#can't wait to go see where it toggles off

[machidielontheway]

and so continues the enshitiffication of tumblr

[whereisthedamndaddymanual]

They can clearly see my straw man corporation is not for profit.

All my funds go toward buying my children shit they don't necessarily need, but I try to do better for them then I was done for.

[shinelikethunder]

seriously though, it's incredible how much of my "maybe titties again?" goodwill tumblr torched in 30 seconds through obnoxious UX alone:

i am browsing around in the android app. i see a post about disabling some new content filter. this is the first I've heard of it, even though my version of the app does turn out to have it - they put it in place before adding any mechanism to let me know it's there. strike one.

i go to settings > dashboard, the place where all the settings about what you do and don't see are supposed to live. no sign of it.

i go back to the settings menu. squint at it. see an unremarkable entry near the bottom called "Content you see" that isn't highlighted or marked as new in any way (even though i can't even visit anyone's blog anymore without having to actively tap past an FYI tooltip that can't be turned off, every single time, shilling weeks-old gift features that I've already used)

...oh, that's where my custom tag and keyword filters went. no prior indication they'd even been moved!

i have a lot of filters set up. like. a LOT. i now have to scroll past every single one of them, tag AND keyword, uncollapsed and unabridged, just to see whether there's another setting hiding underneath. on mobile! even the desktop site is more polite than this, jesus

just to recap so far: the only reason i even know to look is that i saw a random post about new content settings, and i would never have bothered with all that scrolling if i weren't crusty and paranoid about sites that hide vital settings in the depths of Menu Hell. i mean, that'd be crazy, right? surely listing all those filters with no collapse is a signal there's nothing worthwhile underneath them.

oh no wait, there they are!

it's not just one toggle, it's FOUR new settings!

all of them are set to "hide everything and never even let me know it was there"

even though there is a "blur" option that would've let me know that stuff was being hidden from me without actually showing it

even though i have, in the past, gone into every iteration of the adult content settings that tumblr has ever rolled out and affirmatively ordered it to show me the titties

THEY ARE NOT TOGGLES. EACH ONE OPENS A SEPARATE MENU SCREEN. every single one of the FOUR new settings needs like 3+ taps in the android app just to put it back to normal.

does turning on the catchall "mature content" setting cause the three more specific ones to default to "show" and let me pick restrictions as needed like a goddamn adult? NOPE, i have to go into the stupid little menu for every single one

it's almost like you didn't want me to find them and, having found them, wanted to make me pay as high an annoyance tax as possible to opt out of being nannied

the dashboard banner that eventually shows up, btw, says nothing about having been voluntold for additional filtering, and also just dumps you out in the general settings menu and leaves you to fend for yourself, with no indication of where this shit is hidden or what "this shit" even is. and that's downright friendly next to the link in the announcement post that's apparently been kicking people out of the app and onto web.

this is not how you get a rightfully mistrustful userbase to be optimistic about putting scarlet letters on their own posts. this is not how you convince anyone that it's just a courtesy, not a scarlet letter, or that it won't be used to punish and stigmatize you the instant the wind shifts direction.

in the most practical here-and-now terms, this is also not how you get people to USE the new content warnings on their posts! artists, especially, are hardly gonna jump to flag anything as mature if it means every single one of their followers - regardless of age, previous adult content settings, or whether they're in Apple's walled garden or not - has just been silently opted out of ever knowing it was there. (this goes double if it requires more than one sentence to explain how to reverse it. which this new setting seems almost deliberately designed to do.)

look, i want the titties back, okay? i would be delighted if this turned out to be the first step towards bringing them back. i know Tumblr is under duress from Apple that affects how they can do whatever they're doing here. but the way it's being rolled out sucks needless ass, and if they wanted my hope and trust, well, those are easier to muster up when I'm not going in grouchy about the frustrating UX of an app that's just taken hostile action against my prior explicitly-affirmed preferences.

[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 you had no idea how much those three little words would mean to you 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 <3 thank u @pearleechai and @gloseoks for helping me out with that one part i got stuck on for like a week lmaooo. to parker 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 u 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.

[titanicfreija]

Innate

"So, I've been meaning to ask..." Thomas trailed off and waited to see how Freija responded. The Titan, relaxing on the couch and looking through her vault, lifted an eyebrow at him curiously. She seemed in a decent mood. "If your Light use is so natural, why can't you stop the heatwaves?"

