It's okay.”

A high-pitched squeal from Jisung makes you both jump in surprise and let go of each other. You both stare back at Jisung, who wears a giddy grin stretching from ear to ear. His hands are balled up in tiny fists together, flying up to his mouth as he bounces a little in place.

You blink a few times, stunned to silence for a few seconds before finally speaking. “You okay, Jisung?”

“Y-You… the…” Jisung stammers excitedly before trailing off.

He points between the two of you, then to the sky, and as you both follow his finger, a cold wet drop lands on your cheek, and another on your nose. Jeongin lets out a squeak at one hitting him in the eye, and he scrunches up his face at the impact.

You looked back at Jisung, gesturing upward. “The snow?” you finish his sentence.

The older boy nods eagerly. “Yeah, yeah, the snow!”

You want to smile, you really do—it is the first snow of winter, after all. But it seems like he has a different reason for his exuberance than you do.

You exchange a glance with Jeongin, and he seems just as lost as you are. At this point, you might as well just ask. “What about it?”

Was it because the snow was pretty as it dotted the earth below you? Was it because it marked the start of only the most beautiful time of the year? This could really go any direction.

“You know, like the movies?” He rambles. “When the boy and the girl witness the first snowfall together and…”

Oh no, no, no. Not that direction.

Briskly stepping away from each other, you both frantically shake your heads, the tips of your ears glowing red. Jeongin argues back with a string of flustered protests that you could only nod along to, as you were at a loss for words yourself.

You wonder what was in the snow that had fallen on Jisung to make him think this way. It was insane, he was insane. You and Jeongin? Jisung must’ve gone mad.

Jisung deflates a little, a pout pulling his lips downward. “Aww. That would’ve been cute though.”

You force out a chuckle before continuing your route home. Jisung parts ways somewhere halfway through, but an icky feeling persists in your stomach for the rest of the walk.

It truly baffles you how he saw you and Jeongin having an inside joke, you know, like best friends do, and somehow morphed it into some coupley thing all because of a little snow. The snow is beautiful, of course, but throwing that sappy stuff on top of it? Jisung’s watched way too many movies. And anime. An alarming amount of anime.

“I’ll, um,” Jeongin clears his throat as you both approach your front door. “I’ll see you at the party next week.”

An awkward tension still hangs above you from earlier, but you manage to muster a small smile. “Yeah. See you then.”

He smiles back and gives you a little wave before he begins the five-minute walk to his house. But before you knock on your door…

“Wait!” you blurt and reach out for him. You wrap your fingers around Jeongin’s wrist, prompting him to turn around.

“Yeah?”

“That, um, that thing Jisung was saying,” you hesitate, stumbling over your words. You force out another chuckle in hopes to relieve the tension that’s making your stomach twist into knots. “That’s— that’s not gonna happen to us… right?”

Jeongin lets out a scoff, waving you off reassuringly. “Of course not, Jisung’s just being Jisung.” He smiles a little. “We’re best friends, remember?”

His words fill you with relief, and you smile back. “Yeah. The bestest of friends.”

“That’s not a word.”

“You know what I mean, Jeongin.” You chuckle genuinely this time as you roll your eyes, turning back to your front door. “I’ll see you at the party.”

It’s ridiculous that you have to even ask, but apparently it’s necessary. You’re just lucky Jisung listened to Jeongin in the end, or this whole shipping fiasco would’ve been much more difficult than it needed to be.

Especially since several of your classmates who witnessed the interaction in front of the school parking lot actually seemed to believe it.

13 years old.

You nibble at your bottom lip and run one hand up and down your forearm. Jisung has been glaring rather unamused daggers at you for five minutes now, his round eyes perpetually locked on you as you try to focus on the TV. It makes you feel like there was something crawling all over you, and you have the overwhelming urge to itch every bit of exposed skin you had—which isn’t a lot, but still.

Part of you was tempted to turn to Jisung just to try and poke his eyes out. You wouldn’t actually do it, but with his eyes boring into your head like this, it’s hard not to think about it. You just wanted to watch A Charlie Brown Christmas in peace.

“...Are you gonna talk to him? Like, at all?” Jisung speaks.

A small pout plays at your lips and you cross your arms over your chest. “How can I?” you start. “He hasn’t spoken to me since the start of the year.”

The older boy lets out a sigh. “Have you tried to speak to him?”

You nod once. Finally, something he can’t get on your case for.

Jisung blinks. “…Besides at lunch back in April?”

You huff, looking down at your lap. Your knuckles turn white as you ball the fabric of your sweater in your fists. "Well, it was kinda hard to do when he’s always with Beomgyu.”

Jisung leans forward to get a better look at you, whilst he rests his chin on his palm. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you sound jealous."

You can’t tell if you want to scoff or to laugh. Jealous? You? Of course not. You just wanted to be around your best friend again. To be able to hang out with your best friend of three years without some stupid kid in your grade teasing you about dating or about how ‘oOOoH, yOu’RE sO iN lOvE’. Ever since winter break ended, it was all you ever heard when you were around him.

"I’m not jealous." You raise your voice slightly, pushing him away without moving your gaze away from the cartoon. "He was my best friend first."

"Can you hear yourself when you speak?"

“Can you hear how annoying you are right now?”

Jisung blinks at you again. He pushes himself off the couch and stands in front of you, his gaze more gentle this time. “You know he asks me about you too, right?”

You sigh. It’s probably the fifth time this week that Jisung has reminded you of this. It’s not that you don’t want to believe him, but with the way Jeongin stared at you with hollow eyes the last time you tried to talk to him in the cafeteria eight months ago, you’re not sure if you can.

“Plus, he’s literally…” Jisung continues, spinning you around to where Jeongin sat in the kitchen with Beomgyu. Right where you two sat at the Christmas party two years ago. “…right there.”

“I know,” you huff.

Of course you knew that, and you knew he knew you knew. Jeongin was the first one you recognized when you stepped foot in the Choi house for the party. Sure, part of it was because Jisung frantically shook your arm and pointed him out, but even if he wasn’t there you would’ve spotted the top of his head from a mile away. You would’ve known he hadn’t left his gingerbread house in the kitchen all afternoon, whether or not the coconut-haired boy was there to pester you about it.

”Then gooo,” Jisung chides, pushing you to the kitchen island by the shoulders. “Talk. To him.”

Oddly enough, talking to him is the last thing you want to do. At least, not here. Not when there’s a bunch of adults that, frankly, are nosier than your typical middle schooler. Luckily, the only adult there when you approach the kitchen island only glances at you for a second before stepping past you. No one else is watching, but it still feels like a hundred pairs of eyes are piercing into your skull.

You suck in a deep breath. Here goes nothing.

“Hey.”

Jeongin pushes his lips into a thin line when he looks up at you. “Hi.”

From the corner of your eye, you can see Beomgyu raise his head and look at you both before going back to what he was doing. Rocking on the balls of your feet, you take another deep breath. “How’ve you been? It’s been a while.”

You’re not sure how long Jeongin goes quiet for, but every second of silence makes you feel like your insides are trying to escape from you. You purse your lips as your gaze casts down to your feet, unable to look him in the eye. Why did the friendship between you and Jeongin have to change? Why couldn’t people just keep their mouths shut?

“I’ve been okay,” he mumbles. “Just busy, you know?”

You hum in response. He was right; this year had been a lot school-wise, especially when you counted how everyone watched you like hawks, ready to strike at the first opportunity for a ‘ship moment’, as some people had started to call it.

“Yeah.” You try to laugh, but anyone can tell it’s fake. “Me too.”

Jeongin stays silent again, just nodding at your words. You weren’t sure what heartbreak was and of course, you weren’t in love with him. He is—was—your best friend. But if you had to guess, heartbreak probably feels something close to what you’re feeling right now.

You gulp, and take one more shaky breath. Your bottom lip wavers as you try to get your next words out.

“I…” miss you.

You want to say it so bad, but you stopped yourself as soon as you started. When Jeongin doesn’t turn his head, you feel your heart sink to your stomach, or whatever the equivalent of that was when your best friend completely ignores you, effectively declaring the end of your best-friendship.

You hate this so much. Screw the other kids for getting in the way of your friendship, screw Jeongin for letting them, screw yourself for not doing more to stop it, and screw Jisung for pushing you over to talk to him.

You don’t say anything more as you turn away and solemnly make your way back over to where Jisung is still standing. When you feel tears pool in your eyes, you make a sharp turn for the bathroom, and the older boy worriedly trails after you.

“Baby…” he calls as he follows, quickening his pace to catch up to you. “Surely it wasn’t that bad.”

You stop in your tracks, suddenly causing Jisung to bump into you. He leans forward and around your shoulder before taking a step into your view, instantly frowning when he sees the sadness apparent on your face. “Baby…”

“It’s over, Jisung.” You blink rapidly. “We’re never going to be friends again, not after this.”

Furrowing his eyebrows together, Jisung sighs. He places his hands on your shoulders to try and get you to look at him. “Don’t say that, you guys will get past this. You guys are best friends for a reason.”

“No, we won’t.” Your voice shakes as you speak. “You saw how awkward it was back there! There’s no way he wants to be friends anymore… let alone best friends.”

You continue to blink your tears away, but one manages to slide down your cheek. Your breathing becomes ragged as your world feels like it’s crashing down on you, and all you can do is helplessly step closer to Jisung as you hiccup.

“I just want my best friend back.”

Pulling you in, Jisung wraps his arms around you in his attempt to comfort you. He sighs quietly, his own frown on his lips as you choke out a sob.

“I know you do.”

14 years old.

Well, your last year of middle school was off to a surprisingly pleasant start.

After years of being told where in the classroom you could sit, your 1st period teacher nearly had you jumping for joy when she said you were free to pick your seat for the year. It was such a minute detail to be in control of, but it felt so freeing to your adolescent self.

The only problem: you don’t know anyone in this class. You vaguely recognize two or three faces from last school year, but even they had gravitated to other students in the class, clustering into their already-established friend groups. It’s like the galaxies in the night sky that you learned about last year, and you’re a lone star, floating around in the abyss called your new English classroom.

Shrugging to yourself, you scoot past some students in the aisles and pick a seat in the middle of the room in between two other empty desks. You had counted ten or so desks that had yet to be filled, so you figured you should take your chances. You don’t know anyone… at least, for now. Maybe someone will show up later.

Sliding your phone out of your pocket, you plug your headphones into your ears and listen to music for the last few minutes of passing period to relax a little. It quickly feels pointless, though, as the chatter in the classroom overpowers the song blasting right by your eardrums.

However, one voice seems to ring above all the others.

“Um… is this seat taken?”

You take an earbud out, lifting your head to find the source of the voice. Jeongin stands over the chair to your left, adorning a god-awful purple sweater that reminds you of the one he wore when you first met. It almost brings a smile to your face… almost. It probably would have if things had ended differently between you two.

This is the first time you have spoken to him since The Most Awkward Conversation Of Your Life™. Maybe you were being slightly dramatic, or at least that’s what Jisung had told you for weeks after the incident, but you still stood by what you felt. You weren't sure if you and Jeongin could ever get back to the way you were—not having spoken since that moment kind of proved to you that you couldn’t.

Yet here you are. You’re not sure if this will just be a one-off conversation or a second chance of sorts. But after a moment, you decide to take that chance.

“Go for it.” You gesture to the seat.

Jeongin smiles awkwardly, the tips of his ears pink as he sets his backpack down on the floor. He doesn’t move to get any of his things out of his bag, and just sits there with laser-focus on his hands that rest on top of his desk.

You’re not sure how long you two sat in silence, but thankfully, it feels nothing like the last time. It actually feels…. comfortable. Welcoming, even. Almost like when you first met him at the monkey bars.

Jeongin looks over at you after a few moments, still rubbing his thumb over the back of his hand. “So… how are you?” he finally speaks.

It’s then that you notice just how much deeper Jeongin’s voice has gotten since the last time you spoke. You figure it would make sense; you hadn’t seen each other in almost a year, and a lot can happen in said year. It’s still odd, however—seeing him change, but not being there to experience it with him.

You nod, looking down at your own hands, but you let a small smile slip out. “I’m okay.”

You are okay, really, at least for the moment. But now you knew you would be, for sure.

…

“Who wants the last cookie—” Mrs. Yang calls from the kitchen, but she’s quickly cut short.

“ME!”

You and Jeongin spring up from the couch at the same time, giggling as you push past each other and race to the kitchen. At the last second, Jeongin sticks his arm in front of you just as you come in reach of the cookie, barring you from the baked treat as he swipes it with his free hand.

“Hey!” You cross your arms, biting your lip to stifle more giggles from coming out. “You cheated!”

Jeongin doesn’t even try to hide the cocky smirk on his face. “Oh, you love me anyway.”

You narrow your eyes at the boy. “Do I? Do I really?”

Jeongin only stares back at you, blinking a few times before he bites into the cookie. Right. In. Front of you.

Your jaw drops in betrayal. What an asshole, he knew you loved those cookies more than life itself! If you had to choose, though, you highly preferred this over where you two were a year ago. He may be stealing your cookies like the pubescent raven-haired crook he is, but since it comes with being best friends again, you’ll learn to live with it.

You keep your eyes trained on him as you calculate your next move. You know exactly how to get him back for this, but is it worth it? Was waiting only a few months after recovering your friendship enough time?

Oh, who are you kidding—of course it was.

“Two can play that game,” you state, taking a piece of cookie from his hand.

The boy scoffs. “Oh, really?”

Your eyes widening ever-so-slightly, you bite into the cookie. You keep your gaze on him as you chew, not looking away even for a second, and you say the three magic words—even more magic than ‘please.’

“Stay for Christmas?”

His smirk immediately drops, and one of your own plays at your lips. You know you got him.

“You’re never gonna let that go, are you?” he grumbles.

You just swipe another piece of cookie from his hand, still grinning triumphantly. “To be fair,” you swirl the cookie in your hand for emphasis, “you walked right into it.”

Jeongin sighs, watching you toss the last bit of the cookie into your mouth. “There's nothing I can do to make you forget it, huh?’

“Nope,” you say with your mouth full. “Not unless you do something more quote-worthy.”

“Fine, then stay.”

You freeze, your cheeks still full of chewed-up cookie. “What?”

“You heard me, Y/N.” Jeongin steps closer, not breaking eye contact. “Just stay for Christmas. It’d be fun, and at least then, you’d have nothing to try and tease me with.”

You swallow the dessert in your mouth and stare at him, speechless. All this time, you had been just playing along with the line as a joke. Was it actually possible to have a sleepover with him? You almost smile as you ponder it over in your head. Being all cooped up in his room and kicking his ass at Mario Kart, then scrambling to be in bed by midnight as if Santa would actually appear the second the clock strikes twelve? You don’t have to think twice.

“Honey sweet, you and Y/N are still on that?” Mrs. Yang says, turning her head to look at you two from the sink.

Jeongin groans. “Yeah, mom, and why do you still call me that?!”

His mother just chuckles and turns back to the dishes she’s rinsing. From what you could gather, she doesn’t seem opposed to you sleeping over. It wasn’t a yes, but it certainly wasn’t a resounding no, so you jump to make a beeline for your parents and beg them to let you stay overnight.

Unfortunately, your parents have a more straightforward answer for you. Not even the growing piles of snow outside could save you from going back home at the end of the night.

You also receive quite the lecture about “the dangers of staying over at boys’ houses” on the way home. Their words fly in one ear and the other for you. If this was anyone else, it’d be different, but this is your best friend that they’re talking about.

The only time Jeongin ever laid a hand on you was during the grand battle of Rainbow Road when you were eleven. In his defense, he didn’t mean to push you so hard that you fell off the bed and nearly dislocated your shoulder, but that’s what happens when two of the most competitive people you know go head-to-head in a battle of Mario Kart.

You huff. At least you know actually staying for Christmas might be an option one day.

15 years old.

You peek around the edge of your locker door every so often as you shove various notebooks into your bag. Even when you finished packing up, you busy yourself with pretending to wipe specks of dust off your binder, and checking that you chose the correct textbooks to bring home with you for the fifth time in three minutes.

Another minute or so passes and you check the clock on your phone, then you look past your locker door one more time, slowly leaning over until one eye peeps past the edge. You find Jeongin speaking to one of his teachers as they exited their classroom, waving goodbye as he heads closer to you.

You smile to yourself, then scan the area around you one more time. The coast seems clear, but you decide to give it one more minute before going over to him, just to be safe.

“You’re doing that again?”

You jump and turn on your heel, nearly hitting your head against your locker door. Jisung stands behind you as he watches you incredulously, backpack slung over one shoulder as he leans against the wall of lockers. His arms are crossed as he raises an eyebrow at you, and his features are twisted into an odd mixture of concern and confusion.

You look back at the main hallway, then back at Jisung. “Um… yeah,” you state, as if it’s the most obvious thing ever. “Is there a problem?”

Jisung just snickers at your confidence. “Babe, honey, sweetie,” he says. You roll your eyes at the endless string of nicknames. “You look ridiculous.”

“I do not!” you scoff defensively.

He leans closer to you, his wide eyes boring into yours. “Is this about a booooy?” he teases jokingly.

You grimace in his direction, delivering a flick to his forehead as you pretend to rummage through your locker again. “You know what it’s about, Ji,” you grumble.

He’s technically not wrong. It is about a boy, but it’s not about a boy. There’s a huge difference—especially when the boy in question was Jeongin.

“You still look ridiculous.” He props an arm against the locker wall. “It’s like you want people to think you’re dating.”

You sigh, slamming your locker shut. “You don’t get it, people will stare if we don’t do this. Plus, our system’s worked for almost a semester already.”

“Y/N, this almost looks more suspicious than if you two just acted normally.” Reaching out a hand, he turns you by the shoulders to face him. “Is this peeking thing really necessary?”

You let out an agitated huff at his constant questioning. The nearly-unreadable grimace makes a return to Jisung’s face, and you know it is there to stay until you explain yourself. It seems pretty simple to you, though.

You see, once middle school came to a close, you saw a window for a fresh start in high school. Any indications of The Incident™ (the former name had become a mouthful for you to repeat every time) were to die with the remnants of your braces phase and short-lived obsession with rainbow loom bracelets and 5 Seconds of Summer, as far as you were concerned. So, accordingly, you and Jeongin had devised a plan to prevent those dreaded “ship moments” from repeating themselves in high school.

Since most of your time together at school wasn’t in actual classes, you and Jeongin agreed to sit separately for bus rides to and from school, sometimes even opposite ends of the bus if necessary. On the way to school in the mornings, you two figured it was safe to walk together to the bus most days. Your neighborhood was one of the first stops and the few kids on the bus when you get on are usually snoring in the back. As long as you and Jeongin sat across from each other near the front and didn’t wake them up, you figured you’d be fine.

However, after school, you had to be fast. Ideally, you’d meet up with Jeongin when the hallways were less crowded than right when the final bell sounds, but when enough students were still hanging around the corridors that it wouldn't raise eyebrows with the school staff. You’d meet, speed-walk to the buses together, and enter separately. Once you pulled up at your stop, you two would depart and walk separately—until your bus turned the corner, then you’d walk each other home. It sounded like a lot, yeah, but after a while you get used to it.

