#I had important thoughts in the original tags but whatever i guess

[krussyarts]

I am so normal about sonic prime guys haha

I lied I'm absolutely insane.

[yellowbunnydreams]

Bunny Ears (Part 2) ~William Afton X F! Reader~

~Prepare for fluff!~

Part 1

Tag List: @ruh--roh-raggy @h4nluv @sleepy---head

Cw: CW: Minors DNI, (18+ ONLY), Female Reader, legal age gap (Reader- 20's, William - 30's), divorce/processing divorce (more tags will be added later in the story)

The last shift of your first week at Freddy's was welcomed with open arms by the time it arrived. You had known it would be chaos dealing with children, change, tickets, prizes, the arcade and all the fun responsibilities that came with being a restaurant but by the Saturday morning, you were ready to have a day off and take off the shoes you'd brought to work in.

Two days in you had decided that the somewhat flimsy shoes you had originally brought with you were no good after you were tired of getting your toes stepped on by small children, so you had been and bought some still pretty but sturdy black boots to work in and ever since you had been minorly less injured by children. Minorly. Children were prone to being slightly feral when hyped on slightly watered down fizzy-drinks and pizza as well as surrounded by bright lights and colours.

Spotting a child trying to climb on stage, you sigh and walk over with a bright smile, gently tapping the kid on the shoulder and making them turn around as you bent down to their height. Your bright red vest and confetti blouse wrinkling slightly as you almost ended up kneeling on the sticky carpet, the kid's face scrunched up in annoyance at the intrusion of his playtime until he noticed it was a member of staff.

"Hey buddy! I've been so silly and forgotten the rules of Freddy's and you seem like a smart little man," You said brightly, watching the kid puff out his striped shirt chest and straighten up, trying not to smile that somebody at Freddy's had called him smart. "can you tell them to me again?"

"Sure I can! I can cause I'm smart!" He tried to lower his voice to sound more important, and it made your heart melt slightly as to how adorable it was. Nodding encouragingly as you waited for him to speak.

"Go on then buddy."

"Well umm... You gotta not run! That's the biggest rule and the biggest means it's first! Then um... umm, oh you've got no loud noises...Go to the bathroom? Know where your mommy is!...um...umm. Don't touch Freddy? Don't hit other people! and um..umm that's it."

"Well done superstar! What were you about to do when I came over?" You asked, knowing the kid was puffed up in pride and would walk right into the question.

"I was going to give Freddy a hug!" Suddenly looking sheepish as he realised what had happened and why you had asked him. His shoulders sagging and his lip pouting as he bowed his little head, making you touch his shoulder gently again to grab his attention, making him look up and reveal teary eyes.

"I'm guess he's your favourite?" The kid nodded and you reached into your pocket, pulling out a Freddy Fazbear sticker and handing it to the kid with some arcade tokens. "Well that's okay, but you have to stick to the rules buddy, although you get a prize for being such a superstar and remembering them!"

Standing up, any thoughts of tears from the child were gone and he ran back off into the restaurant to play whatever game was popular that day, or to make new friends about their favourite animatronics. You were always surprised to see how many kids 'played Freddy's' by collecting kids with different favourites and would huddle in groups, taking turns singing various songs from the pizzeria.

You jumped as you turned around and almost walked into Garret, clutching your heart thumping in your chest as you took a deep breath and composed yourself. He shrugged his shoulders at the fact he had been standing so close to you, clearing his throat like that would remedy it.

"What is it Garret? And if you say that the ladies need cleaning again, I did it twice yesterday, I'm not doing it today." You said, keen to move as you were aware that you were in front of the main stage and according to your watch it was only four minutes until showtime, confirmed over the tannoy which only seemed to hype the kids around you up more. All rushing to eat, drink and play before the next show as if they didn't happen every twenty minutes.

"No actually, Daphne has that today. But Henry said he needed you to pop into parts and services and find him a 'flux capacitor', in the labelled box and bring it to him. He needs it for the parts order next week." He shrugged and you squinted at him for a second before you nodded and thanked him for passing on the message, heading towards Parts and Services, a back room down the concrete back halls of the place.

It didn't take you long to find it, after a few minutes of searching and asking somebody where it was as they passed by. But as you opened the door, you noticed how cluttered it was initially. Sighing as you realised how long it was going to take trying to find a presumably small part in a mess of cables, boxes and half-built things you were nervous to go near in case they broke. The few dim bulbs overhead didn't help as you began to search, carefully picking up boxes or moving coils of wire to check the labels, wondering if there was any form of organisation as you opened up a large box labelled as 'fuses' and finding animatronic eyes staring back, cold and unblinking.

Sighing, you stood up again and took a half-step back to try and turn around and try not to disturb anything perched precariously on the workbench nearby. Your back hitting something unexpectedly and making you scream, throwing your hands up to cover your face and cowering back into the shelves as you startled. A large hand darting out over the top of you and gripping the shelf you bumped into to stop it from potentially tipping over.

Removing your hands from your face you found yourself confronted with a white undershirt that was stained with motor oil and grease from the animatronics, forcing you to look up and face the quizzical expression that was looking down at you. Grey eyes behind gold rimmed aviator glasses sparkling with amusement, deep brown hair and the slightest beard going on that had just started to grey closer to the temples. Swallowing hard, you blinked up at the unfamiliar man, mind racing along with your heart.

"Well I know I'm all dirty and shit but do I really look that bad?" The baritone voice chuckled, slightly gravelly and still somehow warm enough to make you melt slightly.

"N-No sir I'm so so sorry, I-I didn't mean-" You began to stammer before the man removed his arm from above your head, stepping back and sitting at a chair from the workbench, giving you a better look at him even under the dim lights.

He was shirtless, or at least, no proper shirt on but rather a white-tshirt. Giving you a good view of his broad shoulders and thick arms, the tight shirt giving you a good idea of a developing dad-body that still somehow screamed muscular and how tall he was as he stretched his legs out, crossing his arms and holding his biceps, making you glance at his hands and noticing how large they too seemed.

"Are you new here?" He asked, tilting his head to one side as he looked at you critically, his expression serious despite the humour in his eyes that you had briefly seen.

"Yes sir. I started this week." Swallowing nervously as you tried to look anywhere but the large man infront of you, occasionally meeting his eyes to be polite but otherwise trying not to stare, knowing your cheeks were already heated up enough and you could tell you were blushing hard.

"Figures, I'm going to take a gamble and say... Garret, that spotty teenage kid? Kinda weedy looking? Told you to come in here and look for something?" Hiding amusement from his voice as he sat observing you, thinking that perhaps you were too naive and sweet to be back in the grimy bowels of the establishment.

"Yes sir, he um.. He said I needed a 'flux capacitor' or something for the parts order for-" You didn't get much further as the man began to laugh, a deep bassy sound that made your chest flutter slightly as you heard it, definitely blushing if you weren't before. His face split into a grin, revealing a lopsided smile as he shifted and stood up again, once more towering over your much smaller frame.

"Yeah he's fucking with you. I'll admit, this is one of the more...creative... ways that a new staff member has been hazed." Chuckling still as he walked over to a different bench, making you realise that had probably been where he was stood before you bumped into him. "They usually get the newbies to come in here and bring random shit out, but actually having you look for something that doesn't exist, quite funny."

You felt your cheeks burning as he laughed at you and made you feel uncomfortable, squirming as you tried to stand for the scrutiny before you looked up at him tinkering away with something on a bench, realising that you hadn't seen him the entire week you'd been working there. It was your turn to cross your arms, clearing your throat slightly before speaking.

"You know, I don't know who you are. You're not wearing a uniform or a name badge, so I'd like to see some ID please." You said, holding out one hand and struggling to try and keep your composure as the broad and tall man stopped tinkering and turned his head to blink at you.

He saw you stood there, tiny compared to him and still trying to defiantly hold out your hand, demanding to see ID and prove that he was meant to be there. He tried not to smile as he reached into his slacks pockets and pulled out his wallet, thumbing through it until he pulled out two cards. His Fazbear employee card and his drivers licence, handing them over simultaneously and letting you inspect them closely.

You looked over them carefully, although it took seconds before your face paled and it fell. Body shaking as you realised how badly you had fucked up by demanding ID from the man.

"Sorry, we don't seem to have met before, I'm William Afton, co-owner of Freddy Fazbear's." Grinning widely as he plucked the cards from your hands and put them on the worktop before offering a rough, oily hand to shake. Taking a little humour in your shocked expression as you shakily took his hand, almost lost in his as you both shook and introduced yourself. Quietly giving him your name too.

"It's nice to meet you little lady, but I'm sure you have to get back out into the colourful world of Freddy's." He suggested, trying to contain his laughter as you swallowed nervously, avoiding his eyes again which was a small pet-peeve of his, but he was willing to be forgiving on that occasion as you had been caught off-guard by him and didn't know him yet.

Gesturing to the door, you allowed him to escort you there, turning back to apologise to him before he leaned against the doorframe and looked down at you with a grin, wanting to fuck with you some more before he fully let you go.

"You're welcome back any time though, Henry doesn't usually let the pretty ones come down here." He laughed darkly, making a biting motion with a slightly snarled lip at you and listening to the squeak you made as you practically speed walked down the hallway with an obvious blush on your cheeks. Chuckling to himself at the fact he had flustered you so successfully.

You practically burst into the restaurant and went straight onto your break, plopping down into the staff room and placing your head in your hands, groaning loudly as you tried to process what had just happened. Hearing the chair opposite you scrape back, you saw Stacey looking at you curiously, eyebrow raised as you just shook your head at her.

"So, you practically ran through the building like your ass was on fire, what's up?" She teased, making you shake your head again, face burning as you tried to repress your new image of William Afton and could still hear his baritone voice in your ears.

"It's nothing Stacey."

"Bullshit! Come on! Did you stare at one of the dad's too long or something?" She teased, poking at your arm and hands until you pulled them away from your face and revealed the heavy blush, making her laugh even more "Oh come on, what could have been sooo bad?"

"I met Mr. Afton." Stacey snorted as you said it, raising a sceptical eyebrow and grinning at you.

"Okay, and I mean, he can be weird but like, what else is there to-"

"Stacey I asked him for his fucking ID and employee badge since he wasn't in uniform." You decided to leave out the part where he had called you pretty and bit at you in a way that you were almost ashamed to say made your stomach flutter with butterflies, and the fact you had run into him. Physically run into him. And screamed when you saw him.

The encounter got more and more embarrassing the more you thought about it.

"Well...Shit." Stacey offered helpfully, patting your hand consolingly as you felt your body burning up in shame. "Guess you gotta hope and pray he forgets by Monday."

You knew you certainly wouldn't forget by Monday, and somewhere in the back of your mind, you knew he wouldn't either.

[red-might-be-dead]

hello hi here to force strange thoughts into your brain once again, this time about jrwi (wow who could’ve guessed)

been thinking about this for a little but it’s basically what i think some campaigns would be if not podcasts, i haven’t listened to some of the older ones so i’m sorry they’re not on here :(( if you have any ideas feel free to add them btw :DD

RIPTIDE!!!!! - really long animated series

not an anime though, no matter how much grizzly wants it, it would be an animation style where the characters could have very clearly different nose, face and body shapes, really pushing my riptide nose agenda here sorry, each episode would be like 20-40 minutes long and instead of coming out in seasons there would be massive gaps in between episodes, from 2-6 months long, to leave time for writers and animators to get stuff done (massive team of animators btw, i feel like it would be pretty successful)

PRIME DEFENDERS!! - comics

literally nothing else they could be, just really well made, well performing comics (i’ve already talked about this before you can stalk my talk tag if you really want to find it lmao), the comic company making them would be keeping well away from movies n shit btw

APOTHEOSIS!!! - i wasn’t really sure about this one to be honest

i had to ask my friend and she said anime which i don’t agree with but i can see it, i think maybe a short book series where each book is 150 - 300 pages and is about a different god they have to kill/a different episode, i think that works but if anyone has any better ideas please tell me :D!!

BLOOD IN THE BAYOU!!! - i hate to say it, i really do…

bitb would be a really long really good 80s horror book with strong homoerotic undertones, a satisfied fanbase and lots of active members in the community making fan comics, films, writing, theories and art ect… until well after the book came out……….. and then it would be made into the most egregious and awful live action movie you have ever seen, the most awful casting (like chris pratt as officer dudes….. throws up) and even worse sfx, oh yeah and the characters would be ruined and the story would become so butchered it wouldn’t make sense, they would do some shit like cut out becky so kian just kisses some random lady (removing both a really good and well written character and a layer of kian’s character that i think is super important) and make rolan really be an evil bug spy the whole time so rand has to kill him to save the town also add in a whole new sub plot that never existed like the rand family is secretly a long line of bug alien hunters or something fucking stupid like that and the entire fanbase would murder whoever thought re-writing the story was a good idea (ahaha can you tell ive been through something like this before ahahaha, character morals and motives being removed and whatnot ahahahhahahaha.)

anyways………

THE SUCKENING!!! - live action series

it would be well made though, unlike the bitb movie it would be its own original thing, have great makeup and effects also be well casted and well shot, well written, ect ect, it would bloody and gory and not suitable for people who can’t handle showing bones and organs all over everywhere, lots of shitty rip off merch would be made though and the fandom would be 99% gay little freaks (normal suckening enjoyers) and 1% homophobic straight white men who get mad whenever they see soda and emizel having gay sex on screen or whatever fag shit that biting thing was

again feel free to add your thoughts and ideas and shit in the reblogs it would be nice to read them :DD!!

[xoxoskai]

THE WHITE MASK THEORY;

PART TWO

Before I go into detail about Ava and her relationships with the Heathens, I want to clarify a few things.

I wasn't aware that Rina had confirmed that we haven't met WM yet. A lot of you pointed it out in the previous post and that's how I found out. However, I think it's even more anti-climactic if it's someone we haven't met so far to be WM because there will be no excitement involved in the grand reveal. A five-book buildup for it to be someone completely new is not dramatic or shocking at all. It'll be like the no-name nanny being the villain in God of Ruin. Most people, me included, were dumbfounded at the reveal and of course, Maya's ridiculous fall from grace.

How are you going to look at normal sibling jealousy and kidnap the sister because you thought it would do justice to the other one? You're telling me the Bratva with Kyle-fricking-Hunter, Rai-mother-Sokolov, Adrian-Daddy-Volkov as the Obschak and Kirill-dilf-Morozov as the Pakhan couldn't track down the silly nanny who kidnapped a mafia princess for shits and giggles? That they haven't been able to for the past decade? Make it make sense.

It would have made a lot more sense for it to be the Irish mafia back for more revenge.

Now, Eli King.

I swear, his character is all kinds of perfectly mysterious, makes him such an enigma.

Eli being awol most of the time can perhaps make him WM. Infact, him telling Killian "It's nothing personal, family business" before they waterboarded him could imply a lot more.

(Plus, Eli was the one carrying Niko out when he stabbed himself to save Jeremy and thus, missed Creigh getting shot.)

However, this also shows that Eli prioritizes his family over a game of tag with mafia heirs and the Heathens trying to off Creighton for being with Annika is not something he would let slide. Maybe he is closer to them than he lets on but Eli participating in the initiation feels like a far cry. Especially because Creigh has specifically mentioned that Eli is more of a strategist type, not known to use his fists to absolutely destroy someone.

Eli having his own inside contacts feels like a given. And I do believe it's a huge give-and-take type of scenario. Eli, heir to the King Empire, I'm sure realizes the importance of having connections. Especially connections with the mafia. I'm guessing his point of contact would be Killian in that scenario.

Interestingly, someone I accidentally left out in my observations is Kayden.

For everyone who doesn't know who Kayden is, he made his first appearance in God of Ruin and is confirmed to be Gareth Carson's love interest.

In my defense, we haven't seen a lot of him at all. But is he a viable candidate? Absolutely. Would I be disappointed to see him as WM? Absolutely not.

What, however, will disappoint me is that Gareth Carson being the green mask and Kayden being the WM, DO NOT GET A BOOK. AND THAT IS TOO CRUEL. AN MLM, PROFESSOR X STUDENT WHERE THEY ARE BOTH PARTAKING IN THE INITIATION FOR WHATEVER GOD-FORSAKEN REASON AND IT BEING THE PEAK OF FORBIDDEN ROMANCE IS,

You guessed it,

Not getting a book.

This is the exact same reason why I ruled out Remi Astor as well. If WM is simply meant to be a side character, why would they be such an enigma? Why is there not a book?

Kayden also checks a lot of the WM boxes of

Being leaner than the rest, hello he's a professor. He's not going to be fighting for his life every day in the mafia (or he might, we don't know his origins)

Cherry would not be able to seduce him. Kayden plays for the same team so, yes, it makes sense.

In the epilogue of God of Wrath, we see Jeremy proposing an initiation where they chase a pre-decided target only. We know why Nikolai, Killian and Jeremy would appreciate it, Gareth was not having it, but WM was. (It feels like repetition but Gods, the hatecrime it is to not have their book).

But the prospect of the Heathens allowing a professor at their university into the mix seems a little far-fetched. Not to mention, I think it was clearly stated that Kayden had arrived at Brighton recently and there was no mention anywhere of WM being a recent member.

Now, Ava Nash.

Remember I said, "Eli realizes the importance of having connections with the mafia"? That it's a give and take? If Ava Nash is really WM,

Do we really believe Eli wouldn't know?

Do we really believe he would not be keeping tabs on her?

Now, the million-dollar question is - what do the Heathens gain from forming an alliance, as discreet as it is, with Eli King?

The most I can think of is, Brighton is basically RES' turf. The Heathens are far from their powerful parents and between the mafia and the powerful families of London, The Kings, The Nashs, The Knights and The Astors hold a lot more power and influence. At some point, I'm sure they would call in a favor when the times comes for it, to wipe out the Irish mafia's main base or whatever it is these people want to do.

Would Eli really not keep tabs on Ava after two of her closest friends start dating two leaders of the Heathens?

Between all the Heathens and Ava, I think she has the most complicated and interesting relationship with Jeremy.

"Say the word and I'll bring him to you?" Bestie hasn't exchanged a single word with that man as far as we know.

"When she's not around?" What context and scenario would lead Jeremy to meet Ava when Cecily isn't around? ("Break Ava"? Bro we know you're a mafia prince but the little princeling of the King household would uproot your family if you tried. )

Jeremy, as the leader, obviously knows who the WM is.

The scene is God of Wrath where Cecily is following Ava outside before encountering Jeremy is single-handedly carrying my theory.

-> Ava, drunk, still seemed to know her way around the forest behind the Heathens mansion despite only exploring it once with Cecily and Annika (God of Pain, Chapter 5)

-> Jeremy, when spotted at the beginning, is wearing a jacket that he's discarded by the time he finally encounters Cecily. Unless my man wants to flex his Russian roots and channel his inner Queen of Arendelle, it does not make sense for him to lose his jacket when stepping out of the house.

-> Cecily is tracking Ava using an app on her phone when she suddenly changes directions back towards the house at an alarming speed that indicates she was on the back of a motorbike.

This brings me to my theory that-

It is not surprising that Jeremy was out of the house as soon as Cecily was. Which means, he'd have gone ahead and intercepted Ava first to send her back. His jacket is missing cuz, she was wearing a short skirt and was going back on a motorbike, so she needed coverage.

Yes, shocker that Jeremy is being civil to her, but I need to remind you this is much earlier than him falling for Cecily + the entire AnniCreigh shitshow. So, if Ava is really WM, to some extent, he was probably civil with her.

Either Ava went back with a bodyguard or someone else with connections to the mafia (*cough* Heir of the King Empire *cough*) was informed and came to pick her up.

The Heathens would gladly form an alliance with Eli just for inside intel about their girls all the time and vice versa if Ava really is WM.

Interestingly, according to the timeline, this is also the part where in God of Pain, Creighton tells Eli that if he's so bored, he should go to Ava and gets "If I go to her, I'll kill her" in response.

Is this because he found her wandering by herself through the forest at midnight?

Is this because she refuses to disassociate with the Heathens?

Theories, theories, everywhere.

Now, if Ava is really WM, why would Jeremy make her cry?

Because Ava made Annika cry, It's that simple.

When I tell you it's only Landon King and Killian Carson who don't care about their siblings, I mean it. Jeremy and Annika are obviously close enough to want to die for one another and if someone comes up to your sibling and calls them a murderer after they shoot someone to protect you, yeah, I'd have a vendetta against that person too, part of my cult or not.

Jeremy obviously hated Cecily at some point for it too. At how easily they all abandoned Annika and while I understand that she was new to their group as compared to Creighton who they've known their whole lives, Ava might have taken it too far by calling Annika a murderer, something Jeremy obviously heard of.

In Ava's defense, they probably felt guilty for ever including Annika in their group and causing the chain reaction of Creighton falling for her because it led to him being in a coma.

Naturally, Jeremy doesn't care about that. Ava name-calling Anni became personal to him because 1, she's his baby sister and 2, Annika was in that predicament cuz she shot Creigh for him.

At the same time, I was really mad at Cecily for not defending her childhood best friend because whatever happened to sisters before misters? Sometimes the girls only seem like friends to me for the sake of the plot considering how little they know of each other.

In God of Malice, when Killian swaps in for Nikolai and is about to go against Creighton, who is giving Glyndon a run-down about the Heathens?

Go ahead and take a guess.

How, and I can't say this enough, does she know so much in excruciating detail about the Heathens when she's never interacted with them, and they are from a completely different university? Everyone always asks her how she knows so much, and she deflects with -You have to be living under a rock to not know- when the actual situation is that no one but Ava knows so much.

You seriously can't believe the Heathens are observant to the point of knowing every little, tiny detail about their girlfriends, quirks only a childhood friend would know?

And no, Eli King, close ally or not, would not divulge all this freely. You know who would? Someone who wants to see their girlfriends get laid and happy.

I think the most fascinating thing about Ava being the WM is that I can't, frankly, think of a single reason why she would be a part of the Heathens except that she thrives on chaos (hello daughter of Cole Nash).

But it is entirely plausible that if the Heathens send initiation invites to the Elites who never attend it, chances of Ava swiping the QR code thru someone's phone is very likely.

What does Ava bring to the Heathens?

Honestly? No idea. If it was in exchange for being close to their respective s/o, it'd make sense, but WM is already part of the initiation way before God of Malice.

Did they have a particular initiation to recruit a fifth member for their close circle? Probably. Were they looking for someone who'd be willing to betray the Elites? Maybe. If Landon and Ava have a completely different type of understanding between them, do we really believe Landon to be above using Ava to spy for the Heathens? If no, why the Heathens would still allow her among them remains a mystery. Did they not know who she was related to? Did she pass the initiation with flying colors and show potential to be a part of the inner circle?

(Eli is family man first, which is why I can't see him being a Heathen)

What I do know is that Ava feels lonely among her own circle. With all her friends now spending more time with their boyfriends, she feels alone (God bless Remi, he's going to be such a good brother-in-law after being an already awesome friend to her).

I also believe that if Ava would tell anyone she was part of the Heathens, it'd be Remi. They are a lot closer than they portray.

You know who else was shit at keeping secrets, was out-going, definitely the social butterfly of the group but had a truckload of demons in their closet? Ronan Astor.

This is why, I refuse to underestimate Ava. "Disappears like a ghost" is a very interesting choice of words.

Besides, if she's really WM, she's so unserious.

Also, possible foreshadowing?

Anyways, considering Ava is also pretty close to Brandon, we'll be seeing a lot of her in God of Fury which will finally reveal who WM is. She has no interactions so far with Nikolai or Gareth for me to deduce anything between them so 6th December, we'll find out!

For now, and perhaps always (I'll reject canon I don't care) my suspect is Ava, who's yours?

[wishamongtheflowers]

Sound

Kido ran her eyes on every record of several victims for the upteenth time.

"Stray dogs!? You're telling me stray dogs are killing people!"

"I'm sorry that I can't exactly identify the bite marks or the teeth. For all I know it could be a person with unique teeth."

The sheriff could only sigh. Just his luck.

"First it's everyone who is incompetent to where I have to rely on a teenager, now this!" He could only shake his his.

"I'll keep working on all this. It's still the gray faze."

He groaned wondering out of his office, "I'm going to go get a drink."

Kido just looked at all the images and reports she chose to bring.

"Excuse me, Ms. Mukai, " Kido turned around to find a man in the doorway, "can I barrow you for just a minute."

The man's badge made it obvious to her. Future Foundation employee.

"It much be important given your badge. Don't see your rank around here much."

"Yeah we usually handle in foundation matters. I hope you don't mind."

A pull. Not any other pull dragged her. Divine Luck's own desire. It wants whatever offer he has.

"If it gets me away from work for a bit I'll obliged."

"Let's discuss this in a private area."

"Of course."

Kido held some papers as she walked out of the building. This isn't luck but chance. It's her luck which wants success. She's honest with herself. She wanted to have abundance.

"He said it's cause of the Ultimate Hope disappearance cause of Junko. From the way he was talking, I've been selected given my work. This better be worth it. It'll be the last piece of the puzzle for me."

"It will be worth it. You've been blessed with luck and a second chance in this world."

She noticed her mind seeped out of reality. She kept calm, unconcerned by what was going on.

"I wouldn't call being undead as a second chance. The divine luck isn't separate from me. It's also me, just like you."

"It is true your luck and I are you but," Kido felt some warmth sliding under her clothes, "you're a horseman. Ever sense you'd been my pet, you always fought. Even now I can tell you've gotten stronger."

"Could you please stop."

"Aw, I guess you don't want to be petted." The warmth left, thankfully.

"I'm wondering why you want to talk. You haven't appeared in some time."

"You know why. Soon he'll remember you as the Siren who taught him how to swim and the angel who set humanity free. You'll finally be rejoined with one of the original blessing."

"That..."

"Your wishes aren't his. He'll open his eyes just like you, for a second time. He'll know you as his. Don't deny it. I can tell you're morality isn't black or white anymore. Your undead but you still wish his love to return."

"Your right. I just want him to be happy. We thought this was the only way. We're both wrong. We'll have to make it right."

"Good pet. Now grow stronger than even I hope for."

It was all in her head. It wasn't a surprise as anyone would gain a mental illness if they gone through what she had. Being undead of course was an obvious cause of her warped mind. With her awareness of her illness she found a comfort in her delusional state. To have someone just there even if they're just an illusion ment a lot.

Kido didn't see a figure around so she can assume her delusional state has lessed to normalcy. A click echoed through her sanctuary's still veins. The last part came by chance over the mouths of stillness.

"Proxy should be here in an hour or so. I'll get started setting some things up." Kido's footsteps ran ahead of her.

A part of her knew something would happen either way. All she can do is wish for the best outcome.

---------------------[Tags]-----------------------

@after-neo-world and anyone else cause idk

:3

[awooghan]

24 to 25 ✧.* y.ji (part two)

➳ 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; also you can slowly see the quality of my writing decline in the end im sorry 😭

➳ 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 &lt;;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. PLEASE READ PART ONE FIRST.

part one | [part two]

network tags: @straykidsland

taglist: @hafsa-hoofsa-heefs @crow953 @urmomma0324 @tasmtrilogy

20.

Regardless of how desperately you wanted to enjoy Christmastime like you'd usually do, you just couldn’t bring yourself to do it this year.

You had long broken up with Heeseung, and while it did hurt immensely to begin with, it still persisted as a dull ache. You’re a little bummed you couldn’t indulge in your Christmas romance fantasies this year, but you figured you’d manage. You know that wasn't everything in a relationship; it was just a bonus, especially for someone like you.