She smirked. "It's natural to use. It feels good and right to use. I'm good at letting it do what it wants to do. What works for me feels... Right." She glanced at his well-disguised flinch, then watched to see what he did when she said, "But none of that actually translates to real control. I can call on it to channel on accident. I also have had to try really hard to learn to make it not do that."

The hiding wince relaxed into a thoughtful frown. "What would you say it's like when you try to use it? Go ahead with any analogies."

She frowned at him. He glanced at her a few times, patient and curious. She finally smiled wryly and sat back. "Fine, you can hear the weak points. In my earlier days, I started manifesting shit in my sleep, real ass flames or even little sprinkles of this... Rock that reminds me of gunpowder."

He flinched and laughed. "That never happened here! You still warmed up during your nightmares but you never manifested, you actually used to sleep-hammer?"

Freija giggled nervously with him. "I was still in orbit back then. Wasn't even camping, yet. I've had a running joke in my mind that it's getting ready to fight, but I don't think it's a joke." The Titan settled deeper into the couch. "I have to guess, because I don't know how it is for anyone else. But I think there's a wall most people have that I don't. Or maybe mine is weaker, or my Light can push past, I don't know. But it's the wall between the Light and the Real, manifestations, this fold of reality where Light can become manifest, right? It has to come through us as we manifest it, we have to get it through that wall. So we meditate, we sink into ourselves and go to the wall and we call the Light to us and send it out."

He blinked at her, surprised at this particular metaphor. He wouldn't have called it a wall, but with that phrasing, he understood.

She wagged her head and turned a palm up uncomfortably. "I'm guessing, because when there's meditation lessons, there's a lot that people tell each other about reaching in, but not about controlling too much. Your problem is more common than mine. And I figure it's a gradient, not a toggle, so while it's harder for you and others, and it's easy for me and others, there's everyone in between. So it's… I guess a wall with.... Maybe it's got a window for most people or something, they can open and close it on purpose. Or doors. Or both. Got walls made of brick, out of glass. I don't know. I'm guessing."

Thomas gave her a nod. "So if you don't have a wall, what do you have?"

She cocked her head to a side and considered the ceiling for a few seconds before she smiled. "My wall is a waterfall," she laughed. "Like, I don't have to reach very hard at all to get at it, and when I do, it goes everywhere, like when you stick your hand in a waterfall and it splashes everywhere? And you can use your hands to guide it, right, I can, but I can only guide it. If I try to grab it or stop it or even hold it, I just make a mess. Can we torture this metaphor a little and say the walls are like holding in water? Everyone's water-Light lives in these houses except for weirdos like me where I don't have walls and weirdos like you who are stuck riding around on a tank that locked you out."

He blinked at her. "Your metaphor is sufficiently tortured. I get it. So the Light is water here, and everyone has their own containers of it, and these containers have various openings, membranes, holes, whatever, and the effectiveness as an aperture depends on the container and the Lightbearer."

Freija nodded quickly. "That sounds right, we can go with that, but when you say container like that, it sounds small, and I don't have a good way to translate my waterfall analogy to that one."

Thomas already imagined it, though. "I was fine with making your container non-existent and instead allowing this metaphorical you to hold her Light-water like a bubble."

She giggled. "Ah. Good one. So how's that for figuring it out?"

He could appreciate her understanding of it, but couldn't imagine what it would be like. The metaphor worked, and he could even relate to it--he very much was stuck on the wrong side of a wall, and finding the gaps to reach in and pull from was hard; where every time she so much as shook hers, the water would lose integrity and get everywhere. "You literally can't not? Like. Against your will? Not just subconscious use that you have to consciously turn off?"

"Would you believe me if I told you anything else?" She smiled at him again.

He would, but not much less.

Huh.

He thought she was losing control; it hadn't occurred to him that she never had any and her Light was otherwise well-behaved. Where he had to meditate for hours before he went into the field, her Light was trying to burn a hole in the couch for funsies.

He couldn't decide if he would want to swap. He would have to try it first.

"I don't think I'd trade," Freija said, as if she read his mind. Probably just asked herself the same question. "I get cold just swapping to strand, I wouldn't want to put it any deeper in."

He knew what she meant. "Don't suppose you'll give me a Q&A for Light-use sensations, would you?"

"It always hurts your feelings," she objected, sitting up and stretching.

"That was before I knew you were as stuck as I am," the Warlock said cheerfully. "I don't think I'd swap, either, I can just feel the threadlings crawling." He pretended to shudder. "The Void hunger is bad enough."

"I don't really get that one," Freija said with a shrug. "I do feel kinda... Okay, you know how you say a planet has mass and that's why gravitational pull kinda shit?"