After months of practice, you found that the most optimal time to pull this off was around five to eight minutes after the bell. Eight minutes was pushing it, but as long as you and Jeongin made a run for it, you wouldn’t miss your ride home. You had it down to a science. Jisung had no reason to worry, but he always seemed to find one.

Despite this, you don’t want to bother explaining the system you and Jeongin had perfected over the semester, again—the last time you did, it only raised more questions. So this time, you simply wave a hand in dismissal. “Yes, it’s necessary,” you deadpan, “you wouldn’t understand.”

Jisung blinks, then lets out an exhausted sigh. “If you insist…”

The older boy trails off, just in time for the younger one to appear at your side. “Hey, guys,” Jeongin chirps, waving at you both.

You smile at him briefly before turning to Jisung. “Do you have any other questions before we go?” you ask, your voice dripping in (mostly) feigned annoyance.

“No, but I probably will later.” The older brunet waves at one of his friends from anime club before looking back at the two of you one more time. “You two should go catch your bus, get home safe, yeah?”

You both nod, giving him a thumbs up as he jogs over to his friend, and you and Jeongin make your own jog for the front doors of the school.

You’re immediately greeted with a gray cloudy sky and you instantly feel the cold swirl around you. There are crowds of people littered around each section, waiting for their own respective buses. It doesn’t faze you in the least, though.

You had months of practice under your belt—years, actually, if you included shoving past couples in the school hallways who seemed to walk like they were floating on the moon. To this day, you never understood the appeal of holding up foot traffic for your fifth kiss goodbye of the hour, but whatever. Just like how other teenagers always mysteriously seemed to stop right in front of you just as you were dashing full speed for math class, you always seemed to find a way through the crowd.

It was simple, really. Like, actually simple compared to your aforementioned plan. Just keep your eyes straight ahead, and somehow, people always seem to clear a path for you. Despite your current plight, you and Jeongin have yet to miss your bus since the start of high school.

And that’s what you do. You take the lead in pushing through the masse of students, most of which are chatting amongst their friends as they meander to their ride home. Normally, you and Jeongin would talk a bit on the way, too, but you had hit the eight-minute mark thanks to your encounter with Jisung, so you had to book it.

You keep your gaze locked in front of you, only turning back occasionally to make sure you didn’t lose Jeongin in the crowd. As predicted, students who aren’t otherwise in a hurry move out of your way. You let out a small sigh of relief at this; it’s one less thing you needed to worry about as you got closer to your bus.

Next: enter separately.

By the time you and Jeongin navigate your way out of the crowd and to bus #143, you find a line of students waiting to board that stretches the length of the bus itself. You groan, but at least you wouldn’t be stranded at school, so you consider this a win.

But still, you keep your unwritten pact in mind and you gesture for Jeongin to line up. “You go first,” you mumble, gently pushing him to the end of the line and you step back to wait another minute.

Jeongin turns back to you. “Aren’t you gonna get in line too?”

You stuff your hands in your pockets and quickly scan the line. You recognize the girl in front of him from math class, and two kids from the group of boys that just got behind Jeongin used to tease you two in middle school. “Not yet,” you shake your head. “It’s not safe.”

He furrows his brows together, his lips pulling downward. “You’re shivering,” he deadpans.

Now that he mentioned it, you realize you’re jumping in place in an attempt to warm up. It’s cold outside and you’re eager to leave, but you don’t mind waiting a little longer.

After moments of hesitation, Jeongin removes a hand from his hoodie pocket and grabs your forearm, making sure your hands stay in your own pockets as he pulls you to him. “Just get in line, Y/N,” he mumbles, “the sooner you get in line, the sooner we can get out of the cold.”

With wide eyes, you immediately step back. “Are you crazy?!” you hiss. “People are gonna talk!”

“So? Let them.”

Jeongin’s words ring in your head as he pulls you back towards him one more time.

You let out a gasp when you feel your body collide with his. You blink a few times to recompose yourself and stare up at him, your mouth agape. “What’s gotten into you?” Jeongin makes a face to himself as he responds, “What’s gotten into you?”

“You know what got into me.” You give him a dubious look. “The agreement, the one we both agreed on?”

Jeongin hums, shrugging his shoulders. His eyes linger on you for a moment before he looks back over to watch the line. “Who cares?”

“I thought you did…”

His gaze burning into your skin makes you want to shrink away. Only a few months ago, he was dead set on this agreement, but now? What changed and so suddenly, at that?

“Why should we let them try to ruin our friendship?” Jeongin asks after a beat of silence. “They already tried once, and look what happened. We shouldn’t let them again.”

You freeze yet again at his words, so much that the boy has to drag you onto the bus with him. His hand on your forearm is enough to snap you out of your haze, and for some reason, it’s all you can focus on.

You feel him let your arm go after a minute, and you look over at him. He slings his backpack off his shoulders and places it by his feet as he settles into the window seat, then looks back at you. “Aren’t you gonna sit down?” he says in a similar tone as earlier, patting the empty spot next to him.

“Um…”

Jeongin looks at you expectantly. It was tempting. it really was. But you catch a familiar wisp of curly hair as the group of boys from behind you two turn the corner and strut down the aisle.

You hesitate, before sharply turning on your heel. “I’ll just sit a few rows back,” you mumble.

“Oh my god, Y/N.”

Another surprised yelp leaves your lips as Jeongin pulls you out of the aisle. He tugs you by your hoodie sleeve this time, and when the group of boys walk past you, he lets his grip loosen and you feel his palm rest on your forearm again. It’s warm against your skin and you almost don’t want him to move it, but you wouldn’t dare say it out loud.

The boy glances at the seat next to him, then back at you, his eyes almost weary. “Just sit, please.”

You peer over your shoulder as the group of boys collectively take their seats in the last two rows of the bus. Sighing, you supposed that it’s far enough that you would be safe, and allow yourself to plop on the torn blue leather.

“See, it’s not so bad, is it?” Jeongin smiles at you reassuringly. “No one’s gonna talk, we’ll be fine.”

He pats your forearm twice before bringing his hand back onto his lap. You almost frown at the move.

The last of the students file in after a couple more minutes and the bus slowly pulls onto the road. Jeongin leans his head against the dirty window as he plays Doodle Jump on his phone, and you mindlessly watch him try to beat his high score.

You don’t know how much time passed when the bus abruptly stops, but it couldn’t have been more than a few minutes. The two of you are thrown forward as the driver suddenly slams the brakes, and Jeongin instinctively grabs your arm to keep you from falling. You don’t, luckily, but you do bump into him.

“Ahh, sorry!” you exclaim.

Jeongin shakes his head, as if to say it’s okay. “Are you okay?”

He gives your forearm a gentle squeeze before letting go. You follow his hand as it falls back on his lap, before meeting his gaze and nodding slightly. “Yeah–” you hesitate for a second, looking down at his hand again then back at him. “Yeah, I’m fine. Are you?”

“Yeah, I’m okay.”

You nod once, giving him a tight smile before settling down properly. That is, until you catch white flecks falling outside from the corner of your eye. It takes a second to click, but once it does, you turn to the window in a flash, eyes sparkling at the view outside.

“Jeongin,” you squeal, shaking him by the shoulder and you point to his right. “Look!”

The boy slides his phone in his pocket and a grin of his own appears as he looks out the window, seeing the snowflakes blanket the outside world for the first time this winter. Leaning past Jeongin to peer outside, your smile grows even more cheerful. All you need now is a mug of hot chocolate filled to the brim with whipped cream as you curl up on the couch and put on one of your beloved Christmas movies. Unfortunately, you wouldn’t be home for a while, so this would have to do for now.

“I’m not sure if you’ve ever noticed, but,” Jeongin starts after a minute, a chuckle escaping his lips, “the snow always starts when we’re together.”

“Really?” you question.

He nods, his eyes focused on what seemed to be the most interesting bush in the world to him, and he smiles. “Yeah.”

You’re not sure if it was instinct or the cold that made you want to sit closer to Jeongin. You try not to think about it.

“It's just a coincidence,” you attempt to laugh. “You can’t really predict the weather.”

“I don’t know,” Jeongin muses, clicking his tongue. “If Jisung was here right now, he’d be losing his mind.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes. “That boy lost his mind ages ago. We just spend a lot of time together, of course we’re gonna see the first snow together at least once.”

Jeongin shrugs his shoulders beside you, then it goes silent. You aren’t sure how long for, and you just quietly watch the white crystals of snow hit the glass window.

You feel Jeongin lean into you slightly after another moment. “That reminds me…”

You hum, looking over at him.

His smile curls into a playful smirk. “Stay for Christmas?”

You gape at him with an amused grin. Jeongin? Saying the line himself, unprompted? Who was this boy in front of you? “I thought you hated that line.”

Jeongin shrugs again, a smile still playing on his lips. “Eh, it kinda grew on me.” He pauses for a moment then speaks again. “But seriously, do you want to?”

Your brain goes static for a second. “As in, stay for Christmas? Like, for real?” He nods, and you deflate, slumping in your seat. “You know they’ll just say no.”

The hopeful smile on Jeongin’s face also fades, recalling your failed attempt last year. “I know,” he said, “but maybe it’s worth another try?”

You press your lips into a thin line, keeping your gaze down as you shrug. “We can if you want.”

Once the bus pulls up at your stop, Jeongin walks you home, but not without going inside with you to find your parents. With a reassuring hand on your back, he helps you plead your case to your parents, but as you feared, they shut you down quicker than last time.

Jeongin sends you a sad smile as he heads home that day, leaving you to mentally prepare for the hell you’re about to receive from your mother the minute the door clicks shut behind him.

16 years old.

“One, two…” your mother counts slowly as she tries her best to fit the both of you on her screen. “Get a bit closer together, guys,” she ushers you with one hand.

You huff but follow her order, and step closer to the boy next to you. “Mom, don’t you have enough photos?”

A chuckle leaves your mom's lips as she continues to take more, now at different angles. “There’s never enough photos, sugarplum!”

Jisung snorts from beside you at the nickname and you send your elbow right into his ribs to get him to shut up.

“Y/N!” your mother scolds. “Don’t be so mean, he’s being nice and taking you! Heaven knows he didn’t need to.”

“Mom!” you gasp in surprise.

“Yeah, sugarplum,” Jisung says mockingly, faking a pout as he looks down at you.

You glare up at the older boy and silently hiss. You knew this would be a bad idea, but this is still better than what you were originally going to do: go to winter formal on your own. Especially since Jeongin had his own date.

“Okay, okay,” your mother says as her gaze focuses back onto her phone. “Last ones.”

“You have plenty,” you mutter through gritted teeth.

Your mother finally lowers her phone and slips it into her oversized cardigan pocket. “Bring her home by midnight, okay? No funny business!” She borderline-chastises Jisung, and you give her a look. She’s known Jisung for years at this point, it was almost as bad as if she lectured Jeongin himself.

Luckily for you, Jisung plays along, drawing two fingers to his brow and flicking his wrist to salute. “Yes, ma’am!”

“Okay,” you start quickly as you hastily grab Jisung’s wrist. “We gotta go, bye!”

With that, you drag Jisung out of the door and to his car before your mother can get another word in.

“Whoa there, sugarplum, calm down,” Jisung sings, “we have all the time in the world.”

“Would you let that nickname go, please?” you groan.

Jisung unlocks his car as he walks around to the driver's seat, laughing loudly. “Never, baby.” With the car open, he stares at you and taps his temple. “That puppy is locked into the memory banks for life.”

You roll your eyes for the nth time, open the door, and let it slam behind you as you plop onto your seat with crossed arms, Jisung’s laughter filling your ears as he follows your actions. Igniting the engine, he turns the heaters to full blast and rubs his hands together to try and gain some heat.

“You good?” you ask, watching him blow hot air onto his hands.

He hums and nods his head, and turns the heaters down shortly after. “I like the car to be toasty, okay? I want to feel like a marshmallow.”

“...A marshmallow?”

Jisung nods again affirmingly. “A marshmallow.”

“I don’t even want to know,” you shake your head in amazement and look away from him.

“We’re picking Innie up first, right?” Jisung asks, his attention now on the road as he backs the car out of your driveway.

“Yeah,” you hum. “His date is meeting him there.”

After that it goes silent, partly because Jisung needs his full attention to drive, but also because there just isn’t much to say. You’re surprised Jisung hasn’t taken this time alone with you to grill and interrogate you, but maybe he had turned over a new leaf, changed his ways.

It seems more likely, however, that you just thought too highly of him, especially when he asks you about it in the next moment.

“So, how do you feel about Jeongin having his own date?”

You turn your head to look at him. “Don’t you have the road to focus on?”

“Don’t deflect, baby,” he hums. “You can’t answer a question with a question.”

“You can’t answer a question with a question,” you mimic, tightening your arms around your chest.

“Now you’re just being obnoxious,” he says, which causes you to whine and throw your head back.

“Why are you even asking me? It’s fine, so what if he has his own date? I don’t care.”

“Kinda seems like you do,” Jisung sings.

“I don’t,” you spit back a second too quickly.

“Look at my face.” Jisung takes one hand, motions around his face, and sends a look towards you before focusing back on the road. “Does this face look like one that would believe your bullshit?”

“Your face looks dumb and like you’d believe any type of bullshit,” you mutter, your arms still crossed.

“Now, I know you’re only saying that because you’re annoyed at me for pointing out the obvious.” Jisung laughs. “It's okay, I forgive you and I know I’m the most handsome guy you’ve ever laid your eyes on.”

“You need to get your ego checked.”

Pulling up at the corner of Jeongin’s street, Jisung places the car in park. “The things I do for this friendship,” he sighs dramatically as he pulls out his phone to text Jeongin.

You shake your head, keeping your gaze out the window. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I think you misspelled the word ‘genius’, sugarplum.”

You side-eye the older boy, whose smug smile is illuminated by the light emitting from his phone. “I wasn’t spelling anything.”

“Misspoke, then.” Jisung locks his phone and looks at you innocently. “Same thing. Jeongin’s on his way.”

“Not the same thing,” you mumble before you nod your head. “Okay, but how is he going to sneak out in a suit?”

The sudden thought came to your mind. Jeongin had family come in from out of town for this large family party, which admittedly, he didn’t want to be there for. However, his family would definitely notice if he just walked out of the house in a tux.

“That's where my genius comes in,” Jisung smirks and points to the back seat. “Emergency tux.”

You look back and there is, in fact, a tuxedo folded neatly on the middle seat along with a belt to match, ready for Jeongin to wear for the formal. You stare at it for a moment too long before your gaze settles on Jisung. “What emergency is there where you need a tux?”

The older boy shrugs and makes a face. “A fancy one?”

You blink as you look at him, but you couldn’t stop the side of your lips turning up into a smile. “I really don’t get you sometimes.”

His confident grin makes your own grow wider. He leans forward slightly and ruffles your hair with one hand, causing you to groan before flipping down the sun visor and looking in the tiny mirror on the back of it as you try to fix it.

Jisung laughs as he watches you. “It's okay, you can say how amazing I am and how much you love me, you don’t have to pretend.”

Whilst fixing your hair in the mirror, your mouth twists into a disgusted frown and you send him a glare. “I repeat what I said earlier, you need your ego checked.”

“You’ll admit it one day,” he jokes.

You close the visor back up. “Not gonna happen.”

Before Jisung has the chance to say anything else, the right back door opens up. Jeongin throws himself in and sighs contentedly at the warmth that surrounds him. After a moment, he opens his eyes and smiles at the both of you sitting in the front. “Hey, guys!”

“Hi,” you smile.

Jisung smiles too and points to the suit behind him, which makes Jeongin clap his hands in delight. “Emergency tux?” he says.

Jisung clicks his tongue, sending a wink and a finger gun the younger boy’s way. “Emergency tux, baby.”

With furrowed eyebrows, you blink at the boys. “What is it with you and emergency tuxes? Seriously, what would you even need an emergency tux for?”

“A fancy emergency,” Jeongin answers matter-of-factly, which causes Jisung to point at him and nod.

“See, he gets it!” he agrees. “Hey, without that emergency tux, Innie would be going in sweats to the formal. Wouldn’t want that, now, would we?”

You roll your eyes and look away from them. “Guess not.”

“See, Y/N?” Jisung reaches over to ruffle your hair again, and you successfully duck your head away this time. He chuckles and draws his hand back, shifting the gear to drive and bringing his attention back to the road. “There's a method to my madness.”

You just huff, slumping back in your seat in defeat as he turned the car around.

“Wait,” Jeongin pipes up as Jisung straightens out the wheel, “how am I supposed to change?”

“As I said, there’s a method to my madness.,” Jisung says, perhaps a bit too confidently as he pulls out of the street. “Just give me a minute.”

You narrow your eyes at Jisung, who keeps a straight face as he drives. You almost hate it more than his smug smile from a few minutes ago. At least then, you had the slightest clue to what he was thinking. The fact that the car is silent, save for the quiet Christmas music on the radio, does nothing to calm your worries.

Unfortunately, it looks like your gut feeling was right as you realize Jisung is pulling into a stop just right outside your neighborhood.

“Here you go,” Jisung announces proudly, placing the car in park again. “Changing time!”

Your eyes bulging out of your head, you snap your head to Jisung. “Are you insane?!” you hiss. “We’re in public!”

The older—but you were very hesitant to say wiser—boy shrugs. “He’s gotta do it somewhere! It’s either here or the school parking lot.”

“You didn’t think about a gas station?!”

“Guys, it’s fine,” Jeongin says, his voice wavering slightly as he unbuckles his seatbelt. “Just... just don’t look, please.”

You cover the sides of your eyes as you keep your gaze out the window. Every now and then, you hear Jeongin hit something in the back, causing him to groan in pain and Jisung to holler at his misery.

This goes on for almost a minute before you hear the gear shift click. Keeping your hands around the sides of your eyes, you glower at Jisung, who smirks deviously as he pulls the lever to drive. “Don’t. You. Dare,” you grumble.

“Oh, watch me,” Jisung snickers, tapping his foot on the gas.

“Hey! I’m not done yet!” Jeongin shouts as the car inches forward, sending Jisung into another fit of laughter.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding!”

Jisung abruptly hits the brake, causing Jeongin to shriek as he thuds against the back of your seat. The older boy lets out another cackle at this, clapping his hands as he throws his head back. He glances at you in hopes that you’re just as amused, but you only glare at him.

He lets out a drawn-out but satisfied sigh, and puts the car in park again. “Ahhh, that was fun.”

You stay silent, maintaining your pointed stare.

“Chillax, Y/N.” He nudges your shoulder, but remains overly cheerful even though you don't budge. “Ooh, look! Snow!“

You blink. As tempting as it is to take your eyes off of him, something in your gut begs you not to.

“I’m serious!” Jisung cries again, pointing fervently in front of him.

You sigh and turn your head slightly. At least he wasn’t lying about the snow, although it does seem lighter this year. A few snowflakes trickle down here and there, but it’s nowhere near enough to obstruct the view outside. And it definitely isn’t enough to keep Jisung from starting and stopping the car one more time, sending Jeongin crashing into the back of your seat again and proving your worries correct.

“I’m gonna kill you,” the younger boy scowls, and you lean over to flick the older one on the forehead.

“Agh!” Jisung slaps your hand away, stifling a giggle. “Okay, okay! I'm done now!”

“You better be,” Jeongin grumbles.

After a few minutes, he gasps. “Done,” he says, and you drop your hands from either side of your eyes.