But what does feel unbearable this year had nothing to do with love or romance. All you could think about was last year and the way Jeongin had left. 

It plagued your mind for weeks after that night, on whether or not you should have stayed and spent your time with Jeongin instead of bringing Heeseung to Jisung's Christmas party. Nevertheless, you had to remind yourself that you didn't know Jeongin had planned to leave that night—and no matter how much you wanted to, you couldn't go back and change the past. 

You couldn't tell if you resented Jeongin for what he did, or if you blame yourself for not listening to him. All the times he wanted to speak to you last year—maybe even to tell you, you just cut him off, too caught up in your new romance with Heeseung to even notice what Jeongin wanted to say.

Perhaps this was what you deserved for trying to follow Jisung’s advice when you were sixteen. “Date and move on,” he said. There was nothing to move on from, but you still tried it anyway.

And look where that got you.

Your original plan had been to stay nestled up in the comforts of your bed, watching whatever trash Hallmark had put out this year as you drank an atrocious amount of hot chocolate to comfort yourself. You were tempted to avoid Christmas plans altogether, especially when all the neighborhood party would do was remind you of Jeongin..

However, Jisung, the persistent fool that he was, wouldn't let that happen. Not when you could be watching laughable Christmas movies with him and his, and now your, friends. 

Felix and Hyunjin are squished together on the loveseat in Jisung's apartment, not that Felix seemed to mind as it gave him an excuse to cuddle someone. Seungmin is positioned on the floor, his legs crossed under the coffee table as he picks away at what little snacks remained in the bowls Jisung had laid out earlier. And you were lazily stretched out across the sofa, your head in Jisung's lap. Since Jisung was the one that dragged you out of bed, he was going to have to put up with your grumpy state.

"What do we watch next?" Felix calls out as the end credits of the Elf roll across the screen. He casually scans the room for your responses, his arms wrapped loosely around Hyunjin's waist. 

"The Grinch?" Seungmin suggests before Hyunjin quickly follows up with A Charlie Brown Christmas.

You pout. All of those sound good but you’d be lying if you said you were in a particular mood for any of them. It almost crushed you to say that, as they had brought you so much joy in the past, but none of them seemed to cut it this year. 

A few seconds passes by and you decide to speak up, throwing in a suggestion of your own. 

"Are there any Christmas animes? Why don't we watch those instead of a movie?" 

A deafening silence fills the room at your suggestion. The boys exchange confused glances with each other, and you begin to wonder if you said something wrong. If there were Christmas cartoons, surely there’d be Christmas animes, right? But your thoughts are quickly cut short when you hear Jisung gasp rather loudly. 

"Oh, so NOW you want to get into anime?!" 

Your frown deepens and you hit Jisung's thigh with your fist. "Shut up, it was just a suggestion." 

Another silence hangs in the room and the other three boys watch you silently like hawks, as if they were ready to pounce on you at the next move you’d make. You hate how small you feel under their piercing stares, and you shuffle to the other side of the couch in hopes that they’d stop.

"This isn't because you miss a certain person, is it?” Jisung chirps in a teasing tone. He crawls over to your end of the couch, a grin pulling at his lips as he pokes at your cheek repeatedly. “Is that why you're all Scrooge McDuck?" 

You jerk your head away and shove his hand back, letting out a strangled groan. "Oh my god, Jeongin has nothing to do with this! and it’s Ebenezer Scrooge!" 

Jisung snorts, crossing his arms over his chest. "I never said Jeongin's name." 

"He got you there, just saying." Felix chimes in with a shrug. 

You huffed frustratedly, spluttering, "I– this– this isn't about Jeongin, and this isn't about Heeseung either. can we just move on from this already?" 

"You know it's okay to miss him, right?” Hyunjin says, his voice soft. “You’re not doing anything wrong." 

"I never said that!" you groan again, raising your voice slightly. "I can’t suggest an anime because you guys assume I miss someone? Can I not do anything without you guys thinking it’s about a boy?!”

"Well, you never even mentioned anime once until now,” Seungmin points out, “the only reason you would is because of Jeongin—”

“It’s not about Jeongin!” you snap, burying your face in your hands in defeat. “God, I hate men.”

A chorus of offended ‘hey’s echo throughout the room which causes your eyes to roll. 

"After all this time? after all these years, sugarplum?" Jisung gasps, his hand over his heart in feigned offense. 

"Oh my god, you know what's not what I mean, Jisung," you huff, grabbing your phone from the coffee table as you stand up. "I'm going to get us more snacks, I hate this." 

You carry yourself to the kitchen and from behind you, you hear Jisung call out, "But you haven't taken the bowls with you!”

Without turning back, you make a face to yourself. "I'll just get new ones," you respond blankly.

The kitchen was a break you so desperately needed. While you could still hear the boys chatting in the living room, it was just muffled enough to keep your mind at ease. you thought you could get away with Jisung not mentioning Jeongin, but maybe you had put too much faith in him. 

You didn't mean it, really, but sometimes it got to be a lot. 

You unlock your phone and staring back at you is a photo you knew you should have changed earlier, but something inside of you just couldn't bring yourself to do it. 

It was an old selfie of you and Jeongin, one you had to beg him to take in the first place a few years prior. You both had your large winter coats on and his arm hung loosely around your shoulders as you both grinned into the camera. In the picture, you had a light blush on your cheeks—presumably from the cold—but deep down you knew otherwise. 

You brought up his contact. This photo was one where he isn't looking at you, but he’s still holding up a peace sign. Just the look of it and the memory of that day flashes in your mind, making you chuckle. 

Clicking on the text conversation, you're met with the last text you had sent him months and months ago, the small seen tick making you frown. 

I miss you... you type out the words slowly. Your thumb hovered over the send key, but you can’t bring yourself to press down.

The glassy feeling in your eyes appears and you blink the tears away rapidly as you let your finger fall on the backspace key, completely erasing the message before you lock your phone once more. 

What you didn't know was in his dorm room, bundled up in blankets like a burrito was Jeongin as he hopelessly scrolled through his phone. he had stumbled across a photo of Christmas lights that reminded him of you, and it took every ounce of his being to stop himself from sending it to you, finding himself scrolling through your message history instead. How could he text you so casually after what he did? Afterjust leaving like that without so much as a proper goodbye?

He watches your typing symbol come up at the bottom, only to have it disappear moments later—leaving him just as despair-ridden as you.

21.

You lost track of how long you had been cuddling against Yeonjun’s chest as Die Hard played on the tv. You had wanted a Christmas film, an actual Christmas film, however, Yeonjun was adamant that this did, in fact, count, as it happened around Christmas day. 

You gaze up at Yeonjun, your eyes lingering on his own. You smile at how much focus he has on the movie, to the point where he’s hardly blinking. 

You originally knew Yeonjun from your neighborhood, which kind of makes things go full circle for you in a way. Him being an older kid, though, meant that you never had a reason to know him personally or even have a chance to talk to him. He stuck with his group, and you stuck with yours. 

But in a weird twist of fate, you met again when you got a part-time job at a small family restaurant just off of your university campus. After a few awkward conversations and some catching up, you both seemed to warm up to each other and Yeonjun soon asked you out on a date… you happily said yes.

Yeonjun is amazing. He's patient with you, smiles at you like you light up the whole sky, looks after you when you feel ill, he takes you on adventures at midnight for snacks just because you mentioned you were hungry. 

He’s, on paper, your dream guy. Handsome, understanding, open and caring. You like him, you really do. Yet, it always feels like something's missing—but you can never put your finger on what.

The end credits of Die Hard roll across the screen, causing you to lift your weight from off of Yeonjun and stretch your arms out around you. 

“I should get home,” you yawn, causing Yeonjun to pout slightly. 

He reaches out to grab your hand as he whines. “Do you have to?” 

You match his pout, nodding your head slowly. “Yeah, I should get back before it snows.” 

“You don’t have to,” Yeonjun muses, and you watch the corners of his mouth twitch into a hopeful smile. “You could… stay over for Christmas? What do you think?”

Your breath hitches at his words, stiffening like a board as you stare at him with wide eyes.

“Stay… over for Christmas?”

He seems to notice the hesitation in your voice, and he begins to rub gentle circles with his thumb on the back of your hand.

“Think about it,” Yeonjun continues, “waking up together on Christmas day? It would be so cute!” he grins. You could practically see the tiny hearts floating about his head. 

Stay over for Christmas. He doesn't know about it, but the whole sentence makes you feel uneasy. The implications and everything they bring with them—not to mention all the memories they invoke—are too much for you to handle at that moment. Not that you’d be the first to admit it

“I— I shouldn’t,” you start, your heart hurting as Yeonjun’s lips twist into a frown. “Baby, Soobin’s here and I don’t want to make things awkward for you by intruding.” 

Yeonjun sits up suddenly, his fingers linking with your own. “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind, plus he enjoys your company. Not as much as I do, obviously,” Yeonjun cheekily grins at his words, sending a wink your way.

You huff a laugh. “Regardless,” you say with a roll of your eyes, “I... I don’t think I feel comfortable staying here yet.” Your own frown seems to match his. “So I'd rather get back before it starts snowing.” Your shoulders drop and you focus on his fingers that are busy playing with your own. “I’m sorry.” 

One of Yeonjun’s hands moves from your fingers and delicately slides against your cheek, guiding your head so you’re looking up at him. Whilst you can see hints of sadness behind his eyes, his smile is one of comfort and understanding.

“Don’t be silly.” His smile grows. “I like you and we can go as slow or quick as you want.” His hand moves from your cheek as he lightly brushes your hair out of your face. “Don’t be scared to tell me, we’ll work through it together.” 

Your heart swells at his words and you lean into his touch, placing a small kiss on his palm. “You’re too sweet to me,” you mumble. 

He disagrees. “No, it’s just the decent thing everyone should do, They're your boundaries, I’m not going to be an idiot and push them.” 

“How did I find you?” You wonder aloud. His cheeks tint red and his smile somehow grows even wider than before. 

“No, no, how did I find you?” 

Your foreheads lean against one another, and you can feel his breath ever-so-slightly tickle your skin. 

“Can you guys stop being disgusting now?” a voice huffs from behind you two.

You and Yeonjun jump apart from each other and you turn to see his roommate, Soobin, standing with a scowl plastered on his face, an empty cereal bowl in hand. 

Yeonjun grumbles to himself, muttering ‘You're just jealous,’ as he grabs your hand, guiding you past Soobin and towards his dorm room door. At the same time, you quickly call out a goodbye to Soobin and Yeonjun sighs sadly when you both stop at his door. 

He pulls you close and you can feel his body heat seeping into you. It almost, almost, makes you want to stay, as you would rather be in the warm arms of your boyfriend than face the ten-minute walk home in the cold.

“Text me when you get home?” Yeonjun asks into your shoulder and you hum in response. 

“I will." 

Before you pull away completely, Yeonjun places a light kiss onto the side of your lips, leaving you open to steal one right back. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” this time Yeonjun is the one to hum. A small smile plays at his lips. “I love you.” 

You still for a moment at his words. You should say them back—you know you should—but you just can’t. They’re on the tip of your tongue and yet you fall silent instead. You settle for stealing another kiss from him and reaffirming your words from earlier, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You can tell his smile is dripping in sadness, but you're unable to bring yourself to utter the words he so desperately wants to hear back from you. You look back and wave for a final time before you exit the hallway that leads you to the elevators and out of the building. 

When you finally make your way outside, you take a deep breath; it feels almost like a huge weight has been lifted from your shoulders. The pressure of staying over with Yeonjun is gone. But now in its place is another burden you’re not ready to think about. It had started creeping into the back of your mind the moment he said those words—a reminder of times gone by. Of another boy with dark hair and eyes that sparkled and those same, fateful words.

As you walk home, you shake your head, trying to push back the tears already threatening to cloud your vision. You’ve spent too long shoving down and ignoring those feelings just to ruin everything now by bringing them back up. You aren’t ready to think about it now and, as you look up at the clear, cloudless sky, you’re not sure if you ever will be.

It did not snow that winter. Not a single flake fell from the sky. 

22.

After years of not going to the neighborhood Christmas party, it feels weird to be back.

The party happens to be at Yeonjun’s family’s house this year, and once Yeonjun found this out, he jumped at the chance to introduce you to his family. You couldn’t help but smile at the hope swirling in his eyes that day as he gushed about how much they’ll love you.

But being the sweetheart that he is, he definitely noticed the doubt swimming in your eyes. He tried his best to reassure you, telling you how sweet his family is and how excited they are to finally meet you. 

That’s what wins you over, and now you’re here. The feeling of being home, or, at least, a few houses away from it, brings a warm feeling to your chest. To be able to spend it with your lovely boyfriend only deepens the feeling.

In a weird way, though, you notice bits and bits, just minor details that others seem to gloss over, that only tug at your heartstrings. From the movie playing on the flatscreen, to the gingerbread house tha’s about to be devoured by a wide-eyed seven-year-old, it brings this feeling of nostalgia that you can’t quite shake off. The more the night goes on, the more it seems to eat at you.

If you didn’t already think this was some weird full circle moment of sorts, you definitely do now.

Everywhere you look, all you seem to get is mirages of past times. Faint traces of Jeongin linger in the crevices of your mind. Even if it had been two years since you last saw him, he stuck to your memories like glue. 

You tried your best to push those memories to the side—to push the ick you felt every time something that reminded you of those moments away, even if it did send a chill down your spine. 

But Yeonjun just had to utter those words. “Want to stay over for Christmas?” 

It made you physically pause, the words processing in your mind. Ten years worth of memories surf through your mind at lightning speed. The slight word change gives you the worst feeling in your stomach you have ever felt—it was like a huge pit of emotions had opened up inside of you. 

You take a breath and exhale it slowly. “Do you mean stay for Christmas?” 

“Stay for Christmas, stay over for Christmas,” Yeonjun sighs, “same thing.” 

“It’s different,” is all you can mumble in response. 

Yeonjun groans, leaning his weight onto his hands that are placed on the counter sides. 

“One word difference.” 

You snap to face him, a stern look making an appearance on your face. Your voice dripping with irritation, you say, “But there’s still a difference.” 

You can cut the sudden tension that arises with a knife and it’s like that is exactly what Yeonjun chooses to do. He stands straight, turning to you, and you can see how tense his jaw is—like he’s been holding everything in, and how it’s now about to burst open at the seams. 

“We’ve been together for over a year and you still can’t even stay over. And when I offer to spend Christmas with you because I know it’s your favorite time of year, you fight me on it.” Yeonjun runs a hand through his hair in frustration. “Is it because I’m the one that’s asking?” 

“What?” you gasp, shaking your head. “It’s just, it’s stay for Christmas. Not stay over, not stay with, it’s stay for Christmas.”  

Yeonjun squeezes his eyes shut, hand still in his hair. All you can do is stare at him, waiting for what he says next. Once he does open his eyes, you can see the fogginess as in them, and when he speaks again, you feel like you’re being torn in two.

“But I’m not Jeongin, I can’t ask in the way he would.” 

You open your mouth to speak, shocked at his words, but nothing comes out. 

“What does Jeongin have to do with this?” You question. “I like you because you’re you, Yeonjun, not because you’re someone else.” 

You both stand there, staring at each other and you can’t help but feel like neither of your words are sinking in. Like they were falling onto deaf ears. 

“Well what about the snow?” Yeonjun suddenly asks. Had he been spending too much time with Jisung? 

“Yeonjun, baby, it’s just the weather,” you look at him with soft eyes, but all it seems to do is break him more.

With a hiccup, he tries to keep his tears at bay, “Then how come it never happens when we’re together?” 

You have to look away from him, not because you don’t care, but because if you look at him any longer, tears would spill from your own eyes. It would only just make everything harder than it already is.

Yeonjun’s sniffles fill your ears and from the corner of your eye, you can see him wipe his tears away. Even when he takes a few steps towards you and takes one of your hands in his, you’re still unable to look at him in fear of breaking. 

“I’ll walk you home,” he whispers gently. 

You gaze at the floor and nod your head, squeezing the hand that held yours. He squeezes it right back in a silent understanding. It’s like you hear both of your hearts cracking like glass in the silence, but it was unlike any type of heartbreak you had ever felt before… 

It can’t compare to the heartbreak you had with Heeseung, or even the heartbreak you felt when Jeongin left. This is its own brand of heartbreak, one that would last and one that would carve itself into your heart, a cruel reminder that will follow you for all time.

The walk back to your apartment is a quiet one. Your fingers stay linked with Yeonjun’s, and every now and then, you’d squeeze each other’s hands to remind yourself of the moment—of the feeling of your hands entwined with each other. 

When you’re outside of your door, it’s bittersweet and it’s heartbreaking. And when Yeonjun reluctantly draws his hand away from yours, you want everything to chase after it with your own. 

This is when you finally look up at him. 

His eyes are red and fresh tears have prickled up in his eyes as soon as they meet yours. As soon as you see his tears, your eyes quickly well up to match his. 

“We should,” he hiccups. “We should take some time apart.” 

You squeeze your eyes shut, sniffling away the sob that crawls up your throat. You feel Yeonjun’s light kiss on your cheek, and that sob defies you, escaping your lips. 

When Yeonjun pulls away, he speaks softly, as if speaking any louder would break him completely. “We’re on different pages and we both deserve people who aren’t.”

His lips linger on your cheek, like a silent plea begging you not to let him move away, but to pull him closer. To tell him that you both could make whatever it is you called a relationship work. 

But you don’t, and he soon pulls away, the warmth of his lips is quickly replaced with a damp, cold breeze. 

You regret opening your eyes when you do because you’re met with Yeonjun’s own tears rolling down his face. With no attempt to stop them, Yeonjun hiccups and looks away from you. 

“I’ll see you around, Y/N,” his voice strains. 

As he walks away, you open your mouth to yell out for him, but nothing comes out when you try. You just watch as he slowly disappears down the hallway, his shoulders hunched, shuddering slightly every time a quiet sob escapes him. 

You can’t tell if you’re lucky or not when you enter the apartment and realize that Jisung isn’t home. On one hand, you wouldn’t have to cry in front of him—on the other, you really don’t want to cry on your own. 

You trudge your way to your room, a numbness overtaking your body. You crave the warmth of your blankets and can’t wait to let them hold you in comfort as you cry for the rest of the night. 

When your blankets are secured around you and long after the tears have dried out, you sit there in self pity. Your phone is staring up at you, and you somehow find your way to your camera roll. An album of photos of you and Yeonjun sits right by your recents, and you’re hesitant to click on it. But you do, and the collection of photos from the past year and a half makes your heart wrench all over again.

You wish the relationship didn’t end this way as badly as he did, if not more. Yeonjun was perfect in every way—sweet, understanding, patient—yet, somehow, it still wasn’t enough to keep you two together.

“But I’m not Jeongin.” His words echo in your mind as you swipe through all of your selfies with him. He’s right: he’s not Jeongin. But that shouldn’t have mattered… right?

“I can’t ask in the way he would.”  He can’t.

Or can he?

If he had not flubbed the iconic line, not even with the slightest one-word difference… would you be where you are right now?

You let your phone drop onto the mattress as you ponder. Burrowing yourself further into your blankets, you try to imagine Yeonjun saying the line correctly this time. ‘Stay for Christmas?’ he’d chirp, hope lighting up his beautiful brown eyes. ‘Stay for Christmas?’ he’d pipe, a pure smile pulling his soft lips upward.

But it doesn’t feel right.

No matter how you try to picture it, there’s something about those words leaving Yeonjun’s mouth that makes your stomach twist. As hard of a time as you gave him about getting the phrase wrong, imagining him getting it right almost feels worse.

Maybe he can’t pull it off like Jeongin can. Maybe he was missing the awkward little beat Jeongin always carried when he uttered those three little words. Maybe he lacked the sheepish glow Jeongin always seemed to have creep up his cheeks when he said it, regardless of how coolly he tried to pull it off. Don’t forget the way he’d stupidly wiggle his eyebrows at you, and the faint little giggle that followed as he scrunched up his nose in embarrassment.

It’s a charm you truly believe only Jeongin could pull off.

But it shouldn’t have mattered that much. Jeongin wasn’t your boyfriend—Yeonjun was. And it’s not like Yeonjun didn’t have his own charm to him. His was more classic romantic, per se—always showing up at your doorstep with roses and a sweet smile, surprising you with dinner, taking you out for midnight drives while you blast both of your favorite songs. He’s a true Romeo, a type of lover that only exists in the movies.

“But I’m not Jeongin.”

You can’t stop Yeonjun’s gut-wrenching words from haunting your mind. It’s like the toll of a bell, its low tone ringing in every corner of your skull, shaking every crevice of your brain. Really, it shouldn’t bother you this much. 

For starters, Jeongin is no Romeo. You’ve witnessed him try to be one firsthand—multiple times, actually. The keyword here is ‘try’.

There really were no suave, overly romantic elements to Jeongin, like there were for guys in the movies. He doesn’t need big gestures like flower bouquets bigger than your head to show that he cares. It’s all in the details, the smaller things he did, how he knew you nearly better than you did yourself. Taking you to see the lights all those years ago meant more to you than any grand movie gesture ever could have. Ultimately, he doesn’t need anything else because he is enough as it is. It’s a thought that slowly crept in over time and you never even noticed until it hit you like a brick. He’s not picture-perfect, but that’s not who you want him to be.

He’s just… Jeongin. 

A part of you wants to admit it, but maybe, just maybe, he and stay for Christmas were what pushed your love for Christmas and the winter season more. But now that he isn’t here, that’s why it isn’t the same. 

Because is there really a Christmas without Stay for Christmas?

The longer you stare at the folder, filled to the brim with photos of you and Yeonjun over the course of your relationship, the more unbearable it becomes. Your thumb hovers over the back button, soon letting fall against the screen. 

Scrolling away as far as you could from it, another folder that instantly causes a mountain of flashbacks appears. Giggling at the joke title you named the album, you stare at it for a moment. You aren’t sure when the last time you looked at this album was. 

As soon as you click on it, you’re hit with a wave of bittersweet nostalgia so hard, it almost hurts.

It’s a compilation of photos of you and Jeongin, dating back to when your parents handed you your first smartphone. You’re able to scroll so far back that you can find photos of Jeongin in that obnoxious purple sweater. Somehow, as you look at it in that moment, it doesn’t seem as obnoxious as it used to be… 

Maybe it had grown on you, like stay for Christmas had grown on Jeongin. 

And how pictures of Christmases before (and all-year-round photos) made your heart seem to swell in a way you hadn’t felt in a while. All the lights that grazed your presence when you were with him, all the longer-than-necessary hugs you two shared in the snow, even the thoughts, the memories of it, are like little static shocks sending metaphorical butterflies swarming around you. It plays at your chest like a flute and it makes you begin to wonder… if the thought of Yeonjun or actually being around Yeonjun, or even his touch, made you feel that way.

You’d think since Yeonjun is—was—your boyfriend, you wouldn’t have to think so hard for the answer. Yet here you are, comparing everything you felt with Jeongin to how you felt with Yeonjun over the past year. 

It opens up the box of feelings you’ve tried so hard to push away. This time though, there’s no stopping it as everything bubbles up and spills over. 

You continue looking through the photos of you and Jeongin, hardly noticing when the pictures start to blur slightly, fresh tears making their way down your cheeks. You missed him, you missed him so much it makes your chest hurt. There’s no denying that anymore, not that there was ever a point to it anyway. You missed everything about him, how he knew you like the back of his own hand to how effortless things had been between you two for so long. 

A teary smile makes its way onto your face, unable to stop the overwhelming warmth that tore through you as you gaze at one photo of you two. Jeongin had an arm slung over your shoulders, braces-covered smile beaming up at you from the screen. You had a grin to match, happy and effortless, without a care in the world. 

That’s how Jeongin had always made you feel, even during times when you had disagreements or fought over stupid things. At the end of the day, you always made your way back to him. Because ultimately, nobody else could make you feel the way he could—like you were safe, like you were home.

Eventually you ran out of photos to look through, and somehow you made your way to your messages, scrolling through and rereading old texts from Jeongin. 

i miss you… you type out, take a deep breath, and hit send.

Instantly, he responds, making your heart swirl treacherously. i miss you too.

A second later, another text appears from him, making one last wave of tears pool in your eyes. stay for christmas?

The timing truly couldn’t be any worse than this, but you can’t deny the real reason behind your outburst anymore. All the seemingly-random bursts of butterflies in your stomach when you were a teenager slowly start to make sense. All the times your heart would skip a beat whenever he looked at you a certain way, the telltale sense of warmth you felt when you were even around him; heck, the entire incident at the winter formal—it all adds up. 

There’s no denying who your heart yearns for anymore. And, if given the choice, there’s no denying which dark-haired boy you would live everything with all over again. No more running away, only running back to him—if only fate would let you.

wouldn’t miss it for the world.

23.

“Why so glum, chum?”

You barely move your head from where you’re curled up on the sofa to look at your roommate as he bounces into the living room. His overly energetic skips come to a halt right behind you and he looms his head above you, letting the corners of his mouth drag into an exaggerated pout.

You let out a slow breath and stare back at him with solemn eyes. The weather had dropped to the all-too-familiar December chill, rainbow lights adorned the city—heck, you’re watching A Charlie Brown Christmas for the third time in a row—but you can’t seem to will yourself into the Christmas spirit even if you tried. The reason seems pretty obvious to you.

For better or worse, the boy tapping his fingers on the back of the couch as he waits impatiently for your answer is one you’ve known for years. Over time, he’s morphed from the awkward older kid that ‘needs to take a couple babies under [his] wing’, to a sweet (when he wants to be)—dare you say, mature (again, when he wants to be)—older brother figure of sorts. If anyone knows why you’re so somber as you wallow in candy cane wrappers and your favorite ugly Christmas sweater, it should be him. 

“You know why,” you grumble.

You think that’s enough of an answer, but Jisung bends down to get a better look at you and attempts to pry more. 

“Hmm, do I?”

Another, more irritated huff leaves your parted lips as you turn to Lucy mercilessly grilling Charlie Brown, and you make damn sure your back is to your snoopy roommate.

Why do you even need to explain yourself to him? Jisung has literally had a front-row seat to the entire story since before he knew how to part his hair properly. He watched you slowly and hopelessly fall for your best friend before his very eyes since you were sixteen. He witnessed you delude yourself into a bottomless pit of denial for years, pushing yourself down so far that not even the most picture-perfect guy could pull you out.

Your life might as well be a sappy romance anime unfolding right in front of him, and Jisung knows every minute detail, every moment of development, every tear you shed for Jeongin like the back of his hand. He could whip up a play-by-play of your history with that boy faster than he can for the plot of Your Name—and he loves that movie.

But you guess as the older brother figure, it also means he has to annoy the living hell out of you for it. Not that he didn’t in the first place, but usually he’d, you know, comfort you when you’re upset. 

Waddling around the couch to plop next to you, with overdramatized puppy eyes boring into your soul, is not that comforting.

“Come onnn, Y/N,” Jisung sing-songs, poking at your cheek. “Talk to me.”

Your frown etches further downward. You don’t do anything to move his hand, though, and opt to just turn your head back to the Peanuts characters.

“Cheer up, sugarplum.” Jisung now squishes your cheeks in one hand like a doting mother. It earns a whine from you, and you finally slap his hand away.

“Jisung.” You sigh, keeping your eyes on the TV. “I’m really, really not in the mood for celebrating Christmas this year.”