The warlock resisted the urge to give her another look. "That was not a sentence, but I know what you're referring to."

"Okay, can you imagine being the center of a gravity well? Like a planet isn't in the spot where gravity is being pulled, I am."

Thomas took a long, slow breath and tilted his head thoughtfully. "Okay. You know what, I think I can work with that. Start with the meditation mindset, please."

Freija furrowed her brow at her roommate. "You know every trick to meditating. Why are you asking me?"

"They don't work for me like they do for you, and I can only wonder if you ever actually feel it when you start glittering."

Freija pressed her lips and looked guiltily aside. "Usually but only by the glitter. Build-up usually goes unnoticed."

He nodded and smiled. "So, yeah, o Chosen One of the Light--"

"Shut up!"

"Help me out and give me some fun metaphors." He grinned at her.

She narrowed her eyes at him and tried to fight the wry smile. "You're gonna put it in porn, aren't you."

He didn't bat an eye. "Yes, but also the non-erotic fiction and I'm honestly hoping that you'll say something that makes enough sense to help."

He hated when she flinched for him. He planned to flinch at her getting spiky, then realized that he already did, and she was usually embarrassed about it.

"What was that face about?" she asked him.

He resettled in his computer chair and leaned over the keyboard. "Bunch of puzzle pieces got rotated just right and I saw the picture. You are going to need to use a word besides "warm" for solar, I'm afraid."

The Titan grinned merrily. "I do have a new one! Three said it was like being a volcano! I've been giggling ever since, because it's one of those things where she hates what I love, so I'm wondering if that itchy crackling feeling of arc is just as present for Rise and she just likes what I hate."

"That wouldn't surprise me. Am wondering if it's class-dependent, though."

"Might be more about how we use it specifically but yeah, lots of people talk about void making them hungry but I just get heavy in a really weird way."

"Let me get a recording going."

[pink-tonic]

Can This Be Called a Success?🔪

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Warning: Blood

He got away.

Why did he have to get away?

I want to run after him, but there is a potential witness outside. Taeko.

She's still standing behind the cherry tree waiting for (Y/N). I can't let her see me like this or see this mess. I look down at the pool of blood a few feet away from me and see how it's slowly spreading across the previously polished gymnasium floor.

My eyes are memorized by the spread of the crimson liquid. My mind can't help but imagine if (Y/N) was laying on top of the liquid. Today, I hoped to see his lifeless body on the ground, but I failed. A small pool of blood can hardly be called a successful job when I was supposed to kill my rival.

The gymnasium feels frozen in time. The only thing that is moving is the blood, but the air around me feels still. It feels like the world has paused because of my actions.

Then I hear it.

Footsteps.

Footsteps that are progressively getting louder and louder. I can't help myself, and I rush to the storage room.

The last thing I want is to be caught and sent to jail. I leave the storage room door slightly ajar so I can take a peak.

I hear the footsteps stop, and the doors to the gymnasium burst open.

"(Y-Y/N)?" I hear my Senpai stutter out (Y/N)'s name.

I clench my teeth in frustration, I hate how she says his name. The way the name flows out of her mouth with ease pisses me off.

I hear her footsteps. She is getting closer. Then I hear the noise stop.

"Oh my God. Is that...blood?" She takes a step closer towards the pool of blood. She looks down at it before covering her mouth.

"It is. I-I need to get out of here!" I hear her footsteps once more before they disappear.

I know exactly what my Senpai is going to do. She isn't going to tell a single soul, and even if she did, not a single one would believe her anyway.

I open up the doors to the storage room and walk out of the gymnasium. I need to clean all this up before someone else finds it.

I rush to the locker room to wash up and change. I walk into the foggy locker room and open up my locker. I take my clothes off and shove them into the locker. I rush into the shower room and sit down on one of the yellow stools. I turn on the faucet and rinse my arms.

My hands are the bloodiest parts of my body. I hold my hands under the faucet, and watch the blood wash off and go down the drain. I continue to wash the rest of my body off, and wash my hair as well.

Eventually, I turn off the faucet and get up from the stool. I walk back into the locker room and change into my gym uniform. I take out my bloody uniform and then close the locker.

I walk out of the building and start to head into the school. I run over to the home economic room, and go straight to the washer. I dump my uniform into the washer and toggle the settings. I then press the start button, and the machine starts to spin the clothes around. I then grab one of the blue buckets and go over to the sink, I put the bucket underneath the faucet and wait for it to fill up. When the bucket is filled with water, I grab the bleach and unscrew the blue top. I pour some bleach into the bucket, I then close the bleach and place it where I found it.