You look in the rearview mirror, Jeongin in full view as he adjusts his tie. Sure, the suit was a size too big, and the jacket almost slipped off the ends of his shoulders, but he somehow seemed to make it work. You couldn’t explain how, it just has this charm that perfectly complements the sweet but awkward boy you’ve grown so fond of. It’s so incredibly Jeongin, and it makes you smile like a dope.

But as he runs his hands through his hair, in desperate attempts to fix it, you feel your breath hitch in your throat. That… was new. And different. By now, one would look away, but for some reason, you can’t.

That is, however, when you notice Jisung’s eyes are locked on you, his eyebrows ever-so-slightly raised in amusement. You look down at your hands as you feel your cheeks get hot. Now that was another thing you’d have to explain to the older fool. Great.

Snow continues to fall from the sky as Jisung resumes the drive to school, but it never goes past a light sprinkle. It wasn’t even enough to coat the ground in that fluffy, white blanket you had grown accustomed to in the last few years. Every so often, the older boy glances over at you, catching you lingering at the rearview mirror as Jeongin uses his phone camera to fix his hair. It only makes you sink lower and lower into your chair, and you resort to keeping your eyes on your lap for the rest of the ride.

You don’t look up again until you feel the car stop and hear the gear shift click back into park.

“We’re here,” Jisung announces in a singsong voice.

“I can tell,” you grumble, recognizing the dimly lit courtyard in front of you.

“There she is!” Jeongin seems to have spotted his date and he squeaks, checking himself in the rearview mirror one last time. “Do I look okay?” he asks, a hopeful smile on his face.

You both turn back to look at him. You open your mouth to speak but can’t get anything out, and you find yourself stupidly staring at him again.

“You look great, Jeongin.” Jisung smiles over his shoulder. He glances at you for a second, flashing his eyebrows at you, and you turn back around in embarrassment. “Now gooo, she”s waiting!” He winks at the younger boy, ushering him out of the car.

Jeongin chuckles, smoothing out his oversized suit once more before he leaves. You keep your gaze out the windshield the whole time, staring at nothing in particular, but you notice that the snow stops entirely once Jeongin wraps his arms around his date and escorts her inside.

You feel your breath get caught in your throat again. “We–” you start, then pause to clear your throat. “Yeah, we should get going, too.”

Keeping your eyes locked in place, you blindly reach down to unbuckle your seatbelt. You’ve never felt more suffocated in a vehicle in your life and everything inside you was screaming at you to get out.

But Jisung, ever-persistent, seemed to be working against you all evening. He reaches over, gently grabbing your arm before you can touch the door handle. “Uh, uh, uh, you’re not going anywhere.”

You silently groan in your mind as you turn to face him with a sour look. “What do you want?”

His mouth curls up into a smirk. “What was that just now?”

“What was what just now?”

You tilt your head, your eyebrows furrowed with your lips pursed together. No matter how hard you try to keep a straight face, it only seems to egg him on more.

“You know what I’m talking about.” Jisung nudges you repeatedly, his smirk growing wider. “That whole staring at Innie thing! It’s almost like you just realized how in love you are with him.”

A scoff escapes your lips almost instantly. Seeing Jeongin in that suit was… an experience, to say the least, but to go as far as to say you were in love with him?

That said, it doesn’t surprise you that this all came from the guy who genuinely believed his crush would ask him out at midnight if he made a wish and forwarded a poorly-formatted copypasta to seventeen people. Bless his heart, but you’re smarter than that.

Really, you couldn’t pinpoint what sucked the breath out of your lungs when you laid eyes on Jeongin in the rearview mirror. All you could caulk it up to was some ill-timed coming-of-age epiphany: you two were sixteen now, and you could do things the sixteen-year-olds in movies do all the time. It’s a strange pill to swallow, but unlike Jeongin, it didn’t even occur to you that you could’ve asked someone out to winter formal. Everyone else your age seemed to jump at the chance, but a small part of you figured you and Jeongin would’ve gone together—as friends, of course.

Of course, you know Jisung wouldn’t buy that answer, so you had to think of something else. Something more his style.

“That’s— that’s not what happened.” You take a breath then wave him off with your hand as you continue. “It's just the tuxedo effect, it’ll be gone in the morning.”

You turn to get out of the car (again), hoping Jisung would leave it at that, but he leans over (again), grabbing your hand this time.

“No, no, no, sugarplum, you aren’t getting away that easily.”

You want to scream. Praying for the earth to swallow you whole sounds good, too. Anything over facing Jisung, whose eyebrows are raised as he nosily rests his chin on his palm.

“Spill.”

You lightly push him away from you as you sigh. “What is there to spill? It’s…” You pause, before continuing in a rushed mumble. “It's when you find someone attractive because of the fact that they’re wearing a suit.”

Jisung blinks a number of times before he bursts into laughter.

“That’s so bullshit! Finding someone attractive just because they’re wearing a suit?” He shakes his head in disbelief. “That's insane.”

“Oh, so magical snow makes complete sense, but finding someone attractive because of a suit doesn’t?”

“It’s not magical snow, it’s fate and romance all twisted into one!”

“Whatever, you’re hopeless.” You throw your hands up in defeat. “My point still stands: it’ll be gone by tomorrow.”

The main doors capture your attention and your eyes linger on it as multiple other students filter in and out of the formal. Your shoulders tighten and an unexplainable uneasy feeling makes a home for itself in your chest.

“I thought this was what you wanted…” Jisung starts, his gaze following yours, “for people to not think you guys were dating.”

“It’s not that,” you respond quietly.

“Then what is it?” he asks, matching your tone.

“It’s just…” you begin. “It’s weird to think he’s at the age where he’s actually thinking about liking someone and dating people.”

“But you know what that means?” Jisung asks, prompting you to break your staring contest with the school doors and look at him. “It also means you’re old enough to do the same thing: date and move on.”

You scoff, open the car door, and put one foot out, ready to leave. “I don’t know what you’re on about, shut up.” You get up and let the door swing closed behind you.

Jisung quickly follows suit and makes his way around the front of his car and over to you. He places one hand on one of your shoulders, as the other delicately moves some of the hair that had fallen in your face behind your ear.

“I’ll stop bothering you about this, yeah?” he says, his voice more gentle than teasing this time. You could count the number of times he’s spoken to you like this on one hand. “At least, I’ll stop for now. And if Jeongin won’t tell you, then I will—you look absolutely beautiful.”

Gently lifting your chin with two fingers, Jisung leans over and places a light kiss upon your forehead. You swear that for a minute, your heart stopped beating. Even with all of the overly sweet nicknames and the babying, Jisung had never gone so far as to do something so physically affectionate with you as this. However, you like it. You like it a lot more than you thought you would.

His lips linger there for a moment longer before he pulls away with a smile. “You’re more than capable of going after what you want. But don’t let him cloud your judgment tonight. Have fun, make memories.”

The older boy steps back from you, but offers an arm for you to take. Once you do, he leans in slightly and chuckles. “And try not to let this so-called tuxedo effect get to you too much,” Jisung adds as an afterthought. “You might fall in love with me by the end of the night.”

Using the arm linked around his, you deliver a light smack to his chest.

“In your dreams, asshole.”

…

Spending the night with Jisung as your quote-unquote “date” was more of a blast than you thought it would be. From the flavorful fruit punch and the obviously bulk-bought snacks, it truly was a night to remember.

You made sure to catch plenty of Jisung’s dad-dancing on your phone—for blackmail purposes, of course. And when it got to that normally awkward slow dance section of the night, Jisung did what he did best and made it anything but that. Sure, you stood on his toes once or twice, but he didn’t complain, at least verbally, and all-in-all, the night seemed to be a success.

From the few glances you stole during the night, Jeongin also seemed to enjoy his time with his date. The feverish look he had in his eyes when he hopped in the back of Jisung’s car paired with the hint of lipstick on his cheek confirmed it for you. You decide not to dwell too much on it, taking Jisung’s advice, and just hand Jeongin a makeup wipe before he could stroll home with crystal clear evidence on his face that he was ever gone.

The car might as well have been a fridge as you’re sitting there, hands rubbing together so quickly you could start a fire in your attempt to gain warmth. Jisung had started the car already, but his heaters are taking much longer to kick in compared to earlier. Jeongin, now laid out across the back seat, gushes about how the night was and how breathtaking his date seemed to be in her off-white dress. (You don’t know who would wear white to a school dance, but you try your best not to judge.)

His rambles, however, are soon cut short by Jisung, who looks at him through his rearview mirror. “Sorry, buddy, but you need to change before you get home, remember?”

Jeongin huffs as he pulls himself up into a sitting position and nods his head. He looks at you, to Jisung, back to you, then Jisung again. “You’re not going to do that stop-start thing again, are you?”

“Nah.” Jisung waves him off with one hand. “Wouldn’t be as funny the second time. Plus, I feel like sugarplum here would kill me.”

Jeongin’s eyebrows furrow together slightly. “‘Sugarplum?’”

“Don’t ask,” you say hollowly, and send Jisung a stern look to not answer Jeongin either. But in all honesty, if ‘sugarplum’ was the main thing the older boy took from tonight, you’d be completely fine with that.

“Just hurry up and change, nimrod,” Jisung says as he once again looks in the mirror.

You stare at him blankly. “What the heck is this? The eighties?”

“Just say you’re jealous and go, okay, sugarplum?” Jisung makes a face, and you throw your hands up dismissively.

“Did someone spike the punch?” Jeongin asks. “You’re both acting weird tonight.” Every now and then, you hear bumps and noises as he attempts to get back into his sweats in an orderly fashion.

“We’re not being weird,” you respond flatly, your eyes locked on a shallow puddle on the sidewalk from the snowfall, if you could even call it that. You try your best to change the subject and keep Jeongin from questioning you more. “Are you done yet? Can we go?”

With one last grunt, Jeongin succeeds in getting his head through the hole of his sweatshirt. “Yep, you can drive, Jisung.”

That was enough for Jisung to pull the car into drive and to get on the way.

You drum your fingers against the dashboard as Jisung drives, using everything in you to not pluck off the acrylic nails that took you an hour to stick on. You’re pleasantly surprised with how little this whole operation had gone wrong, and you could only hope that the rest of the trip would stay this way.

You don’t even allow yourself to relax into your chair until you three pull to the corner of Jeongin’s street for the second time. Jisung nearly laughs at you for this, but you quickly silence him with another smack to the chest.

“Owie! Looks like sugarplum’s feisty tonight,” Jisung cries, flashing you a fake frown.

You wince at the nickname and turn around, ignoring him. “Jeongin, do you have everything?”

Jeongin haphazardly tosses the bunched-up tuxedo on the seat beside him as he nods. He slides across the back seat and reaches for the door handle before you stop him in his tracks.

“Wait.” You lean over the back seat and quickly wipe at his cheek, and he attempts to back away. “You missed a bit of lipstick, idiot,” you state flatly, ignoring the sudden heat you feel creeping up your neck. “You’re basically asking to get caught.”

Jisung sits and stares as he watches you wipe away the little remnants of lipstick on Jeongin’s cheek, and he doesn’t fail to notice the way the tips of Jeongin’s ears turn a subtle pink color at your touch.

“Ah,” Jeongin chuckles awkwardly, “thanks.”

It is when Jeongin exits the vehicle that you finally take a closer look at what he was wearing. He wasn’t just wearing any sweatshirt—it was purple. Suddenly you remember your plight from earlier and your breath catches in your throat for the third time tonight.

“Wait, Y/N.” You hear Jeongin knock on your window, snapping you out of your daze.

You turn over and lower the glass, Jisung snickering under his breath all the while. “Yeah?”

A stupid grin comes over Jeongin’s face as he utters his next words.

“Stay for Christmas?”

You scoff and suppress a laugh. Maybe if he wasn’t still on a high from the formal, you would've considered asking your parents again this year. But what’s the point if they’ll just say no?

“Not a chance, now go home.”

After making sure Jeongin climbed into his bedroom window, Jisung turns the car around and takes you home. As he pulls into your driveway, you quickly notice how all of the lights are off in your house, minus the porch light. You let out a sigh of relief—your parents must be asleep.

You unbuckle your seatbelt and turn to Jisung with a smile. “Thank you, Jisung,” you hum. “Tonight was fun.”

“That's alright, sugarplum, glad to be of service,” he shoots you a toothy grin and salutes.

You once again wince at the nickname, but decide to let it go this time. You quickly lean across the dashboard and place a kiss on Jisung’s cheek. “And thank you for what you said earlier, it meant a lot.”

Jisung chuckles as you pull away. “You’re not falling for me, now, are you?” he quips.

“Don’t ruin the moment.” You slap him on the arm, and pause for a moment before opening the car door. “Just, thank you for tonight, seriously.”

“Y/N, it’s fine, I had fun too.” Jisung smiles. “Just make sure to get inside, it’s cold.”

You smile back and hum once more. Shutting the car door behind you, you rush your way up to your front porch before turning back to Jisung with a final wave. Then, you’re met with warmth, welcoming you after a long trip away as you get ready for bed.

The next morning, however, you’re greeted by two very angry parents.

By the time you got home last night, both your parents were already asleep, so you thought you had successfully gotten away with everything. Even if they were awake, they had no way to know what you did. But it turns out Jeongin’s cousin, Jungwon, caught him sneaking in and immediately snitched to his parents, who, in turn, texted yours, and probably Jisung’s as well.

Let's just say that you are now grounded well into the new year. No going out for a whole month, except maybe the Christmas party next week, if your parents are feeling generous.

You know it’s going to suck being confined to your house for the entirety of winter break, but you suppose that’s the price you pay for being a loyal best friend. If anyone was going to help Jeongin sneak out to a school dance, it’s you—even if you wouldn’t be the one to go with him in the end.

You’d do it again in a heartbeat.

17 years old.

“Can I open my eyes now?” you whine.

“Nooo,” Jeongin drones from behind you, “just be patient. It’ll be worth it, I promise.”

You sigh impatiently as he guides you by the shoulders to… somewhere. The December cold swirls around you, biting at your cheeks as you attempt to swivel your head and look around. You don’t know why you even bothered trying, though, as Jeongin had tied a black cloth over your eyes before he drove you off to this mystery location.

Despite this, he still instructed you to keep your eyes shut. It felt excessive, but you obliged to make him happy.

“Fine, but do I really need the blindfold?” You bend your head up and over, looking to your best guess as to where Jeongin is. You can feel his hands on your shoulders, so wherever you’re staring couldn’t have been far off.

“Yes— well, not really.” Jeongin laughs sheepishly and he helps you onto what you assume is a crosswalk. “It was Jisung’s idea.”

You snort, shaking your head to yourself as you try your best to walk in a straight line. “Of course it was.”

Upbeat chatter and Christmas music dances around your ears as you near the still-unknown location. You can’t see a thing, but you can already feel the aura of holiday cheer everywhere around you, just waiting to sweep you off your feet. It is just a week shy of Christmas, after all.

Soon Jeongin comes to a stopping point, and you feel his hands leave your shoulders. “Can I take off the blindfold now?” you frown, bouncing on the balls of your feet.

“Yah, just wait!” Jeongin scolds, but you hear a light chuckle quickly follow. “Patience, Y/N.”

You feel his fingers gently graze your hair after a moment, finding its way to the knot on the back of your head. He gets it undone quickly, but holds the cloth around your head as he counts down.

“Three… two… one…” he says softly, slowly removing the blindfold from your eyes and unveiling the scene in front of you.

The glinting lights make you wince for a moment before your eyes get used to the new sudden brightness. You gasp at the sight in front of you, almost jumping out of your shoes in joy. Thousands of Christmas lights are hung up around trees, swirled around lamp posts, and hung overhead for people to walk under. It is breathtaking, truly breathtaking.

You spin around to face Jeongin in an instant. His smile almost puts the lights out of business. “You brought me to the lights?”

“No, I brought you to the desert.” The boy rolls his eyes, his words coated with sarcasm—but still, he smiles. “Yes, I brought you to the lights, dummy.”

His warmth soon overtakes yours as you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him in close. He freezes for a moment, but soon lets his arms wrap around your waist. He squeezes you tight one final time before he pulls away, looking at you with a tender smile.

“We should go, don’t want to miss out on the lights, do you?”

You aren’t sure if he meant to grab your hand as he drags you away, but you don’t do anything to let go, either. You just stare down at your enjoined hands as you follow him, the background noise blurring away into nothing, overtaken by your heartbeat ringing in your ears.

Minutes seem to tick by before you can bring yourself to look up again. Your gaze lands on the back of Jeongin’s head, and it only seems to intensify when he swiftly turns his head. Something about the way his hair flowed with the quick action almost makes you dizzy, and you have to look back down to shake yourself out of it.

You finally have the courage to let your eyes trail back up again a moment later. Immediately, something in the air feels different. Jeongin had turned back to check on you, and a cluster of yellow and white lights seemed to give him a halo-like ring above his head. The music and chatter blurs around you once again, fading into a quiet buzz as your body stiffens and you nearly lose your breath. It’s like you’re the main character of one of those animes Jeongin tried to get you to watch, like the one where the boy and the girl stumble upon a field of fireflies together in the middle of the night. Here you two are, a mere speck amongst the thousands of lights, yet the boy in front of you seems to shine brighter than them all.

It’s strange to think about. You are here for the Christmas lights—no, Jeongin brought you here for the Christmas lights—but all you can focus on is him.

“Are you okay?”

The three words and a light squeeze of your hand pull you back down to earth. You didn’t realize Jeongin stepped closer to you, and you feel yourself exhale shakily, your hand slowly slipping from his grasp.

You stare back with wide eyes, and something inside you compels you to step closer to him. “Y-Yeah,” is all you manage to get out.

The colorful lights seem to flicker as you look around. For a second, they do feel like little fireflies, floating around you as they emit their warmth. And when your gaze lands back on the boy in front of you, the warmth seems to encircle you even more. You nearly forget about the cold nipping at your cheeks, and a rosy glow fills them instead.

“It’s just… I…”

As your eyes meet Jeongin’s once again, you can’t help but notice a slight redness in his cheeks as well. His lips curve upward slightly, and he gently takes your hands in his.

“I know. It’s beautiful.”

You smile up at Jeongin and notice something moving behind him. You squint, looking past his ear, and find those all-too-familiar fluffy crystals fluttering down. Immediately, your jaw drops and your smile grows wider.

“Jeongin, look!” You let go of one of his hands and point to the snow surrounding you.

The scene unfolding around you leaves you awestruck. The colors from the lights bounce off the falling snowflakes, and the music seems to chime more vividly as the snow whisks around, making everything feel brighter and more alive. You feel like your head is spinning as you swivel around, sparkles in your eyes that could rival the spectacle in front of you.

A shaky breath leaves your lips as you take one more step towards Jeongin. Your hands slowly find their way up his shoulders and around his neck, and you let his body heat swaddle you, wrapping you up in a wintry glow as you take it all in. It truly feels like you’re in a dream.

Jeongin follows your gaze and chuckles, a fond smile on his face as he gently pulls you closer. “Yes, Y/N, I know what snow is. Is snow bad?”

You look at him again, your wide, shimmering eyes meeting his warm ones. In that moment, nothing else mattered: just you, the snow, and the boy in front of you.

“It's perfect.”