It makes your heart ache to actually admit it out loud, but you’d be lying if you tried to say otherwise. Christmas will always be your favorite time of the year, but all the memories you carry with it hurt too much now. It’s all a gaping hole in your stomach that you can’t patch.

“I know, I know,” Jisung says simply, but a heart-shaped smile slowly forms as he speaks. You blink as you stare blankly at him—you don’t like that sparkle in his eye. 

That suspicious grin only widens as he utters his next words.

“That’s why we’re hosting a Christmas party next week.” 

Your heart stops for a second, and you stare at Jisung with wide eyes.

“We?!” 

You’re sure Jisung senses the aggravation in your voice. You already, and very blatantly, you may add, have made it clear that all you want for Christmas this year is to wallow in your blanket burrito and watch whatever cheesy film Hallmark was putting out. 

But of course, Jisung won’t let that happen. You know he means well, but you still wonder for a second why you agreed to move in with him once he graduated and came back home from college.

“You know this is my apartment, too, right?” you add. 

“I know, but just trust me!” He beams, and it only makes you scowl more. “Oh, wait…”

His phone flashes on, a notification popping up on his lockscreen, and whatever it is seems to elate his already excessively cheerful mood. You peer over his shoulder with curious eyes as his thumbs fly across the keyboard, but Jisung places a palm to your forehead and pushes your head away before you can get a glimpse.

“Nuh uh, that’s private!” He tuts, and you frown at him again. As he slides his phone back in his pocket, the cheesy smile returns to his face. Once again, you’re not a fan.

“I need you to trust me, okay?” he says. “It’ll be fun! It’s just gonna be you, me, and our closest friends. Promise.”

You’re still not super on board with the idea. Even a small hangout seems too much for you right now, and you can practically feel the flashbacks from the last few years haunting your mind as you think.

“I… I don’t know, Jisung.”

“If I give you hot chocolate right now, would that influence your decision?”

You watch as Jisung turns around, whipping out two to-go cups from right next to him. A small smile makes its way to your face as he hands you one.

“I’ll think about it,” you mumble, taking a sip of the warm drink.

The gesture is surprisingly enough to make you say ‘yes’ a few harrowing (for Jisung) hours later, and that’s how you find yourself at your and Jisung’s “Christmas Eve Eve Spectacular”. Why Christmas Eve Eve? Who knows, but you did hear Jisung mumble something about being able to go to your neighborhood party in peace. Weird, especially when he seems to know that it’s on Christmas Eve this year. 

Regardless, you think you did a good job of decorating the apartment for the occasion. Besides the small Christmas tree in the living room themed red and gold, you and Jisung had wrapped matching garlands above the curtains and hung wreaths on your bedroom doors. Your couch was adorned with throw pillows you had gotten on sale a week ago, and, because you didn’t have a fireplace, you opted to hang the stockings right above the TV instead. It’s very homey, yet screams young and broke at the same time.

The entertainment is even better. Something about Frosty The Snowman playing on the TV while a bunch of grown men yell at each other playing Twister just feels very college Friendsmas-esque to you. The best part? You’re in charge of the spinner. You can get your daily dose of Christmas cartoons without being trapped under a bunch of loud, sweaty guys.

“You’re cheating!” Hyunjin accuses Felix, slapping his hand from the yellow dot.

“It’s not my fault you don’t know what yellow means!” Felix yells back. He slams his hip into Hyunjin’s side and makes him topple over.

The taller boy gasps dramatically, pointing at Felix as he lies on the floor. “Now you really cheated, asshole!”

You snicker and shake your head at the boys’ shenanigans. You’ve nearly forgotten about the sour mood you were in just days ago; maybe giving in to Jisung’s incessant begging was the right decision.

Speaking of Jisung, he doesn’t seem too into the Twister game, and he’s usually one of the most competitive of the bunch. He was the first one out this round, claiming he “accidentally stumbled” on Seungmin’s hand as he “reached for the wrong dot”very early in the game. Weird.

From the corner of your eye, you can see him fervently checking his phone instead of watching the game, and sometimes, you’d catch a smug smile painting his face briefly before he quickly snaps back to a neutral facade. You’re tempted to snatch the boy’s phone from his hands and read whatever the hell is making him smirk so much.

After a moment, you focus back on the game. Seungmin and Felix are the only two left. Both are at the brink of collapsing, their entangled arms wobbling under them, and you’re placing bets with Hyunjin on who will fall first.

Felix’s arms give out first, after attempting to contort around himself and Seungmin as he stretches for a red dot. He groans out in pain, and you unceremoniously shove five dollars into Hyunjin’s hands as he revels in his victory.

“Thanks for the early present, Y/N,” he says, smiling cheesily.

You make a face akin to a grimace and roll your eyes. “Yeah, yeah.”

“I want a rematch!” Felix’s voice audibly cracks as he whines, lying in a starfish position on the floor. 

“Why did you try to go under and not over me?!” Seungmin remarks with an incredulous stare.

Hyunjin snickers. “That’s what she said.”

You smack him on the chest as the other boys groan. “Oh shut up, Hyunjin!” You hiss, shaking your head at the very mature joke. “We can do a rematch, though, but it’s up to you two,” you add, pointing two fingers at Felix and Seungmin.

Before you bend down to fix the bunched-up Twister mat, you turn to Hyunjin one more time. “And no more dirty jokes!”

The doorbell rings through the small apartment, making a look of puzzlement cross your face. You know you aren’t expecting anyone besides the boys that are already here, so you look to Jisung to see if he is. 

“Did you order takeout, Ji?”

Jisung shakes his head at you, but a small smile graces his lips. “Nope.”

You blink. “…Did you order a package?”

He chuckles lightly. “One could say that.”

The growing gleam in his eye makes you furrow your brow more. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

His small smile morphs into a Cheshire-like grin.

“Why don’t you get the door and find out?”

You stare at him with a twisted face as you slowly get up. You really, really don’t like that sparkle in his eye.

Your stomach jumps with uneasiness as you make your way to the door. Part of it was due to Jisung’s odd phrasing, but regardless, you’re almost terrified to find out what lies on the other side. You just cross your fingers and hope it’s a terrible gift at best that you can pretend to like.

Your hand shakes as you slowly twist the top lock open, then the bottom. Then you pull the door open, and you feel your heart rattle in your chest at the sight.

“…Jeongin?”

You feel like you’re dreaming as you stare at the boy in front of you. Jeongin has a comfy, dark purple sweater over a white hoodie—an actually decent shade of purple that’s pleasing to the eye. He runs a hand through his messy black hair as he smiles at you, letting out a deep but nervous chuckle when he realizes he’s just fluffed his hair up more. He’s grown it out since you last saw him, and his bangs perfectly frame his face, some strands falling in front of his eyes.

You feel the breath sucked out of your lungs. Not because he looks good (but you’re not denying that), or because you pick up a hint of sandalwood and amber lingering from him that nearly makes you dizzy—but because you feel all the memories from over the years flood in all at once. First come the good memories, and there’s tons of them. The several times you played hooky with him, the night he took you to see the glittering lights… the day you first met. It all brings a warm feeling to your chest, sending your heart fluttering as a light blush coats your cheeks.

But right after the good, you’re brought back down to earth with the bad. You’re fortunate that the bad is so little compared to the good, but the night before he left for college so suddenly is one you just can’t erase, no matter how hard you try. Memories of concerned glances and the surging feelings of regret and heartbreak make themselves known once again. Every moment of longing and the mixed feelings of wanting to reconnect with him, to be by his side again, causes your insides to twist in uncomfortable ways.

You can’t tell if you want to yell at him after leaving and not telling you himself, or if you want to run into his arms and never let him go.

Say something, Y/N, your mind screams at you as you remain frozen in place. But what are you supposed to say to someone so dear to your heart, that also happens to be the reason it’s ached for all these years?

You draw in another breath, and you stammer out the first thing that comes to mind.

“H-Hi.”

You mentally slap yourself. That’s all you have to say? You have been yearning for this moment for three years, and all you can come up with is ‘hi’?

Luckily, Jeongin seems to reciprocate, mumbling a “hey” back with an awkward wave, but you still want to kick yourself for your pitiful attempt at a greeting.

You turn around to see Jisung visibly deflate at the interaction. It’s clear now that he’s had this surprise planned for a while, and all his offhand murmurs from the past week about ‘getting the band back together’ are starting to make much more sense. 

He blinks, and in a moment’s notice, his frown is gone and he sweeps in to save the moment.

“Jeongin, come here, my honey sweet!”

You chuckle fondly as Jisung smothers Jeongin with bone-crushing hugs and excessive hair ruffles. It’s just like when you were all awkward tweens and teenagers in the school hallways, except Jisung wasn’t randomly popping up behind you two, and you were all considerably shorter. You forgot how much you missed that.

“We’re about to play another round of Twister,” Jisung chirps after a minute, his arms still securely around the younger. “But I think Hyunjin, Felix, and Seungmin all want to go against each other, so you can go next round.”

Hyunjin cocks a brow. “No, they just said everyone can joi—”

“No they didn’t, Hyunjin,” Jisung bites back through gritted teeth, and sends the blond a look that makes him cower back to the living room. 

Once Hyunjin leaves the room, Jisung turns to a confused Jeongin. “Y/N’s spinning. You can keep her company, maybe catch up a bit while you’re at it?” he suggests.

Jeongin smiles lightly, but he’s shoved into the living room with you in tow before he can verbally respond.

You’re both unceremoniously pushed into your tacky Christmas pillows, and Jisung hands you the spinner. He even does the first spin for you, and sends you a wink as he moves to sit by the window.

You just blink, waiting for the arrow to come to a full stop. “Seungmin, left foot on blue,” you call when it does.

As Seungmin is stepping onto the end blue circle, you spin the spinner again, nibbling on your lip anxiously as you feel Jeongin’s body heat radiating onto you. It makes you want to squirm, and you try your best to keep your eyes on the spinner. 

“Felix, left hand, red.” 

Felix mumbles to himself, but you’re not sure what as you’re not really listening. Once he settles on a dot, you flick the spinner again. 

Jeongin clears his throat and fiddles with his fingers in his lap. “How have you been?” He attempts—keyword: attempts—to ask casually. 

You’re so focused on watching the spinner, all you do is hum in response. When the spinner slows and stops, you clear your own throat. “Jisung, right foot, green,” you call out, “and… alright,” you mumble afterward. “I’ve been alright, you?”

He watches you as you flick the plastic arrow again. “I’ve… I’ve been okay…”He trails off like he wants to say more, but he remains quiet. 

“Hyunjin, left hand, yellow.” 

You’re not sure how long you guys sit there silently for, but your insides feel like they’re trying to claw their way out of you. Maybe ten minutes of silence feels like ten hours, and you desperately pray for the game to end so you could do literally anything else.

If only your thirteen-year-old self could see you now. Maybe you were too dramatic that Christmas, because you are sure this just took the throne as The Most Awkward Conversation Of Your Life™. 

Out of nowhere, a loud gasp booms over Michael Bublé’s “Have A Holly Jolly Christmas”, the boys’ shouting, and whatever cartoon autoplayed after Frosty ended. Everyone’s heads snap to Jisung, who stares with sparkly eyes at the world outside.

You lean past Jeongin to get a glance. Light gray skies, slow-floating crystals, fluffy white blanket… it makes you break out into a grin. So does Jeongin, who smiles fondly as he pats your knee. The move makes you want to do backflips.

“Oh my god, snow!” Jisung cheers, already scurrying for the door. He mutters something about it being ‘just what he needed’ as he zips past you and Jeongin, but quickly turns on his heel when he sees neither of you move a muscle.

“Um, hello?!” the older boy chastises you and Jeongin, tossing you your coats and hitting you both in the face. “It’s the first snow of winter, what are you doing?!” He claps his hands for emphasis, but not before he shoves a pair of mittens into both your hands. “You need. To see. The snow.”

You exchange a knowing look with Jeongin but follow Jisung’s hasty instructions. Neither of you seem to move as fast as he wants you to be, so he does the job for you by hurriedly, but carefully, pushing you both down the stairs and to the lobby.

Jeongin presses his lips into a thin line, stepping closer to you as Jisung dashes back up the stairs to get the rest of the group. You smile back politely, but say nothing else. 

You turn back to the stairs at the sound of Jisung’s voice bouncing off the walls. Whether he knows you two could hear him or not, you don’t think he cares, considering that he’s already yelling at the top of his lungs.

“SEE!” He motions around himself widely. “I TOLD YOU IT’D SNOW WHEN THEY WERE TOGETHER!” A dopey smile covers his face as he holds his hands up to his chest, like he himself had just miraculously fallen in love. “It’s like magic!” 

Judging from a quick glance behind you as you make your way toward the front doors, Hyunjin seems to fully indulge in Jisung’s antics, smiling brightly and hopping up and down as they bound down the stairs. Felix and Seungmin, who trail behind them, don’t seem nearly as amused.

“Jisung, bro,” Seungmin blinks, “It’s literally just the weather.” 

Jisung’s smile drops instantly and he glares at the brunet boy, pointing a finger at him. “No! You had to be there for everything, trust me! I’M NOT CRAZY, WATCH!” 

The listless look doesn’t drop from Seungmin’s face as he follows his overly chipper friend downstairs.

Jeongin snorts, lightly bumping his shoulder into your own. “He’s still on that?” 

You open the front door for the both of you, rolling your eyes. “He never stopped, seriously.” 

The cold air hits you instantly and you’re glad Jisung gave you your gloves to wear. You scan the area around you and the only other people in sight are a group of children across the street. The ever-growing white blanket in front of your apartment complex is all yours and Jeongin’s—anything’s free game.

Unfortunately, the delicate, white crystals fluttering down around you do nothing to help the tension looming between you both. It followed you out of your apartment like a dark storm cloud, and now it’s raining on your snowy parade. You hate it. But you don’t know how to get rid of it.

“Sooo…” you start, and just as quickly trail off. “What now?”

Jeongin just shrugs, watching a snowflake fall to the ground. 

You sigh, mostly to yourself. Looks like you’re going to have to take the lead. You begin to roll up a ball of snow, making it bigger and bigger in hopes of building a snowman.

The bigger and more round your snowman base gets, the more that the little rain cloud between you and Jeongin seems to shrink away. Even though you haven’t said a word to the boy and nearly forgotten he was even there, something about playing in the snow together in silence is… healing. It’s therapeutic in its own right, the soft crystals somehow bringing a feeling of warmth to your chest as you bring out your inner child.

Just as you’re finished with the top body part and you’re lifting it up ready to place, a sudden impact of cold, wet snow hits the back of your neck and begins to slither down your back. This results in you dropping the snowman’s body and you gasp as it breaks apart into heaps on the floor. 

Turning around, you pout as Jeongin looks at you with a cheeky smile playing at his lips. He looks away, whistling innocently and shoving his hands into his coat pockets. Your glare hardens and you quickly pick up the precious bit of used snow, squishing it into a ball before lobbing it in Jeongin’s direction, just barely missing his left arm. 

“You need to work on your aim,” Jeongin remarks cockily, and you scrabble another snowball in your hands. 

Throwing the haphazardly-made snowball in his direction, his laughter fills your ears and makes the butterflies in your stomach fly. You duck as his own snowball is about to hit you, and it just skims the back of your head. 

“This is war!” You glare at your best friend. “You made me mess up my snowman!” 

“Why focus on your snowman when you can focus on me?” Jeongin laughs, making your heart speed up again. 

You hide behind the pitiful remains of your snowman and hold your hands to your cheeks. Sure, you were in a war, but you couldn’t let him see that his words affected you. You could have blamed it on the cold, but would Jeongin really believe it?

“You can’t hide forever,” Jeongin sings, his voice getting nearer and nearer. 

Keeping a watchful eye over your shoulder, you attempt to make a bunch of snowballs as you try to will the color on your cheeks away. You try to calm your breathing, suppressing any giggles that threaten to come out as you grow your small pile of ammo.

As you scramble to prepare for whenever Jeongin plans to pelt you with snowballs, all your worries seem to melt away. Adrenaline rushes through your body as you hear Jeongin’s boots crunch in the snow, but you also feel a wave of calm wash over you. It’s just you, Jeongin, and the white blanket of snow surrounding you two. Just like when you were little.

You missed this.

A small giggle escapes your lips as you peer over your shoulder one more time. Jeongin doesn’t seem to be sneaking up on you—in fact, he’s nowhere in sight. You turn around and let out a sigh of relief. You’re safe.

Until you notice Jeongin towering over you, smirking deviously.

“Did you miss me?”

You let out a squeal, backing yourself against your crumbling snowman as you frantically chuck snowballs his way. He seems to be unfazed by it, only chuckling as the snowballs split into pieces as they hit his chest, and he steps closer to you. 

Soon, you’re resorting to flinging pathetic scoops of snow at him as you try to scoot back. You’re in a fit of giggles as he inches closer, your heartbeat quickening his pace as you chuck one more blob of snow to hopefully deter him. 

It strikes him square in the face.

Your jaw drops in surprise, and you can only watch as Jeongin wordlessly wipes the snow off his face. You search his face for any sign of hurt, fearing you might’ve gone too far, but you only find a mischievous glint in his eye.

Oh no.

You gulp as he drops to his knees and continues to close the gap between you, his smug smile growing wider. A nervous giggle escapes your lips as you watch for his next move, and you grab another handful of snow in your mitt to get ready to fight back—then you feel his fingers at your sides.

“Jeongin, stopppp~!” 

You’re unable to control your laughter as Jeongin mercilessly tickles you. Any attempts at pushing him away are quickly proved fruitless by a shove of his hand, and you’re left thrashing around helplessly as he continues to torture you. 

You’ve practically been thrown into the pillow of former-snowman behind you by the time Jeongin sits back and lets you go. Gasping for air, you let out another giggle as you watch him bend over, hands on the snow by either of your sides as he catches his breath as well.

The air around you falls silent as you stare up at him. You search his face again, your chest heaving up and down. You can’t find any more signs of incoming mischief, but you find his soft gaze staring back at you, and the rosy color pricking at his cheeks. You assume his blush is from the cold, but you know yours is from otherwise.

Another few seconds pass and Jeongin still hasn’t tormented you. A smirk slowly spreads across your face as an idea sparks on your mind. 

Before you can even think it through, you spring up, arms outstretched as you pounce in his direction. He has no time to react before you tackle him, fingers going to his sides as you tickle him and get your sweet revenge. 

“You asshole!” You shriek in between giggles.

It’s now Jeongin’s turn to try to shove your hands away as he scoots back, an endless stream of giggles escaping his mouth as well. Hearing his laughter ring in your ears makes you laugh more in turn as you shuffle after him. You both grapple around for a moment and eventually land on the ground, you on top of Jeongin, your legs all tangled together.

You tickle him for another second when you look up and pause. It’s then that you realize just how close your faces are to each other, and suddenly, you forget how to breathe. Everything goes still for a moment as you stare at him with wide eyes. One more movement and you’d be kissing him.

You pray that Jeongin doesn’t feel your heart hammering against your ribcage as you’re pressed up against him, but you can’t help but wonder if his heart is doing backflips in his own chest.

Unable to take the thoughts swirling inside your head anymore, you roll off of him and onto your back, looking up at the sky. Tiny snowflakes fall around you in a light, gentle flow, but a steady one—it almost feels reassuring. It’s like the universe is sending you a message, in its own special way, that everything will be alright. 

You take a deep breath and look over at the boy next to you. His eyelashes flutter against his cheeks as he blinks, wide eyes gazing up at the snow. A couple snowflakes seem to fall on his face and he scrunches up his nose as he giggles. A fond smile decorates your lips as you watch him, and you feel your heart quicken its pace once again.

Another moment passes and Jeongin turns his head to you. “What's wrong?” he asks, eyebrows furrowed slightly. 

You shake your head and start moving to stand up. “It’s nothing, just…” you trail off, unsure what to say next. You hold out a hand to help him to his feet as well. 

The two of you stand in silence for some time. You take a small step closer to him, and you can’t deny the way your heart swells in your chest as you take in the scene around you. The snow seems to dance around you two, swirling around gently as if the crystals are casting a gentle spotlight on you both. When your eyes land back on Jeongin, you note the snowflakes that dot his chestnut hair and perfectly complement his slightly messy curls. It’s adorably awkward, but he looks cozy, like… almost like home.

He turns his head to look at you and gives you a smile that sends warmth spreading through your whole body. There’s a gentleness to his gaze as his eyes meet yours, and the way he reaches over to move a strand of hair away from your face nearly makes you melt. A faint blush dusts his cheeks as he steps closer to you, closing the distance between you two, and you hope he doesn’t notice your already rosy cheeks glow a deeper red.

“Stay for Christmas?” he whispers.

There’s no helping the grin that grows on your face at the familiar words. 

“Just come here.”

You can hear the squeals of the children across the street (and Jisung from behind you), but you feel at peace as you lean up to wrap your arms around Jeongin’s neck. A small chuckle reverberates through you as you feel him snugly hug you back, and you tuck your head in his shoulder.

You still don’t believe the snow is the seasonal deity that Jisung swears by, but something about the way it gently cascades down feels like it’s wrapping you both in a warm blanket and reassuring you that you’re okay. That you’re home. As Jeongin gently rests his head against yours and sways the two of you back and forth, you realize that this was what you were missing the whole time; not only in your old neighborhood, but during the time Jeongin was away.

Turns out the magic you always felt during this time of year wasn’t just in the snow. It wasn’t just in the whimsicality of Christmas cartoons, or your utter fascination with the holiday lights, either. It’s the feeling of comfort that comes with it, the feeling of knowing that someone who cares about you will be there to do it all with you a thousand times over. That special feeling that only Jeongin has been able to give to you all these years, even if it’s awkward at times, even if you’ve consumed one too many cups of hot chocolate for his liking… the feeling of being home.

You realize that Jeongin is more than just your best friend and your longtime crush—he’s home. And if it takes a bit of snow to realize that, that’s magic enough for you.

24...

Christmas has changed a lot since the previous year with you and Jeongin officially being back at best friend status—not that he had ever left. But just knowing he’s finally home is enough to rekindle your affinity for the holidays that you’ve been lacking for the past few years. Now it’s finally here, and the fire inside you is burning brighter than ever. 

With it being a newfound tradition in the Y/Nsung household—funny enough, you actually coined the name—your apartment this year is once again the main headquarters for all things Christmas festivities. And this time, it’s on Christmas Eve. You thought it’d be fitting, considering your shared history with Jeongin over the date. Like last year, you took care to decorate the apartment to a T, pretty garlands and shades of red and green glistening all over the living area.

The party had very much been a success, with only a few disagreements (read: screaming matches) between Hyunjin and Felix about who was actually better at the chosen game, and who was, in fact, cheating. You suspected both of them cheated at some point, but decided staying silent was probably the better option. 

And after a hearty meal of Chinese take-out from the 24/7 open restaurant, the three boys, minus Jeongin, called it a night and headed out for the comforts of their warm beds. You could still hear Hyunjin and Felix arguing as they left, with a sulking Seungmin behind them, grumbling something about having to listen to them all the way back to their hotel. 

You close the door behind them and turn to your best friend. He’s standing rather close to you, making your heart speed up slightly. The small smile that covers his face leaves you feeling comforted, loved.

It’s crazy how much can happen in a year. The awkwardness you feared would persist after being apart for three years had melted away after Jeongin (and Jisung) surprised you with his return, after that impromptu snowball fight that set your heart alight. You two spent the following few days doing some much-need catching up, and now, you’re closer than ever. It was like he never left home. Or, rather, like you were finally home.

“I thought you would have gone with them,” you mention, your own smile playing at your lips. 

Jeongin shrugs, opening his arms out wide, indicating his need for a hug. “Just wanted to spend more time with you.” You giggle, shuffling into his arms. “Without all of the yelling,” he finishes his sentence as a mumble. 

“Yeah,” you sigh into his chest. “This is much nicer.” 

Maybe it’s weird to say that you feel something in the air shift. Or maybe it was the way Jeongin subtly changed his grip on you, but something seems different all of a sudden. 

“Are you okay?” Your voice comes out softer than you expected, but when Jeongin holds you tighter and just sighs, your suspicions become elevated. 

He lets his arms fall from you and he slips one hand into your own, leading you back into your living room. An uncomfortable silence sifts between you two.

“Jeonginnie?” you finally say after another moment.

“I need to talk to you about something.” He frowns, pulling you down so you’re sitting next to him. “It’s serious.” 

A frown of your own instantly takes its place on your face. Jeongin sits there, his gaze on your one hand in his lap, and he plays with your fingers in hopes of calming himself down. 

“And I need to tell you because I don’t want what happened before to repeat itself.” Jeongin explains. “I don’t want to go however many years to go by again because I didn’t tell you myself.” He continues, now looking at you. 

Eyebrows furrowed, you gaze at him. “Jeongin, what’s going on?” 

“I… I got a job offer…”

You’re about to open your mouth and congratulate him, then he finishes his sentence, finally looking you in the eye.

“…but it’s two cities away.” 

If Jeongin listened carefully enough, he could’ve heard your heart crack in your chest.

“Oh…” 

He nods his head solemnly. “My parents are flying out with me tomorrow night to go check out apartments.” His gaze falls back to your hand that’s on his lap, and his voice grows softer as he continues to explain. “We’ll be back by New Year’s, but… once we settle on a place and sign the lease…” 

“…You’ll be leaving again,” you quietly finish his sentence, your voice wavering at the end. He nods once more. 

It’s like you were nineteen all over again, but this time, you had Jeongin in front of you—almost softening the blow. All the emotions you felt after he had left the first rush back to the surface all at once, and you nearly feel like you’re drowning. 

But you stuff it all down. You shove it back in the crackling dam that is your heart, at least for the moment. You can let out your frustration with the world when Jeongin goes home. Not now.

Be strong, Y/N. 

“We can still text,” you begin, your voice filled with hope—at least, you pray that’s what comes across. “And call and FaceTime.” 

The sides of Jeongin’s lips turn up into a small smile. Slowly, he moves his hand so it’s wrapped in yours, entwining your fingers together and giving it a reassuring squeeze. 

“We will.” He looks up at you again. “I just wanted to be the one to tell you this time.” 

You squeeze his hand back. Your heart races. “I appreciate that.” 

A thick, heavy silence spreads across the room. You’re too focused on gazing into Jeongin’s eyes to care about the world outside of your little bubble with him. But your heart cries out, not wanting the moment to end. Not when this could be the last night you see Jeongin for a while.

You want to hold his hand and hold him in your arms and never let him go. But you know you can’t do that. Not when this job could be a big deal for him, not when it could change his whole life. 

So you let the warmth from his hand seep into yours. You let your head fall onto his shoulder. You let the butterflies fly in all directions at the sight, and feeling, of his sweet gaze on you. The one you’ll miss so dearly when he’s gone.

The one you’ll cherish for as long as you can.

“YAHOOOO!!”

A loud yell echoes throughout the apartment, causing your stares to break and Jeongin to drop your hand. With the yell coming from the only other known person in the apartment, you silently think of the ways you’d hurt Jisung in his sleep tonight for ruining the moment.

Soon, a trail of slamming doors and footsteps are heard, growing in frequency and volume as they get closer and closer to the living room. Then the living room door swings open and slams against the wall, Jisung’s hand stopping it from bouncing back and hitting him in the face whilst he prances into the room with the largest gummy smile you've ever seen. His cheeks are all pink and he looks like he could burst into happy tears at any moment.

“Guess what, my babies!” he sings, maybe a little too lively, “Looks like your guardian angel came to the rescue, Jeongin’s not leaving tomorrow!”