With the bucket in my hand, I start to run over to the gymnasium. While I run, I make sure not a single drop of water falls out. When I make it to the gymnasium, I place the bucket next to the pool of blood.

I rush out of the gymnasium and back into the home economic room, I grab the mop and start to run back. When I make it back to the gymnasium, I immediately start to clean up the mess.

I dip the mop into the sparking water and then start to mop up the blood. Every time I dip the mop into the water, the water starts to get red. I start to worry that I might have to get more water, but fortunately, I'm able to clean all the blood in one go.

The gymnasium floor is back to its original look, but now I have to dump out the water. I want to dump out the bloody water in the grass, but I fear that the smell of blood will over take the smell of bleach. I decide it would be better if I dump out the water in the home economic sink. I decide not to rush, and instead, I calmly walk over to the room. When I make it inside, I go over to the sink and slowly pour out the water into the sink. While I pour out the water, I notice that it stains the white sink. I make a note to clean it up before I leave school.

I head back to the gymnasium and grab the mop. When I grab the mop, I start to notice that my breathing is getting heavier. My stamina must be low. If I join the martial arts club or the sports club, I'm sure that not only will my stamina go up but also my overall strength. I should join one of those clubs soon.

I walk back into the home economic room, and place the mop back where I found it. I check up on my clothes, and I see that it is currently drying. Thank God this school has a two in one washer, it makes things easier for me.

I go over to the sink and start to clean off the red stains. They come off with ease. It only takes a few splashes of water for them to come off.

As I turn off the faucet, I hear a beep come from the machine. I walk over to it and open it up. I take out my uniform and close the machine back up. I look around the room to make sure that everything is where it needs to be. The bleach is where it needs to be, the mop is leaning against the wall like it usually is, the bucket is next to the mop, the sink looks as clean as ever, and the washing machine looks untouched. Perfect.

When I close the door behind me, I can't help but frown. Sure, I didn't leave a trace of what I've done, but (Y/N) is still alive. This can't be called a success, but at the very least, I didn't get caught.

I leave the school and head back home. Today, I won't bother to follow my Senpai, I'm sure she went back home right after what she saw.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

When I make it home, I don't stay long. I change out of my gym clothes and into something more comfortable. I think it's a good time to get a job. The money my parents gave me before they left is starting to get low, and I doubt they'll be sending any.

Now, I'm standing on one of the busiest streets in hopes of finding a job. I see men and women walk in and out of shops, some are standing and talking, and others are sitting on a few of the benches placed around. I walk down the street and look at the shops. There are a few establishments, but only one of them wants employees.

A butler café.

Can I really get this job? There is a picture of a boy in a butler outfit on the sign, and he looks like the opposite of me. His bright smile and eyes, the text next to him with a welcoming phrase, and his enthusiastic pose: are everything that I can't do.

But I'm running low on money, and I don't want to use any of my Info Points on a wad of cash. I take the chance and walk into the baby blue building.

When I walk inside, I'm met with the same shade of blue painted on the walls but with the added addition of white, too. I look around and see a few customers sitting and eating their food. A few of the employees are going back and forth between the tables and the kitchen. I don't notice how long I've been staring until someone talks to me.

"Umm... excuse me? Sir, are you here for a table?" The employee asks me.

"I'm here to work, I noticed the sign outside," I tell him as I point to the window where the help wanted sign is seen.

"Oh, yes! I'll be right back," the boy tells me before walking away and leaving me standing by myself.

I wait, and in a few minutes the boy comes back.

"You're hired," he simply tells me.

"Really?" I can't help but to feel surprised.

"We're really tight on staff, so the boss will take anyone," the boy explains, "You'll start working at the beginning of next week. I'm assuming you're still in school, so we would like you to come in right after school. If you have any clubs, you should let the boss know, but tell him on your first day, he's busy right now."

"I'll let him know. Thank you," I walk out of the restaurant and head back home.

I head back home, and now I'm able to rest. I didn't know getting a job could be that easy, but I just got lucky. One less thing to worry about.

But going straight after school for the job can be a burden. Less time to take care of my Senpai. I'll need to tell my boss that showing up straight after school won't work for me. He is tight on staff, so I doubt he'll get rid of me that easily.

I start to get comfy in my bed and cuddle up to one of my Senpai's plushies that I stole from her room. I can smell her scent on the cute cat, I can't help but imagine it's her in my arms. I fall into a blissful sleep shortly after.