And like the blonde girl in the firefly scene, you’d give anything for the moment to last forever.

…

“Where were you?”

Your mother’s words nearly make you jump out of your skin the second you step in the house, and you hiss to yourself. Your time with Jeongin at the light festival had swept you off your feet so much that you forgot you weren’t even supposed to be there.

After the events from last year, your parents had grounded you for a whole month, effectively barring you from even stepping foot outside of the house unless it was to school and back. Even worse, they grew so concerned about your so-called “excessive time with this boy” that they placed a strict curfew on you once your grounding sentence was lifted. No seeing friends—read: no seeing Jeongin—after 8pm, lest unspeakable things happen to you. It was ridiculous, not only because you’re seventeen, but because, somehow, your best friend since you were nine was now this supposed threat.

The only way you had been able to skirt around this was to lie, usually about studying at a coffee shop with an unnamed friend. You can’t remember what excuse you gave this time, but at this point, it didn’t matter much.

Your mother crosses her arms, a look of disapproval etched on her features. “Where were you, really? And don’t say the school library this time.”

You curse to yourself, your mistake dawning on you. Why'd you pick a Saturday night to say you were meeting up with some friends at the school library? Did your excitement over Jeongin and his ‘mystery surprise’ really mess with your head that much? It couldn’t have been him… could it?

After a minute, you conclude that you just slipped up after exhausting your list of excuses over the course of the year. It was bound to happen.

“Well?” your mother says expectantly.

You just sigh, throwing up your hands in defeat. “I was with Jeongin.”

Your eyes flick up, waiting for her next frustrated ramble about how you’ve been spending too much time with him. Instead, you get a throaty chuckle as she shakes her head at you, a smirk taking the place of her frown.

“Of course you were.”

Blinking, you stare at her in shock. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing! It means nothing.” She turns around, busying herself with wiping some crumbs off the dining table. However, after closer inspection, you see that the table is spotless.

“No, it means something,” you protest. What happened to all her complaints about how much time you’ve spent with Jeongin? Why the sudden change of heart?

“I didn’t say anything, sweetheart,” your mom says. “But did he?”

“Did he what?”

“You know, the three words,” she looks up, sending you a wink and imitating Jeongin, “‘Stay for Christmas?’”

Mortified, you feel heat rush up to your ears as your mother lets out another laugh. “Mom!”

You refuse to admit it to her, but you actually said it first this year.

It was just half an hour ago. Jeongin walked you to your car, a gentle hand on the small of your back as he followed you down his driveway. He wrapped you up in a strong embrace before you could even unlock your car, and you looped your arms around his neck in return, smiling into his shoulder.

The hug was sweet—Jeongin’s hugs, which seemed to increase in frequency lately, always were. But he held you for a second longer than normal in this one, and when you tried to let go, he let out a small whine and held you closer to him for one more moment. The move took you by surprise, but you hugged him back nonetheless.

You let your eyes flutter shut as you melted into his hold, letting your head fall against his chest. The sound of his heartbeat could’ve lulled you to sleep if you let it, and the light snowfall twirling around you two certainly didn’t help matters. Gradually, you relaxed your arms, letting them hang loosely around his neck, and you let out a contented sigh. You truly never felt more at peace.

Maybe it was safe to say something in the air shifted while you were wrapped up in each other’s arms. Usually, he’d give you a fond chuckle and a curt pat on the back right before he pulled away and took off. But when the two of you finally let go, you opened your eyes to find him smiling down at you. Something akin to affection swam in his soft irises as he slowly pulled back, his hands gently resting on your waist. It was… different, for sure, especially coming from him.

You smiled back warmly, linking your hands together behind his neck. “Are you okay?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jeongin nodded his head, an adoring smile still tugging at his lips. “Just… got a lot on my mind, that’s all.”

Something seemed to swirl in his features that you couldn’t quite pick up. You registered the return of the light pink on his cheeks and the tips of his ears as you stood under the streetlight together, but nothing else. It was probably just the cold that stirred this up, so you decided not to ask.

You could only stare back at him as you tried to think of something else to say. Something about the position you two were in—arms wrapped around each other under the moonlight—felt too close to lovers in the movies. You couldn’t explain why, but it made your brain go static. And in your attempt to relieve the tension, you gulped once and spat out the first stupid one-liner that came to mind.

“By any chance, are any of those things ‘Stay for Christmas’?”

Of course it had to be that.

Jeongin let out a light scoff, rolling his eyes playfully as he dropped his hands from your waist. You giggled at his disappointment, but you instantly missed the warmth that radiated from him. Luckily, you had half a mind not to say that out loud.

“Okay, moment over,” he mumbled, gently pushing you towards your car. “Get home safe, Y/N.”

“I’m just kidding!” your mother cries in exasperation, bringing your focus back to her. “I know I can’t stop you from seeing him. He is your,” she pauses to make air quotes, “‘best friend’, after all.”

You narrow your eyes at her. “He’s my best friend. No air quotes needed.”

Your mother nods, clearly not believing you. “Right… for now.”

Feeling more blood rush to your face, you roll your eyes and unceremoniously march upstairs. “Goodnight, mom.”

She’s crazy, right? Absolutely. You know yourself and you know your friendships better than anyone. You and Jeongin are best friends for a reason—nothing more, and certainly nothing less. The way you felt like you were on cloud nine just hours ago? It was a one-time thing, you were just fascinated by the lights.

Jeongin had nothing to do with it.

18 years old.

Your scarf is wrapped tightly around your neck and face in attempts to shield yourself from the cold. You jump on the balls of your feet in place as you wait for one of the Yang family to open the door and invite you into the familiar warmth. It’s pretty much tradition at this point to spend at least part of Christmas Eve with the Yangs, but they’re hosting the Christmas party this year so it’s just another reason to stop by.

Shoving your hands into your coat pockets, your eyes brighten when you see movement through the front door window. Soon enough, Mrs Yang opens up the door with a smile of her own.

"Y/N!" She sings, ushering you in before she pulls you into a hug. "I think Jeongin's still asleep, so you can do those honors?" She chuckles.

You pull away, slip off your coat and scarf, and hang them up before you rush up the stairs. "Leave it to me, Mrs. Yang!"

Once you’re up the top of the stairs, you creep down the hallway and knock on the door. When you get no response, you just let yourself in.

The scene in front of you is something you expect, but it brings a fond smile to your face nonetheless. Jeongin is spread out across his bed, his blanket bunched up around his chin. His hair is all fluffy from a good night’s sleep and his face looks peaceful as he snores lightly, like nothing in the world could ever hurt him.

Going over to his bed, you let yourself fall onto it and your head rest on the pillow next to him. Examining his face, you notice how his eyelashes lay against his cheeks and how his lips part slightly as he breathes.

"I can feel you staring at me," Jeongin says, his eyes still closed.

You clutch your chest in surprise as you roll onto your back. "Oh my god, why do you have to scare me like that?” you cry, staring at the ceiling. "You could have said you were awake."

"But then you wouldn't get your chance to admire me," he chuckles as he finally opens his eyes.

"Shut up, no I wasn't!"

"I don't know, your stare felt pretty heavy to me."

You glare at him, flying up and off of his bed before ripping the blanket off of him.

"Y/N! What the hell?!" Jeongin gasps, shooting up so he’s sitting. "What if I was naked?!"

"I know you too well, you don't sleep naked." You bend down to stare at him. "You'd be too scared to sleep naked," you add as you throw his blanket back onto his bed.

Jeongin rolls his eyes, grabbing the blanket before he wraps it around himself like a burrito. "What are you doing here anyway?" he mumbles. He runs one hand through his hair in an attempt to tame it, but all it really did was make it even more fluffy. Something about it makes your heart quicken its pace.

"Don't you remember what day it is?"

Jeongin blinks slowly, his tiredness showing. "Friday?"

You groan, sitting down on his bed again before quickly grabbing his pillow to hit him with it. "It's the Christmas," hit, "party,” another hit, “you idiot!"

You attempt to hit him again, but he catches the pillow with his hands and pulls it away from you.

This only causes you to stumble into him, also making Jeongin fall back in the process. A gasp escapes your lips and you use your hand to stop yourself from head-butting the groggy boy. You blink quickly, his eyes gazing into your own. His nose brushes up against yours ever-so-slightly, and you clear your throat, your cheeks flushing.

"This is your fault,” you attempt to joke.

"Me?!" Jeongin scoffs. "You hit me first!" Mimicking his words silently, you roll your eyes. "Uh, but can you move, you're a bit heavy."

Your eyes widen and you scoot away with lightning speed. "Sorry.” You blink, staring down to play with your fingers in your lap.

"By the way," Jeongin says, "I didn't forget today was the Christmas party."

“Well, that’s why I’m here early, to help out,” you mutter, your face still down.

Out of the corner of your eye, you watch as Jeongin gets off of his bed, goes over to his drawers and pulls out the first shirt he finds before pulling his pajama top over his head. You jump and turn in the opposite direction, your cheeks fully flushed.

“Jeongin!” you whine, holding the backs of your hands to your cheeks in an attempt to cool them down. “You could have warned me or told me to leave.”

“Aww, you blushing?” Jeongin snickers. “Never seen a boy undress before?”

Without looking back at him, you try your best to chuck his pillow in his direction. You hear it thump against the wall instead.

“You missed~” Jeongin sings, which makes you scoff.

“And I wasn’t blushing, asshole, just didn’t want to get scarred for life.”

Of course you’re blushing. Especially when he nonchalantly stood and started to strip off his top. And of course you had seen men undress before… in the movies. But there’s no way you’d utter a word of it to Jeongin, not when it would send his already-soaring ego to new heights.

“We both know that your life would actually be improved,” Jeongin chuckles to himself.

He walks across his room and when he comes into your peripheral, you instantly move to cover your eyes. It doesn’t help your reddening cheeks when the sound of Jeongin’s laughter rings out louder.

You feel his fingers wrap themselves around your wrists as you try to fight him from pulling them away from your face. “I’m dressed, idiot, stop being so shy.”

“Stop making fun of me!” you cry and he guides your hands away from your face.

Your eyes meet his and you notice the cheeky smile playing at his lips, which only turns yours into a pout. You only wish he’ll soon forget about this and move on to something different to make fun of you with. However, when you note the playful twinkle in his eyes, you know your prayers won’t be answered.

“Look, you’re blushing so hard!” He continues to smirk.

“I told you, I’m not blushing!”

You attempt to hit him, but with his fingers still wrapped around your wrists, you fail to do so. His grin seems to only grow wider as you roll your eyes and try to pull your wrists from his grasp.

“By the way, Jisung said he was going to stop by later for the party,” you mention. Jeongin’s smile seems to drop slightly at the sound of the older boy’s name.

“Why? He doesn’t live in the neighborhood.”

You shrug as you look at Jeongin with a blank expression. “How am I meant to know how Jisung’s brain works? He's in a world of his own.”

Jeongin hums, his gaze dropping to the floor.

“But in all seriousness,” you start, “he said something about missing us, and that, like, his college just isn’t the same without us?” you suggest. “Also, there was something about this girl he really likes and magic snow and shit,” you add, which causes Jeongin to snort.

“Did he actually say this or you making it up?”

“It’s more like reading between the lines, if you will,” you giggle.

“So he didn’t say shit, you’re just making it up as you go along.”

Jeongin crosses his arms over his chest as he stares at you, waiting for you to formulate your next response. But when the only one he gets is you playfully hitting his arm, he rolls his eyes for the nth time.

“Don’t we have to help set up the party or something? Or a movie to watch?”

“Right, yeah. We should do that.”

Jeongin laughs and as soon as he grabs your hand, flashbacks instantly flare up in your mind from the year before, of the Christmas lights he took you to see—of the way he seemed to shine under them all. You make sure to wish again that he won’t notice the new blush that presented itself as you thought of that time.

You keep quiet, not wanting to give yourself away as Jeongin gently pulls you out with him. You let your eyes gloss over his room once more. You’ve been in here a thousand times before and it seemed to grow with him over the years, and in a way, it grew with you, too. You remember the days when his bed was adorned with Toy Story bedsheets, Woody’s face front and center on his comforter (but you knew Rex was his favorite character). It had long since been traded in for sleek, black sheets—arguably more fitting for someone who is waiting for his first choice university, at the other side of the country, to respond with his admission decision.

And although you’ve been here a thousand times before, something new on his dresser catches your eye.

“Wait, is that…?”

Letting go of his hand, you make your way to the dresser, moving a crumpled up piece of paper out of the way to reveal a photo. It’s from when you were both ten years old; nearly a year after you had first met on the monkey bars, about two weeks before that classroom Christmas party. Mrs. Yang had taken Jeongin to a lights festival one December weekend, like the one you went to last year, and she happened to invite you and your parents along. You and Jeongin stood together in the center of the picture, and a giant Christmas tree towered behind your small frames. The mirthful glow of the tree enveloped the two of you as you posed for the photo, jolly smiles plastered on both of your faces.

Gasping in surprise, your lips part slightly as you take the photo in your hands. “No way…” you murmur softly, and you look up at Jeongin as he makes his way to you. “How… how did you find this?”

Jeongin peers over your shoulder. He gently holds the frame in one hand, his fingers brushing against yours as he smiles fondly. “My mom stumbled across it a couple months ago. She was digging through old photo albums and found this tucked in the back of one of them.” His thumb grazes over the glass. “She framed it and gave it to me, I guess she knew how important it was.”

You blink several times, hoping he doesn't catch the way your eyes briefly well with tears as you take in the details of the picture. You remember that night vividly and all the memories from it seem to come flooding back all at once.

It was your first ever Christmas lights festival, and it was nothing short of magical. The vibrant holiday lights glistened all around you, rivaling the sparkles in your wide eyes. The bells in the soft Christmas music gently tinkled in your ears, as if Santa himself was reminding you he would be on his way soon. The gooey, fresh-baked (and rather expensive) chocolate chip cookie you had split with Jeongin, paired with the rich (and also questionably pricey) hot chocolate you had begged your mom to buy along with it, brought even more warmth pooling in your belly as you leaped down the lit-up aisles with your best friend.

Looking back, perhaps that was what sparked your ongoing Christmas obsession. Sure, it didn’t snow that night, but seeing the bright bulbs all around you twinkling like stars in the sky captivated you wholly, wrapping little ten-year-old you in a warm, merry glow. It calmed the impatience for Christmas bubbling inside you by the day, but lit the fire inside you for the awaited day like never before. And best of all, your best friend was right by your side, being pulled into the evening’s embrace with you.

You notice one very important detail in the picture, though, that breaks your bubbling sentimentality, and instead makes you giggle.

“Oh my god, it’s the sweater.”

The fact that the picture was taken at night and the lights added a yellow glare to the photo made it difficult to spot. But one could take a closer look and see that, indeed, Jeongin was sporting that obnoxious purple sweater under his puffy blue coat.

Jeongin lets his hand drop, leaving the frame in yours as he frowns in offense. “Heyyy, it was comfy!”

You stifle another laugh. “Doesn’t change the fact that it was ugly as hell.”

He sneers at you, “Oh please, like you didn’t wear hideous clothes when you were ten!”

You shrug as you pull the frame up to eye level and continue to giggle. “Maybe, but nothing will beat that sweater.”

You lunge out of the way as Jeongin tries to wrap his arms around you and grab the photo from your grasp. However, a giggle escapes your lips as Jeongin’s fingers graze your side, which causes you to jump away from him.

A knowing smirk appears on his face. Your eyes widen.

“Don’t you even think about it.”

Jeongin doesn’t listen to you though, and his hands are already at your sides. Your grip on the photo tightens in an attempt to not drop it as your eyes prickle with tears. Jeongin’s fingers run up and down your sides as he tickles you, and causes a mix of gasps and laughter to escape your throat.

“Jeongin!” You continue to laugh as you try to step away from him.

Jeongin thinks quicker. Instead of torturing you more, though, you’re surprised that he chooses to pull you closer to him instead, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“I got you now!” His giggle rings in your ears as he wiggles you like a rag doll. You halfheartedly try to push him away, protesting in between your own giggles.

“Stop itttt, you asshole!”

He seems to listen to you this time, too, and lets you go. However, an evil grin lingers on his face.

You inch back cautiously, keeping a careful watch for his next move. He responds by slowly leaning closer, his smile stretching wider and wider. You slowly move your hands up to your sides to protect yourself from another tickle ambush, a nervous giggle slipping out.

He seems to inch closer and closer to you, and he stops right before your noses can touch, a shit-eating grin on his face. Then he mumbles, flashing his eyebrows:

“Stay for Christmas?”

You groan exasperatedly and lightly push the cheeky boy away from you.

“Oh my god, Jeongin!”

Jeongin breaks out into shy giggles as he steps closer to you, poking you playfully. You have to bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from doing the same whilst you try and swat his hands away.

“Come baaaack!” He chuckles after a moment, stepping close enough to wrap his arms around you again.

“Get me out!” You cry out as you try to break free. Your giggly demeanor completely breaks, however, when Jeongin just hugs you closer to him, taking you by surprise one more time.

“No,” you feel him hum through your shoulder, tucking his head in it when you try to step away. “Don’t move.”

You fight and lose to the smile that appears on your face as you wrap your own arms around his shoulders.

You can’t explain how in moments like this, he easily causes your heart to race by doing the littlest things. It makes you wonder if he can feel your heartbeat right now as you’re pressed up against him. If he can, he doesn’t say anything.

“Ahem.”

A familiar voice breaks the silence hanging around you two. You both break away from the hug, keeping your gaze cast downwards as you turn to face Jisung. He had swung the door open at some point and was now leaning coolly against the doorframe as he watches you two.

Seeing you both cower under his gaze seems to amuse him greatly, and a smirk makes its way onto his face. “What was that?” he says, failing to hide the chuckle threatening to spill out.

You stuff your hands in your pockets as you sputter. “It– it’s not what it– we were just–“

“We were just reminiscing, Jisung,” Jeongin grumbles from beside you, his arms crossed over his chest. His cheeks seem to burn red as Jisung grins wider.

You simply nod along with Jeongin. “Yeah, reminiscing. What he said,” you murmur.

“Oh, you keep telling yourself that, baby.” He chuckles, running a hand through his hair, which he had seemed to let grow out during his time away.

He lets out a satisfied sigh before he continues. “Ahh, I knew this would happen! It was snowing by the time I got here, so I figured you two were up here together,” he wiggles his eyebrows for emphasis, “alone. And you called me crazy!”

You want to roll your eyes at his antics, but you can only chuckle fondly. Sure, it seems like the now-college boy still believes in magic snow, but you have to admit: you did miss hearing him gush about it all the time.

“Yeah, yeah,” you say, “why’d you come up here anyway?” You seize the opportunity to wiggle your eyebrows back at him. “Did you miss us?”

It’s now Jisung’s turn to roll his eyes at you. “Mrs. Yang was looking for you two so she sent me up here,” he says, dodging your question.'' You know the party started already, right?”

Your eyes widen, and you and Jeongin flush in embarrassment again.

“Oh, right,” Jeongin mumbles, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly as he exits the room. “The party.”

You place the framed photo of you two on the foot of Jeongin’s bed before following him out. Jisung holds the door open for you two, his smirk getting cockier by the minute.

The older boy pokes both your and Jeongin’s cheeks as you step out of Jeongin’s room. “For the record, I did miss you two.”