Blinking, you sit there, your lips twisting into a confused grimace as he dramatically wipes the corners of his eyes with his sleeve. You want to wholeheartedly believe your fanatical roommate. You wish so desperately for this to just be some bad dream you’re about to wake up from. But the way your heart continues to squeeze in your chest, even as Jisung skipped into the room so cheerfully, tells you all of this is real. The idea that a last-minute Christmas miracle is about to turn things around sounds too good to be true.

You’re about to interject and beg Jisung to explain, but he beats you to it, sensing the skepticism on your and Jeongin’s faces. “Look outside!” He feverishly points to the window. “You’ll see what I mean!”

Lifting your head off Jeongin’s shoulder, you exchange confused looks with the younger boy as you both get on your feet. He leads the way to the window by your front door, blindly reaching behind him for your hand and connecting your fingers when he finds it. You notice Jisung wiggling his eyebrows at you and almost let go to make him stop, but Jeongin lightly squeezes your hand before your fingers can slip away. 

Heat rises to your cheeks as you push the blinds to the side, and you hope Jeongin doesn’t glance your way and notice. Luckily, he’s too occupied with gaping at the scene outside. And so are you.

It is, in fact, snowing—and it’s snowing hard. Wind howls against your thin apartment walls as the icy flakes come pouring down, a thick, white fog blurring your view of the street below you. 

“Wow…” you mumble to yourself. In the fifteen or so years since you’ve moved, you’ve never witnessed a snowfall this hard. Let alone on the first snow of winter.

“It’s snowing like this all over the country,” Jisung remarks, showing the two of you the weather report on his phone. Jeongin scrolls through the list with one finger and, to his horror, the city where his new job is located is there. 

“You know what that means?” Jisung continues, a small smirk on his face. “No leaving, at least for a few days.”

You keep your gaze out the window, your spirits brightening at the news. As selfish as it was, you could barely control the surge of happiness bursting inside you at the thought of having Jeongin around for a little while longer. 

Maybe a Christmas miracle is possible.

You completely miss Jeongin’s loved-up stare as you look back at him, a concerned frown on your face. “What about your flight tomorrow?”

He shrugs, rubbing his thumb in circles on the back of your hand. “I’ll figure something out,” he mumbles.

He steps closer to you, and you swear you see sparkles in his eyes as he gazes into your own. You forget Jisung is there as the taller boy leans down until your noses are nearly touching. A small smile grazes his features as he whispers, a gentle but playful timbre to his voice:

“Stay for Christmas?” 

“I– um– uh–” you sputter at the sudden close contact, your eyes widening in surprise. You take a second to breathe and recompose yourself before you try again, sheepishly gesturing to the window, “I don’t think you have a choice.” 

You carefully watch Jeongin for his reaction. He seems to lean forward, inching his face even closer to yours, and you feel your breath get caught in your throat. 

The boy squeezes your hand and leans his forehead against yours, a shameless grin on his face as he flashes you a wink.

“Fine by me.”

You pray that he can’t hear your heart pounding in your chest, or that he doesn’t mention how red your cheeks are. You note the pink tint dusting his cheeks as he steps back, in case he decides to tease you for the latter. Despite your embarrassment, the shy giggle that slips out his mouth still makes you smile.

Jisung suddenly breaks the moment with a dreamy sigh, a hand flying over his heart. “And it’s all thanks to snow!” 

You roll your eyes dismissively. “How much longer are you going to keep on about this magic snow?” you ask, causing Jisung to snort. 

“As long as I want, Miss Tuxedo Effect.” 

You can practically hear the shit-eating grin on Jisung's face. You drop Jeongin’s hand as you snap your head to the older boy, throwing a scowl his way.

“‘Miss Tuxedo Effect?’” Jeongin questions, an eyebrow raised as he looks between the two of you. 

If your cheeks weren’t already as red as a tomato, they surely are now. “Don’t ask,” you grumble, swiftly heading to the kitchen to try and evade his prying. To your disdain, he follows you like a lost puppy.

“What’s he talking about?” he asks again. When Jisung, who’s treading behind you two in amusement, goes to open his mouth, you glare him into silence.

“It’s nothing.”

That seems to shut your overly curious best friend up long enough for you to pour yourself a glass of milk. The less Jeongin knew about the tuxedo effect incident, the better. You don’t need two boys torturing you about it, especially when the first one still refuses to let it go after eight years.

You watch him in silence as your drink heats up in the microwave, his eyebrows knitted together as he tries to search your and Jisung’s faces for answers. You maintain a poker face, but of course Jisung revels in Jeongin’s nosiness.

“Jeongin, think about it,” he hums, casually taking a bite of one of Felix’s cookies. You resist the urge to slap it out of his hand.

“Don’t,” you glower at him.

“How many times has she seen guys in tuxedos?” Jisung continues, his cheeks casually puffed up with food.

“Depends,” Jeongin looks to his friend and shuffles closer to you, “are we counting movies?”

Jisung snorts, nearly spitting out a chunk of chewed-up cookie. “Don’t include movies!” He covers his mouth with one hand as he gulps the bite down. “You’ll never narrow it down if you do!”

Your jaw drops in offense as the boys fill the kitchen with giggles. “Hey!”

An embarrassed flush creeps onto your cheeks again and you turn to pull your mug out of the microwave. You take a sip of the warm milk as you stew quietly, waiting for their laughs to die down. 

“Okay, okay, seriously,” Jisung pipes up after a moment, stifling another giggle. “If you just look at high school…” he glances at you, his mouth quivering into a teasing grin, “she’s only seen guys in tuxedos, like, three times.”

“It was more than three!” You exclaim defensively, placing your mug down before you list off… every single time you’ve seen a boy in a suit.

You can’t believe you’re having this conversation.

“There was junior prom,” you hold up a finger, “senior prom,” you hold up another finger. You hesitate, then add, “the one time I went to homecoming—”

“Hey, that homecoming one doesn’t count!” Jisung protests. “You volunteered for extra credit!”

You groan and throw your hands up in defeat. Okay, maybe it was only three times, but you’d rather do anything else than admit it..

“Then what else is there?!”

Jisung shoots you a challenging look, eyebrows raised as one corner of his mouth threatens to twitch into a smirk. Your exasperated look immediately drops. You know, Jisung knows… and a quick glance at Jeongin tells you he just figured it out.

“Don’t tell me it was the formal?” The taller boy watches you with wide eyes.

“Jeongin!” you whine.

He gasps, a hand slapping over his mouth as he leaps over to smother you. 

“It was!”

His name escapes you once again as you use his shoulder as a way to try and shield yourself from the embarrassment—and him seeing the bright red tint currently burning your cheeks. 

“You thought I was cute when I wore that oversized suit?” he chuckles, letting his arms go around you.

“Shit up,” you continue to whine. 

Jeongin’s deep chuckle basically vibrates through you, it makes the butterflies in your stomach scatter. Your ear tingles when you feel his hot breath brush against it.

“If it's any consolation, you looked really good, too.” 

You smack his chest and turn your head away from him in hopes of him not seeing your blush. It fails miserably. 

“Oh my god, you’re blushing so hard,” Jeongin coos, using his free hand to try and get you to face him again. “Look how cute,” he hums.

With his fingers on your chin, you shut your eyes tightly. There was no way you could look him in the eye and have a rational thought. Not now, not when he was being so open and—dare you say it—flirty with you. 

“You’re so annoying,” you mumble, your eyes still closed. 

On the contrary, you don’t know how much more your heart can take. You don’t even have to open your eyes to know Jeongin is still smirking his ass off. 

“You don’t mean that, right, Miss Tuxedo Effect?” 

Your eyes snap open, your jaw tightening in an attempt to glare at him. He did not just go there. But at this point, with this new cocky attitude, why did it even surprise you he’d stoop so low? 

“You—” Your mind lapses and you’re unable to finish your sentence. 

Jeongin tilts his head slightly, his smile still crooked. “You?” 

Maybe it’s by sheer luck on your part or utter stupidity on Jisung’s, but a small noise makes you both turn and look at the older boy, who has his phone held up at the two of you. 

click.

He backs away slowly, retreating to the living room door. “You'll thank me for these later.” 

Rolling your eyes, you stare at him. “Why? Because the magic snow told you so?” 

Jisung gasps, pointing at you with a glare. 

“It’s not magic snow, it’s fate and I’ve already proved it enough times!” He yaps on. Huffing, he crosses his arms over his chest and his eyes narrow at you. “By the way, Jeongin will have to sleep in your room.” 

You freeze at his statement and feel all the color drain your face. 

“Uh…” you gulp. “Why?” 

“Well you see,” Jisung starts. His eyes flutter around the room, unable to stay on you. “The… the pull-out is broken!” He snaps his fingers before pointing at you. “Yeah, yeah, last time Hyunjin was here, he totally ripped it to shreds, sugarplum.” 

You blink slowly. The last time Hyunjin was here was last month, and Jisung was using the pull-out last week just fine.

“It’s just so broken now,” the older boy continues on his tangent, making a tsk noise and shaking his head. “He said he’d replace it, but he hasn’t yet, so it looks like Jeongin is going to have to bunk with you.” Jisung tries to laugh as he shrugs his shoulders. 

“Uh…” you repeat. 

It’s not that you didn’t want to share your room, let alone your bed, with Jeongin. He’s been your best friend for fifteen years—if there’s any guy on the planet you are comfortable doing that with, it’s him. Not even Heeseung or Yeonjun reached that level with you.

But even though you and Jeongin are attached to the hip, you two were never this close. Especially not when your parents shut down every attempt to stay for Christmas growing up. Why didn’t they just let you two do it? Surely, if they did, this wouldn’t be making your palms sweat as much as they are right now. 

That wasn’t the only issue now, though. Not when he could be moving away any day now, if it weren’t for the blizzard outside. Not when it took you this long to realize what you would give for him to stay.

Not stay for Christmas. Just stay.

“I can sleep on the normal couch,” Jeongin suggests, breaking your train of thought. Jisung feverishly shakes his head. 

“No!” He yells, his eyes wide. “I mean, you can’t, it’s so uncomfortable, you’ll have a bad back. It’s better to share with Y/N!” 

Jeongin’s cocky attitude seems to dissolve in seconds. His smirk melts into a small sheepish smile, the tips of his ears turn pink, and he can barely look you in the eye. 

“Is that okay?” he asks in the smallest voice ever. 

It’s now or never, Y/N. 

“Sure,” you smile. “It’s fine.” 

Jeongin shuffles out of the room, leaving you to glare daggers at the boy who’s gone back to nonchalantly snacking on Felix’s leftover desserts.

“You are so full of shit,” you grumble, feeling the blood rush to your cheeks again.

Jisung just gives you a tilted smile mid-munch.

“Would it help if I said the snow told me to do it?”

You slam your hand on the kitchen island, throwing your head back in despair and frustration. “You’ve lost your mind.”

“I didn’t, the snow did!” Jisung yells after you as you stomp out of the kitchen.

As Jeongin hogs the bathroom and gets ready for bed, you replay your words over and over in your head as you pace back and forth in your room, creating a small draft. ‘It’s fine’?! Are you crazy?! It’s not fine. It’s not fine at all.

Why did you agree to let Jeongin sleep just centimeters away from you? Is it too late to back out and hide in Jisung’s room for the night? If anything, Jisung deserved it for a multitude of reasons, the primary one being his ongoing snow escapades. You don’t know why you didn’t try fighting back on that earlier.

Running a hand through your hair, you heave out a sigh and flick the lights off. You pull your duvet up and shuffle under the covers, bunching the blanket around your chest and letting your arms rest on top of it. A strange feeling swirls in your stomach as you stare up the ceiling, and you truly think about what you just signed up for.

After fourteen years, you’re finally getting that Christmas sleepover you and Jeongin have been joking about since you were ten. Well… the one you’ve been joking about since you were ten. Jeongin started it, then attempted to forget it existed for a while, then he started joking along with you. However, at some point… it didn’t feel like you were joking anymore.

You don’t remember when, specifically—if there even was a specific moment. You just remember that at some point, despite years and years of endless teasing on your part, you genuinely wanted this sleepover. With all the roadblocks you two had endured during your childhood and teen years, though, you thought it’d never happen. 

And now, here you are.

The soft click of the door opening causes you to look up. Light from the hallway floods into the room and Jeongin smiles warmly at you. His hair is fluffy and he still has a few drops of water on his forehead from washing his face. He smooths out his oversized black t-shirt a little as his eyes meet yours, then he looks down and dusts off his gray sweatpants. You can’t help but smile fondly at the sight. 

His smile fades into something more timid as he closes the door behind him and shuffles over to the bed. Before climbing into the covers, he looks at you, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. 

“Is this…” he hesitates, “Are you sure this is oka—”

You chuckle, gently cutting him off. “Just get in the bed, Jeongin.”

A bittersweet feeling cascades over you as he tucks himself under the covers. It’s really happening. Your first Christmas sleepover has finally officially begun, after fourteen years of waiting. Somewhere in the back of your mind, though, you’re plagued with a brutal reminder that this could also be your last Christmas together. Ever.

You feel Jeongin move around a bit, soon settling and facing you. You shift onto your side after a moment, smiling tightly at him before letting your gaze drift out your window.  Snow continues to surge down, and the wind rattles against the glass. If it weren’t for the dim glow of the streetlight outside, you wouldn’t be able to see a thing.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” Jeongin mumbles after a beat. You don’t need more light to know he has a cocky grin on his face.

“I’m not even looking at you, dummy,” you scoff, pointing past his ear and out the window.

He turns his head around, following your finger. Once he lands his eyes on the window, his jaw drops slightly and nods in understanding. “I didn’t think it would snow this hard.”

His voice is soft but gentle, and it makes your heart skip a beat. You force out a chuckle in an attempt to ground yourself. “Should’ve known Jisung would’ve gone mad.”

Jeongin snorts, “He’s long gone, you know this.” He turns around again, the corners of his lips lifting up slightly. “But… at least I get to stay for Christmas.”

You can't help but smile back. “After all these years,” you muse.

“Yeah…”

A beat of silence. “Is this what you imagined it would be?” You ask, your voice quieter.

Jeongin purses his lips together, looking down for a second. “When I was ten? No.”

You both chuckle.

“I thought we’d be knocked out on the couch after eating too many cookies,” Jeongin continues before adding as an afterthought, “Well, after you ate too many cookies.”

You gasp in fake offense, lightly swatting at his chest. “Hey, you were just as bad!”

He scoffs, and another chuckle slips out. It’s like music to your ears.

Then another beat of silence.

“Was this what you imagined it would be?” He repeats your question back to you.

Your eyes meet his as you shake your head. ”No.”

It wasn’t… at least, not until you got older, but he didn’t need to know that.

Feeling some of the tension melt away, you and Jeongin continue to lie down next to each other in a comfortable silence. You aren’t sure how quickly you became accustomed to feeling his body heat seeping into you. In so little time, this image of Jeongin lying next to you, you want it burned inside your mind. The image of his hair so fluffy, you want to reach out and run your hands through it. The silhouette of him under the covers so cozy, you want to throw yourself into his arms.

How it had been a measly fifteen minutes, but this scenario with him… of you two being together… you want it forever.

“Are you okay?” Jeongin’s voice breaks the silence, as well as your train of thought.

You let out a sigh. “I… I guess.”

You can’t help but feel like this is some cruel twist of fate. That maybe the snow isn’t magical or special, but rather cruel and cunning—teasing you by giving you what you’ve always wanted, your stay for Christmas, only to rip it away from you so ruthlessly in a few days. 

All of the words you want to say, that you wish you could say, becomes a bitter pill in your mouth. It leads you to wonder if it was worth spitting it all out, or if you should swallow and shove it down instead. If anything you say in this moment, if you tore your chest open and bore your heart out for Jeongin to see… would it really change anything? 

You already know the answer, but it doesn’t mean you can’t try.

“I…” you start. “I don’t want you to leave.” 

While you were lost in thought, Jeongin had shifted himself so he was laying on his back, staring up at the ceiling. He exhales and you can practically see his breath in the air.

“Honestly?” he sighs. “I don’t either.” 

“Then…” you hesitate. “Then can’t you just stay…” your voice shakes. “…with me?”

It feels weird not asking that he stay for Christmas, but you have that covered right now. You know it won’t last forever if you’re not careful, though, so it’s pointless to try.

So it’s not stay for Christmas, for once in your life. Just stay. 

He rolls over onto his side so he’s facing you and he places his hand ever so near yours. “I wish I could. but hey, we’ll work it out.” He smiles reassuringly. “Just like you said, we can text, we can FaceTime, we can visit…” 

Pushing your lips into a thin line, you nod. “R-Right. Yeah.”

Gently, he grabs your hand in his, rubbing the back of it with his thumb. “We'll make it work. We’re…” He pauses. You can’t pinpoint what in his eyes changes in the dark. “We’re best friends for a reason, remember?”

You sigh. “I… I guess.”

But was there a reason? Sure, you may have asked him if he wanted to be your friend when you first moved to the neighborhood, but you didn’t plan any of this. Nine-year-old you just needed a friend to ease your mother’s worries—you had no way to know what fate had in store for you two when you did get that friend. 

Now Jeongin is way more than a friend to you. More than the awkward boy in an obnoxious purple sweater you met all those years ago. He's, to keep it short, home. And you don’t know if you can handle losing your way home a third time.

Maybe the reason was simply fate, because all of this—it just kind of happened. And now you’re stuck, unsure what to do next… or maybe you do.

You hesitate for one moment, then take a deep breath. 

“But it— it’s more than that.” 

You stare at your entwined hands, watching how Jeongin continues to caress the back of your hand with his thumb. Swallowing your nerves, you look up to catch his eyes.

Here goes nothing.

“Jeongin, I really don’t want this to mess up what we have, but I…” you pause. “I fell for you.” 

You attempt to gauge his reaction. You can’t read the look in his eyes, but somehow, it urges you to keep going.

“I’m sorry this is so sudden,” you start again, your voice shaky, “it’s just— you’re such an important part of my life, you always have been.” You feel your eyes prick with tears. “And even when you were gone, I always found myself wanting to run back to you.”

You pause again, softly biting down on your lip as you struggle to swallow down your pounding heart. You take one more deep breath.

“It’s… it’s always been you, Jeongin.” Your voice cracks, a small whimper escapes your lips. Your eyes continue to well as the floodgates open in your heart, and you look down before you completely break. “I-I can’t lose you again.”

You attempt to blink your tears away, but a few manage to slide down your cheek, seeping into your pillow. Shaking your head, your lower lip quivers, and you choke out a sob.

“Y/N…”

Jeongin slips his hand out of yours and you try your best to calm your breathing. He slowly moves his hand up, gently brushing away a few stray hairs that stick to your face, and you look up at him through glassy eyes. Your vision blurs, but you sense a feeling of longing, an almost-bittersweet swirl of warmth and affection radiating from Jeongin as he gazes down at you.

As he moves to cup your cheek, wiping away a tear with the pad of his thumb, the sound of your pounding heart rings in your ears. The sensation seems to fade into the background when he begins to speak.

“I fell for you, too. I… I have been for years, actually.”

Your breath hitches in your throat at his words. He smiles tenderly at you as you sniffle, wiping away another tear.

“It’s always been you, too, Y/N, and I hate that it took so long to realize it,” he breathes out after another moment. "If anyone should be apologizing here, it’s me.”

“Jeongin…” you mumble, but he shakes his head firmly. 

“I never should’ve left the first time without saying goodbye.” The boy sighs, remorse pooling in his eyes as they meet yours. “It— it hurt so much to think about, but leaving you like that hurt even more.” His gaze drifts down for a moment and he slips his free hand into yours, giving it a gentle squeeze. Smiling lightly, he looks back up at you, his regrets replaced with a newfound conviction. “I’m not letting that happen again.”

A new sensation overwhelms you: one of relief, of euphoria. It fills the empty gaps in your chest, and causes the butterflies in your stomach to take flight. It’s as if you had been stranded at sea for years and finally found land, as if you had one puzzle piece left before everything seamlessly clicked into place. For the first time in years, everything feels right. Jeongin’s gaze, so sugary sweet like honey, makes you crave more.

His smile widens, causing yours to do the same. “I guess we have one more reason we have to make this work, then, right?”

A small giggle escapes you so quickly that you can’t even catch it. Jeongin catches the few tears—tears of happiness this time–that slip from your eyes, before pulling you into his embrace, fully immersing you in his warmth. You hug him back tightly, tucking your head into his shoulder and never wanting to let go.

“I love you, Jeongin,” you whisper.

You feel Jeongin press a light kiss to the top of your head. When he pulls away, he reaches a hand up, gently cradling the back of your head as he brushes his nose against your hair. 

“I love you, too, Y/N.” 

This image of you and Jeongin… all snuggled up, warm and safe in each other’s arms throughout the night... this feels right. This feels like home.

You’re home.

...to 25. (epilogue)

The bitter air churns around you as you step out of Jisung’s car, and you immediately regret not wearing a larger coat instead of just your cardigan. However, before you can pull it closer to you, you feel Jeongin slide his hand into yours, entwining your fingers together. Sighing contentedly, you lean into his shoulder and gaze up at him.

“You okay, there?” He rubs his thumb over the back of your hand. “I know I look dashing, but still.”

You scoff lightly. “‘M just cold, Jeongin.”

Smiling, he turns his head to face you, his breath warm against your ear.

“Okay, but try not to fall too hard for me, Miss Tuxedo Effect.” 

Rolling your eyes, you use your free hand to hit his chest. “Shut up.” 

His chuckles are like heaven in your ears. You want to hear more of it, even if it’s at your own expense. And you knew he was never going to let you live “tuxedo effect” down. Just like Jisung and his “sugarplum” ordeal, this was just another nickname you’d have to put under your belt—not that you minded much, not when you got to hear Jeongin laugh in the way he does. 

Your attention gets brought back to him once you feel him squeeze your hand lightly. Your eyes linger on him and shift to the subtle light shining from your front porch. You notice how stiff he’s gotten, wide eyes staring blankly at your house like a deer in headlights.

“You okay?” you ask quietly, rubbing the back of his hand with your thumb. 

He sighs and hesitantly nods. “Just… nervous.”

You smile. Following the events from last Christmas Eve, Jeongin moved into his new apartment close to his job at the end of January. By the beginning of summer, he and Jisung helped get you a job closer to him so you could move in with your now-boyfriend.

Despite having an extra month together after Christmas, neither of you exactly… broke it to your parents that you two got together. You don’t remember if it just slipped your minds or if you two wanted to surprise them, but either way, they’ll find out in just a few moments. Given your history with the Christmas party and Christmas as a whole, you both agreed there’s no better place to break the news.

Getting up onto your tippy-toes, you place the lightest kiss onto his cheek, but pull away far too quickly in Jeongin’s opinion. “It’ll be okay.” You squeeze his hand. “I’m right next to you.” 

He glances at you, a smile playing at his lips. “Always?” 

You hum, nodding. “Always.” Then you give him a quick once-over and huff, a grimace twisting your mouth. “But do you really need to wear that?”

Jeongin looks down at his outfit, and his smile slowly grows more bashful as he fixes the tie of his tuxedo. Meanwhile, you’re left to painstakingly replay the events from five minutes ago in your mind.

The scene itself mirrored the one from when you were sixteen: Jisung in the driver’s seat, you in the passenger seat, and Jeongin trying desperately hard to get changed in the backseat, Mariah Carey taunting him from the speakers. Every now and then, Jisung tried to push his luck by jolting the car forward. 

It was all way too similar, except this time, there was no sneaking Jeongin out of the house. Also, there was really no need for an emergency tux this time around. Yet, somehow, Jisung still convinced him to put it on.

“I just want to make a good impression,” you hear Jeongin squeak out a moment later. You look back at him and he’s frantically smoothing out his suit jacket, and a light pink blush dusts his cheeks and the tips of his ears. You have to restrain yourself from smothering the boy with kisses at the sight. 

“Babe, you already have a good impression,” you chuckle adoringly, “you grew up here, remember?”

Your boyfriend gazes at you with wide eyes, uncertainty glazing his features. You step closer to him, taking his hand in yours again.

“It’ll be okay,” you repeat, allowing Jeongin to lace your fingers together. “And Jisung did not need to bring the suit with us.”

“But it’s an emergency tux, Y/N,” Jeongin says. “You have to keep it around you in case you need it, it’s in the name!”

“This isn’t even a fancy emergency!”

“But Jisung said it’s a romantic one! That counts!”

You let out a deep sigh, but you can’t be too mad at Jisung for trying to help. “Fine, fine.” You wait a moment then wonder aloud, “Speaking of, when do you think Jisung will get back?” 

Since Jisung still lives in town, he welcomed you both back to his apartment with open arms and, in true Jisung fashion, an excessive amount of babying. He had taken the liberty of not only driving two cities away to pick you two up (he claims he came for a job interview anyway—you don’t not believe him, but you think he also just missed you two), but also dropping you both off at your house before driving off to get coffee.

Jeongin shrugs. “Who knows? He does love his coffee.”

You chuckle fondly. “He’ll catch up later.”

Pulling Jeongin by the hand, you lead the way up the pavement and to the confines of your house. 

Even though it hadn’t been long since you were last here, you missed it dearly. You also missed the way your house was now adorned with Christmas lights. Every year, your dad always seemed to outdo himself with putting up better and better lights. You are sure he had been planning it since last year, that maybe he had already started on next year’s lights, too. 

When you walk through your front door, you’re met with the smell of cinnamon and sugar cookies. There’s light Christmas music in the air and everyone is scattered around, laughing, drinking, and having a merry time. Your mom and dad are nowhere to be seen—you assume they’re in the kitchen somewhere, checking on guests or snacks. You figure you’ll bump into them eventually.

You find countless familiar faces in the sea of people. You see old families that have lived in the neighborhood since before you moved here, families that you have come to view as part of your own. You spot the kids you grew up with; some who are freshly-turned teenagers, and others who have since grown up and started their own lives. You even see Yeonjun, sharing a drink with his girlfriend.

While it was awkward between you at first, you both came to terms with what you had and what you were. You two loved each other, but not in the way that the other wanted or needed. He was a memory, carved into you like stone, but a cherished one that you will hold deep in your heart.

Your eyes meet and you both smile instantly at the sight of each other. His eyes glance back at the boy beside you and you can see how he laughs, his smile growing wider. His eyes meet yours again, he nods his head and you nod yours. 

There’s no need for spoken words. You’re both happy, and you’re both happy the other is happy. Everything you two went through, from your journeys together to your journeys apart, has led you to this moment. 

Ultimate happiness. 

Jeongin pulls your attention back to him, leading you through small groups of people, and you turn back one final time to send Yeonjun a smile. When you look back around to see where Jeongin is guiding you, you see his mom sitting at the dining table, munching away on some snacks on a paper plate. 

She looks up with a bright smile; you’re sure it’s where Jeongin got his from. However, her smile soon melts into confusion at Jeongin’s peculiar outfit. Rising from her seat, she pulls her son into a hug. 

“Hey, sweeties,” she hums, pulling away from Jeongin after a second, keeping her hands on his shoulders as she looks down at his ‘emergency tux’. “Why are you wearing a tux? It’s just the Christmas party.” 

“I told you,” you mumble from beside him. 

He huffs, pulling and lossing the tie around his neck. “I just… it’s dumb.” 

“No, no,” you pout. “You look great, don’t worry about it.” 

Chuckling, Jeongin runs a hand through his hair, his eyes landing on you as he smiles. 