You snort, reaching a hand up to ruffle his hair before the three of you make your way downstairs. “I know.”

19 years old.

“You’re cheating!”

Hyunjin’s voice nearly makes your ears ring. He really has no need to be speaking so loud, as you’re literally right next to him.

You grip your controller tighter as he tries to swipe it from you with his hand, and you lean away from him.

“Am not!” You yell back, your eyes focused on the tiny Nintendo Switch screen. “You just suck at this game.”

At the same time as Hyunjin gasps, Felix and Seungmin burst into laughter at your response from the other end of Jisung’s bed. At the corner of your eye, you notice Felix fall to the ground amidst his fit of giggles.

“Just get better, Jinnie,” you quip, a confident smirk tugging at your lips.

Even with Hyunjin trying to swat you like a bug, you still manage to keep your eyes locked on the game. Your chosen character, Toad, remained in first place, and after getting a green shell from a lucky box, you send it backwards, causing Hyunjin’s Princess Daisy to spin out.

He gets passed by multiple NPCs, landing him in 10th place with one lap to go. The way he grumbles and glares at the screen only increases yours and the other two boys’ laughter.

You’ve successfully maintained your first place title as you raced around Moo Moo Meadows. That is, until halfway through the last lap, when a voice pulls your attention from the game.

“Why are only two of you playing?” Jeongin says, entering the room with a bowl of popcorn in his hands. At the sound of his voice, you shoot up out of your seat and look at him with a smile.

“Jisung only has two controllers and Felix was dumb and forgot his,” Seungmin snorts, which causes the blonde boy to pout.

“Hey!”

Hyunjin goes silent, his own eyes narrowed on his half of the screen as he slowly creeps up the positions.

“About time you showed up,” you giggle, “thought you weren’t going to come.”

Jeongin laughs, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry, had a few things to do first, but I’m here now.”

Gasps erupt from Seungmin and Felix, and Hyunjin cries in triumph as he throws his hands and the controller into the air. Your head snaps to the game and your mouth falls open as you find Princess Daisy listed as first place, dancing in her car as she continued around the track—whereas Toad, in your distracted state, had been passed by all of the NPCs and was in dead last, “DNF” flashing on your half of the screen and on your 12th place ranking in the middle.

“You cheated!” You gasp at Hyunjin, throwing yourself back down onto the couch as you mash the ’A’ button.

“Just get better Y/Nie,” Hyunjin remarks as he grins mockingly, using your own words against you.

“You guys did this on purpose,” you huff, glaring at the boy who just ruined your five-game-win streak. “Rematch, now.”

“But it was meant to be our go next!” Felix cries, his pout exaggerated.

“Maybe Hyunjin shouldn’t have cheated!”

“Maybe you should have stayed focused!” Hyunjin fights back.

“Where's Jisung?” Jeongin asks out of the blue, and you motion to the door without saying a word. Jeongin snorts, nodding his head. “Thanks.”

He leaves the four of you in the tiny dorm room to join Jisung wherever he was outside—you assumed the convenience store by the dorm lobby. Your attention gets caught once again when your phone lights up, a message notification greeting you on your lockscreen.

baby: outside :)

you: be right there :)

You chuck the controller to Felix, and he jumps in surprise. “You can play now, I need to go get someone,” you state simply, but the grin on your face seems to give you away.

A single “huh?” escapes Felix’s mouth as the other two boys watch you with curious eyes. Not letting their gaze disturb you, you head to Jisung’s front door.

You open it swiftly to be met with your fairly new boyfriend, Heeseung. you met him after starting college this past semester through a mutual friend, and have been dating for around two months now. you don’t remember what drew you to him in the first place, but one thing is clear—he’s so damn cute.

Your cheeks heat up quickly at the sight of him. His fluffy brown hair was hidden underneath a hat and the bits of his fringe that did stick out fell against his forehead.

“Hey.” you smile, taking a step towards him.

“Hi,” he responds, wrapping his arms around your waist which you reciprocate. “Sorry I’m late.”

“All good,” you hum into his shoulder. “All the boys are here. I’d say they’re not crazy, but I’d be lying.”

You feel Heeseung’s chuckle vibrate through you. “It's fine, you’ve met my friends, how much worse can they be?”

Pulling away slightly so you could look at him, you push your lips into a thin line and feign a concerned look.

“Eh, they’re something, alright,” you drop the fake look, chuckling.

“They finally have those snacks downstairs~!”

Jisung swings the door open, prompting you to turn around. He’s beaming and there’s a bounce in his step as a bag of chips sways in his hand, but it all dissipates into an inquisitive, perhaps even nosy, stance once he sees the boy whose arms are wrapped around you.

“Who's this?” The chestnut-haired boy tilts his head, his eyebrows drawn together.

You can’t help the smile that adorns your face. “Jisung, this is Heeseung, my boyfriend.”

You gesture one hand towards Heeseung himself, and you grin wider as he pulls you closer, nuzzling your nose against his shoulder. When you settle your head against his chest, you look back at Jisung and his jaw is practically on the floor.

“Boyfriend?!”

Oh boy.

Heeseung chuckles again, shyly this time. He glances down at you, unsure of what to say, and you take that as your cue to do most of the talking.

“Yeah?” you affirm with a nod, but your statement sounds more like a question. “Is… is that bad?”

Jisung, still in a shocked state, opens and closes his mouth like a fish. He brings a hand to the back of his neck, rubbing it nervously. “Oh, no, of course not! I’m happy that you’re happy, it’s just…”

Heeseung cocks an eyebrow at the older boy. “It’s just…?” He repeats, trailing off at the end like Jisung did.

You want so desperately to pretend you don’t know what Jisung meant by that last bit, but the fact that you catch three heads peeking from around Jisung’s bed only seems to prove your suspicions correct. Looks like Seungmin wasn’t exaggerating when he mentioned that “Jisung has told us so much about you!” when you met him and the others an hour ago. From the way Jisung glances fervently between you and the door, though, it’s safe to assume the majority of what he said involved Jeongin in some context.

Maybe you should’ve told them ahead of time the “plus one” you were bringing to the Christmas hangout was, in fact, your boyfriend. In hindsight, it was foolish of you to assume they’d get the memo from the mere mention of “plus one.” And by someone, you meant Jisung—the main man on the “Y/Ninnie train”, as he liked to call it.

Funny enough, you were just following his advice from that winter formal back in high school: date and move on. Sure, it was three years too late, and there wasn’t anything in particular that you needed to move on from, but advice is advice.

Still, you send the flustered boy a stern glare. You were not getting Heeseung involved in his shenanigans if it’s the last thing you do.

But you notice Jeongin stumble in the room, bag of gummy bears in hand, and Jisung’s eyes grow wide. Your voice nearly strangles, but you quickly snap out of it before Heeseung can notice.

“And this is Jeongin,” you gesture to the hooded boy, “my best friend.”

You don’t notice the way Jeongin’s smile falls slightly as his eyes land on you, though your eyes trail after him as he wordlessly shuffles past you two and plops on Jisung’s bed.

Jisung seems to recompose himself, and he steps closer to you and Heeseung, holding out a hand. “Heh, I’m sorry about that,” he laughs nervously, but Heeseung smiles curtly and shakes his hand. “Make yourself at home, we’re happy to have you here.”

“No worries, man.”

Jisung leaves you two alone, but you don’t miss the look he gives Jeongin. It’s full of concern, and you can’t pinpoint why.

Blinking, you shake off the sinking feeling in your chest, and take Heeseung’s hand as you two move to a spot on the floor by Seungmin’s feet, as the bed was all occupied.

Heeseung snakes his arm around your shoulders as you both focus on the tiny console screen. Felix and Hyunjin were on their last lap of Cheep Cheep Beach, neck-in-neck with each other, and you both chuckle at the boys’ chaotic screams as they pass each other back and forth.

You notice throughout the evening that Jeongin will occasionally meet your gaze when you glance his way. Each time, he opens his mouth to speak and there’s this look pooling in his eyes—some mix of longing but urgency that you can’t sense the reason behind. Regardless, your chest tightens at the sight.

You observe Jeongin whisper something to Jisung, ignoring and trying to filter out the screams of the other three boys as they argue over who gets to be Yoshi, but it’s no use.

“Are you okay?” Heeseung asks softly, the hand around your shoulders gently rubbing your arm.

You gulp but nod, not taking your eyes off of Jeongin but leaning into Heeseung’s side. “Yeah.”

An hour or so passes, and it seems like the awkward glances have only increased in frequency—not just from Jeongin, but between the other boys, too. It eats at you inside not knowing why. All you have gathered so far is that it definitely involves you and Jeongin.

“Hey, Heeseung, is it?'' Felix suddenly pipes up. Both you and Heeseung look up to his spot in the middle of Jisung’s bed, his legs criss-cross applesauce.

“What’s up?” Heeseung responds.

Felix smiles and hands Heeseung his Switch controller. “Wanna play a round? You haven’t had a turn yet.”

A smile of Heeseung’s own forms on his face as he takes the controller in his hands, slowly moving his arm from your shoulders as he hops on the bed. “Oh, bet!”

You’re happy to watch your boyfriend get along with Jisung’s friends as if they were your own—in a way, they kind of are. But one look at Jeongin and all that comes crashing down, seeing the longing look in his eyes.

You still don’t know what’s wrong. Is it because of Heeseung? Does he have some unspoken beef with him? If so, why were all his gazes targeted at you and not him?

Jeongin looks back at Jisung hopelessly, and you attempt to eavesdrop as they whisper amongst themselves. Again, the other boys in the room are too loud for you to get anything useful.

That is, until you glance back at the screen as Seungmin and Heeseung go head-to-head on Rainbow Road, and Jisung scolds Jeongin out of the blue—probably louder than he intended to.

“You need to tell Y/N. Now.”

Your head snaps their direction. Your gaze lands on Jisung for speaking so loud, but slowly shifts to Jeongin. The other boys seem to fall silent, too.

“Tell me what?”

You’re already driving yourself crazy trying to figure it out. All you want is an answer.

Jeongin sighs and sits next to you on the floor. You carefully follow his movements with your eyes. He clasps his hands together, resting them on top of his knee. He opens his mouth to speak, and you nod expectantly.

And… nothing.

After a minute of strangled silence, Jeongin sighs in defeat and drags his feet as he shuffles back to Jisung. The older boy gives him a look you can’t quite read and quietly scolds him some more. The other boys just exchange glances with each other and continue to play Mario Kart quietly, making for the worst awkward silence of your life. So much for your first college hangout.

At least you’re able to pick up some information now. You can barely hear Jisung and Jeongin’s hushed whispers even though the room is largely silent, but you do hear the word “college” over and over.

You guess it makes sense. After months of patiently waiting during your senior year of high school, you remembered Jeongin’s dispirited form when he found out he had been waitlisted for his top choice school. Following that, he’s been going to the state university in your city with you, but he mentioned something offhand about re-applying for the spring semester. Maybe he’s stressed about that, but it seems like Jisung has it covered for now.

Still, they both look over at you with those concerned, longing stares, and it’s not hard to miss.

Even after you get another turn on the Switch, you’re still left with an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of your stomach by the end of the night. Yes, you won another cup and got your sweet, sweet revenge on Hyunjin for earlier, but it does nothing to tell you why Jeongin hasn’t spoken a word to you all night. Well, he tried to, but look how well that went.

It seemed like everyone around you knew except, well, you. You hate that feeling, but at least, whatever it was, Heeseung wasn’t involved. He doesn’t need to be thrown in whatever drama had concocted under your nose, especially not during his first time meeting them all.

By the time the boys start heading out, with Jeongin being the first to go, you’re practically squirming in your spot. You can’t take this anymore.

You give Heeseung a goodbye peck as he slips his coat on and leaves the dorm. “Thanks for inviting me, I had a great time.”

You smile. “I’m glad. I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

Heeseung nods, leaning down to kiss your cheek once more before exiting the dorm. That left just you and Jisung, and you turn towards the wide-eyed boy the second the door clicks shut.

“Okay, what is going on?” You don’t mean to snap, but your pent-up emotions get the better of you as you storm toward Jisung. “You and Jeongin have been acting weird all night. Actually, all of you have! What the hell, Jisung!”

“Y/N—” Jisung tries to speak, but you cut him off quickly.

“Was it Heeseung? He didn’t even do anything wrong, he was the quietest one here besides Jeongin!”

“Y/N—”

“And you think I’m not gonna notice you and my best friend staring at me like you two just did?” You stop to take a breath, and you feel heat rush to your ears the more you think about this. “How do you think Heeseung felt?! Is this some kind of sick joke?”

“Y/N, listen.”

Jisung’s soft voice makes you step back. It’s the same tone he gave you in the school parking lot when you were sixteen.

“Jeongin got into the school he wanted for spring semester. He’s been trying to tell you for weeks, he— he just didn’t know how. He leaves tomorrow morning.”

You freeze, and your heart sinks to your stomach. It’s like everything around you comes to a stand-still and the world goes deathly silent. All your attempts to speak go unheard as all you do is open and close your mouth, unable to formulate a sentence, let alone a single thought.

A long list of questions fly through your mind at rapid speed. Why didn’t he say something? Why didn’t you push him to say something? Why did he not want to tell you when Heeseung was there? Why couldn’t you have just stayed with him instead?

“What?”

You feel Jisung gently place a hand on your shoulder as he frowns. He pulls you in close and wraps his arms around your shoulders. That's when you notice tiny dots dampening his shirt and you finally realize you’re crying.

[go to part two HERE]

352 notes · View notes

zombiee-reviews · 5 months

Text

Page 832 Discussion

… God. This page is full of bad decision making above the max limit lol.

My first point on the subject is why are they relocating to Rogio’s old territory? If I remember correctly, didn’t someone mention the land is cursed? How does Rogio know that the spirit isn’t lurking around still? Laying dormant for another victim?

Also, it’s stupid for Ronja to not merge the tribe cause “they’ve come too far.” Girl. You have pups that need to come first? I would have figured she would want to merge with Fraujar since Kique has hinted a pairing with them at some point. Which btw what even happened to Whispervale, did they just poof outta thin air? Not sure what Kiques intention was with showing Fraujar being interested in Ronja, when he’s doing everything to not pair them up suddenly. Probably because it’s not a male x male pairing. I also wonder what Fraujar is going to think when they do end up moving. Is he really going to want to trek up the mountain? Brings me to another point, again, Ronja has pups, she should be considering how rough the journey would be on her pups and it’s stupid to move right next door from their old territory. They’re not exactly out of imminent danger.

Again, with such a “dangerous” journey, how are they going to get their cattle up there? Their stuff? It’s a waste of energy and how are their cattle going to survive on a mountain?? How are they going to be able to endure harsh winters on a freakin mountain? There’s so much land elsewhere they can claim and yet, they claim the Meteor summit? Lmao.

And yet again we see Ronja unable to make a decision for her new Tribe. You would think she would jump on the opportunity to make a name for herself and her members, but yet again, she can’t make a damn decision. Always relying on her members to help her.

Also, aside from Roamer is Ronja even aware about the supposed spirit that obliterated Rogio’s old tribe? Or is sweet Rogipoo not mentioning that important bit. It’s almost like it was completely forgotten by the writer. Why Rogio would want to return to that area anyway, is beyond me honestly. It feels wrong to me as well, that you’d want to return to your family/ friends graveyard. DUNNO MAN.

To be completely honest with you, I wish Kique made Rogio an antagonist, because this would be a perfect opportunity to show how evil Rogio is. Could imagine for a moment, that Rogio fails to mention the spirit and puts the Tribe in danger? That would add some juicy story telling, but we all know that Kique put Rogio on a pedestal and even if that DID happen, it wouldn’t come back on Rogio at all. I mean hell, Ronja still hasn’t addressed Roamer for him going against her word. But this is Kiques world and nothing bad can happen to the R trinity. 🙄

#kique nordin #kique7 #asmundr #bad dog comics #comic review #asmundrcomic #asmundrhome #comic #homeasmundr #homecomic #bad writing

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coffee-latte-sprite · 2 years

Text

Damian Al Ghul and the Annoying Reporter

Series Masterlist

Epilogue

Aged up!Damian Al Ghul x fem!reader

WC: 2,000

Warnings: blood mention (nothing graphic, it was used as an example), language

Synopsis:

A year after the famous interview with Damian Al Ghul, life isn't as good as she thought it would be.

“Hello and welcome back viewers to Metro News. I am your host Camilia Carmen and here today with me is the CEO of People’s Press, Y/N L/N.” Camilia said as her bright smile stared back at the TV camera.

“Hello everyone.” Y/N said as she sat by the TV primetime news anchor.

“Thank you so much for taking time out of your incredibly busy schedule to speak with us today Y/N.” Camilia said as she turned towards her guest.

Y/N smiled and waved her off, “Of course! I have been watching this show for years, big fan.”

“Oh thank you! And we are very big fans of your new book and news outlet. Your book,” Camilia brought out Y/N’s book and showed it to the camera, “is now the #1 bestseller not only in the United States, but now in France, Germany, Italy, South Korea, and coming up into the ranks of other countries. How does this success feel for you?”

Y/N blushed, “You know, this fame doesn’t quite feel like I am famous. Many people come up to me and ask me for an autograph and a picture and go on their way with some words of praise. The fame of my book though, did help my company to take off which I am truly grateful for.”

Camilia jumped onto the transition segment.

Y/N has done so many interviews, she knows exactly how to transition seamlessly.

“Yes, your company is also dominating as a news article distributor, the People’s Press. This company is also doing significantly well, even better than your competitor the Daily Planet. Its CEO has not given a statement to its recent surface of favoritism.” Camilia said with a twang of venom.

Y/N couldn’t help but smile. She proved all of them wrong. She proved her boss wrong, her parents, her best friend, and even her dog wrong.

“My company truly is my pride and joy. I am glad I am able to create articles about our local and international news. I want to bring new and young and old voices alike to retell stories or their take on recent events. It has created a healthy work environment for all workers and everyone is benefiting from this, my writers and readers.” Y/N said with passion. Her joy was contagious as everyone in the room felt her extreme happiness for the new direction of news and diversity in voices.

“Very well put Y/N. Also, speaking of new voices, in your groundbreaking novel, you brought a new voice to light and helped all of us have compassion for our enemies. Would you like to give a little explanation to your book, or inspiration?” Camilia asked as she sat back in her chair.

“Oh of course! My novel, How to Shatter an Heir, is about my experience towards the heir of the League of Assassins. I wanted to expand on his personal stories and trama. He has experienced so much since the literal day he was born. He lost a childhood and a father. I wanted to show the world their is more to a villian than just a sword and blood.” Y/N said as her heart sped up faster. She couldn’t hear her own voice anymore, it was just the thrumming of her heart.

“And you definitely accomplished that, but are you sure there was nothing else to this novel?” Camilia asked with a sly smile.

Y/N deflated and anger rose up in the back of her throat. “Yes, in this novel I wanted to show how a person is more than their parents and who they have a relationship with.” Y/N said pointedly.

Camilia picked up on the hint and dropped the subject, “Well, thank you so much for your time today Y/N and again, congratulations on your success, you deserve it all.” Camilia smiled and turned back to the camera, “thank you for your time today viewers, and remember, Superman, is for all.”