“Of course you’d say that, Miss Tuxedo Effect.” 

Rolling your eyes, you mutter to yourself as Mrs. Yang giggles. 

“Well, for whatever reason you’re wearing it,” Mrs. Yang pinches Jeongin’s cheek causing him to attempt to pull away. “You look very handsome, honey sweet.” 

“T-Thanks, Mom.” 

Pulling on Jeongin’s hand, you fish into your bag, pulling out a pair of black jeans and an almost-obnoxious shade of purple sweatshirt. Dubbing them an ‘emergency change of clothes’, you now know you were right to pack them. 

“You packed spare clothes?” Jeongin asks as you shove them in his hands. 

Humming, you nod your head. “Of course, I knew Jisung would try and fill your head with some foolish idea.” 

“It wasn’t…” You cut him off with a look. He doesn't finish his sentence. 

He puts the jeans over his arm, pulling the sweatshirt out to see. You almost fail to notice the way the tips of his ears, once again, turn pink as he smiles. 

“I thought you hated this color,” he laughs. 

Pushing him forward and in the direction of the stairs, you concede. “Eh, it grew on me. Now please change.” 

Jeongin continues to laugh as he struggles against you. “I’m going, I’m going!” 

When he comes down a mere five minutes later, the now-discarded tux in his hands, you can tell he’s far more comfortable than before. He leaves it on the couch and takes his place beside you once again, slipping his hand into yours. This time, you take the initiative to thread your fingers together.

A gasp leaves Mrs. Yang’s parted lips when she notes the way her son beams down at you. A warm glow seems to encircle him, and you can almost count the specks in his sparkly eyes when you look up. There’s nothing but affection swimming in his loved-up smile—just pure endearment for you.

“Did you two?” She watches you two with wide eyes. 

You and Jeongin suddenly look away from each other. Bashfully, you let your gaze fall to the floor, and you feel a tinge of red tickle your ears, but you don’t bother to let his hand go.

He doesn’t, either. He just squeezes your hand lightly as he nods, letting out a shy giggle.

Mrs. Yang gasps again, her hands flying over her mouth. Like mother, like son.

“You did!”

Without warning, she springs up from her chair. “Oh, I have to go find your father, now!” she gushes, pulling Jeongin into a bone-crushing hug. When she lets go of your startled boyfriend, she turns to you, squeezing you tight. “And your parents, too!”

You let out an embarrassed chuckle as you hug her back. When you both part, Mrs. Yang turns on her heel and scurries to the kitchen. 

Jeongin snaps his head towards you as his mother’s figure disappears into the crowd. His lips twitch up to an amused grin—it only grows wider when you match his expression. 

You shake your head to yourself, leaning your forehead against his shoulder. You feel Jeongin’s hand snake around your back, and you let out an exasperated sigh as he pulls you into his own hug.

“Parents, am I right?” he comments. His other arm hooks snugly around your waist, bringing you in closer. You shake your head into the crook of his neck as your own arms go around the boy.

“If that’s how your mom reacts, imagine what mine’s gonna do,” you mumble into his skin.

For better or worse, you’re quickly proven right.

“Ohhh, look how cute!”

You know exactly what happens next without even moving your head. Your mother, amidst her endless gushing about how she’s been “waiting for this day for years!”, scrambles to pull her phone out of her pocket, making a beeline straight for the camera app. Her mouth is probably gaping up and down like a fish, and she’s most definitely shuffling around the crowded space for the best angle. If your and Jeongin’s fathers were dragged along, they do nothing to stop her (not that they could to begin with, but still).

You don’t need to look up to know, and you don’t want to. You’d much rather her not see how red your face is, anyway.

“Okay, don’t move!” your mother orders. “One, two…”

“Mom!” you whine, burrowing yourself further into Jeongin’s sweater.

As your mother fulfills her need for pictures, Jeongin’s giggles ring in your ears. You try to focus on that to will your embarrassment away.

“Are you done yet, Mom?” you speak after a moment. A pout forms on your lips when she tuts.

“Uh uh, I need more!”

“You don’t have enough yet?!”

“There’s never enough photos!” A hearty, teasing laugh leaves her throat, chiming over the music for a second. “You know this, sugarplum.”

“Wait, so that’s why Jisung calls you ‘sugarplum’?!” Jeongin questions. He almost pulls back to get a better look at you, but you grip onto him tighter before he has the chance.

“Yes, and that’s my sugarplum!” Another familiar voice cries out.

Stepping back from Jeongin, you turn to see Jisung standing there with a childish frown on his face. He holds a take-out cup in one hand, and lets go of a girl’s hand to point at Jeongin with the other.

Wait… who’s the girl? You’ll have to get back to that.

“You’re her boyfriend, call her ‘baby’ or ‘boo-boo’ or something,” he adds, exaggerating his pout. “I claimed ‘sugarplum’ years ago!”

You roll your eyes. Technically, your mother claimed it first, but you know she’ll let Jisung go.

“Please don’t call me ‘boo-boo’,” you say, blankly staring up at Jeongin. Instead of responding, he reaches a hand up to pinch your cheek.

“Aww, is someone blushing?” he coos.

You push his hand away with a whine, earning a giggle from him and both of your moms. “Not you, too!” 

The girl next to Jisung leans over to him and whispers something in his ear. You aren’t sure what, but the boy responds to her with an “I told youuu,” a whimsical ring to his voice.

Jeongin glances at the girl, then at you, his face twisted in bewilderment. All you can respond with is a shrug.

“Ah,” Jisung pipes up, sensing your confusion, and he gestures to the brunette next to him. “This is Lia.”

She gives you all a small wave, quickly looking down and smoothing her maroon sweater with one hand. You all exchange greetings back, and Jisung continues, a sheepish smile on his face.

“We met during college, and, uh, I ran into her at the cafe just now.” The older boy scratches at the back of his neck, and a rosy glow rises to his cheeks. “She told me she just moved here, actually, and I figured I’d show her around… make her feel at home, you know?”

A warm smile paints your lips. You think of when you first moved here, how the community welcomed you and your family with open arms. Even if your grumpy nine-year-old self didn’t appreciate it, your twenty-five-year-old self couldn’t be more grateful. “You’re gonna love it here,” you say to Lia.

Lia smiles back, and she seems to relax at your words. “Thank you.”

“Oh, aaaand,” Jisung cuts in again after a moment. He tenderly takes Lia’s hand in his, sending her a bubbly, heart-eyed grin as he swings their hands between them.

“Do you really have to open with this?” Lia says softly.

“Yes, I do!” Jisung squeaks, his voice jumping higher than normal. “They’ll get it, trust me!”

He glances hopefully at you and Jeongin, his eyes wide and bright. The two of you exchange confused looks with each other. What could he be talking about?

A second later, it clicks. Why else would Jisung be hopping up and down so eagerly, about ready to jump out of his hoodie any minute now?

“Don’t tell me you met during—” you begin.

“During the first snow!” Jisung finishes your sentence in a singsong. He tapers off with a dreamy sigh, and his eyes seem to sparkle more when they land back on an embarrassed Lia.

“He just means the second time around,” she clarifies with an awkward cough. “The first time was during spring.”

Your first instinct is to roll your eyes at your friend’s ongoing infatuation with the snow, but a fond chuckle takes its place. You had stayed up many nights talking with Jisung when you lived with him, the two of you sprawled out like starfish on your kitchen floor as you shared thoughts about the future, the simultaneous excitement and uncertainty of it all. If there was one thing Jisung was firm on, it was his hope that he’d meet The One during the first snow of winter, that the twinkling little snowflakes would be his guiding star to his person.

“Love at first snow,” was what he called it, “…you know, like you and Jeongin.” As much as you found the phrase irritating at the time, you never bothered to correct him.

But of course, it’s one thing to have hopeless romantic fantasies, and another to have them come to life. It’s kind of endearing, maybe heartwarming in a weird little-sister-figure way, to observe Jisung’s increasingly lovestruck daze as he relives the recent memory—you can practically see the hearts dancing around his head. But that’s not the point right now.

So this is the girl Jisung always texted you about during college.

You recall countless conversations about how pretty and smart and sweet she was, and even more of him blowing up your phone at three in the morning for date ideas (“the more aesthetic, the better! :D”). Even though he successfully asked her out, he still never let it go that they never saw the first snow together before they broke up.

Despite her embarrassment, Lia seems to mirror Jisung’s loved-up smile. From what he told you, they parted ways on good terms—something about both of them graduating soon and having different mindsets, he said, but they both agreed to stay friends. But something tells you that, even after all this time, they’re still on the same page about the first snow… and maybe some other matters, too.

You can see it in their eyes: the feverish look that makes their irises shimmer as they gaze at each other, the almost-overwhelming amount of affection that swims in their pupils and makes the corners of their lips twist up. You recognize it all too well—it’s the exact same way you used to look at Jeongin. Every once in a while, you still catch yourself doing it.

It’s nothing but fate, at this point, when you notice faint white pellets of snow are still hitting the window in your peripheral. An overjoyed smile of your own quickly overtakes your features, and when you look up at Jeongin, it seems like he’s thinking the same thing as you.

With an infectious giggle, Jeongin grabs your hand, but you sharply turn to Jisung and Lia before he can pull you away. Your boyfriend's small whines fall on deaf ears, and he childishly tugs at your hand as you try to get the lovebirds’ attention.

“Hey, do you wanna go see the magic snow or not?” you call out, half-teasingly and half-genuinely.

In a snap, Jisung’s lovesick daze flips into a triumphant smile as he turns to you. “So you admit it’s magic?!”

You roll your eyes, giving Jeongin’s hand a quick squeeze to calm his impatience. “I needed to get your attention somehow,” you say, “but just this once, I’ll admit it.” 

The way your friend seems to light up like a Christmas tree is enough to make you give in. You do owe him for his stunt last year, after all—you’re more than happy to let him have this one.

“Now, do you want to go see the snow or not?” you ask after another moment, a small smile etched on your lips.

“Of course I want to see the snow!” Jisung chirps.

As he looks to Lia for her response, his puppy-love daze making a return, you allow yourself to take in your surroundings. The warmth teeming around you from the Christmas party is one that never gets old, no matter how many times you come, and no matter how long you’re gone. It brings a wave of peace to your heart, even as a couple of screaming children run a lap around you and your friends.

Your chipper boyfriend begins to pull you to the front door with him, making you lose your step for a second, and you find yourself meeting Yeonjun’s eyes from across the house one more time. Before you lose sight of him, you nod to the window several feet away from him, sending him a wink to him before you turn around. Even if you weren’t meant to be his love at first snow, the least you can do is make sure he got his.

By the time you look away, Jeongin has already pulled you both to the front door, Jisung and Lia already dressed and waiting for you two. Hastily, he throws on his coat before he scrambles through the pile of shoes by the doormat to find his own pair.

You’re about to do the same, then you realize…

“Right, I forgot my—”

“Your jacket?” Jisung calls out. Without another word, he digs into his backpack and tosses you the coat you left behind at his apartment earlier. You slip it on with a relieved smile, mouthing a ‘thank you’ before getting your shoes on and swinging the door open for all four of you.

Soft, puffy snowflakes dot the ground around you as you begin your stroll down the sidewalk. You hear Jisung and Lia’s musings behind you, but they fade into a quiet buzz as all the memories from your childhood flash before your eyes. The houses you pass by are ones you used to see everyday on the way home from school, and the sidewalks are ones you used to run around on during the weekends. You never would’ve thought you’d be back now, reliving it all with the people you love most.

It gets even better, though, when Jeongin nudges your shoulder, and points to a grassy area coming up ahead. You follow his finger and gasp, immediately recognizing the spot.

Reaching for his hand, you break into a sprint and pull the boy with you to the neighborhood park, the two of you almost tripping due to the slippery snow. The park is almost the exact same as it was when you first moved. Some parts had been upgraded over time, whereas others still seemed heavily used and loved by the younger children around the neighborhood.

Your eyes glaze around the small park and you could almost see a vision of nine-year-old you, standing near your mother as she pushes you to speak to the other children—to make some new friends. You could practically see nine-year-old Jeongin hanging upside-down from the monkey bars, adorned in that now less-obnoxious purple sweater. 

You wonder what nine-year-old you would think if she saw where you are now, with Jeongin’s hand wrapped tightly around your own. You wonder what she’d have to say about the way your cheeks tickled pink, not only from the cold, but also from the way Jeongin’s gaze lingered on you for a moment too long, and the way his lips tugged into a soft smile whenever you looked back at him.

Tugging lightly on Jeongin’s hand, you lead the both of you over towards the monkey bars, his whines falling on deaf ears as you drop his hand from your grasp to climb up the metal bars. Once you’re sat down in the most comfortable position you can, the cold metal sending shivers down your spine, you beckon Jeongin to join you. 

“Sit with me.” You smile down at him, one hand keeping you steady as the other makes grabby hands in Jeongin’s direction. 

Jeongin huffs. “But it’s so cold.” 

However, his words fall short when he still begrudgingly makes the small climb up. He lets his legs dangle through the holes, his knees knocking against your own lightly. 

A gust of cold air causes you to shiver and as a response, you pull your 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. The falling snowflakes glisten under the remnants of the sunlight, and the holiday lights emit a breathtaking glow. You’re both still not tall enough to see much above the houses in front of you, but that’s okay—you know what lies beyond it.

“You know, I never thought we’d be back here,” you mumble. A giggle escapes you as you watch the stars slowly make their appearance above you.

Jeongin has a giggle of his own as something on the monkey bars catches his eye. “I can’t believe it’s still here,” he continues to laugh, causing you to redirect your gaze. 

“What do you mean?” 

He runs his fingers lightly over the faded black ink scrawled across the top of the monkey bars. 

Y/N and Jeongin, 2010.

“No way,” you gasp, trying your best to lean over to see it better without falling. “I thought they replaced the park equipment years ago.” 

Looking up at you, Jeongin smiles. “Obviously not all of it.” 

He fishes around in his pocket for a second and before you can question anything, he pulls out a black marker pen and unclips the lid. 

“What are you–” 

Your sentence goes unfinished, however, when he leans over and adds a small section under his own nine-year-old handwriting. 

And forevermore.

Your heartstrings are played like a violin as you watch Jeongin cap the pen back up, a pleased smile etched on his lips. When he finally comes back to reality, noticing your gaze, he shrugs. 

“What?” he says. “Had to add it and make it official.” 

“We’ve been official for a year, I don’t think the monkey bars would mind.” 

Jeongin rolls his eyes, a chuckle escaping him. “What if some kids read it? Surely, they’ll love to know the story has a happy ending?” 

If you weren’t afraid of falling, you would have jumped on him, showering his face in the most kisses possible. However, for both his and your safety, you opt for words instead.

“I love you,” you breathe, beaming at him. You’ve never said anything more true in your life. 

His smile mirrors your own. “I love you too.” 

You look back at the sky as Jeongin shoves his pen and hands back in his pockets, the dopey grin on your face growing wider, if that was even possible. Another giggle escapes you when you feel a drop of snow hit your nose. This is everything to you—it’s ultimate happiness.

But there’s one thing missing.

“I can’t believe I forgot,” you say, your gaze falling back down. 

Raising an eyebrow, he looks at you in curiosity. “Yeah?” he responds, and you stare back with a cheeky smile.

“Stay for Christmas?”

Jeongin shakes his head, but his giggles still fill your ears, sending your heart into shockwaves of emotions, like the ripples after a stone hitting the water. The tips of his ears as well as his cheeks glow pink under the streetlight that has just flicked on. You can’t tell if it’s from the cold or from you, but you wish for it to be the latter. 

“You know you don’t have to say that anymore, right?” Jeongin asks, gazing at you with a look that makes it hard to catch a breath. 

“I know,” you exhale, “but it’s basically tradition now, it’s a must.”

“Well, tradition or not…” Jeongin begins. He slips his hand from out of his pocket to grab and entwine your fingers with his own. His heat seeps into you as he runs his thumb over the back of your hand. “…I’m here to stay.” 

He uses his other hand to tap lightly on the recently-added handwriting, his words echoing around in your ears. “Forevermore.” 

Your eyes are all soft and sparkly as you smile at him, giving his hand a squeeze before letting the air around you fall silent. A contented sigh escapes your parted lips, forming a faint puff in the cold air as you watch the fluffy, white crystals above you flutter down.

Jeongin started off as a mere stranger, nothing but the awkward boy in an ugly sweater. Sixteen years later, he’s sitting with you atop the same monkey bars upon which you two met as so much more. He’s your best friend, your childhood playmate, your built-in Mario Kart partner. He’s your teenage crush, your love at first snow, your stay for Christmas—and all that only you two know it entails.

Perhaps, most important of all, Jeongin is home. And as long as you have Jeongin, you’ll always know your way back.

[softguarnere]

Fic Writer Interview

Thank you for the tag @mercurygray!

How many works do you have on AO3?

Currently 6, but hopefully that number will go up over spring break

What's your total AO3 word count?

119,136

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Like A Girl (Like A Man) - Band of Brothers

Just A Kid - The Outsiders

Bear The Burden Alone - The Chronicles of Narnia

For Whatever We Lose - Band of Brothers

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Yes, absolutely! I share my writing because it allows me to connect with people who share my interests. If I'm not posting replies, it feels more like a one sided conversation, imo. Also, it seems the polite thing to do

What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

It's about to be Like A Girl (Like A Man)! You'll see why soon >:)

What the fic you've written with the happiest ending?

On AO3, it's probably Bear The Burden Alone, but I try to keep the fics that I post here on Tumblr kinda upbeat with hopeful -- albeit open-ended -- endings.

Do you write crossovers?

Yeah! For Whatever We Lose is actually a crossover with The Pacific, and I'd love to do more crossovers in the future

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Yep! I've deleted the comments, but some people were VERY ANGRY about the background Babe/Roe content in LAGLAM -- you know, despite the fact that the plot of the fic is driven by a queer woman's decision to cross-dress. Guess they had to draw the line somewhere, but the hypocrisy of it all makes me chuckle

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Kinda? I deleted most of it from the original LAGLAM drafts and instead just alluded to it, but things are going to be different in FWWL. Get ready for crappy ocean metaphors and religious imagery, babes!

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I hope not :( That would stink

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Not to my knowledge

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No, but I think it would be fun!

What's your all-time favorite ship?

Everlark! (said while frothing at the mouth because they make me go insane) I've been obsessed with them since I first read The Hunger Games at age 9. I could write you a whole novel about why I think they're perfect together, but I'll spare you the ramble (unless anyone wants it?)

What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

Tears in my eyes when I tell you that it's probably the requests in my inbox. I keep telling myself that I'll get to them, but I've just felt unmotivated with all the stuff I've had going on in my personal life/at school. I really really do hope to get to them someday, though, because some of them will be really fun to write

What are your writing strengths?

I have no clue, lol. I tend to get compliments about how I describe settings, so I'm gonna say that!

What are your writing weaknesses?

My abuse of commas and italics.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

Personally, I love doing it. Especially in a fic like LAGLAM, where even though most people don't speak the language I'm using (Cherokee), I feel like they can still see the importance to the characters and to the story. And I like tricking people into caring about Indigenous language preservation. My teachers told me that anything can be a vessel for carrying language on, and by God, I took that to heart

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Oh boy. I was in the fifth grade. I had won many writing competitions. Two classmates approached me and told me that they wished The Hunger Games had more post-Mockingjay Everlark content, and that since I was a good writer, they wanted me to write it. I was traded many cosmic brownies and other such snacks throughout the year for my services in providing my classmates with Everlark fics on pages of notebook paper that are probably crumpled up in a landfill by now. At the time, I had no idea I was writing fanfiction, but it was the start of my favorite hobby. Look at me now, baby!

What's a fandom/ship you haven't written for yet but want to?

I've always wanted to write for TURN: Washington's Spies but have never had the courage haha

What's your favorite fic you've written?

I have a couple of one-shots that I'm pretty pleased with, but currently I'm going to say LAGLAM because it's been so special to me <3

Tagging (but no pressure!): @almost-a-class-act @latibvles @footprintsinthesxnd @liebgotts-lovergirl

[deliciouskeys]

Writer Tag

Thank you for tagging me, @kosmochlor and @saintmathieublanc<3

How many works do you have on AO3?

47 apparently.

What's your total AO3 word count?

469,180

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

1) Attack on Titan rated T fic, macro micro (it was part of the canon there lol), blind character element

2) Zinc Molybdate (rising star but very far behind #1)

3) Another Attack on Titan fic rated T. Anime fans are all under 18 I guess.

4) Negan/Rick mpreg lol. I abandoned it when TWD season 8 deeply disappointed me and hopefully that doesn't happen again with the current fandom D: (I don't think it will unless they do something truly idiotic like kill off Ryan in an inexplicable way)

5) The Selfish Gene

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Yes I do. It's the least I can do when someone takes the time to write something. Plus many of the comments are so thoughtful and sometimes helpful to the writing process. And I just enjoy responding.

What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

Um. Probably an "original fic" set in the holocaust, unfortunately. I've written fics long ago where main characters die, but those are not angsty somehow, just dark/shock value.

What’s the fic you've written with the happiest ending?

I think it might be Zinc Molybdate lol. First of all it has an ending. And I'd say it's very optimistic about the human spirit and possibilities for change.

Do you write crossovers?

The only true crossover I ever wrote was Alex from a Clockwork Orange x Norman Bates. But I never crossposted it to AO3 from LJ. Can't imagine why XD I'm more of an AU where you recast the characters into a different world girl.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Yes, writing bible fic is controversial apparently. Writing holocaust fic is controversial apparently. Mpreg is controversial apparently, although I have never received hate for mpreg on ao3, only on tumblr.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I do..... I wouldn't say it's my forte, despite having it in almost every fic and fic chapter lol. I'd say there's always some element of something being 'off'. Normal people having bad sex, or a fucked up pairing having unsettlingly wholesome sex.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I don't think so. In small enough fandoms some ideas become sort of communal, but that's usually just fun 'sharing'.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

YES! And it's in a language that I'm pretty fluent in (but maybe not fic-writing fluent) so it was a surreal, amazing experience. I've translated several fics from Russian and one from French which was a stretch for me.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Only in terms of translating others' fics. I've always wondered if I'd be able to do it with the right person.

What's your all-time favorite ship?

Butchlander. Which probably means my favorite ship is whatever I'm currently hyperfixating on, but I've been on this kick for like 20 months now, so I don't take these things lightly :)

What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

My very first fic, which I started writing at 18 and abandoned at 19 or 20. I couldn't do it, I couldn't give them a happy ending because the pairing was just too messed up, I couldn't give them a sad ending because that's just not within the realm of what I'm willing to do.

What are your writing strengths?

I think I am all about the Emotional Journey, and thus by extension, characterization. I like writing dialogue, so hopefully that's a strength, otherwise the readers get to suffer lol.

What are your writing weaknesses?

I have to remind myself to write even the most basic setting/scenery details. Most of the time I don't think it's very important. I'm probably not a very visual person (although that doesn't mean I don't love art and fanart!). I can write multiple characters outside of the pairing, and those scenes are fun, but I tend to prefer hyperfocusing on just the 2 mains, which is probably a limitation.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

Oh god, I did it in a fic, and ... I shall leave it as I wrote it in my 20s, but... it was ill-advised. I'd say don't do it unless it's a language you know, and even then... why.

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Uh. Peter Pan. And I don't mean during the Once Upon a Time craze that happened much later.

What's a fandom/ship you haven't written for yet but want to?

Within the Boys, I'll also say Starlander. I like it, and honestly the canon leaves much to be desired, so it's fertile ground. Fandomwise, I read quite a bit of Batjokes and Symbrock, but never wrote anything for them.

What's your favorite fic you've written?

I'll go with Zinc Molybdate. It's got that new relationship fandom energy that is impossible to just bottle up and deploy when wanted. But I like them all.

Zero pressure tags (and sorry if you've been tagged elsewhere) @phoenixtakaramono @eutz @merry-andrews and anyone who sees this and has ao3!

[oothepinksquidoo]

Great uncle Ebenezer .★. Scrooge x reader one-shot

Dayum, I'm on a roll with these chapters Huh? Go me ig LMFAO again with is a oneshot for my book (check it out if you like, it's on Ao3 or wattpad, whatever you prefer!)

Summary: You get an unexpected letter from a special friend, the news of a child being born comes as a thrill to you! Greater panic for Ebenezer

I guess a little angsty warning? Ngl it's mainly fluff

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

It was a new day in London, the snow was slowly decreasing very slowly, yet any time it did more would come the very next day. I couldn't complain though, the wintery weather always gave London a special feeling to it, something I couldn't explain even if I tried. 

It was early in the morning, I was in the Bakery with Ebenezer. He decided to tag along for the opening while also helping me make space for the new tables and chairs that Ebenezer had bought for the shop. He really was a sweetheart, anything I could possibly imagine he tried his best to get that very thing to me. 

Some mail fell through the letterbox, I walked over and grabbed it, expecting the usual work things and a few orders. I was sorting the letters into piles when one caught my attention, “Huh?”

Ebenezer looked over after he finished moving a table into place, “What is it, darling?”

“It’s a letter from Harry.” I replied opening it, “He usually comes in to order, he never places an order by mail.” I gasped once I read the letter, “Oh my days!”

Dear Y/n,

I hope you are well, I apologise I haven't visited in a while, I do miss you even if it's only week a week or so. But I do have a good reason! 

Hela and I have finally had the little extension to our family, our original two has finally become three. The baby came a little earlier than we expected but she is doing extremely well! I hope you come by to see our daughter, 

P.s, if you do come by, could you bring some of your delicious crumble you make? I’ll pay for it of course haha!

Your dearest Friend, Harry

I read the letter outloud for Ebenezer to hear, he stood there in complete shock. He frowned slightly, “Hela was pregnant?”

“Uh, yes? She has been for the last… eight and a half months?” I joked, “To be fair, she was incredible at hiding it. But isn't it wonderful? You're a great uncle now!”

Ebenezer looked at me blankly, “Yes, quite. I uh… Is Hela alright? She has no… health problems?”

My face dropped when I finally caught onto why Ebenezer was not as excited as me, “Ebenezer, I assure you Hela is perfectly healthy.” I cupped Ebenezer’s face, “Look at me, dear.” I spoke softly, it took a second but eventually he did listen, “I understand your fear, believe me I do. Hela is in safe hands, and if anything were to go wrong, we can get the best healthcare in London.”

“Yes.” Ebenezer replied, “You're quite right, as usual. I just can't help but fear the worst. Not only did I lose a sister that day, that very boy lost his mother. I couldn't imagine the agony of losing the love of his life too.”

I gave him a comforting hug, “You know, I have a feeling Harry may feel the same way too.”

“He most likely is…” Ebenezer sighed, “I must go see him. Are you coming too?”

I nodded, “I would never give up an opportunity to go see my bestest friends! I think I have some spare crumble in the back…” I hummed in thought.

Ebenezer looked down at the letters that sat on the table as I rushed to the kitchen, “Are you not going to open any of the rest?” he shouted so I could hear him.

“I’ll open them later, we have more important stuff to tend to!” I replied, walking back to the front with a tin of crumble.

“Why on earth do you just have a tin of crumble in the back already?” Ebenezer asked as he grabbed a basket for me to place the tin in.

“Harry practically always orders it every week, apple crumble is his go to.” I explained as I linked arms with Ebenezer.

We both walked out of the shop, talking Eagerly about the news of the new baby. It was most thrilling to think about! Though I still could see that Ebenzer was worried, with every step closer to Harry’s house I could feel his grip on my arm getting tighter. I comfortingly rubbed his arm as we got to his house.