===

Y/N walked down the rainy sidewalk as people ran past her with their hoods up and racing against the raindrops. Y/N didn’t mind, she was to lost in thoughts to care about her hair or jacket.

Besides, the rain reminds her of when Damian left.

She doesn’t remember what happened to her after she was kidnapped, she just remembers pain, being shot, then Damian’s embrace. After that, all was fuzzy.

She remembers waking up in a hospital and being all alone. She never saw Damian again, but all of the nurses kept saying how their was a man who was frantic in making sure she was okay.

It was definitely Damian by the description, but she didn’t understand why he would leave her with nothing more than $1,000 to get home.

Y/N was broken from her thoughts when her phone rang, she picked it up immediately. “Hello?”

“Your dog hates me and you need to come home.” Jon said from the line as she heard Bella barking.

After Y/N created her company, the Kent's son, Jon, knocked on her door and asked if he could work with her. And as one for cold revenge, Y/N hired him on the spot.

He was her personal assistant as he helped her with everything. She was honestly thinking of giving him the company if she were to retire anytime soon.

“Bella does not hate you, she just misses me.” Y/N said as she laughed to herself.

“Yeah, well come home.” He said bitterly.

“You can go home Jon, I’ll be there in half an hour.” Y/N said as she stood under a near by awning.

“Thank God! Okay, bye!” And the line went dead.

Y/N laughed to herself and looked up at the rumbling sky. This is what fame and fortune felt like.

Y/N then frowned.

If this is what it felt like, then why was it so lonely?

===

Y/N kicked off her heels and threw her wet coat across the back of her couch. From her wealth, she was able to move from her little apartment to a penthouse suite, and from this she adopted more little furry friends, which Bella wasn’t 100% sold on as she liked the attention only on her.

“Bells, I’m home!” Y/N yelled as she stretched out her back and legs.

Only silence welcomed her back.

“Bella?” She asked again as this was out of the ordinary.

She then started to run around the suite looking for her dog.

Then, as she got to her room, she saw a dark figure over Bella on her back. She screamed in terror as she picked up her lamp and chucked it at the figure.

They cursed and jumped out of the way.

“WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?” A man yelled.

“Bella!” She screamed as she ran to her dog, who was very much alive and happy. She jumped up and was wagging her tail with her tongue hanging out. “Wait, you’re okay?”

“Of course she is!” The man said again.

She then turned to look at the intruder to stop in her tracks.

Before her stood a Damian Al Ghul in a tailored suite and slicked back hair.

“Damian?”

“The one and only. And I see your aim with your lamps has gotten better.” He said with a slight chuckle.

She didn’t share the same happiness.

All joy of seeing him left in an instant, “Get out, you have no right being here and breaking an entry.”

Damian stilled as the smile dropped from his face.

“Don’t you dare give me that look. You left me, remember? You left me in a country I didn’t know and I was scared. When I literally needed you the most of all of the time we were together, you were nowhere. All I got was that some man was worried about me, nothing else. So get out!” Y/N said as the sting of tears was strong, but she would not allow herself to cry, not in front of this coward.

“I knew you would be mad,” He began.

“And you still did it anyway?” She said coldly.

He winced, “Yes, because Slade’s men were still after me.” He said reluctantly.

Y/N stopped for a moment. “What do you mean?”

“Slade was gone, but his ideology was still strong. All of his men were still after me, they thought you had died. I saw them in the lobby of the hospital, and I ran. Of course, they followed, I then . . . got rid of them. I wasn’t sure how many more of Slade’s men were still alive, so I left. I knew you were safer with me gone. I wish I stayed, you have no idea how that ate away at me.” Damian confessed as his shoulders slumped.

The rain outside hit the glass harder as the room was drenched in darkness, but neither of them cared.

“I then left for my father's in America. My mother, I knew, wouldn’t help me, so I left for my father’s. I didn’t know if he would help me, but apparently, he is known for his charity.” He said with an eye roll. “Father took me in with no questions asked and has housed me for over a year. He has been training me to become his successor since his first, second, and third son did not want the company.”

“What is the name of the company?”

“Wayne Industries.”

Y/N’s heart stopped. Wayne Industries was the first company to invest in hers. She couldn’t believe it.

“So, why are you back? Asking for a refund since I did get rich off of you.” She asked as she wrapped her arms around herself.

Damian coughed, “Actually no, you got rich on your own merit. Without your crazy, suicidal, idea of interviewing a murderer, you would not be crazy rich.”

Y/N blushed, “Thanks, but why are you really here?”

“Well, Titus misses you, and I thought you would like. . . to see him again.” Damain said awkwardly.

“Oh, if it for Titus, then of course!” She said enthusiastically.

“Although, there is someone else, someone very naive, stupid, and suicidal who also wanted to see you again.”

Y/N paused, “who is that?”

He paused, “Me.”

“You?”

“Me.”

“Why?”

“This is so hard. Well, apparently, you have lasting consequences! You have weakened me and made me insomniatic with the thoughts of you!” He said exasperated.

Y/N gaped, “W-w-what?”

“You have,” he stepped closer, “bewitched me. Body,” he took another step, “mind,” step, “and soul.” His fingers pushed her hair behind her ear, “I’m in love with you.”

Y/N's heart thundered in her chest as she was in sheer disbelief.

“And I wondered, are you in love with me too? Or am I a fool?” He asked if his heart echoed hers.

Y/N smiled, “You are a fool.” His heart dropped, “but you are my fool.” And she leaned forward closer towards him, waiting for him to catch her, he did.

“Well, how fortunate am I then.” He responded and leaned down to her lips.

His lips ghosted hers as his heart squeezed, he wasn’t enough for her. No one was good enough for her. She deserved the world, she deserved all the stars in the sky.

Y/N spoke, her voice barely heard, “you’re my universe.”

And Damian’s lips crashed into hers. Their lips locked together in perfect harmony as each of their souls shined bright. No storm, assassin, or mother could get between him and his annoyingly perfect reporter.

A/N: wow, this is it. This feels so unreal that this series is over. I have been doing this series for a year and this is the end. This is my favorite series I have ever written and thankful for the journey. I hope everyone loved it as much as me! <3

Taglist: @royalmuffinsworld / @rory-cakes / /@jasontoddsloverrr / @rivas0309 / @giselatropicana / @atlaincorrect / @acupnoodle / @geeksareunique / @1-800-cherri / @mymomsdisappointment / @dreamsdemxn / @hollyharper / @andysnewgroove / @cherriebat /@twilight-loveer

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gothicteacup · 19 days

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With the Qsmp having its final event(?) I wanted to say a big thank you to all the amazing people who I came across during my time in the fandom! Artists, writers, live bloggers, you’re all awesome, and I’m grateful to have been in the same community as you. Your work built Qsmpblr into the great community it is today, and I hope whatever you do next on tumblr gives you the same amount of joy you gave to the fandom. The Qsmp was the reason why I even got tumblr in the first place, and you made my first fandom experience on here the best it could be. Thank you. Also, a big shoutout to all the lurkers like me! Just your presence in this community is enough, thanks for sticking around.

A big thank you to all the people who helped the fandom during these last few months. All the reminders to stay positive, or offering their asks for people to vent out their worries and frustrations, you guys are truly some of the best people out there. It’s difficult to put into words just how important your kind words were, so I’ll simply say thank you.

I don’t think I can truly describe all the joy the Qsmp gave me. Even though this ending is far from ideal, and the last months were beyond stressful, I’ll never forget all the good times I had the fortune of being able to experience with all of you.

Words aren’t exactly my strong suit, but I hope this can give at least a bit of my gratitude towards the people in this community.

#qsmp

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theartofdreaming1 · 2 months

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Fanfic Tagging Game

I got tagged by the lovely @wurzelbertzwerg - thank you! 💕

1. How many works do you have on AO3? - 30

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

111,591 words (at the moment)

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Currently, I'm writing for The Quarry and the Batfam fandom (primarily DickBabs and BatCat)... I have posted fics for The Flash TV series and Brooklyn 99 on AO3 in the past... plus, some other stuff that is only on my old fanfiction.net account (although I've been considering updating my old Young Justice fics, so I may post them on AO3 some day)

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Um, Rush Hour, Partners, Knight in Shining Armor, Loveable Nerds and Superheroes and Thank You, Becky Cooper - except for Partners, these are all Flash fics, which is wild, because aside from Rush Hour and Loveable Nerds and Superheroes, both of which I'm still quite proud of, I don't necessarily think that my Flash fics are my best works, but okay ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

5. Do you respond to comments?

Sometimes? I often don't know what to say in response 😅- but I appreciate every single one of them sooo much! 💕

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Okay... so this question prompted me to do some re-reading of my older fics... and honestly? Nothing on my AO3 account had an angsty ending to begin with ^^; So I had to go waaaay back, to my old ff.net account - and I think my Young Justice fic "Pain" had the angstiest ending (and even then, it's pretty moderate... even 17-year-old me was fairly mellow ;)

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Hmmh... Maybe my Flash fic "Coming Home"? It certainly has a very warm and fuzzy ending ☺️

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Not that I can recall, no...

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Nope; smut is not for me

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

No, I don't really write crossovers (only multiple fandoms that already share a universe, i.e. Batfam-comic fandom)

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of...

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Nope - since I'm a very slow writer, I wouldn't want to punish any potential co-writer of mine with that curse either...

14. What’s your all time favourite ship?

To write? Hmmh... BatCat and DickBabs for sure! (Plus, LauraMax are getting there, too... I just need to give them some time to cement their position ;)

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Oh boy, there are plenty of fics I'm worried I'll never finish... but I choose to stay optimistic enough to think that I will, someday, finish all the WIPs that I want to finish... (please, writing Gods, please help me accomplish this task!!!!)

16. What are your writing strengths?

Umm... I like to think that my writing is quite, um, pleasant? What I mean is, that it's pretty accessible (not too convoluted or complex, but also not boring) and while I sometimes write angsty/tense/sad moments, my stories generally have happy endings... And even though my writing isn't exactly groundbreaking, I still stand by all the ideas/concepts behind every story I've written so far, so... yeah...

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

The process of writing itself (I have to fight for every single word I commit onto the page... I swear, me and writing are engaged in the most tedious wrestling match nobody ever wants to see... ever). I get excited for a particular story, start to jot down some basic ideas, maybe even put in some research for a few points that need to get tackled beforehand - and then psyche myself out of being able to write down that dang story 😩 (Doesn't help that I have a hard time making decisions and get super intimidated when faced with all the possible directions a story could go)

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

Depends on the context - if we're talking about two foreigners (e.g. Germans) that are talking to each other in their native tongue and maybe don't want to be understood by the people around them (who, for the sake of this argument, are all English speakers) - then, maybe I would give it a whirl, because it would fit the idea behind the conversation (especially if it's a short exchange that people, who would be interested in learning what the Germans said, could look up via Google translate) - but, imo, this only works in very specific circumstances and for short exchanges - otherwise it can get tedious real quick... and personally, I don't like writing in German and don't feel confident enough in my Spanish skills to attempt it for that language, so writing English all the way is it for me

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Um... a quick look at my old, old fanfiction.net account tells me that my first posted fanfic was for the "Sonny With A Chance" fandom when I was 14 years old - the writing is a little... rough, for sure 😅 (although, to be fair, this was written at a point when I had only had, like, 3-4 years of proper English class... all things considered, it's not that bad)

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

Don't make me choose, I can't pick just one!

I very, very much love my BatCat fic "The Chase" - it just feels like pure Selina, the pacing of it is great and I think it portrays Bruce/Selina's relationship dynamic so very well (plus, it has some of my favorite sentences I've ever written in there!)

I also love Partners for being the longest, most ambitious story I've written so far (yes, despite the fact that I still need to add that epiogue!) and On the Reciprocal Attraction of Heavenly Bodies has the potential to become my best fic of them all, with the Austen-esque writing style and all the historical and literary research I plan on putting into it... I'm certainly very fond of the two chapters that already exist.

And This Is Not Over, But Just the Beginning is so fun and challenging in a different way; being a Quarry fic, with the whole werewolf element, it's darker and more angsty than anything I've written in a long time - but that's what makes it so fascinating for me to write (and read)

I'll tag @queenofbaws @thychesters @rosegardeninwinter @icequeen-07 @clearbluewaters and @mollywog - only if they want to, of course! :)

#I'm feeling so attagged right now #about me #I write sometimes

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penncilkid · 3 months

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Today is March 28th, 2024.

It marks exactly one year since, on a whim, I joined a Discord call. I've referred to it as "Robocop Day" since discovering the date because I joined the call after watching Robocop for homework and decided "Fuck it, if they're still on call, why not join?"

Words cannot properly capture/express how that was one of the best decisions I could've made.

To sit and think about all the ways I have changed for the better in this year is absolutely insane sometimes. I was so nervous to join that night, I barely knew anyone in the Redacted fandom and had barely gotten to know anyone outside of Angie (shoutout to thefablefoxart, go check her out /gen). But in that moment, for whatever reason, my brain was like "Do it. Go join this call. At least give it a try." So I did— And promptly got roped into a multi-hour ramble about one of many Darlin OCs (/lh /pos).

This account would not be what it is without these people. Neither would my art, my writing, my channel, and more. There are so many ways I have grown and so many things I've been able to try in this year of knowing this group of people, and I cannot wait for all that's to come still. So, without further ado, I'm gonna put the people in this group chat on blast (lovingly /lh):

@latenightsleeper: Sleeper Beeper, as Cupid calls you, you are such a force to be reckoned with. You are elusive but nonetheless loved and cherished. You are an incredible storyteller, even if 99% of the time you're simply finding new ways to rip my heart to shreds. I know life kicks your ass more often than not (which is should stop doing, frankly /lh), but I hope you know how important you are to me and how I would rain hellfire at the drop of a hat for you. I've been very lucky to get to know someone like you, and I hope I get to continue gaining your lore, as you put it.

@cashandprizes: Miss Alexis Moonlight, it is no secret how much you have improved my quality of life. Even when you're fussing at me, I know it's out of love and it simply makes me a better person in the long run. Any time spent with you, be it online or face to face, is truly a blessing in more ways than one. I've said before and I'll say it again, you are someone who makes me feel incredibly safe and secured, especially on my harder days. And that is something I will never take for granted. You are such a visionary, even when you don't always give yourself credit for it. I'm always in awe of the things you manage to cook up, regardless of the form they take. I hope that someday I can repay you even a fraction of everything you've done for me.

@mr-laveau: Veau, candidate for the leader of the PK fanclub (alongside Frenchie and Lexi Moon if I'm not mistaken? /lh), it's no secret that I am one of your biggest cheerleaders. And I intend to maintain that title because you are incredible. You are an insanely talented artist, voice actor, and writer, and I don't care anyone else tries to convince you. You are also one of the kindest people I have met when it comes to people you care about/look out for. It's insane for me to think that this singular extended invitation could have allowed me a chance to get to know so many amazing people in the long run. I am so happy to have met you. You have helped me be self-indulgent with the things I make and have pushed me to not only go after the things I want, but be kinder to myself along the way. No amount of words I could give to you will ever encompass all that you mean to me.

And one bonus party:

@wingless-cupid: Cupid, you may not have been there for the creation of this group chat, but you are absolutely a core member of it now. You've been stuck with me for far longer than the rest of these guys, but that doesn't mean I'm gonna pass up on the opportunity to appreciate you and our friendship as well. Life is a bitch to you, but you keep pushing on and I'm so happy to have witnessed it all on the sidelines. Your creativity and execution of such is insane to see in the best way possible. Even if we're threatening each other with violence every other minute, I know that you have my back. And I hope you know I have yours as well.

So yeah. Who is this post for? Mostly me. But I also think everyone I've mentioned is amazing and worth checking out. Thanks for being in my life, guys /pos

#I'm typing this up days ahead of the 28th #And scheduling it as we speak #So if you're gonna fuss oh well /lh /pos #PK Rambles #No but real talk I love y'all and would burn the world down for you #I'm very glad something as strange as Robocop and audio roleplay brought us together /gen

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lesharl-eclair · 9 months

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strollonso fic recs pt 2: authors

4 amazing writers whom i am Watching for strollonso content. may or may not be their primary output, but whatever they have is certified delicious. apologies if you've read these many many times just take it as classic literature ;))

[part 1]

all fics below the cut; if you enjoyed these fics, please show the authors comment and kudo love; should you be the author of a fic that's here, and don't want to be here, please reach out to me and your wish is my command :)

@alpaine:

a strollonso pioneer (these works were written in 2022!) somehow i do not detect a single trace of rancid vibes. almost jarringly wholesome. very good :)

something in the air (T, <1k)

Fernando Alonso keeps complimenting Lance. It's weird. He's not going crazy, it's weird, right?

this is delicious (fernando Knowing and Choosing to praise lance knowing full well what it does to him........) short and sweet. a little glimpse into interactions that are dizzying to think about.

game misconduct (T, 2.6k)

**BREAKING NEWS 🚨** Alonso to the Canadiens. The return is still being worked out, but expect an official team announcement by the end of the day. “Fuck,” Lance exhaled.

the author really said "i love fanfic because i can write fernando alonso as brad marchand and no one can stop me" and i am compelled. compelled. i think the inherent homoeroticity of ice hockey really helps matters.

"holy shit, alonso" basically encapsulates this fic so well -- all the characters really come through and meld so well despite it being a different sport, and the strollonso is given the space to shine.

***

2. @wewentcarracing:

for me this is the essence of strollonso. little else comes close :")

silver platter (E, 9.7k)

Lance is well aware that the first word people typically associate him with is "spoiled". He's fine with it. Well; not fine, maybe, but mostly past the point of caring. He's not delusional about it, either. He's gotten more or less everything he's ever wanted, and he wouldn't have any of it without his father. If that makes him soft or weak or a brat or anything else people like to throw at him—whatever, fine. It's a nice life. He can also admit to himself that it's left him kind of ill-equipped for knowing exactly what he wants but not having any idea how he's supposed to get it.

if there is one strollonso fic to read, let it be this.

i adore the way this author does characterisation it is actually insane. the sheer intensity of nando. the way he puts his pussy into it. the magnetic charm and easy confidence. ESTEBAN AS A CHARACTER. and lance oh my goddddd the way you write lance is breathtaking. rich child mindset? how he isn't spoilt per se but there's still this lingering attitude at the back of his mind??? spot on.

also possessive nando might just be my favourite thing: “Let them hear. Why not?” Fernando says, voice rough and low and close enough to Lance’s ear that Lance can feel it against his skin. “Let them see what I do to you.”

all teeth (E, 3k)

Fernando has always been able to play with his food for a long time before he's too hungry to resist it.

this one i am actually addicted to. i have reread it an embarrassing number of times. pOSSESSIVE NANDO. and lance not being as naive as one might expect. the attention to detail here is insane (the parallels between the before and during....... the metaphors.....) the vibes here are like the richest dark chocolate cake. decadent and fantastic and so so rewarding.

***

3. @vicsy:

so much tenderhorny introspection. excellent character studies.

snapshots (M, <1k)

The photos Fernando keeps on his phone always tell a different story.

it's poetry, is what it is. short and sweet and the scenes it proposes are so fitting and immersive, a tiny glimpse into just how deep their relationship runs.

little flame, consume my hate (M, 17.6k, wip 1/2)

The problem at hand is that Lance can't bring himself to care enough — about his father's wishes, about his fate as the future king, as a ruler of a kingdom standing on a shaky foundation; about slaying a dragon who hasn't scorned him in any way. Even the thought of not coming back and perishing on this unwanted quest doesn’t instill as much fear. He has everything and thousands would wish to be in his place, but his life feels empty and artificial; lacking a spark or a purpose. Or: Lance is a knight who’s sent by his father, the king, on a quest to slay a dragon in order to prove himself. Instead of a mighty beast Lance stumbles upon a peculiar man named Fernando who wears a lavish robe and spends most of his time reading. Or so it seems.

this was such a fun read!! i really admire this author's scene-setting ability, everything is so balanced, detail-rich and a pleasure throughout. also also also also the au/worldbuilding....so much love mwah mwah <3 even through 17k words the narrative is well-paced and well-timed, and really drew me in :) simultaneously scared and excited for part 2!

shatter my life apart (see me for somebody else) (M, 1.5k)

For all of Lance’s naivety, for how easily he follows down that narrow path, it’s a rush no money can buy. A touch here, a not-so-friendly pat there, a show of teeth in a smile that is lethal and Lance knows Fernando wants a taste, craves to do so much more, something unspeakable, something that could turn into the nastiest paddock gossip to this day but it’s exhilarating — knowing he does that to a man by simply existing. Knows that, maybe, he wants it, too.

this needs to be framed and hung up somewhere, i think. author's way with words is insane - the almost dreamlike quality of how lance is blown away by nando again and again, the jarring difference between lance's perceptions and the reality are rendered so beautifully here. a character study to remember.

***

4. @merenwenformulauno:

you make nando suffer sO MUCH... ....... but i'm still here for it <3

Between Gravel Traps (series) (E, 3-5k per part)

It starts in Budapest, then Spa. Then Zandvoort, then Monza.

i think this took me a few reads to truly wrap my head around. the quality is pretty damn impressive and the potential is insane - a relationship that's a little rough around the edges, but still so distinctly Them. nando brute forcing (?) (there is no way that's the right word) his way into lance's affection is something i definitely did not expect, but plausible and lovely nonetheless. i love the way it's slowly growing into a race by race thing, looking forward to more!

against the clock (E, 28.5k)

fernando is a cop. lance is the wildcat behind the wheel of a bus that can't drop under 50kpm or a bomb goes off. a normal way to fall in love.

i had been putting off reading longfic for sooooo long you had no idea. this one kind of snapped me out of it !! a very masterfully done speed au. (loved all the little references but i will not go into detail bcs i dont want to spoil it here) this author has a penchant for suffering methinks. this work is still unfairly riveting despite all the pain, and the deliciousness of bonding through trauma is UNMATCHED.

***

that's all for today and thank you for reading to the end of this very lengthy rec list hee hee....there's actually so much more to this growing corner of ao3 so keep an eye out for more amazing works!!

if you enjoyed this, or if i missed any fic, please let me know :) drop me an ask mayhaps if you would like more fic recs, and i will try my best to give timely unqualified opinions <3

#f1 #formula 1 #fernando alonso #lance stroll #strollonso #claire's fic recs #claire rambles

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aragarna · 5 months

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Hello ! First of all, thank you so much for all the DW's Zorro content. You have no idea how much this show means to me and what magic it does to my soul. So being able to see pictures, GIFS, fics and people talking about it is just like christmas every day. ANYWAY ! You may have already answered that question (whether in fics or in answer to asks), but I wanted to ask you again anyway : when do you think Alejandro guessed Zorro's true identity ? If I remember well, we have absolutely no clue about it in the show before he stops Diego from "outing" himself as the fox. I wanted to have your ideas about it and, let's be honest, talk and fangirl about this show and its characters with someone. x) THANK YOU !

Hi Anon, and thank you for your kind words. <3 This is the kind of message that motivates me to keep going, despite the tiny size of the fandom. <3 It's always nice to know one's work is appreciated, and that we're not doing it all for nothing. So I'm glad to hear you enjoy my gifs and my fics.

As for your question: Indeed, there is zero indication in canon that could give us a clue as to when or how Alejandro figured out his son is Zorro. My guess is that there wasn't any real plan, from the writers, to show us that Alejandro figured it out. Probably not even a solid plan to have him figure it out until they started writing that one episode. There was a hint in early S1 (the one with the guitar string) but there was never a follow up, so I think that idea was dropped at the time. So, yeah, in canon, there is nothing.

That said, it won't stop us from making things up, will it?

I might write it all in a fic one day, but in case I never get to it, here is my headcanon about it:

Throughout S1, Alejandro notes little things that seem odd about Diego. Of course, there's all the dodging, avoiding, sudden mood changes, etc... But also, all the times Diego and Alejandro found themselves at odd, only for facts to prove Diego right at the end. Most of the time, they are things that infuriate or disappoint Alejandro at first, but when thinking back, they tend to show that Diego is a lot smarter and wiser than most people (including his father) give him credit for:

Diego tried to dissuade his father and all the dons to go and attack the cuartel. Alejandro got angry that his son was such a coward, but Diego was right. Only because Zorro was there to save the day that it didn't end up in a disaster (And still, Alejandro got hurt).

Diego opposed the commitee of vigilance that his father and other dons created. He had strong words against his father, and Alejandro wasn't happy about it. And yet, in the end, events proved that he was indeed rushing judgment and that it was all very wrong.

During the final battle against the Eagle, when they are arrested, Diego makes what appears to be a coward deal with Varga. It turned out Diego escaped and ran to get the dons' help.

....

So I think there's plenty of events during S1, that could give Alejandro clues as to what's really going on with his son. He probably didn't make much of them at first. He also has plenty of reasons not to think Diego is Zorro. But once the idea germinates in his mind, it would be easy to look back and realize it was all there.

My own take is that it might have happened after the battle against the Eagle. Why would Diego not share his plan - that one of them should go get help - ? Why didn't he even try to defend himself against his father's accusation of cowardice? I'd add to that that when they are first arrested and locked into that basement, Diego unties his hands by himself, before untying his father's. He was very much ready to fight and certainly not "so afraid of dying" like he appeared to be five minutes later.

So yeah, Alejandro might not have put the puzzle all together exactly then, but certainly he was starting to see the pieces.

And I'd say that after all that, words must have reached him that Zorro was spotted in Monterrey, funnily enough, just when Diego has gone to Monterrey... It had to be more than a coincidence. ;-)

So that's my take on it, based on canon. But that's still very much only a headcanon. Anyone with a different one wants to share?

#no i didn't think way too much about it #what are you talking about #zorro #disney's zorro #headcanon #meta #thank you for the ask!#and for the lovely words #feel free to share you own take on this!

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kingmagnificoofrosas · 5 months

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I just need one little thing clarified...

"...reducing him to an object of sick twisted lust..."

"...making him a porn object and writing downright disgusting things..."

I totally get about toxic sexualization, but just want to ask: it's not about healthy romance and making love with a true soulmate, right? it's about toxic things only?

i usually write romances about healthy OTPs, and i wrote one for Magnifico, it also included making love. I'm just afraid to... be accused of this toxic sexualization or something.

please do not consider it rude, your words are matter to me. 🙏🏻

Hey dear 💙

Don't worry, I got you!

I absolutely meant unhealthy, toxic sexualization only. I wasn't talking about writing healthy romance and intimacy between two soulmates. I was talking about things some people said. I will not repeat what I've seen but to put it decently, those comments went above and beyond "I would like to have intercourse with him."

To further clarify my point. When I first saw Magnifico, I was like "Hoooooo ma goodness, he HOT!!" And that was never in a sexual way. Just me adoring and gushing over his beauty. Cause he's dang handsome, alright. The sky eyes, the high cheekbones, defined jaw, neat hair, goatee!! Heck the goatee ❤️😩🤌🏼 the BODY, the smile ... I see this man and my heart skips a beat.

You know, that squealing, giggling, fangirling kind 🫶🏼

But seeing some people making comments about what they would like to do to him *gag* ... And I kid you not, it read like someone was quoting a porn script. Or for some, the first and only thing they think of is something sexual. When I said that some reduce him to an object of sick twisted lust, I meant exactly that.

It's also not someone just saying something like, "I bet he's skilled." If you know what I mean. Still, ok, weird. But at least it's nowhere near explicit.

Such thoughts never crossed my mind even once. The fact that this is even happening is so sad.

I'm so shocked and deeply disgusted by what I read some people say, part of me just wishes to erase it from my memory. Also, what the heck are fanarts of *eherm* full blown nudity of him even doing online? And I don't mean shirtless only. Good grief, I know most of us Magnifico-defenders are mid-teens, young-adults and adults but I just picture some kids scrolling through social media for WISH fanart and then they suddenly get a drawing of below waist porn shit. Ew! Seriously what the frick, EW!

I also wasn't talking about portraying sex in the right, healthy way in a novel or fanfiction. This is a whole topic for itself. In my humble opinion, a good writer can bring all the right feelings across without having to write every single damn detail. I'm writer and I always give the advice : You need to be able to show the reader whats happening without becoming explicit.

I'm aware that writing intercourse is a very delicate topic and tbh it's tasking even for a professional writer. As a christian, I'm standing for closed-door romance. Meaning, I read and write intimate scenes non-explicitly. And honestly, that to me is so much more fulfilling than writing or reading explicit scenes. To be able to make the air sizzle and the readers heart pount without getting explicit is a skill and there is so much beauty in it if it's done well.

Because, like you said, love-making is so much more than just an act! It's God's gift to soulmates. It's the highest form of expressing endless true love. It's becoming one, it's two souls made for each other melting together. It's meant to be beautiful! It's meant to be pure. It can be wild passionate fire just as much as it can be tender and sweet.

And exactly that is also why my heart bleeds and breaks when I see sick stuff online.

I hope this clarified my statement and helped you a little bit 💙🫶🏼 if you have any more questions or want to have me give out advices as a professional writer, I'm always here for it!

#writers advice #info post

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forgetminot · 1 year

Note

heeeeey, can u writer something for leon x ashley?? maybe after re4 or one of them is hurt plss i would like to read!! thanks

Be Careful

~ Leon Kennedy x Ashley Graham ~

[ Warnings ; Injury (small impalement) , heights, blood, fluff. ]

A/N ; I once again want to thank you all for the support on my two previous Leon fics!! I honestly didn't expect them to get read. As for this fic, it can be read as platonic or romantic whichever you'd prefer . I hope this is okay! I wasn't sure where to go with this, so it's based on a prompt line!

----

Prompt/Drabble idea ; “Why is it only you who gets into situations like these?”

"Slowly and carefully over these planks Ashley, it's not stable." She nods, holding her arms out at her sides to help keep her balance. She watches Leon's every move, stepping exactly where he steps. "Just a little further." Leon holds out his hand once he has crossed the old platform safely, waiting for Ashley to do the same. Crack. "Ashley!"

"Leon!" She screams as her foot slips from under her, multiple planks beginning to snap.

"Stay there, don't move, I'll find another way to you!" Ashley nods looking down at the gigantic drop below her. She shouldn't move, she knows that she should listen to Leon and stay put, but who knows how long it will be until he gets to her.

"You can do this!" She whispers to herself quietly. Taking a deep breath she begins to pull herself up from where she's hanging, grabbing onto anything she possibly can to help. She's closer to the beginning of the platform than she is to the end, so, she decides to head back the way she came; following the same steps she took on her way across, hoping they will be sturdy enough to not drop her too her painful demise. "Slowly and Carefully." She says to herself, repeating Leon's earlier words. It's working, at least it seems to be, that is until she hears multiple snapping sounds from under her.

"Ashley run!" She looks up to see Leon, who is standing at the edge of the platform panic covering his face. It's all a complete blur as she sprints her way to safety, she doesn't even feel the small piece of splintered wood pierce into her skin above her ankle. But that doesn't matter right now, not at that moment, she made it. She made it back to safety and back to Leon. "I thought I told you to stay put." He's angry, Ashley can see it in his eyes, but he's also relieved.

"Sorry..." She winces, glancing down at her injured ankle. "Leon!" Panic washes over her as she realizes how severe it looks, her breath quickening.

"Hey, look at me." Leon places his hand gently on her shoulder, soothing Ashley and calming her down. “Why is it only you who gets into situations like these?” he questions, moving his hand down to her ankle. She smiles through the pain, looking up at Leon.

"I really don't know." Leon studies her injury closely, trying to figure out what the safest thing to do would be.

"I can't remove the wood, we have no idea how deep it's gone into your skin." Ashley hisses as Leons fingers graze over the wound. "Sorry" he breathes softly.

"What can you do?" She questions.

"I might be able to splint your ankle for support, but right now i need to wrap it with something to slow the bleeding." Leon's eyes scan the environment, looking for anything to help stop the bleeding.

"Will this do?" Ashley asks, undoing her scarf from around her neck and handing it to Leon. He smiles, taking the scarf from Ashley's hand and carefully applying it round her ankle. Leon steps back holding out his hand for her to take, which she does.

"C'mon, let's get you home safe."

----

#leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon scott kennedy #ashley graham #leon kennedy x ashley graham #resident evil #resident evil leon #resident evil ashley #fanfic #fanfiction #shes so cute #this man is gonna be the death of me #ask and you shall receive #leon!

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musings-of-a-rose · 1 year

Note

All I can think of right now is Lu Fox meeting an eccentric writer who's just the oddest person he's ever meant and always seems to make him laugh or smile. They both end up helping each other (the reader helping pull Lu from the edge and Lu helping the reader voice their ideas and get their book written) and maybe falling for each other along the way. Who knows? Just an idea. Also, Garrett Hedlund is very attractive.

I'm Here

Pairing: Lu Fox x f!reader

Word Count: 5500+

Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story.

Notes: Anon, I’m so sorry this took so long! I hope it’s what you were looking for. And you are correct - Garrett Hedlund is very attractive. I hope you follow him on Instagram if you need further proof.

**If you want to be added to the taglist, join here or let me know!

Main Masterlist

Lu Fox Masterlist

“Oh fuck this!” I shout, as I shove the computer away from me. Not enough to break it but enough to let out a little of the frustration I have with not being able to write anything.

Not a single word.

My friend’s husband had inherited a home in the middle of nowhere Australia, some small fishing town on the west coast. He had convinced me that what I needed to finish writing this God-forsaken novel was a change of scenery, set away from the city. Since nothing else was helping, and I would be able to stay in the house free of charge, I figured why not?

I arrived 2 weeks ago and have written exactly 23 words. And that was my name with a series of expletives after it.

I’m putting too much pressure on myself, I know it. It’s just that I’ve been trying to write this thing for what feels like my entire life and I know people are waiting for me to just get it out already.

That’s the problem with imposter syndrome when it teams up with your crippling perfectionism.

I know this place has beach access, having briefly seen it in the distance when I hauled my suitcases inside. Changing into my bathing suit with a simple tank top and shorts, I pulled on some shoes and headed outside, pausing only to grab my sun hat and to make sure my phone was in my pocket.

It took me a few minutes to find it, but the little “private” beach was there, white sands and beach grass swaying slightly in the wind coming off the water. I walk close to where the surf comes up on the sand, tossing down my beach towel that I had remembered at the very last second, sprinting back to the house to grab it.

I settle down on it, taking in the view briefly before pulling out my phone. Flipping to the voice recorder app, I make sure it’s working before simply holding it in my hand, eyes turning back to the beautiful water view. Several minutes pass before I finally put the phone to my face, holding it close to my mouth.

“Day…I don’t even know. Same story. Should the main character go off on some quest to find herself? No that’s too cliche. What if they return the stone but it doesn’t do what it’s supposed to?”

Groaning, I stop the recording and hold the phone away from my mouth for a brief moment before speaking into it again.

“Or maybe they would tell everyone to shove it in their asses and leave them the fuck alone.”

“Sounds like a cheerful story.”

A deep voice speaks from slightly behind me and to my right and I jump, brandishing my phone like a weapon at the intruder. He’s tall, about 6’3 or so, sandy blonde hair that comes down to about his eyes, his annoyingly bright blue eyes. He’s tan but not overly so, has some muscle to him and I can see the swell of a small stomach beneath his nearly form fitted white t-shirt, paired with a simple pair of shorts and…are those flip flops?

“Who the fuck are you?”

He’s put his hands up in a surrender position, trying to show he means no harm. At least that’s the vibe he gives off.

“Who the fuck are you?”

“I’m the fuck who’s private property this is.”

He tries to hide a chuckle at my choice of words, but I wave the phone at him in what I hope is a menacing way and he at least tries his best to choke back the laugh.

“You’re staying at the old Allen house?”

Shit. I didn’t think this through and now he knows where I live. Not that I’d kick him out of bed. Not the point.

“Does it matter?”

He doesn’t answer me right away. Instead I see his eyes rake over me, but more in an assessing manner than being attracted to me, and it wasn’t threatening.

“It hasn’t been lived in for a while. Everything still work or you taking cold showers?”

“They keep me clear headed.”

He laughs now, his teeth on full display as he lights up the entire area with his smile, shoulders bouncing slightly with his laughter.

“It’s gotta be freezing.”

“I’ve survived worse.”

“I’m sure you have.”

“Why are you on my beach?”

His laughter fades but the smile lingers slightly, but only slightly. “I uh…I go fishing sometimes and my truck is parked just over that sandhill.” He gestures behind him towards a sand bank.

“Aren’t there docks you could park at?”

His eyes suddenly don’t meet mine and it clicks - he’s not supposed to be fishing whatever it is that he fishes. I know the people in this town are weird about their fishing spots so I’m not surprised.

“I like the fish on this side.”

I put my arm down, deciding that he wasn’t a threat. “Or you’re not supposed to be fishing here.”

The smile is gone and the light that had been in his eyes fades. “Used to be we could fish wherever. But then they went and made you get a license. Little piece of paper that says you could do what everyone’s been doing since the beginning of fishing.”

I nod. “So…get a license?”

He chuckles, but there’s no laughter in it. “I tried, but they wouldn’t let me.”

“What? Why not?”

He studies me again befire speaking. “Does it bother you that I use the beach?”

“Should it?”

“It should if you intend on making friends here.”

“With these people? Pssht. They don’t want to be my friend. I’m an outsider. And an American at that, no matter how I try to assimilate.”

“Yeah, they don’t care for me either.”

“And why’s that?”

He sticks his hand out. “Name’s Lu. Lu Fox.”

I shake his hand and give him my name. “But everyone calls me Jane.”

“Jane?”

“Yeah. I’m a writer and was always a big reader. First big book I ever read was Pride and Prejudice and I was sort of obsessed. Wrote my own stories about it. The nickname stuck.”

“Oh that’s why you were talking into your phone. Makes sense. You writing out here?”

I laugh darkly. “I’m trying to. Writer’s block is a bitch.”

“Might help if you could take a nice shower instead of a cold one.”

I chuckle again. “Well…you may have a point there, Lu.”

His blue eyes are like the water behind him and he looks at me again, as if he’s finally fully judged me. Or seen me.

“Well…it was nice to mee you, Jane.” He turns to head back over the bank, his broad shoulders flexing slightly as he runs his fingers through his hair. He disappears and my beach feels a little more empty without him here.

I head back inside and write the most I’ve written in a very long time.