“It’ll be okay, Ebenezer.” I comfortingly spoke, Ebenezer nodded, hesitantly knocking on the door.

Not long after, the door opened, it was Harry. He grinned widely, pulling me into a hug before evening speaking. “Y/n, I’m so glad you could come.”

“I wouldn't miss seeing the little one for the world.” I replied, giving him a little squeeze before pulling away, I looked up at Ebnezer who was extremely quiet. “I think your Uncle is a little anxious, is Hela alright, Harry?” 

“She’s doing just fine, perfectly actually! There were no complications at all.” Harry replied, he put out his hand for Ebenezer to shake, “I’m so glad you're here uncle, I was going to come round to the shop to tell you the news first, but I thought I should be here with Hela.” 

 Unexpectedly, Ebenezer pulled him into a hug, sighing deeply when he heard the news. “I’m so proud of you and Hela, my boy.” Ebenezer admitted, “I promise I’ll always be here if you need me, I won't be the fool I have been the previous years.”

The biggest smile I had ever seen on Harry shone brightly on Harry’s face. I could see a few tears in his eyes as he welcomed us into his house, “Please, do make yourself at home, I think I hear Hela in the living room.”

We both walked in and straight to the living room. It was lit warmly by the fireplace. Hela looked up at us, and there was the new baby, in her arms asleep soundly. She cautiously walked over to us, “I’m so glad you two could come.” 

“May I introduce you to, Elizabeth Jen Huffam.” Harry said with a proud smile on his face.

Hela handed the baby over to me, I smiled warmly, gently rocking the infant, “She’s beautiful Hela, she looks just like you two.” I looked up at Ebenezer, “Doesn't she just?”

Ebenezer looked down at the baby with tears in his eyes, “She does, and she looks like your mother, when she was a baby.” He wiped the tear that fell down his face.

“Would you like to have a hold, my love?” I asked, I could see he was slightly nervous at doing such a thing, “Why don't you sit on the Sofa, I’ll hand her over to you.”

Ebenezer nodded, sitting on the Sofa so he could hold his little niece. “She is truly wonderful.” He seemed paralyzed by his happiness, gazing at the infant with such care. Elizabeth opened her eyes, Ebenezer smiled even more when he realised that they too were the same colour of his little sister’s and his in fact.

“Why don't we go make some tea.” Hela said to me as she walked over the room, leaving Ebenzer and Harry with Elizabeth,

I followed Hela with a smile, “That child is going to be spoiled rotten you know.”

“I can tell already,” She laughed, “I can see it in his eyes.” She placed some cups on the counter while I got the water to boil. “And Harry too had the same look when he first saw her.”

“So, how has Harry been?” I asked, “I assume he was also worried about you, with his mother and all.”

“I've never seen him so scared before, the past week and a half he’s hardly let me do anything that meant I had to move out of either the bedroom or living room,” She chuckled, thinking about her husband, “He is an incredible man.” She spoke as she placed some tea bags in cups. 

“I know.” I replied as I poured the water into the cups, “And He will be an incredible father.”

“Have you thought about children yet with Ebenezer?” Hela asked as she finished making the tea.

“We have actually, well sort of. I mentioned a bit ago, he is incredible with the Cratchit children.” I replied, “Though, I think that will come with time. He may be a changed man, but I don't think he’s quite ready.” 

“I quite agree.” Hela nodded, carrying some of the cups, I carried the rest as we walked back to the sitting room, “But I know, when you two are ready, you’ll make great parents.” 

We walked in the room, placing the cups down. Ebenezer was still holding little Elizabeth, well, it appeared as though Elizabeth was holding him. Her hand was tightly gripping his finger, smiling happily.

“I think Elizabeth quite likes her Uncle,” Harry laughed, taking a drink of the tea. “My, this is gorgeous thank you, dears.” 

My eyes were still on Ebenezer, who was totally focused on Elizabeth. The more I looked at her, the more I could see Jen, and I believe that is precisely why Ebenezer was so fixated on her. 

After a while, we all walked out of the sitting room. Harry wanted to show off his designing skills with the baby room, Meanwhile Ebenezer stayed back, still with Elizabeth, her beautiful blue eyes gazing up at her uncle.

Ebenezer stood up, walking over to the portrait, “My dear Jen, I may not have been there for your own son as he grew up, but I promise I will never make that same, selfish mistake twice. And... I’ll do everything possible to have her grow up without the constant battle of illness.” He looked down at the child in his arms, “I’ll do everything I possibly can to make sure you are happy.”

Ebenezer didn't know this, But I stood at the doorway the whole time, my eyes were filled with tears as I watched him. I already knew he was going to be the best dad he possibly could be, but this moment just confirmed it. I knew we weren't at all ready for that stage in life, but when that day does arrive, I’ll be the happiest woman to walk the streets of London. 

[malatruse]

20 questions for fic writers

thanks fo the tag @syrupwit ! tagging @schniggles @thevampireauthoress @blot-squisher @annethecatdetective and any of my other mutuals who write fic

1. How many works do you have on Ao3? 11

2. What’s your total Ao3 word count? 102,347

3. What fandoms do you write for? These days, mainly DBD, though I have a few Outlast WIPs in the junk drawer.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos? common tongue no one will know it but me it will come back Three-Faced human disaster

Pretty good variety here. Some of my older fics, some of my newer fics, and some in between.

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? I try to respond to comments when I can, if only to thank the reader for commenting. Some of them inspire me, some of them get my ass in gear to write a continuation, some of them [insert rule of thirds thing here].

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? It Gets Us All in the End, an interesting twist on hanahaki disease and how it could tie in to Gabriel Reyes' descent into Reaper.

8. Do you get hate on fics? Knocking on wood here....not really?

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? Yeah. When I write smut it tends to be kinky m/m stuff.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written? I write some. The wildest one was Bury the Lead, being something of a stealth crossover for Love Pistols. But if that doesn't count, uhhh I think I wrote a Dark Knight/Tiger & Bunny crossover once? can't find it in my writing folder tho, and it never got posted.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not that I know of, but I always hope my fics will inspire fics with similar ships and ideas so that I can eat more cakes than I bake, yknow?

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? Yes, actually! My first fic, human disaster, was translated into Russian.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? Hmmm. I had a sequel in the works for Last Light that I never finished because I wasn't sure where to go with it. Aside from that, I'm very slowly chipping away at many, many WIPs that I still have hopes of finishing eventually.

16. What are your writing strengths? I try not to start uploading a fic unless I have it at least 90% done so readers won't have to wait on updates. That's more of a publishing strength, though, I guess. I write characters saying things that make readers laugh? And I've been told some of my fics were read by people outside of their fandom of origin, so I guess I write with enough exposition that they're approachable without much context.

17. What are your writing weaknesses? Taking forever to finish shit, editing as I go, all my stuff feels too short, not enough women, not editing enough after finishing, etc.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? If the POV character speaks the language, "I'd do it like this," <<Or like this.>> If they don't, I'd leave the actual dialogue out and write, A said something B couldn't understand, possibly in Lithuanian? And if it's important to the context of the story, put a short summary of what's being said in the end note. idk, it's a tough topic.

19. First fandom you wrote for? Ohhhh boy. Um, I think I had a WIP for Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicle that I was going to post on ff.net back in the day?

20. Favorite fic you’ve written? Whatever my most recent one is. Right now it's Wrong Number

[lollytea]

So is it canon now that Hunter wears reading glasses?? Given the end credit art and Dana's gallery art? (The latter could be shades I guess, but it also makes sense he'd wear his reading glasses to school!) It's so cute and I must write a fic immediately.

I can't ask Dana herself and apparently you're the next best thing because I assume you've thought about this from every angle ;)

I HAVE thought about this from every angle, so true.

First of all I find it very funny that Belos was apparently like "Oh, you can't do magic? Not to fear. I will provide you with the best artificial magical aid available."

"Thank you, Uncle. Also I can't read."

"Does that sound like my fucking problem?"

But I like to think of it as like. Hunter has done nothing but read and study since he was tiny. So his eyesight wasn't exactly terrible and he probably could have managed just fine without realizing he needed glasses. His eyes would have gotten progressively worse as he got older tho. But at sixteen he's just at the starting point where small text is getting a little blurry.

They just happened to stumble across one of those glasses racks at the pharmacy one day, Willow jokingly set them on his face and Hunter was like "HOLY SHIT I can read all of the tiny little price tags!!!" So he bought them. (A lucky little bitch who doesn't need to go to an optician and pay an arm and a leg to get his highly specific prescription. I need to oppress him.)

Although since he only needs them for reading, he's not often seen with them. I think, at first, he's not used to his appearance while wearing them so he worries that they don't make him look good. (Remembering that this is during Hunter's journey to self identity in the Human Realm so I imagine his appearance is a very important thing to him at this point. He's trying to figure out how he wants to present.) But yknow, that's just early stuff. Once he gets accustomed to how they look on his face, he's fine with it.

Those very well COULD be Hunter's prescription glasses that he's wearing in the art. Personally I don't think they are but that's just me. Just cuz he's out and about, and doesn't look like he's on his way to school (nobody's wearing their uniforms.) And I like the idea that those frames are purely a fashion accessory, which is funny to me.

I like to think either Darius or Willow (or both at the same time with is SUCH a chaotic thought) were helping him pick out his outfit. Darius was the one who originally chose the jacket and jeans (BEFORE Hunter personalised them.) and the swanky shoes. And Willow was a strong advocate for Hunter wearing whatever clothes had added his cute little touches to cuz she thinks it's the height of fashion.

But yeah Willow placed the glasses on his face as a last minute detail.

(I like to imagine Willow frequently adds last minute details to Hunter's outfits, just before he steps out the door. A hat, a scarf, a piece of jewelry. He always just lets her do it.)

"Perfect!!" She announced. "Really ties the whole look together!!" And though she and Darius had bickered frequently on what worked and what didn't, he couldn't even disagree with her.

[selfidentifiednerdyprude]

kink & asexuality: further thoughts

inspired by these tags via @\skelebk on this post (not tagging them because this post might get a little tmi and they're like. a stranger. but I do want to credit them for giving me the inspiration for this rant because their tags bring up something important that I feel needs to be discussed)

(also, disclaimer that this post isn't trying to change anyone's mind. if you're happy in the kink scene, great! I want you to keep being happy. but this post is about why I, personally, was not happy in the kink scene, and how I made myself a hell of a lot happier once I left it.)

#had a friend who was very into the kink scene#would go to those kink clubs sort of into the scene#they would go on a lot about kink and how great it is and would encourage me to try it out#at some point it started to feel like talking to a religious person who keeps trying to convert you#they also IDed as ace and knew I did too#they kept stressing it wasn't all sexual#it was very tiring#ace#some people just need therapy and not kink#and that's okay

and I want to ramble for a second (it might be gibberish but I am asking you to please bear with me here) about "they kept stressing it wasn't all sexual"

because that's one of those things, like "some aces have sex"/"some aros can be in romantic relationships" that is... true, I guess, but also missing the point. because yeah, not everything under the umbrella of kink involves bumping uglies. that's true. however, the vast majority of how the kink community is organized and structured, its aesthetics, what is talked about within those spaces, what is assumed of people who choose to spend their time within it, etc. exists with the expectation that there is a psychosexual nature to the activities being performed. I know this, from my ill-fated attempts to fit my kind of relationship into the paradigm of kinky power exchange. I also know this from my time trying to do conventional kinky power exchange in a "nonsexual" (but still, because of the nature of kinky power exchange, psychosexual) way.

"nonsexual" kink is, more often than not, still psychosexual. "nonsexual" kink done in an unsafe, irresponsible, or abusive manner can still affect someone in much the same way that sexual trauma can affect someone. and most importantly, "nonsexual" kink is still incredibly dangerous to participate in unless you are a mature and autonomous adult with a good handle on how you react in difficult or stressful situations.

the thing is, though, there are elements of kink that have applications outside of the psychosexual. but if someone wants to explore a certain not directly sexual thing that happens to also fall under the umbrella of kink, whether that not-directly-sexual thing is leader/follower roles or certain types of sensory experiences or whatever, the kink community is often the only place to explore that. and it shouldn't be, especially when it is so hostile by design to so many who could benefit from things that originated within it.

personally, I think that what we need is other types of communities that aim to center different lenses through which these things are experienced. the kink community centers the psychosexual— we need communities that center the psychosocial, the spiritual, the sensory, the intellectual, the cathartic. we need communities that build on the work that kink communities have already done while also critiquing the places where kink communities fall short. I'm already kind of starting to do this, with Trusted Companionship (specifically, what I am doing is looking at power exchange from a psychosocial angle, focusing on consensual exploration of leader/follower roles as a liberatory practice for those who have had power wielded against them).

but we need more people doing the same thing from different angles, because just like kink as a paradigm won't work for everyone, Trusted Companionship as a paradigm won't work for everyone who kink doesn't work for.

and we also need to stop doing that annoying thing where we assume that the only way to have a healthy relationship at all is through kink. because jesus fuck, dude. why do we do that.

[judgeverse]

various thoughts and discoveries about basher and reuben in ocean’s 13 (while I’m thinking about it, and for the sake of anybody else who ever noticed Them and their wholesome little love story buried in a heist movie): 

there are two freezeframes where several of basher’s love letters are visible. "Dearest Reuben” is the specific one that made me go “oh THAT’S why the letters...”, but here’s everything I could get. they are amazing. https://pastebin.com/Dzf4R1pw 

“Dearest Reuben, When you want-  loving to someone,-  expressing your feeling is-   ment. When someone you-   physically support yourself-  your feet firmly-  to breathe. Thin- they are trying- When your-  you do it wha- Figure out wh- When everything-  are overwhelming-  comforting.” 

the love letters were not in the original script (they were written by basher but were never opened or read). the gay contents of them, and the plot of healing reuben through the power of love, were added later on. not sure if this was a decision made by the actors, director, or both, but the commentary track on 13 says the following (right at the danny, basher, and reuben ending fireworks scene): 

“A lot of the scenes in this movie we’d had to rewrite many times, but that ending, that came easily. Seeing who those guys were, and getting to find a way to let them express their hearts, was really exciting, and that was a moment where the actors and Steven just completely elevated what we’d been thinking of.”

more info bits under the cut - 

this is very blink-and-miss-it and a YMMV type of thing, but I think there may be an implication basher is gay; linus is uncomfortable with buying him the “mags” (and equally uncomfortable with reading the gay letters out loud), but linus later mentions to the group that he’d learned something in maxim magazine, which he’s fine with reading, bringing up, and discussing (albeit awkwardly). QED, whatever basher wanted him to buy was not that, and my guess is something gay, probably, based on linus’s reaction to the letters also

based on actor heights, basher is 5’8’’ and reuben is 6’3’’. this is important information. 

reuben is not in his 70s omg i saw at least one post in the tag somewhere implying this but no!! based on actor ages, in oceans 11, reuben is early 60s and basher is late 30s. definitely an age difference but hey. basher can set his goals wherever he wants to

basher wrote him at least 13 letters in total, based on counting the envelopes (cinematic parallels!)   

reuben’s mentioned as having an ex wife, which, provided he’s being honest to bank about that, would seem to contrast with the earlier statement that he doesn’t have any family to support him. presumably that wasn’t an amicable divorce (and, I’d guess, probably happened a while ago) and I have a hard time seeing him or basher as anything other than very gay, but it’s an interesting little bit of material for their story, especially in light of reuben not being immune to pressure to conform to others 

this is just a throwaway line from ocean’s 12, but they have a little dialogue piece talking about lifting buildings, where reuben’s like “they did it with the leaning tower of pisa” (which he pronounces pizza lol) and basher’s like “yeah, but it took them 300 men over 2 years to do it” and i just love them both having obscure and specific knowledge, on top of being super smart in their areas

also from ocean’s 12: they’re sitting next to each other in the very last scene with the party! it’s so hard to notice because the scene goes by so fast, but they are. I’ve spent a lot of time wondering how they arrived at the point of Being In Love that they’re at in 13, so that was fun to notice, even if probably not intentional foreshadowing 

two out of the three scripts (ocean's 11 and ocean's 12) had bad scenes completely cut that would've made reuben not be as gay as he is. not sure who vetoed them, but i’m thankful. (the drafts of the scripts are a painful read; I strongly recommend not reading 12 or 13. 11 is okay for the most part.)

that’s all. if you have anything else about them, please add. I crave the knowledge 

[transinatrade]

The Beginning

It's been about a month.

If you couldn't guess by my URL, I am a trans person (FTM) who is entering the HVAC trade. This is for a few reasons.

As the economic crisis rapidly sends us streaming forward toward poverty, my entry level job was not making us (my partner and I) enough money anymore.

Gifted kid burnout caught up to me a long time ago, and with the affordability of college being completely impossible without loans I would never have a hope of paying back, I turned to trades as an option of higher education without the ridiculous price tag.

I am more of a hands on person. Sitting down at an office desk was never for me, and I'm not sure why I ever thought it would be. I want to get my hands dirty, and have a new adventure every day.

Why HVAC specifically? Good question. I was interested in trades in general, how things work has always fascinated me. HVAC was a matter of elimination. Medical was not for me, blood and high stakes stress me out and the cost of those courses are very high. I've already flunked out of engineering classes in high school so anything related to it was a no go. Welding was another good option, but with loud sounds and bright lights my autism and bad hearing were not going to have a good time. The last two I was considering were HVAC and electrical. Each excellent fields and I had high interest in both, so I applied for EMT which is a combination of both (electrical mechanical technician, not the medical worker).

Now a new issue arose, one I have dealt with my whole life.

I am transgender.

The current trans panic, living in the bible belt, not passing well, and the already intimidating trades were a lot to take in a navigate, but I believe I have been very fortunate.

The first step was shopping around for a school and being very up front with how I identify and the situation. Emailing schools made it easier to imagine the school as an entity rather than a collection of people each with their own political views that make them view me very differently. I was ghosted by a couple schools, I am unsure if this is because of my identity or if they thought I was a spammer, but for my sake I'd like to think it was the ladder.

I managed to get pell grants, a few scholarships, loans that are far smaller than they would be for a four year degree, and finally an approved application.

The first couple of months were intimidating, there is a lot to learn in a small amount of time and a recent head injury was not helping. However, I do not give up easily. I found that passing had never been more important to me than ever, and I'm not entirely sure why. Perhaps the far more masculine men around me make me feel more inadequate. Perhaps the trans panic has indeed instilled a terror in me of being clocked as trans far more than I originally thought. Perhaps it is simply paranoia and the unknown. Whatever the case, I've found myself taking more steps than I usually do to pass, including binding. I never really did befores since having covid binding has restricted my breathing when any strenuous activity is involved, my chest is not large to begin with, and the mentioned current economic crisis has made it impossible to save for top.

There have been a couple instances when I was misidentified as female, thankfully my voice saved me in that regard, but when I am stopped up due to the weather, it is not as convincing.

In one instance the wrong name was called (since I have been unable to change it) so I had to pretend like my name was simply not on the roster until I could correct the person in private, embarrassing everyone involved. My existence is very alien, so there is no system in place to change my name or inform staff other than by email or word of mouth. It is all very overwhelming.

Other than all of these moving parts, day to day has been very smooth. I can update in the future if there are any incidents or new challenges come up. Thank you for reading.

[delightful-mirth]

Browsing through a hard disk, I stumbled upon an old edit I did of Hogwarts castle with many Pride flags on its spires. Now I’m going to tell the story behind this picture.

Back in June 2020, after Harry Potter’s author started vomiting her anti-trans rhetoric, I found a nice picture on Instagram of Hogwarts castle from Universal Studios Park in Florida with many Pride flags photoshopped on it. The message was about Hogwarts always welcoming anyone, no matter what HP's author says. The trans flag stood out higher over the other flags to show particular support to the group that was, and sadly still is, being targeted. Since I liked it very much, I shared it here on my Tumblr blog, crediting the people who made it (as I always do whenever I share something that it is not mine).

The thing is the Lesbian flag was nowhere to be found, but I honestly didn’t notice when I posted the picture. Why the authors omitted it, I can’t tell. Probably their focus was on the Trans flag, or perhaps they just forgot. Whatever the reason, they surely had nothing against lesbians: they included the Lesbian Pride flag in other edits they made.

After I published it, the post went literally ablaze, with an incredibly large number of interactions that just kept skyrocketing by the minute (which is unusual for a blog consisting mostly of reblogs like my own). While the picture and the message were generally appreciated and understood, a lot of people were vocal about the missing Lesbian flag, accusing me of omitting it on purpose and, long story short, of being lesbophobic (no matter how I clearly specified that I merely shared and didn’t make the edit).

Out of rage and concern that some trolls might go on Instagram and harass the original creators, I impulsively deleted the post. What made me particularly angry was both the accusations of discriminating against Lesbians, whom as a Gay man myself I actually see as sisters in this heteronormative world, and the fact that none of those folks who complained had never bothered to reblog any of the important articles and petitions about LGBTQ+ rights I shared on my blog. A missing flag in an edit I shared caused much uproar, but LGBTQ+ people (including Lesbians) being persecuted and killed was treated as an inconsequential matter here. And this is the issue with many toxic tumblrinx, who see themselves as experts and activists of LGBTQ+ rights, when all they do is shipping same-sex fictional characters, prioritizing them over actual LGBTQ+ people.

Someone commented that I shouldn't use the “big tags” (I guess they were referring to #transphobia and #trans rights), for “this crap.” Well, whenever I used the big tags for really important matters, this person never showed up; I know because those posts usually get three reblogs at best.

There were even people who took the time to make memes about the missing Lesbian flag. Again, they had time for this, but they could never spend a few seconds to reblog important posts I shared. But also: they opened Photoshop to make those memes, but none of them thought about using it to add the missing flag.

I suspect that maybe not all but certainly some of those people who stirred such a shitstorm were transphobes, who tried to shift the concern on transphobia to something else.

The specific Gay/Vincian flag was also missing in the picture: since I am a Gay man myself, was I self-discriminating?

So, after I took down the picture, I made an edit of my own with my limited Photoshop skills. Not only I added the Lesbian flag, I added even more Pride flags that were absent in the edit that caused so much controversy. Of course, not every existing Pride flags as that would be impossible, especially considering that more and more orientations and gender identites are costantly identified (mind you, I said “identified” not “invented”). But of course, all of them are valid and identified in the Rainbow Pride flag and its variants.

At the time I didn't post this edit of mine, because right after finishing it, I believed that Tumblr simply wasn't worth it, given what had recently happened. And if I believed that it was possible to separate the art from the artist then, I'm not exactly sure about it anymore in Harry Potter's case. I think that the whole series is tainted by the author's hateful views, and that just keeping it relevant, even without buying official merch, will still fill the author's pocket. However, to give some sort of closure to this matter, here it is:

[driftward]

Title: A Knight's Duty Characters: Zoissette Vauban, Ement Vauban, Guillerme, Lady Vauban Rating: Teen Summary: The story of how Zoissette learned what makes a knight Notes: The First Duty is, of course, from Star Trek: TNG, repurposed for my usage here. Failure is not an Option is from Schlock Mercenary, modified here (original here)

This is the masterpost for A Knight's Duty. If you'd prefer to read chapter by chapter, check the tag: A Knight's Duty

"What makes a knight?"

Ement was still breathing hard from a session with the training dummy machine, and was only half paying attention to the Hyur currently lecturing him as he took a swig from his water skin. It wasn't that his training wasn't important to him, it was, it was just hard to pay attention to Guillerme after the mechanical menace had gotten near to tanning his hide.

Guillerme continued. "Is it their sword, their shield? The armor that they wear? The oaths that they swear? Holiness before the Holy See? Dedication? Service? Power? Birth? Of course, a knight is many things, but it's important that you know what a knight is to you, little lordling."

Ement allowed himself to be distracted further by listening to the count of bells in the distance. At the fourth of what would be five of them, Ement heard the door to the training room being opened and then closed again. He glanced over to see his little sister, Zoissette, enter the room and sit at her customary table.

She took a book out, and set her logbook next to it, as she always did. And then, blank faced, she stared at the wall.

That was weird. Normally she'd either get right into reading, or would be watching for a moment to babble about her day.

Guillerme noticed Ement's gaze, looked over, grunted, and looked back to Ement. Ement shrugged at him. "What's the matter, boy?" asked Guillerme. "Couldn't find a girl at the Scholasticate to come moon over your martial prowess?"

"Couldn't I?" asked Ement, looking up at the ceiling. "I wasn't aware I was supposed to go looking for one there, but I suppose they have a few. I hear they've allowed them for generations now." He looked back down at Guillerme. "...I think something's worrying her."

Guillerme sighed. "I suppose a knight must show fealty to family. Take a break, go, tend to your sister, if you must."

Ement nodded, putting his wooden practice sword and shield aside before making his way to Zoissette's table and sitting across from her.

She can be such a brat, he thought. Nowadays she tended to the younger twins when she had to, trailed after her brother when she could, and escaped to her books when she couldn't.

Regardless, he sat down across from her, and immediately felt awkward about it. Nobody'd taught him how to be an older brother. He only knew he wasn't going to be like their mother, and he knew a little bit about how to be like their father. The good parts. The parts that had sage wisdom and kindness and an always open ear.

Not the parts that were absent for large parts of the year tending to the spiritual needs of a congregation.

Too much thinking. He shook his head.

"What's got my sister grumpy, I wonder?" said Ement, lightly, cheerfully.

"Something went wrong today," said Zoissette quietly.

Ement nodded and took a swig of his water skin. He knew she wouldn't be able to hold it in for long, whatever it was. And sure enough, her eyes were already starting to do that thing where they wandered around the room a bit as she gathered her thoughts.

Some kind of mental thinking... thing. He didn't pretend to understand. She was just a little weird like that.

"It was while I was running luncheon errands during school hours. There is a new kid in our class. I don't know them. But I guess the others did. I was going back to school when I came across them in the street. The others were making fun of the new kid. They called them a bastard and a heretic. They - I think they were trying to get back to school. But the others, they wouldn't let them pass. They shoved them to the ground at one point. They - they let me by, though. I didn't stop. I think-

"I think they were throwing stones by the time I'd left."

She fell silent.

"Hells, that's rough," said Ement quietly. "Stones?"

Zoissette nodded.

"Probably was a bastard."

"That shouldn't matter!" yelled Zoissette, standing up. Ement held his hands up and tried to wave her down.

"Easy, easy. Not saying that makes it right, but that's probably what it was."

Zoissette glared before sitting back down just as abruptly as she had stood up, deflating as her anger fled her as fast as it'd arrived.

"...it shouldn't have mattered."

"No, it shouldn't have," said Ement agreeably. "We're all told to be kind to the Greystones, or at least as kind to them as we are to everyone else, but nobody is, and that's just the way things are."

"It shouldn't be."

"You're right. It shouldn't be."

Zoissette went still, seeming to have run out of energy, and Ement considered the matter closed.

"Hey. Hey, look. I'll talk to father, he'll talk to the headmistress, and they'll get it all sorted, alright? It's good that you told someone. I'll take care of it from here."

Zoissette just nodded, and Ement slapped the top of the table as he stood up.

"Alright. Go ahead and get started studying, I need to finish my training," he said, walking over to Guillerme.

Guillerme studied Zoissette for a long moment before turning his attention to Ement.

"So tell me, young Ement," said Guillerme, getting right back to it. "What makes a knight?"

Ement looked to Zoissette and waited until she noticed, and he gave her his best reassuring smile.

"Being brave and defending the smallfolk, of course," he said. Guillerme rolled his eyes and cuffed him on the side of the head. Ement tried to duck, and failed, but laughed even as the hit landed.

"Take this -seriously-, lad. Dragon's not gonna give you a break so you can strut around preening your feathers. If you're gonna show off, wait until you're off my time," Guillerme groused. "A round of calisthenics oughta get somma that cheek outta you."

The training continued for the day, in a somewhat more physical vein, until Ement was exhausted. He glanced over at Zoissette a few times and noticed that she was paying rather more attention to the proceedings than usual.

Well, no matter. She'd had a bad day, and she'd be back to her usual self on the morrow, he mused.

---

"The new kid wasn't at school today," said Zoissette almost immediately after she'd taken her seat at her table.

Ement was busy loading up the training dummy machine with weights, and only responded with a grunt. Guillerme crossed his arms and leaned against the wall.

"And what of it, girl?" said Guillerme.

"They were pulled out by their parents. Going to one of the settlements, the headmistress said. She said they'd be a better fit there," said Zoissette. "She didn't mention anything about what happened earlier this sennight."

"Well, father said he'd talk to her," said Ement, loading up another weight. "Guess that must've happened."

Zoissette looked down at the table. "They'd been hurt real bad. I saw them the day after. They were blue and purple and holding their arm, and they... nobody could get near them. They'd keep moving away. I wanted to... I wanted to talk to them, but they were avoiding everyone.

"It's not fair."

Guillerme laughed. "Life is not fair, girl," he said. "Just be glad your little friend is probably safer now."

"They weren't a friend," said Zoissette. "I certainly was no friend to them," she paused, and mumbled, "Might've been easier to do something if they were a friend."

Gullerme snorted, and Ement stepped back from the training dummy. "It's wound up and ready to go," said Ement. "...I think, anyway. Might need to ask mother or father if we can spare the coin for another one. This one's gone all stiff. I'm surprised it still moves."

"Still hits hard enough for me," said Guillerme, as he inspected Ement's work. "It's noisy and it's bothersome but it gets the job done, now don't it? Alright. Your block game is weak. Grab a shield."

Ement groaned and rolled his eyes as he grabbed the wooden training shield off the wall.

"None of that. You think a dragon'll maybe stick to what you like if you grump at it hard enough? Stand up straight, boy. Look it in the eyes. A knight does not shy away from what must needs be done."

Ement rolled his shoulders, shook out his arms, and nodded his head, and looked into the training dummy machine's 'eyes', which were really just two spots painted on the top most rotating section.

"I want to be a knight."

Ement and Guillerme looked over at Zoissette.

"Come again?" asked Guillerme.

"I want to be a knight," said Zoissette, standing next to her table, her head up and fists balled at her sides.

"Fine, you're a knight," said Ement, looking back to the training dummy.

"You're not taking me seriously," said Zoissette.

Ement groaned.  "Fine. Let's talk about it. A knight?" he asked, lightly. He gestured with his shield at Guillerme. "Maybe you haven't noticed, but being a knight means training, and that means Guillerme here gets another victim."

Guillerme snorted as Ement continued. "It means more than just reading rules. It means quite a lot of getting turned into meal by this bloody grindstone over here."

Zoissette stuck her nose up in the air. "I know what it means. It means being brave and strong and standing up for the smallfolk and doing the right thing."

Guillerme held out a hand towards Ement, and Ement nodded, falling silent.

"What do you mean by brave, girl."

Zoissette looked at Guillerme, and her eyes danced around the room a bit.

"...it means not being afraid."

"That's what you think, is it? Let me tell you a thing or two. Dragons don't care if you're afraid or not, and if you're not afraid of a dragon, you are a fool."

Zoissette shifted back and forth on her feet, but her gaze drifted to Guillerme, and then it stayed there.

"A knight would face a dragon anyway."

"Hells, true. But not because they're a knight. You don't get brave being a knight. You are brave, and that's what lets you be a knight. You want to be a knight? You do the right thing first. You want to be brave? You gotta figure out what it is first, girl, but I'll give you that one for free. It's when you're scared so bad you've messed your pants, but you do what needs to be done anyway.

"Figure that out. Maybe then we can talk about what it is to be a knight."

Guillerme turned from Zoissette and gestured at Ement. "And I hope you were paying attention. Get to your drills."

Ement nodded, and he set the mechanical training dummy to running. The next time he was able to spare a glance for Zoissette, she had sat back down at her table, but she wasn't studying her books.

---

"What's all the training for," asked Zoissette, without preamble. "You said a knight doesn't train to be brave, but you have to be brave to be a knight, so that's not what the training is for. Is it all entirely just to fight dragons?"

It had been a quiet day in the training room. Ement had been repairing the straps on the training shield while Guillerme inspected the room's armaments. The two stopped now.

"Not... entirely," said Guillerme, rolling his words around in his mouth a bit as he thought. "Tell me about the other day. About your not-a -friend. What do you wish you had done?"

Zoissette frowned, and swallowed, and when she spoke next her voice had a subtle shake to it. "I should have said something. I should have told the others to leave them alone. I should have done anything except - except I kept walking and- and- and I pretended I didn't see anything."

"And then what, girl?" Asked Guillerme, his voice gentle.

"And then what?" asked Zoissette, looking at him.

"And then what. You talk to them. You think that would have, what? Stopped them?  You think your words alone would scare them off? Perhaps you think they would have said, ah, well, yes. This girl has the right of it. We should listen to her?"

Zoissette looked down at the table. "I don't know."

"One of the things a knight must needs consider is the consequences of their actions. Not just for good, but also for ill. Maybe your words would have been enough. Maybe it would've staved them off. But maybe it would've just turned their ire to you. And when there's anger in their bellies and stones in their hands, what then, girl?"

Zoissette looked to the training dummy. "...I'd tell the kid they were hurting to run. And... I'd stay, I guess. Get between them and the others. And... and fight."

"And fight. Violence is persuasion through other means, girl, and a knight is ready to use it when needed. We hope it doesn't come to it, oh how we hope, but hope bleeds eternal and it don't keep the smallfolk safe. You'll do well to remember that."

Zoissette nodded, and at last fell quiet. Ement turned his attention to the shield he was repairing.

Guillerme looked thoughtful for a long bit.

"Don't forget to review your Squire's Primer, lad," he said, distracted.

Ement frowned at him, confused. That was from his early days. "Yes, Master Guillerme," he said anyway.

---

The next few days were blessedly simple for Ement. The training dummy machine still tended to make an unholy screeching racket, and Ement wasn't sure it would last much longer, but that was a problem he was well familiar with.

As for the problems of his little sister, it seemed she had finally drifted on from this most recent interest of hers and returned to her usual studies. She had her books, and her reading didn't require him or Guillerme to try to field any more of life's deeply complex questions.

At least, that's what he thought, until she walked up to Guillerme one day, her face serious.

"I want to receive a knight's training," she said.

"Not this again," groaned Ement, but Guillerme waved a hand at him, and he fell silent.

"You've been reading," said Guillerme.

Zoissette nodded.

"Why," said Guillerme, slowly, "Should I train you."

Zoissette looked crestfallen for a moment, then frowned, balled up her hands, and looked Guillerme in the face. Ement imagine it might've been intimidating if she wasn't a third his size.

"...I- I did the wrong thing. I shouldn't have been afraid. I should've stood up for them. And if I'm going to stand up for people, I need to be ready for what that means. Ready to defend."

"Standing up for certain people is a good way to make enemies, girl."

"I shouldn't be afraid to make enemies."

"You shouldn't try to find enemies, either."

"I shouldn't be afraid to make enemies if... if it means doing the right thing."

"You kept your head down. You stayed safe."

"And that didn't keep them safe. I - I want to keep people safe."

"And how'll you do that?"

Zoissette took a deep breath in. "Use words, if I can. Diplomacy, if I'm able. Violence as a last resort, but an available one. A knight defends."

"And when you fail?"

Zoissette looked down at the ground. "I already did. Because I didn't do anything in the first place."

Guillerme rubbed his chin, considering the little Elezen. Ement wanted to say something reassuring, but nothing was coming to mind that didn't sound incredibly lame. He tried anyway.

"It's not so bad, Zoissette."

Zoissette looked up at him and so did Guillerme, and Guillerme nodded, slowly. "Aye. He's got the right of it, lass."

"I do?" Asked Ement, bewildered.

Guillerme snorted, then got down on one knee, to look Zoissette in the eye.

"Failure is not an option, lass. Failure is -mandatory-. The option... the option is in how you face it."

Zoissette stared at him for a long moment before nodding slowly.

"I want to - I want to face it again. I want to be better. I want to do better," she said. "Please teach me."

Guillerme rubbed his chin more, standing back up. "You seem willing to learn, lass. And I can tell you've done some thinking about what we've talked about. I can appreciate that. Better than some of my priors, anyroad. You certainly seem determined enough. If only you'd shown that mettle before, but I can work with what you're bringing. Well. I suppose I can handle another noble brat... as an apprentice. What say you, lad?"

Zoissette lit up. Ement groaned.

"Fine. I guess we'll ask mother," said Ement.

---

It was late in the day. Dinner was done, the twins had been put to bed, and Ement had waited until everyone was present in the hearth room before getting into the matter.

It'd been a bit of a tactical decision on his part. The twins being in bed would ensure their presence did not serve as a distraction. Father, who was already settling in with a holy book into his favorite chair, would hopefully serve as a mitigating force against mother. And lastly, Zoissette would help him make his case.

Ement put on his best blankly pleasant face. "Mother, Zoissette has taken an interest in my training sessions as of late."

The Lady Vauban had not made her way to a chair yet, and did not now. Instead she stood, tall and imposing and regal, and crossed her arms as she turned her attention to Zoissette. "Is that so?" she asked, seemingly mildly. Seemingly, for Ement often had a hard time getting a handle on where her mood was at when she wasn't upset.

"I want to train to be a knight," said Zoissette, sitting up straight and looking their mother in the eye.

"And you hope to achieve this by watching your brother? I do hope you're not neglecting your duties to your siblings."

"She's not," cut in Ement before Zoissette had a chance to speak. "She's been attending my sessions for near on a moon now, and I've been keeping an eye out. She uses the time to study, but I think she's also learning from me and Guillerme."

"Guillerme and I," corrected his mother.

"Right, of course, Guillerme and I. Anyroad, Guillerme has said he's willing to train both of us," said Ement.

Lady Vauban studied him for a long moment.

"Absolutely not," she said, finally.

"Dear, perhaps we should hear the boy out," said their father, not looking up from his reading.

"It seems like it would be a better use of her time than just watching me," said Ement, breezily with a shrug, hoping he came off as only lightly invested.

"I've learned a lot from just watching him," said Zoissette, and she looked like she was about to say more when her mother cut her off.

"No, and that is final. Ement, you will be needed to take over my duties at the fort one day, and you will not be shirking this responsibility onto your little sister. As for you, Zoissette, your responsibilities are here, to our house. The twins need looked after. You need to maintain your studies. And the house must be kept in order, and I expect you to do it whenever I or your father are away. I will not waste coin we do not have on a foolish child's whimsy, nor shall I risk you wasting time that can be better spent otherwise. We each have our duties, and you each shall tend to them. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, mother" 

"...yes, mother."

Zoissette looked crestfallen, and Ement sighed. Well. There was no point to arguing with mother when she had made up her mind, and so he let the matter drop.

---

If there were further troubles with the other kids at school, or elsewhere, Ement did not hear about it. His training continued under Guillerme's watchful eye, and Zoissette continued to arrive at just around five bells to watch.

She would frequently come in with a book or two to read, but she seemed quieter somehow. And she now watched his training with a sharp focus she did not have before.

He expected that, like many of her interests, that this would pass, given time. One sennight became two became many, and still, she came in, to watch him carefully. He noticed that the training machine began to improve in operation as well, a fact he was glad of. Its terrible screeching had begun to worry him, but now, it seemed that it had worked some of its rust loose, and its movements were quieter, smoother.

It was about a moon into this new pattern when he thought he began to notice Zoissette's attention waning during the sessions, which he assumed, at first, was an early sign of her beginning to lose interest. However, he noticed that her attention was not so much waning as vanishing altogether, as she was beginning to fall asleep during his training sessions.

He was not the only one who noticed. He was fighting the training dummy one day when he heard a rather loud crack noise reverberate through the room, coming from Zoissette's table. He quickly disengaged from his fight with the machine only to see Zoissette sitting bolt upright in her chair, and one of the heavier weights for the machine leaning sideways on the table's surface.

"A knight," said Guillerme, "remains vigilant. Do you think the dragons will be kind enough to ring a bell for you before ravaging your comrades?"

"No, Master Guillerme," she said, still dazed. Guillerme snorted and turned his attention back to Ement. "And you! Do you think a dragon will let you walk away just because you got startled? Get back in there!"

Ement nodded, feeling the adrenaline in his veins fade away, and he got back to his drills. After that, he noticed Zoissette showed up to training sessions with a tea kettle and some cups to keep her company. She stopped falling asleep during his training.

It was some more sennights passed when he noticed Zoissette seemed to have picked up a limp. He thought to ask about it, but Guillerme spoke to it first.

"A knight," said Guillerme, "Looks after their health. I trust you are taking your ease with that limp, girl."

Zoissette frowned at him, but nodded. She was more alert for the rest of the sennight, and the limp went away, and Ement simply never got around to asking about it. But after that, shortly after she was walking normally again, she returned to needing the tea to stay alert.

He found himself wondering when he'd started paying so much attention to his sister's eccentricities, and resolved to go back to ignoring her. For the most part.

---

One night, Ement found himself awake at three bells in the morning, according to the bedside chronometer. Finding himself unable to return to sleep, he slipped out of bed and into the hallways of the manor.

It was quiet throughout the house of Vauban. The servants would all be long asleep, as would his family. There would be a single sentry outside maintaining a vigilant watch, and Ement was not about to bother them. He went to the kitchens first, making himself a simple sandwich, before taking to simply wandering the halls aimlessly.

His path took him past the training room, and he almost walked past it for how dark it was. He wondered briefly who had put out the torch in the hallway, but then turned his thoughts to considering the benefits of exercise in alleviating his sudden bout of insomnia. He put his hand on the doorknob, and as he twisted it, he remembered that he had not brought the key with him.

That, apparently, did not matter. The door opened smoothly. He just shook his head. Mother would be upset if she knew he'd left the door unlocked. He failed to notice how the hinges on the door no longer squeaked like they had, well, his whole life, if he'd stopped and thought about it.

The room was dimly lit already. A single torch on the corner furthest from the door had been lit. Near it was the training dummy, and near that was Zoissette.

Ement stood in the doorway, dumbfounded, as he watched Zoissette carefully getting up on the tips of her toes to place the weights on the training dummy. Before she had a chance to turn around, he had the presence of mind to back out of the room, and mostly close the door, leaving himself a tiny crack to watch through.

She glanced over in his direction periodically, but the hallway and training room both were very dark, save for the single light source that she must've lit. He realized belatedly that she must have been responsible for the light in the hallway being out as well.

As he watched, she managed to get all the weights placed onto the training dummy's various cables. She then grabbed a long-nosed thing that looked to Ement to be some kind of watering can. She pushed its nose into various joints on the training dummy, and then would tilt her head or duck down to inspect something or another before moving on. She moved quickly, and it was not long until the can had been set aside, and she was winding the training dummy.

Once it was fully wound and set, she went to the wall with the training gear, and awkwardly put on a training gambeson. Ement recognized it as the set that was sized for a tallish Hyur. Considering she had not yet hit her growth, that sort of made sense, but even then, the build of an Elezen was different from that of a Hyur, and she looked very awkward in the outfit. Then she grabbed one of the training shields, and a training sword, and then, standing close to the training dummy, she reached up, and set it into motion.

She stepped back and waited, watching as it spun up, same as he had to do every time he set it to motion. Once it was whirring along merrily, however, she hovered around its periphery, and then dove into the mess of swinging armatures and counter balances. She ducked in and out of its reach, attempting to block with her shield, and occasionally making indelicate strikes with her wooden sword.

Ement winced as she took a hit to the back, and stumbled forward in time to meet a strike to her helmet. Apparently rattled, she turned around, and another armature slammed into the back of her legs. She sprawled to the ground and quickly rolled away from the machine, underneath where its arms were swinging, and came to sit with her back against a wall, panting.

Ement wondered if he should be concerned at how many hits she had failed to block. He resolved instead to watch as she pulled a small basket close to her. A sandwich, and a water skin. Healthy food for a healthy knight, he supposed. For a healthy night. He groaned inwardly at himself for that one. It was far too late an hour to be awake. Or too early. Or something.

Ement pulled back from the doorway, closing the door quietly before sitting down against the wall in the hallway, leaning back and closing his eyes. He wasn't sure what to make of this just yet.

But it was three bells in the morning, almost four now. And there was nothing to be done that he could think of. So he made his way back to his own bed.

---

Ement continued his training. If Zoissette had realized he had been there that night, she had given no indication of it, and she continued to show up to his training sessions. Guillerme, of course, continued to train Ement directly, and Zoissette in his weird roundabout way. Ement could only guess at the man's motivations. Perhaps he felt it would be craven to ask for more coin. Or perhaps he enjoyed it as a little game. Maybe he was just fond of the girl. In any case, Zoissette continued to pay rapt attention, and Ement started to pay closer attention in turn.

Not to his own training, of course. That, he had always taken seriously. But he began to ask after his sisters' other activities when she was not watching him train. The maids reported that Zoissette was continuing to do her duty of looking after the twins. Her teachers noted that her work had shown some sign of slippage, but it was not alarming, and anyway, at least she was not showing the signs of rebellion that were so typical of her age. The church, in turn, reported that she was attentive enough to sermons.

An acolyte at the church had noticed that Zoissette's reading appetite, already voracious, had expanded greatly in breadth. Ement asked if he could see what she had been checking out, and the young woman had been happy to oblige him.

What he found was not terribly surprising, considering all that he knew now. He saw some of what he would have considered typical. Holy texts for study, drill guides for reading and writing, and her appetite for Shieldmaiden story tales had not seemed to slacken despite her age. Among her more recent reading materials were ones he could have guessed at. The Squire's Primer. A guide to modern sword and shield play, with illustrations. The Precepts of the Upright Soldier. However, he also found some interesting entries in the checkout log that he would never have guessed at.

Such as multiple requests - all fulfilled - to borrow some books from the Skysteel Manufactory. Guides to the assembly, construction, and maintenance of mechanical devices.

Such as the mechanical training dummy. And, if he had to guess, lock smithery was probably covered somewhere as well.

He thanked the acolyte, and headed home, unsure what to do with this information. On the one hand, it was not as though she was getting into any trouble. Indeed, for as annoying as she could be, Zoissette was, well, in his mother's words, a dutiful daughter; well behaved and well mannered. That she was well read as well was no surprise. It was either let her read or put up with her finding her way into the rafters or onto the roof, and the family had made their decisions on that long ago.

He wondered idly if perhaps she had simply gotten sneakier about her mischief.

And as he set his alarum for two bells, he decided that that was what was bothering him. The secrecy. That, and if either of their parents found out, well. He was not sure what rule she had broken, but he was also certain it wouldn't much matter.

And so it was in his own best interest, as well as hers, to try to curtail this disaster before it unfolded. He settled into bed, closed his eyes, and went to sleep.

---

The chiming of his alarum awoke him at two bells. Ement ground his teeth, slapped the top of the chronometer to silence it, and climbed out of bed.

He had not thought to prepare, and so it took him some time to get himself together. He wanted to be dressed, for one. On his last excursion he'd been prepared for the possibility of one of the house servants seeing him in his smalls, but the idea of his sister seeing him as such was out of the question. He also took some time to find a torch, and then even longer to light it. He had intended to catch her before she had made her way to the training room, but it was nearly a full bell later by the time he had fully sorted himself out and made his way there.

The torch in the hallway had been put out again. He lit it as he passed by.

He tested the door to the training room, and found it unlocked once more. He quietly opened it a little bit, and could hear the soft whirring of the training dummy, and the rather less soft sound of wooden armatures as they made their impacts. He let himself in, and went to sit at Zoissette's table.

There was a tool roll on top of it, and several books. He unrolled the tool roll, finding several pieces of bent metal he did not recognize in there. He looked to the books, and recognized them as being on the list the acolyte had provided them. A book on the maintenance of simple machines. A book full of pictures of various attacks and defenses a knight might use against a variety of opponents. A book on lock smithing. He decided to open the book on the workings of mechanical training dummies.

He leafed through it, looking at diagrams and glancing over mechanical descriptions. He paused with a frown on the section about counterweights. He looked up to look over at the machine, and was startled to see Zoissette standing a scant few yalms away, her arms crossed, and a scowl on her face.

"You shouldn't be here," she said matter-of-fact as she moved to roll the tools back up. "Why are you here?"

"Uhm, well, you know how it is," he said, beginning one of his easy explanations, before stopping himself. "Wait. What am I doing here, what are you doing here?"

"I'm training," Zoissette said.

"I can see that," he said, getting up and walking over to the machine. "At three bells in the dark," he added, as he looked at the book once more, and compared what was written to what he saw.

"When else would I do it?" she asked. Ement didn't answer, as he examined the weights on the machine, and read the book one more time to verify what he'd seen.

"You're using the weights that I use," he said quietly. "You are supposed to alter them for the person using them. These are far too heavy for you - that means..." he looked through the book some more. He wasn't actually sure what that meant.

"It means it hits harder and swings faster," said Zoissette.

"Fury, Zoissette. You're a third my weight."

"More than that. And if you can do it, I can do it."

"This thing might kill you!"

"Hasn't yet. And besides, dragon's not going to ask me how much I -weigh-," she said, mimicking the form of one of Guillerme's turns of phrase.

Ement rubbed his face. He'd learned how to deal with mother seasons ago. Bratty little sisters were beginning to prove somewhat more difficult.

Especially at three bells in the hells-forsaken morning.

"You're supposed to be sleeping," he said, switching tacks.

"So are you."

"I'm only awake because you are."

"Well, then go back to sleep," and she looked up at him with a big warm smile on her lips and a gleam in her eyes. He rubbed his face again.

"Look. You can't keep doing this" he said, gently. "You need sleep, same as everyone else."

"...I know."

"And where'd you get a lock smithing set, anyway?"

"Skysteel Manufactory. I asked nicely," she said.

Ement closed his eyes tightly, and squeezed the bridge of his nose.

"Alright. You're going to return the tools and the books," he said.

"But-"

"Let me finish. I'll let you have the key to lock up when I'm done training for the day. That way you can let yourself in. Alright?"

"...you'll let me keep training then? You won't tell mother?"

Ement looked around the room, and sighed.

"I'm -pretty- sure you'd just find some other way to be a brat," he said. "This way, I get to set conditions. A knight's word is their bond. Is yours as good?"

Zoissette nodded.

"Good. Then here's my conditions. Do this closer to bedtime. I can't -believe- you picked between two and three bells to get started."

"I thought I'd be less likely to be caught."

"Yes, well, you're also destroying both of our sleeps. Both of ours? Whatever. Second, less weight."

She jutted her chin out at him. "I was handling it okay."

"Wait. Is that why you were limping a while back?"

Zoissette suddenly found the floor very interesting.

"Sette."

"Maybe."

"Halone preserve. Less weight. Okay?"

"...okay."

"Alright. Alright," said Ement. "Fine. This is fine. Help me clean this place up, and let's go to bed already."

---

Once they were done cleaning up, they didn't get very far past the door.

Standing in the hallway, her arms crossed, as tall and as regal and as angry as ever, was the Lady Vauban.

"Did you think," she began slowly, "That I was ignorant of the going ons of my own house?"

That's exactly what Ement thought, now that it'd been brought to his attention, but what he said was, "Oh, was I supposed to?"

His mother's expression darkened, and in turn, Ement's expression brightened, as he shifted to an easy, lazy play of calm ignorance.

"You know full well that neither of you should be awake at this hour. And certainly not fooling around in the training room."

Ement switched to looking confused, frowning as he tapped a finger against his lips. "I don't remember there being any rules about when we should be awake."

"Do not play games with me, boy."

"I would never dream of it. Though I should get back to dreaming. But first, surely you've noticed how quiet the doors are in the manor as of late? Dutiful Zoissette here has taken on the burden of maintenance in our home."

His mother frowned. "What are you on about."

"Well, she didn't want to bother anybody. So of course, when she wakes up to check on the twins, she's also come by the rooms to, uhm... what is it you did again, Zoissette?"

Zoissette had been standing next to him the whole time. To her credit, she did not attempt to flee or to hide, but instead, had stood her ground alongside him. She stood straighter and taller, now, as she answered.

"The training armature requires oiling at regular intervals if it is to maintain efficacy without damaging itself. The self same oil serves similar needs in door hinges. I have taken care of both."

Ement was silently grateful that, for once, she did not seem to find it necessary to explain every detail of her activities, even though he wished she hadn't mentioned the training machine.

Their mother glared at the both of them, her mouth pressed into a thin line, and her eyes slowly narrowing.

"To bed with both of you. We shall speak more on this on the morrow."

"Right, right, of course, mother. Come on, Zoissette," said Ement, turning down the hallway. Zoissette was quick to catch up to him.

"There is no -way- we're going to get away with this," she muttered to him.

"Oh absolutely not," he agreed. "But now we've got time to make our excuses. And more importantly, get some sleep. Was it -really- necessary to do this at three bells in the morning?"

"Two and a half. I already -told- you why I picked this time."

Ement groaned.

"...thank you," she said. Ever polite.

"Oh, don't thank me yet," he said breezily. "She's still going to be cross on the morrow."

---

Ement stood nervously. He kept glancing over at Guillerme nearby, who was leaning against the wall, seemingly unperturbed.

He was not sure he had ever been so aware of every ilm of his being. He tried and failed to resist the urge to swallow again. He could feel his fingers as they played along the hilt of his practice sword, each one uncurling and tightening in turn. He strained his ears to listen to the tolling of the five afternoon bells, and heard them begin to ring out.

He turned his gaze to the door of the training room as it opened, and Zoissette walked in backwards, keeping an eye out on the hallway as she came in. She closed the door gently and turned around.

Ement could not see Lady Vauban's expression from where he was standing, but he saw Zoissette's response to it as she startled. She started to cringe, collapsing inward, but then something shifted in her. She looked up at their mother, her eyes suddenly bright, and she stepped forward, carrying herself with the same regality their mother often affected.

"Mother," said Zoissette. Defiant. With some kind of fire in her. Ement just hoped she wasn't about to get them both burned.

He considered a possible future as some kind of Chocobo waste handler.

"Zoissette. Care to explain yourself?"

"...and rather better than you lot did last night," said Guillerme. The man seemed to not care whether he was here or not, and his tone was much the same as he might've used to discuss the weather. "A knight does not prevaricate."

Zoissette glanced at Guillerme, and then looked at Ement. Ement nodded his head, once. In for a Gil, in for the whole bag, he figured.

"I was training," said Zoissette. "I wish to learn to fight. To defend."

"Did your brother put you up to that?"

"No. I'm choosing to do it. For myself."

"For yourself. And what of your other duties? Your other responsibilities? I hear tell your grades have been slipping, young lady. And who's looking after the twins?"

"I am. And my grades are still good. They'd be better if I didn't have to sneak out at night."

Ement suppressed a groan.That's probably just going to make her madder, he thought.

"You would not be sneaking out if you -obeyed-," said the Lady Vauban, her voice ice. Ement disliked that he was right. "I am very disappointed in you, daughter."