—----

I don’t see him again for a couple of weeks, but then again, he could be hiding from me. Or whomever told him he’s not allowed to fish.

God I wish he’d come back. Not just because I find myself suddenly able to write when being around him, but his presence just…I’m not sure. There’s also this layer of sadness and guilt to him, hiding just behind those baby blue eyes. It’s fascinating, from a human study perspective. Although I’m sure he wouldn’t want to hear about that.

Sitting on a towel on the beach is getting old so I explore more of the house. Opening a small shed outside, I find some old patio furniture, a small table with an umbrella and a couple of chairs. They’re a little banged up and dirty, but a quick inspection and cleaning tells me that I won’t fall through the chairs. At least not yet.

I bring both of the chairs to the beach, intending to use the other one to rest my feet on. Or to offer to Lu if he happens by. The table, however, is the bane of my current existence. It’s heavy as fuck and my arms are straining with the effort of pulling the damn thing towards the beach. Once I hit the sand, it all but gives up, the groaning of the metal mocking me.

“Need a hand?”

I jump, not realizing anyone was there let alone watching me.

“You gotta stop sneaking up on me, Lu.”

He smirkls. “Next time, I’ll just watch you suffer then.”

I roll my eyes but I can’t hide the small smile that creeps up. “Next time?”

He blushes, pink cheeks radiating out from his beautifully tanned skin. “I..uh…d-do you need help?”

I watch him for a moment, deciding now wasn’t the time to push the topic. “Fuck, yes please. This table has it out for me, I swear.”

He grabs one side of the table and I grab the other. Together, we manage to get it by the chairs, Lu sinking it slightly into the ground to help stabilize it. After, I gesture towards the second chair.

“Have a seat? I can go grab us some drinks.”

It’s my turn to be analyzed, and he does it well. I feel like I’m being judged, but not in a harsh way. More like someone trying to figure out any hidden agenda.

“Sure. I got a few minutes.”

I head back inside and make up a quick tray of small snacks, sandwiches, and drinks, heading back out and placing it on the table. A small bowl containing food for his dog is placed on the ground, with an additional bowl for water and the dog looks extremely grateful as he chows down.

“So what made you drag all of this down here?”

I shrug. “There was too much crap in storage. And I was getting tired of sand in my lady bits.”

He laughs but it almost looks like his body isn’t familiar with the action, shoulders tensing with the unnatural release.

“You’ve got a point there.”

“I don’t want anything in me that I didn’t invite to come inside.”

The words leave my mouth before I realize the double meaning. I take a quick drink, trying to see him out the corner of my eye, hoping he didn’t read too much into it.

No such luck.

“Invited in, huh?”

Ok, trying to play it cool here. I wave my hand as I swallow my sip. “Sand? Not invited. You? Open invitation.”

What the fuck did I just say?

Apparently I’ve left my mouth under the control of someone else but now they’ve turned control back over to me after saying basically, “you can fuck me whenever you want.”

Lu chokes on his drink as the words leave my mouth, coughing and sputtering, but also holding back a smile as he regains his composure.

Before he can say anything I stand, knowing my cheeks are burning and my confidence in myself has been swept away into the water. I almost start to run, anything to get away from the situation that I have opened myself to. I mean, I would never say no to that situation coming up but…that’s so not the point.

I make it to the screen door, pulling it open and letting it slam behind me as I walk the 2 steps to the main door, fumbling with the handle. Suddenly, I feel him, standing on the outside of the screen, hesitant to open it to make me feel obligated to something, but wanting me to know it’s ok, that I didn’t just embarrass the hell out of myself and that he’s ok with moving on. It’s almost as if he enjoys his time with me too, despite how limited it’s been. Why else would he put up with me?

I turn, slowly, bracing myself to meet those piercing blue eyes that can actually see me. And when I do, I can’t stop myself.

I open the screen door, staring up at him as he looks down at me, his eyes flicking between mine, trying to read my intentions, letting me know nothing has to happen. Ever. He’s content with just being around me. But one thing’s for sure - he’s leaving it all up to me.

Gently, I take his hand and pull him inside, the screen door slamming closed behind him. He’s still watching me, his eyes studying my entire body for cues, not wanting to push. But there’s a growing intensity there, a need, a desire that he’s trying to push down in case nothing happens.

But I need his consent too. And silently I receive it with a quick raise of my eyebrows and a small nod from him.

I have to stand on my toes to meet his lips, which are surprisingly soft and gentle against my anxiety bitten ones. His hands find my hips and lightly settle there, a soft grip on them as he pulls me closer to him. His tongue licks lightly at my lips, still asking for the permission I have already granted him, not wanting to overstep. My tongue darts out to meet his and I feel his fingers tighten on my hips, his body trying to close any space between us.

I take a step back, my fingers finding his belt loop and pulling him along with me. He gets the hint and moves me forwards, pushing my ass into the door behind me as he deepens his kiss. I shift my leg up his thigh and he swings his arm around it, pushing it up higher to loop over his own hip as he lightly grinds into me. Breaking the kiss, I whine into the humid air, Lu taking full advantage of my exposed neck to kiss and bite me there, groaning when my fingers find his hair at the back of his neck, tugging slightly.

Then the tension pops.

He slides his hand up my leg, feeling for the ties at the hips of my bathing suit, quickly undoing them and letting it drop to the floor. My hands fumble at his shorts, but I manage to pop the button open and slide them down just enough for him to spring free, dick lightly slapping against my wet cunt.

He grips the back of my other thigh and pulls it up around his other hip, helping me to straddle him as he pushes my back into the door. One arm wrapped around his broad shoulders, I use the other to grip him, lining him up as he slides me down onto him, both of us moaning out as he inches his way inside me, stretching me in the best way possible. Our mouths are still attached, open and breathing into the other as he pulls out and pushes back in, setting a pace that has him hitting some spot at the very back of me, stars erupting in my vision as I come, crying out his name as he prolongs my release. A few more hard thrusts from him and he moans into my shoulder, coming hard as his hips sputter, trying to fill every corner of me.

We stay like that for a few minutes, just breathing heavily and feeling the other. He quietly slips from me, placing my feet back on the floor before gripping my hips and pulling me to him again, kissing me deeply against the door.

It’s now that I realize the groan isn’t coming from me or him, but from behind me.

Lu must relize this too as he pulls me off the door and to him, just as the door takes one last creak and falls backwards into the house, the bottom hinge attempting to hang on, the top half of the door slamming loudly on the wood floor.

“I can fix that.”

I look at Lu and we both start to laugh, his smile just barely reaching his eyes as it stretches across his face, lighting up the porch.

“I’ll hold you to that, Lu.”

—-----

True to his word, Lu repairs the front door that day, taking some additional time to see what else needed repairs. I’m not sure how much of a handyman he is, but I decide I don’t really care because that next day he fixes my hot water heater and I can finally take a hot shower again.

Lu takes his time fixing up my place. I assumed it was just for the amazing sex, but when I ask him, he says he likes hearing me mutter to myself about my book because nothing ever seems related as i only verbalize less than half of what I'm actually thinking. He likes watching the process.

I’m just glad there’s an actual process to observe.

Lu’s presence inspires me and I find myself able to write more and more with every passing day. It’s not that he’s in my book, but more that he somehow gives me the confidence I need to actually write something that’s not entirely shit.

I wish I could do something similar for him. The sadness in him is still very much there, always present in his eyes and hunched over posture, like it’s literally weighing him down. I don’t dare ask him outright, not wanting to intentionally hurt him.

—----

The townspeople are talking now. Before, they’d mostly ignore me, maybe giving me a rolled eye here and there, but mostly just smiling long enough to take my money. But now, it’s like they’ve all taken an interest, telling me I need to “Stay away from that Fox boy” because he’s bad news. But when I ask how, no one can really give me an answer. They glance around and say something about “Buckridge”. I’m pretty sure that’s the top fisherman around here and he’s some sort of local celeb.

Like I give an actual fuck.

—----

A few months after my arrival, I’m sitting on my back porch towards evening, sipping on some homemade lemonade I’d managed to perfect, gazing out over the sand banks towards the beach. Lu was off fishing or doing whatever it is he does to make money, which always gives me time to sit and think without the presence of another human or animal. I thought I’d hate living so far from a city, but it’s growing on me.

Or at least a certain someone is.

I hear rustling in the brush near my house and it sounds big. I know Australia has some very unique animals, but I’ve been here a while and I’ve never heard anything this big. I still my movements, thankful I’d been sitting out here a while for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. Those movements are definitely not an animal. They sound like a person. Is someone from town lurking around my house?

Silently, I reach for the baseball bat Lu had placed next to my front door a few weeks ago in case I needed to look larger to local wildlife. I never thought I’d have to use it on a person.

Just then, a body falls out from the brush, hitting the dirt with a pathetic “oomph”, barely moving after the fall. I grab my flashlight and shine it towards the person.

“Lu!”

I dart out of the porch door, full out running towards him, dropping the bat to his side where I also lay the flashlight down, touching his shoulder to get him to turn. He jerks back, unsure of who I am.

“It’s me. It’s Jane. You’re at my place.”

This seems to calm him down, his eyes finally able to actually see me and take me in.

“Jane?”

I hate how forced his voice is, hate the violent cough that follows. I coax him to stand, having him lean on me as we shuffle to the house. I manage to get him inside the porch on the patio couch. He stretches out, taking some sharp breaths and groans as he grips at various parts of his body.

“Let me look at you. Ssshh it’s ok. You’re gonna be ok.”

He’s already shirtless, cuts and scrapes and bruises adorn his torso, matching his face. His shorts are torn in places and I realize now that he doesn’t have on any shoes. His feet have major blisters on them, as if he’d been walking barefoot for a while.

“Let me call an ambulance-”

“No.”

It’s quiet, and choked out, but it’s a strong reply regardless.

“Lu, I don’t know if you’re bleeding internally or something is broken, I-”

“No hospitals. Nothing broken.”

I’m not going to win this one, so I make do with what I can.

“Well if you get worse, you’re going. No fighting. Now, I’m going to grab the first aid kit, hold on.”

Sprinting inside, I grab a small first aid kit that I’d stocked up when I got here, fully knowing my own clumsiness would require me to have a good supply of ointments and bandages. I also grab a bowl and fill it with warm water and toss in a clean rag. I set the bowl gently down on the floor next to Lu, taking the cloth and wringing it out.

“I’m going to clean you up a bit but we need to get you in a bath. Ok?”

“Mmm.”

Gently, I dab at all of the cuts, taking note of the ones that looked deeper and the bruises he winced over. It’s obvious he’s exhausted, his muscles probably on fire from doing whatever he needed to to survive. I get him as clean as I can before tossing the rag in the bowl. I take his hand carefully and give it a light squeeze, waiting for him to turn to me. He does but he keeps his eyes closed.

“We have to get you in the bath, Lu.”

He groans but nods, knowing he’s going to have to endure some amount of pain. I help him up and he nearly falls on me. Luckily, I have my feet planted and am able to support a little more of him as I guide him inside and down the hall, grateful for the giant soaking tub in the bathroom not too far from the front door. He sits on the closed toilet seat as I pour the water, making sure it’s a nice warm temperature before turning to him.

“Let me help.”

He nods and attempts to stand, but I place a hand on his shoulder.

“Just lift your hips when I say, yeah?”

He nods again, waiting as I undo his shorts and pull them and his boxers open. He lifts his hips so I can slide them down and off his legs, tossing them by the bathroom door. He pulls himself up and I help him in the tub, listening to his whimpers and groans as his body aches and screams out at him.

Finally, he’s seated in the tub and I can clearly see all of him. He’s got more cuts and scrapes than I saw before, bruises springing up almost before my eyes. His feet are more of a mess than I anticipated and I know he’ll be out a few days recovering. I grab a washcloth and some soap and get to work, gently scrubbing away the dirt and grime from his skin and the saltwater from his hair.

“It was some of Buckridge’s men.”

There’s that name again.

“What?”

“Was out fishing and I saw 2 boats heading my way. I looked in the binoculars and saw them. Buckridge’s men heading straight for me. I tossed my shirt and dove in, swimming far and deep. They destroyed my boat.”

Anger courses through me at this. “They could’ve killed you, Lu.”

“I don’t think they’d have minded if they did.”

Silence for a few minutes before he speaks again.

“I wound up on shore but a lot farther out from where I started. No boat. They probably got my truck. But I knew you weren’t too far. Or I thought you weren’t too far-”

“Wait. You swam for miles, then walked here?”

“Mmm. Had to take the brush in case they found me on the road.”

“Fuck, Lu. We gotta go to the police-”

“No. It won’t help anyway.”

“Lu, this was attempted murder! They could’ve-”

“Wouldn’t be anything I didn’t deserve.”

It was so quiet, nearly whispered, and I almost missed it.

“You don’t deserve any of this.”

“You don’t know what I’ve done.”

“Is it why you’re always so sad?”

He doesn’t say anything, but the tears building in his eyes confirms his answer. I don’t say anything, quietly washing his hair and the rest of him before helping him out of the tub and to my bedroom, helping him to laydown after I dried him off. I get him under the blankets, propped up slightly on some pillows.

“You need water.”

I get him a glass of water and grab some extra bottles along with a light snack and bring it to my room. Setting everything on the table, I help him sit up slightly to take some sips of water before he lays back, groaning into the pillows. I go to stand up but he places his hand on my thigh, silently asking for me to remain seated at his side.

“She died. And it was my fault.”

“Who?”

“Bird.”

Then he tells me everything. How he used to be a singer and played in a small folk band with his brother and his brother's wife and their daughter Bird. There had been an argument between his brother and his wife one night after a show, his brother getting in a physical fight with Jim Buckridge himself. Bird was allowed to attend that show, so she and Lu sat in the backseat, the silence between the two adults in the front seat thick with tension and accusations of infidelity. His brother tried to put on music but she yanked the tape from the deck.

Suddenly, there were honks and bright lights coming from behind them and his brother sped up. Lu tried to get him to stop but he wouldn’t. Before Lu could get Bird’s seatbelt on, the car flipped and he blacked out. When he woke, he realized he’d been thrown from the car, which was now laying on it’s roof. He found his brother and his wife in the car, upside down and already gone. That’s when he saw Bird, thrown several feet away from the car. He had stumbled towards her, promising her to get help. Help eventually came, Bird having to be hooked up to several monitors. Many doctors repeating the same thing, about how she was physically here but she would never wake and how he needed to decide whether to pull the plug or not. Eventually, he did, but instead of feeling like he let her move on to the next life, regret came pouring into him.

“It’s my fault. My fault she’s…she’s…”

He sobs, turning his head into the pillow as years of regret and anger towards himself flow out. Without thinking, I slide under the covers near him, pulling his face to my chest while cradling his head and lightly rubbing his back with my free hand. I let him cry, wailing into the night for the guilt he thinks he deserves for several minutes before I start to hum, some mindless tune. Eventually his shoulders stop shaking and his breathing levels out and I pull him just a little closer.

“It’s not your fault, Lu.”

“I pulled the plug. If I didn’t, maybe she’d…”

“No, Lu. She was only there because of the assholes in the other car.”

“If I could only have gotten help sooner-”

“Look at me.”

He turns his head, looking up at me with eyes red and puffy with tears.

“You did absolutely everything you could do. You took care of her as best as you could. Better than anyone else, I would say. Pulling the plug…that was a selfless act and you allowed her to move on. Death is hardest on those who remain behind. But you can’t live your life with the what-if’s. And I’m sure if Bird were here now, she’d tell you that exact same thing. The only one who has to believe it, is you.”

Silent tears well at the corners of his shining blue eyes, and he nods, slowly.

“When they came after me today, part of me thought I should just lay down in the boat. Let them take me. But….but then I saw her. I saw Bird. She basically told me it was time to move and I realized I didn’t want to die. So I swam. And swam and swam, all the while hearing her. And when I got to shore, all I could think about was getting to you. I think she’d have liked you.”

A sigh of relief leaves his mouth, his entire body relaxing from it and I realize he’s falling asleep. I let him hold onto me for a while before I quietly leave the room, cleaning up the porch and making sure I have food lined up for breakfast.

—----

I know he’ll be sore this morning. How could you not be after swimming that far and then walking even farther? I make a light breakfast for him, not wanting to overload him with food, and arrange it on a tray with some juice, water, and painkillers, heading to my room. He blinks awake when I enter, a small smile appearing when he takes me in.

“You brought me breakfast?”

“It’s nothing big. But if you want more, just say so and I’ll whip something else up.”

Setting the tray on the side table, I help prop him up, setting the tray on his lap once he’s comfortable.

“You gonna sit here too?”

“I don’t want to impose.”

He gives me a look. “Sit.”

I perch myself on the side of the bed, picking the skin on my fingers.

“Jane?”

“I finished it.”

He sets his fork down and looks at me. “You finished?”

I nod. “Yup. Last night. I couldn’t sleep and got inspired to write. And…I finished. I mean, I’ll have to get it edited and such but-”

“Can I read it?”

I know my face is hot again. “Oh you- you don’t have to-”

“I want to. If it’s ok with you?”

His bright blue eyes find mine and they’re genuine. They also seem…lighter? Than normal. Like he’s not weighed down with as much grief as he was last night.

“I- yes. Of course.”

I bring my laptop over and sit next to him on the bed, pulling up my finished work. As I pass him the laptop, I feel open, on display, like he’s inspecting every corner of me.

“Don’t worry about accidentally deleting anything. I have it backed up in several places.”

“Smart idea.”

I can’t sit here while he reads it. Not just because it’s long but I’m nervous. I always get this way when people read my work, published or not. I just want to hide sometimes.

Lu takes the rest of the day to read and to relax and heal. I bring him meals and helped him walk to the bathroom once before he waved at me and said he’d be ok. That night, I fell asleep next to him as he was still reading, and I have to admit that I love the feeling of him in my bed.

Even if I do want to throw up at the idea of him reading anything I’ve written.

—----

Soft lips brush against mine as my eyes blink awake. Lu pulls back and studies my face, pushing hair out of my sleepy eyes.

“I finished it.”

I’m awake now.

“You..you did?”

“It was amazing, Jane. I’m not just saying that, I mean it.”

He goes on to give me a surprisingly in depth analysis of it, offering feedback and what his favorite parts were. He also left comments if he saw any typos, which I profusely thanked him for.

“So I guess this means you’ll be heading back to the States?”

“What?”

“To get it edited and printed or..or whatever happens.”

I honestly hadn’t thought that far ahead. I wasn’t even confident I’d start writing, let alone finish.

“I’ll send the manuscript to my agent and they’ll pass it on to the editors and all of that.”

“And then what?”

Then what, indeed.

“And then I have to head back to the States.”

He offers me a sad smile. “I’ll be sad to see you go-”

“Come with me.”

He sits up more, his eyes flicking between mine, searching for any sign of a joke. ��What?”

“I’m serious. Come with me.”

“Jane, I-”

“You’ve been telling me how you’ve wanted to get out of Australia. That…that you don’t have any ties here any more. Come with me. And if you decide you hate it, then…then you can come back and I’ll buy this house from my friend’s husband and-”

“Wait, wait. You’d really want me to come with you?”

Time for a confession.

“I can’t imagine my future without you in it, Lu.”

That following week, we close up the house and pack our things, ready to close the chapter on our past and move on to the next one together.

—----

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