"Why? I would think you'd be proud! Two fighters in the family, and I can still look after the house! You fight, why can't I learn to?"

"Enough. This is not a discussion. This is an edict. You will no longer sneak out at night to the training room. Do I make myself clear?"

Zoissette frowned at the floor.

"Lady Vauban, if I may?" Said Guillerme.

"You may."

"The girl's grades are suffering because of terrible sleep, aye, but look at what she's accomplishing despite that. And the boy's training has come far enough along. I think he'll make as good a squire as any, a good knight, even. So I think we should push him. Let me teach him summore, and in turn, let him teach the girl. Think of it as good leadership training for the lad. I believe that if you can't teach what you know, you don't really know it. And I think he does, well enough. And since I wouldn't be training the girl directly, I wouldn't see any reason to charge your house any coin for the privilege."

The Lady Vauban turned and looked cooly at Guillerme. He shrugged at her in response.

"You know my reputation. You know I'm good for it. And if this does turn out to be some flight of fancy of hers, like you said to me this morning, well that's fine too. Then your son will learn how to deal with a less than stellar soldier. Both roads, he gets experience, good experience that'll serve him well. If she sticks to it, your house'll gain another sword arm when she's of age, like she just said. If not, well, keeps her out of trouble, right? I'm practically watching her anyroad."

Ement fidgeted, unhappily watching the drama play out.

Lady Vauban held her gaze on Guillerme for what felt like several minutes.

"...perhaps I have been too harsh," she conceded at last. She turned to Zoissette. "It is important that you understand, dear daughter, just how difficult it is to balance my responsibilities between home and the front. I know I am absent often, and I am able to do so, because you have ever been a dutiful daughter.

"But if this is truly the path you wish to pursue... then I suppose I shall stand in its way no longer. But you will deal honestly with me in the future. And if you neglect any of your duties in any fashion, this will be the first one to go. Do I make myself clear?"

Zoissette stood up, glancing over at Ement, and then mimicking his posture of being at attention, chin thrust into the air to look up at the Lady Vauban. "Yes, mother."

"And you, Ement. It sounds as though... you have promise. Keep to your work, then. Make me proud."

"Yes, mother," he heard himself say. It came out as a croak. Was his throat so dry?

"Master Guillerme," said Lady Vauban. "Pray continue your work as discussed."

"Of course, Lady Vauban," said Guillerme, pushing off the wall and giving the Lady Vauban a salute. After a moment's hesitation, she returned it, before turning to glide out of the room.

Ement let out a deep sigh and rubbed his chest. He hadn't been fully aware of just how stiffly he had been standing. He looked over at Zoissette, and found her expression unreadable, but he gave her a thumbs up and a grin anyway.

"Well, that could've gone worse," he said.

Guillerme grunted. "Go clean yourself up, lad, I can smell the stress stink on you from over here. Both of you, get out of here. We'll start the work on the morrow at five bells. And Zoissette?"

Zoissette looked to him.

"Get some bloody practice gear that fits, I don't care how."

Zoissette nodded, and practically ran out of the room in eagerness. Ement chuckled, despite himself.

"Oh, she doesn't know what she's getting into," he said. And then winced as Guillerme cuffed him along the ear.

"Neither do you, sprat. I'm going to drive you harder now. Let's see what we can't make out of a pair of spoiled noble brats."

---

It took a few days for her to get armor that fit, and a few more for them to really get into a rhythm. As promised, Guillerme taught Ement, and Ement in turned trained Zoissette. Lecture mostly consisted of Guillerme gently correcting Ement while Ement tried to pass on what he'd learned. Practice had Ement going up against the training machine first while Guillerme watched, and then Zoissette trying to mimic what Ement had done while Ement pointed out flaws in her form or room for improvement.

Ement wondered how long it'd be before they were beyond what Guillerme considered the fundamentals and he'd start in on the tangents he was prone to. After all, he hadn't heard Guillerme tell him what a dragon wouldn't let him do in a while. And for that matter, he'd seemed to have temporarily dropped asking open questions about what made a knight.

(Pain and tired muscles and too much thinking, thought Ement.)

He didn't have to wait for too many days.

"So tell me, lass," said Guillerme as Zoissette and Ement were pulling on their practice armor. "Why do you wanna be a knight so bad? You think there's glory in it?"

"Ser?" Asked Zoissette as she pulled one of the straps tight. 

She winced, and Ement shook his head, walking over to help her. "You don't have to overcompensate for wearing oversized gear anymore," he muttered to her. She just stood still and nodded.

"You heard me, lass. What are you hoping to get outta this."

"Well, not glory, ser," said Zoissette, nodding at Ement as he helped. She mouthed 'thank you' at him before she continued. "I - I don't think there's going to be much glory just in helping defend someone. Which is what I want to learn to do."

"Defend, huh? More to a knight than defending the weak and downtrodden, but let's stick to that for now. Why?"

"That seems... reason enough to me, ser. Because - because it's the right thing to do? The, uhm, honorable thing to do?"

"Right? Who said it was right?"

"Uhm," said Zoissette, biting her lip. "I - uhm. I guess ... me? Well, I mean... father. And mother both. They tell us to help others out. And - and well, I want to. I, uhm, I didn't really think about it."

"Acting without thinkin'? Some might call that foolish."

Zoissette frowned and crossed her arms, looking at the ground.

"You think on that. You also said it was the honorable thing to do. Ement, what've I said about that?"

"You once told me that honor is vainglory that gets knights killed, ser." Said Ement. He remembered that from an early lesson.

"Can be. Can be."

"But ser!" protested Zoissette. "That's - that's what a knight does. They are supposed to be honorable."

"Surely are. I find the word a bit overstuffed. Said too often. A knight goes out to die, we say it's the honorable thing to do. A knight challenges someone to a duel, it's for honor. We defend the honor of our fair maidens and the honor of our fair names and before you know it we've spilt more blood than truth and where's honor then. It's a bit like the word love. Everyone uses it, nobody understands it, and it's worn so thin as to be almost meaningless."

"I think the word love should mean something," said Zoissette quietly.

"Maybe it does to those precious few who say it and -mean- it every time. Otherwise, what's the point? Though you're onto something lass. These words we use should have the power we afford them. They should mean something. Maybe we start from scratch on 'em. Can't help you with love, Fury knows it's lost on me, but maybe we can salvage honor. Go fetch your primer, lass, tell me what it says about honor."

Zoissette nodded, as she went to her little table, and looked through the books there.

"I'm not sure I understand, ser. What are you getting at?" Asked Ement, feeling a bit annoyed. He'd given the answer he'd been taught, and hadn't really expected it to change.

"Nothin'. Maybe nothin'. Somethin' more than when we started, though. You should think on it too. Have to start sometime."

"Do I?" Asked Ement, peevishly, and Guillerme crossed the room to give him a cuff upside the ear. Ement laughed as it landed, though, feeling his tension let go a bit.

"Honor," said Zoissette, "According to the Primer, is adherence to what is right, or to a conventional standard of conduct." She shifted her weight on her feet. "...that's the second definition anyway. I think it's the more correct one."

"Hnh," said Guillerme. "What was the other definition?"

"Great respect or great esteem, Master Guillerme."

"Why not go with that one?"

"It... it's not what I want, not really, I don't think."

"No? Respect can be a powerful ally. Tells you who your friends are. Can also fetch you friends. Friends who share your ideals."

"I suppose. But... but it can't be the only reason to do something. Right? Otherwise, you're just... doing it for selfish reasons, really. I think. And, I mean, there's respect, like... being treated okay, but then there's respect, you know, like being treated as superior.

"I'm not, though. I'm not better than anybody else."

Ement nodded sagely. It was a lesson from their father he had been careful to instill in his children. "That's what father tells us," he said to Guillerme. "We may be noble, but that just means responsibilities. It's easy for us to pretend we're better, but really, we should be servants. And our first duty is to Ishgard, above all."

"Your first duty?" Said Guillerme.

"...yes ser." said Ement.

"Hmn. Yes. I suppose," said Guillerme.

He said nothing more on the matter that day.

---

"Your training is coming along well. I look forward to one day calling you as one of our own, as ser Vauban," said Guillerme.

Zoissette spoke up. "Shouldn't he be ser Ement?" she asked.

"Guillerme here prefers the older style of address," Ement said.

"Indeed I do. Indeed, I do," said Guillerme, crossing his arms. He got that distant look in his eyes he often did when he was talking about days long past, and Ement decided to take a moment to settle in, leaning against the wall. "I suppose it is well that many houses have done so well as to be able to spare multiple sons and daughters to the work of knighthood. That it's just easier to refer to them by their first names. And I understand the desire to mark them as individuals, to say, look, this one, this person, it is them who has the blessing of the Archbishop. But the old way of address... it had its charm, its purpose, you must understand. It said the opposite. It told us that this person was someone who swore fealty to their family. The first step in many of a path to higher devotion, higher calling. For by this, a knight would show they serve their family. And their family, well, they served the Holy See, and the Holy See served all of Ishgard. At least once upon a time, anyway-"

"Guillerme!" said Ement, alarmed.

"Forget that last. Anyway, all the way up,  you see, until the knight serves Halone herself. And to serve Halone is the highest purpose of a knight, to serve Her is to serve the very star itself, do you see?"

Ement looked over to see his sister slowly nodding. "So you prefer to call a knight by their family name. Ser Vauban, of Ishgard, of Halone... of the star," she said.

"Just so," said Guillerme.

"Mother prefers that also, and I prefer not getting into arguments with mother, so it's what our family will use," said Ement, pushing off the wall. "But I'm no ser, Vauban or otherwise, just yet. I still need to go through squirehood."

"And to get that far, you still need to finish the preliminaries," said Guillerme. "But I have high hopes. High hopes indeed. Not much longer now, son. Don't disappoint."

"Wouldn't dream of it. Mother would never let me hear the end of it," said Ement.

---

Ement, not having the responsibilities of having to take care of the twins, was often the first one to show up to the training room. Having a question for Guillerme, he made certain to show up particularly early one day. Guillerme was waiting, of course. He often was there a half bell before he had to be, checking the training equipment and going over his notes.

"Master Guillerme?" asked Ement. "I've been meaning to ask. What do you get out of this?"

"Whatever do you mean, lad?"

"I mean... you training me and Zoissette. Don't get me wrong, I'm grateful, but - ser, I know your history. You've trained members of the Temple Ward. You could practically write your own Gil balance. But instead you're here, working for, well. I'm not sure how much, but Sette tends the books sometimes. She's shown me the ledgers. We can't afford you."

Guillerme laughed. "Clearly you can, lad, for here I am."

"Right, sure, but... why?"

"Hnfh. Why indeed."

Guillerme crossed his arms behind his back, and paced a bit.

"... I trained Temple Knights, it's true. Used to be, someone had a promising young lad or lass, they'd send them to me, I'd show them the lashes. Put 'em through their paces. Some of Ishgard's finest fighters have gone by me, they say.

"But that's the problem, lad. Our finest -fighters-. Not our finest knights. I used to think that all I had to do was teach 'em to hold a shield and wield a sword, and the rest would work itself out. Good breeding, I thought, would make good men and women. And the church would help 'em stick to Halone's breast. Halonic men and women, doing Holy work, defending the realm.

"It took me too long to realize how wrong I was, lad. And the damage is done now. I've raised a few good knights, but also too many ... well. Scoundrels. Highwaymen with holy shields. Thugs that go down to the Brume or the low city and kick smallfolk for fun."

Guillerme stopped pacing, and looked at Ement. Ement thought he looked suddenly older, somehow. The lines in his face ran deeper. He noticed Guillerme had stooped a bit, his shoulders slumped down low, and Ement bowed his head, to look away. He felt afraid he'd asked the wrong question.

"I'm - I'm sorry, ser. I meant no disrespect."

"The disrespect's warranted, lad. Don't be sorry. Stand up straight. Like I trained you. Look at me square."

Ement swallowed and did as he was told, looking into Guillerme's eyes, and sensed a depth in them he hadn't noticed before.

"I'm trying to make up for that mistake, lad. Better knights for a better Ishgard. The current generation's a loss, but the next, well. Had to find stock first, though. I looked among the Brume, but I'm not of them. Couldn't connect with them. They saw a threat, thinking me either fit to take advantage of them, or someone who was just there to remind 'em of how they were lesser. And also, a knight - a proper knight - they need support. Armor and weapons and someone to take care of all that. Nobody in the Brume has that. So then I tried the minor houses. Your mother - well, she's got a reputation. Good soldier, does well by hers. Good teacher, so I hear. I thought, well, maybe some of that would've rubbed off on her sprats. So here I am. Yours is a minor house. High enough up that you can maybe afford a knight or two. Low enough to not be spoiled by the indulgences Ishgard allows her high houses.

"And I found you two. Well, just you at first, lad, and while you were a good study with the sword, I found I was struggling to really say what I wanted to say, to try to teach you what good really was. But then your sister showed up, with her heart too big and her head too smart, and, well."

Guillerme laughed, a dry, brittle thing, but a laugh nonetheless. Ement smiled nervously, unsure how to respond.

"The questions I've been asking aren't just for you and her, lad. They're for me. Maybe they're for every knight. I told you, if you can't teach it, you don't know it, but that's a small lie. In the teaching is also the learning, and, well. I'm not learned yet. But trust me, lad, I'm earning exactly what I want here."

Ement heard the bells ringing in the distance as the door to the training room opened, and Zoissette at last made an appearance. Ement glanced between her and Guillerme.

"...thank you, ser." said Ement, quietly.

"Aye, lad. Let's just get on with it, shall we? I get any more morose and I'll need to turn to my cups."

Guillerme began the day's instructions, but Ement found himself distracted, trying to figure out the riddle of the man's words.

---

Sennights turned to moons and they all passed in much the same way as they had. Zoissette no longer fell half asleep during training sessions, but she did start to stay in the training room after them. Early on her studies had been more general, but they had become specific, as she turned her attentions to astrology and arcanistry. She was staying up late in order to keep up with said studies, but despite that, did not neglect her knight's training, taking it as seriously as she ever had. Guillerme, true to his word, drove Ement harder, and Ement in turn did what he could to teach Zoissette. It was slower going, but both Elezen grew into it.

One day, Zoissette came into the training room, and looked as though she was on the verge of crying, but was keeping it in. She walked over to where Ement and Guillerme were standing. The room fell quiet.

"...something on your mind, girl?" prompted Guillerme gently.

"It happened again," said Zoissette. "Not a new kid this time. One of the one's that's been there a while. Not... not a friend. But... the rumors are, his mother left his father to go join the heretics."

"Any truth to the rumors?" asked Ement. Zoissette shook her head.

"Bet she just -left- the bastard, then," said Ement. "If it was heretic business, the whole family'd be ousted."

"That doesn't matter," said Zoissette.

"Rather does to the Inquisition, I might think," replied Ement.

"Let her finish," said Guillerme, and Ement fell quiet. "So what'd you do about it, girl?"

"I told them to stop. To leave him alone."

"Oh, and that was it, then?" asked Guillerme.

Zoissette took a deep breath in. "...no. They started to call me names. They told me I must be a heretic too, or a dragon swiver-"

"Language," said Ement, almost automatically. He immediately planted his face in his palm.

Guillerme looked at him and chuckled. "You so old as to forget three summers past, son? She knows what a swivin' is, and probably much more colorful language aside."

"Halone preserve, forget I said anything. Go on, Sette," said Ement.

"...anyroad, there was yelling, and... one of them picked up a stone and threw it at me."

"Well then. What happened then?" prompted Guillerme.

"They missed, and I... I looped my arm through my carrying bag's loops and used it as a shield. The rest of them got started, trying to hit both of us. I got in front. I mostly didn't get hit. He got knocked down, though. And... that's when I charged them. Knocked one of them over, got him on the ground, hit him a few times.

"One of them pulled me up, and I hit them, knocked them over too. Dropped two more... the rest of them ran. I... I stayed behind, to try to help the other one up. The one who was being made fun of. The one I was trying to defend."

Zoissette took another deep breath, and steadied herself. "He shoved me away when he got up. He yelled at me. Told me he didn't need help. Then... he ran away too."

She looked down at the ground, clenching and unclenching her fists. "I thought I was doing the right thing."

"Well, maybe you were, and maybe you weren't, lass," said Guillerme. "Did you stop to ask if he needed help?"

Zoissette looked up at him with a frown. "No? I mean - no, of course not. He obviously did."

"And yet he didn't appreciate it much when you gave it to him."

"I don't understand."

"Think about it some. In the meanwhile, dress out. We've still got training."

Zoissette nodded, and moved over to retrieve her training gear. Guillerme rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

It was an hour later, both Elezen panting and exhausted, when Zoissette spoke up again.

"Retribution."

"What?" asked Ement.

"Retribution. They might go back for him later, when I'm not around. Or... or he thought he'd just take the hits, and hoped they'd leave him alone in the future," said Zoissette.

"Maybe... maybe. Things to consider. And what about you, lass?" asked Guillerme.

Zoissette looked confused. "Aren't we talking about me? What about me?"

"Why'd you wade into a mess what weren't yours, lass?"

"That's... that's why I'm doing this at all. That's why I'm learning this. To defend people. To keep people from being hurt. Because I can. Because that's... that's what I want to do. To do the right thing."

"And what made it right, lass? Just because you felt it so?"

"Well... yes."

"Hmn. Good knights trust their instincts, I suppose," said Guillerme. He turned away and clasped his hands behind his back. "But far too many of the knights that I have trained have claimed to be acting in the name of the Holy See and its edicts on their way to bash some poor otherwise-innocent bugger's head in. Certainly, they feel right to do as they do."

"It's not the same," said Zoissette.

"No?" said Guillerme. "Don't get me wrong, lass, I agree, but why is it not the same?"

"Well, they're - they're imposing their will on others just because they can. They're not trying to help!"

"And you're tryin' to help, you say, but it wasn't wanted. Aren't you also just imposing your will?"

Zoissette frowned, and Ement could see her shoulders tense, her fingers working her shield-strap as she thought.

Ement thought to ease the tension he felt in the room, and cleared his throat. "Well, I'd say the difference is that Zoissette's man is free to think his thoughts afterwards, with his head rather unabashed, wouldn't you say?"

Zoissette and Guillerme both turned to look at him, Zoissette still frowning, Guillerme's expression unreadable, damn the man. But that was fine. Ement grinned, and spread his arms out wide, and offered a small bow. The tension was thinning, he was certain.

"...you're right," said Zoissette.

"I mean, maybe," said Ement, lightly.

"No, you're - I think I understand the difference. Those other knights, they claim to know and do the right thing, but - but they're not acting on behalf of Ishgard or her people. Not really. I - I was. My intervention may not have been wanted, but what I did, I didn't do it for me. I did it for them. I did - I did what I thought they might've wanted me to do, if they'd had the power to ask for it."

Guillerme nodded, slowly. "And what then if they still don't want it, lass? I would prefer not to train another would-be tyrant, claimin' just as you claim, that they're doing right on behalf of the people for the people, in the people's name, whatever."

Zoissette swallowed. "...then it's important what Ement said. That... that they're alive and healthy and well and capable of being mad about what I've done after."

Ement crossed his arms. He hadn't really meant to have a point, but apparently his little sister had found one.

"...but it's not enough, is it?" Finished Zoissette, suddenly timid.

"Hmm?"

"It's... it's not enough just to... to feel like I'm doing the right thing, is it? I mean, I'm still pretty sure I did. He - he can be mad at me, but like Ement said, at least he isn't hurt, but maybe I'm still not thinking this all the way through. Not as far as I should."

Zoissette's voice trailed off. "Who determines what's right? I'm - I'm still not sure."

"... I did say a good knight trusts their instincts. A great knight, though, a great knight thinks about them. It's a struggle, lass, make no mistake.

"And the best of us," said Guillerme quietly, "Weighs their soul against the very star itself."

Ement watched as Zoissette swallowed nervously. She looked down at the ground, then back up at Guillerme's back.

"I'm... I'm not sure I'm good enough for that, ser," she said.

"Well. Maybe, maybe not, Maybe not yet. But keep it in mind, lass. I'm glad you're thinking about it at all. Keep that up. Maybe you'll learn one day."

"I'll - I'll do my best, ser."

"I hope so," said Guillerme, still quiet.

---

Guillerme paced slowly in front of the two, his hands clasped behind his back, seemingly deep in thought.

"What makes a knight?" he asked. He seemed to be asking himself as much as anyone.

Ement glanced sideways at his sister. She looked back at him.

"I'm not sure anymore, ser," Ement admitted. "I thought it was things like duty. Honor. The ability to fight when needed. I think... ser, I'm sorry. I'll just be happy to serve in my own way. To fight for Ishgard. I intend to be a good soldier."

"And that'll be enough, lad, that'll be enough. I think your heart's true enough. Truer than some of my priors. Aye, I'll take it. Tell me, though. What do you think duty and honor mean? Maybe we can get something outta this yet."

Ement took a deep breath in before answering. "Duty is what we're supposed to do. Defend people. Fight Ishgard's enemies. Uphold our responsibilities. Honor is... I think the book's right. Adherence to what's right. I think that's what the two definitions it had were for, actually. You do the right thing, and then you can be respected."

"Good lad. Zoissette?"

Zoissette was tapping her lips with a finger, looking thoughtful. "I'm still stuck on... who determines what's right and what's wrong?"

Guillerme stopped and looked up at the ceiling.

"Yer onto something, lass. Keep going."

"Well, it's like Ement said. Duty is what we are supposed to do, and honor is adherence to what is right. I thought I was doing my duty when I tried to stop the other students from hurting that boy. I thought I was behaving in an honorable fashion. And I still think I'm right. But you were right, too. I should have thought about it more. Why was it right? I think it was right, the boy I tried to help didn't. We can't both be right. I mean, I guess we could both be wrong, but... who's choosing what's right and what isn't?

"Halone, maybe, but all we have from her is what I can read. She's not telling me anything directly. So... I guess I have to figure it out myself. Same thing for duty. Who tells me what I'm supposed to do? I ... I would've guessed the Holy See, but - but you've made it sound like maybe that's not for the best, if they're just bullies too."

"Sette," said Ement, looking sideways at her.

Zoissette rolled her eyes. "Don't worry about me, big brother, it's just us. I know better than to go yelling that from the rooftops."

Ement shook his head. Guillerme nodded a bit, and resumed his pacing.

"...maybe that's it," he said.

"Ser?" asked Zoissette.

"We've been dancing around it, haven't we. What makes a knight? Well. An adherence to duty. Honor to duty. But what duty? What is our duty? Something fundamental."

Guillerme paused his pacing again, and rocked back and forth on his feet.

"Your first duty," he said, slowly, "It's not to Ishgard. It can't be. Ishgard isn't there in the dirt with you. It must be to yourself. And anyone can claim they're actin' on behalf of the people but not mean it. But perhaps we can rely on something deeper than just that. Not to what you feel, not just what you think. To your own ideals. To ... something true. Something deep, something you build. Something you challenge yourself to. Something you know. Something you are. Everything and more."

"... to a personal truth," said Zoissette.

"To a personal truth," said Guillerme. He looked thoughtful. "Aye, lass. Because when you're on the field, or bleedin' in the ditch, there's no book you can look to, no pretty words from a comrade. You're gonna have to trust yourself to do the right thing. And that means you're going to have to know what the right thing is.

"A challenge, then, to each of you. You'll go on to be a fine knight, lad. I know it, and I'm proud of what we've made here. And to you, lass, even if you never pick up the sword and shield again, you've still acquitted yourself well. And taught me a thing or two, if I want to be honest. So, the same challenge to you. To the first duty. To the truth. Your personal truth, that will forever guide you both, and if you build it right, will guide you true. Can you do that?"

"Yes, ser," said Ement.

Zoissette looked thoughtful for a moment, and Ement watched her eyes wander, as she slowly nodded to herself.

"To the first duty. To a personal truth. To serve my house. To serve Ishgard. To serve the realm. To serve Halone. That I might serve the star.

"...does that sound right?"

Guillerme nodded. "Aye, lass. I think we've found it. It sounds right enough."

Zoissette stood up straight, arms back, head high.

"I can do that, ser."

"...very good. Ement, you'll get yours when your squirehood's done. Zoissette, hand me your sword."

Zoissette looked at Guillerme questioningly, but handed over her practice sword without comment.

"Kneel, lady," said Guillerme gently.

Zoissette looked between Ement and Guillerme, and then slowly knelt down on one knee.

"And bow your head."

She did.

"By the power invested in me - which is none; under the authority granted through the Holy See, which it hasn't been - and under Halone's watchful gaze, may she ever watch over you - I hereby declare you to be ser Vauban, Lady Zoissette of the house Vauban, a knight, even if only in heart, and not yet in name or in deed. But yer a good enough of a knight for me, lady. No matter what you do, I believe you will serve well. Rise, and take up your weapon."

Guillerme tapped Zoissette one one shoulder, and then the other. Zoissette curled up a hand in front of her face, as she appeared to pray for a moment before looking up at Guillerme. Guillerme flipped the practice sword around, and held it out to her, hilt first.

Before taking the sword, Zoissette looked to where her practice shield was laying, and picked it up, strapping it onto her arm. She then stood up slowly, and took the practice sword from Guillerme, and sheathed it, and stood tall once more.

"If you ever decide to fully commit to following in your brother's footsteps, lady," said Guillerme, "I am certain you will be among the best of us."

He looked to Ement.

"I think my lessons have come to an end, young lad. I have nothing more to teach you, and I think I'm as learned as I'm like to get."

Ement nodded to Guillerme, and after a moment of consideration, he saluted. Zoissette did likewise.

"May Halone watch over you both," he said. "I'll speak with your mother later, Ement, and we'll get you set up with a squireship. In the meanwhile, keep to your drills, both of you. Even if you don't plan on fightin', lady, it's a good foundation. It'll keep you healthy and your mind sharp. And never stop asking questions. Even if you have to ask 'em of the Holy See itself."

"Aye, ser," Ement said at the same time as his sister, and he looked over and gave her a grin. She seemed to be paying more attention to some distance only she could see, though. Ement shrugged.

"Will you still be around, Master Guillerme?" asked Ement.

"Aye, lad. I'll help you with your drills until you actually get that squireship, don't you worry. And your sister too, if she wants to stick with it, but I don't think there's much left for you here, is there?"

Zoissette shuffled her feet a bit. "I... I guess not. I'll keep up with the drills though, if you don't mind. But... you're right. I think I'll be spending more time with my books. But - but thank you, Master Guillerme. I'll - I'll try to live up to your ideals."

Guillerme snorted. "Yours as much as mine, Lady. But I'll hold you to that. For now though, we're done for the day. Go ahead and get the place cleaned up, and I'll be back on the morrow. No more lessons. Just training, lad. Enough to keep that sword sharp, 'til you're a proper squire, alright?"

"Yes ser."

"Good lad," said Guillerme.

And then he was gone.

"Well, what do you think of that, ser Vauban? Looks like you got your knighthood before me. Gotta say, I'm jealous," said Ement, grinning at Zoissette.

She was still just standing there, though, a faraway look in her eyes.

"...to the star," she said. She looked down at her sword, and then to her shield, and at last, to her brother.

"You think too much," he said.

"Maybe," she said quietly.

But then she gave him a big smile, all brightness and light.

"But I think I can do it," she said.

Ement had to admit to himself, he wasn't quite sure what she meant. But he believed her.

"For the first duty," she said.

"The first duty," he echoed.