[fantisyoflove]

So You Wanna Play With Magic- part 10

Wc:2,457

You wanted to go out. You wanted to drink and dance and forget all about this stupid arranged marriage.

You had disapperated to a spot downtown you liked to go occasionally but then noticed you were in lounge clothes.

You couldn't go back home to change so you disapparated again to Spinners End.

You tried the front door but found the house warded, typical.

You then tried to send your patronus through to let Severus know you are here but it's even warded against that.

Rolling your eyes you take a deep breath and start working on breaking the wards. Hopefully the first few alert him so he can just let you in. He is probably brewing and given recent events didn't want another unplanned visit from Draco's parents.

[]

Harry sent the groceries to the kitchen with a wave of his hand.

Draco came stomping down the stairs and tried to push past him out the door.

"Hang on" Harry caught his arm but Draco shrugged him off.

Harry reached forward again and had just brushed Dracos sleeve when he disapparated with him.

The tug sent them both to Draco's flat. He started clawing at his shirt again before noticing Harry had been transported with him.

"Potter!" He snarled.

"Malfoy" Harry said calmly as he looked around trying to figure out where he was at the moment. "What happened? I leave you two alone for five minutes and suddenly you're at each other's throats?"

"Piss off!" Draco snaps and starts pacing again. He can't let Potter see him like this but he is too agitated to apperate again.

Harry guesses this is the flat Draco had spoken about before and backs away to give him some air.

"Where did she go?"

"How the blazes should I know! She's your girlfriend where does she go when she's having a fit!?"

"Look, you seem really upset. Kitchen set up too?" The flat had been fully furnished and Draco had an elf, somewhere, here taking care of things just in case. Harry walked over to the kitchen area and started opening cupboards. Draco didn't answer him, instead he struggled with his tie. Yanking it this way and that trying to loosen the knot. He growled in frustration, dropping to his knees and pressed his fists into his eyes.

Harry set on the kettle then came back to Draco. He watched for a moment before stepping forward to loosen the tie.

Draco flinched, pulling back, but Harry held onto the tie and met Draco's eyes. They stared at one another for a full minute before Draco relaxed enough.

His eyes bore into Harry's, all the anger and hatred he felt burned inside him. Harry, who had received this look all through school, barly noticed. He undid the tie, the sound of the fabric sliding against itself and Draco's harsh breathing seemed to echo in the silent room.

The knot fell away and Harry pulled the now loose fabric away from Draco's collar. He slowly wrapped it around his hand, never breaking eye contact, then tentatively reached out and undid the top two buttons on Draco's shirt.

The kettle whistled and Harry left to pour the tea. He set the tie on the counter and brought the two mugs to the living room.

He set the one for Draco on the table next to him and sat on the couch to wait.

[]

You grumbled under your breath as another ward fell away. You wanted to scream! How on earth did this man have so much free time he could casually set up over two dozen wards around his house! You knew Lucius was crafty but surely he wouldn't put in this much effort to speak with Severus.

Your magic felt spent and you were getting tired by the time the final ward fell away.

You yanked the door open and stomped inside slamming it shut behind you.

"Uncle!" You shouted but then ducked your head sheepishly as you noticed him sitting just in the other room staring at a book.

He snapped it closed and then pressed a toggle switch to shut off a timer set up beside him on the table.

"One hour and twenty-nine minutes. Impressive." His tone was dull as usually and he didn't sound nearly impressed with you.

You scoffed, folding your arms against your chest. "You knew I was here and didn't drop the wards?"

"I was curious how long it would take you. Besides you were quite upset when you arrived and I didn't feel like listening to your childish tirade."

"I'm not childish!" You snap

Severus lifted a single eyebrow.

You let your arms fall down by your sides and sulked over to him.

Sitting on the floor in front of him you leaned your back against his legs.

Severus audibly sighed and flicked his wand to the fire then in the direction of the kitchen.

The fire crackled to life and a tray of tea and cakes floated into the living room.

You prepared one cup and held it up over your head to Severus. He took is silently and you made up your own cuppa.

You both sat in silence sipping your tea.

[]

Harry had finished his tea but Draco had yet to touch his own. Instead he sat back on his heels as he kneeled on the floor looking up at the ceiling, breathing deeply.

Harry pointedly looked around the room, studying different parts of it, as he waited for Draco. Ev4ry now and then he would glance at him from the corner of his eye.

Dracos eyes were closed and Harry couldn't help but admire the stretch of his neck, the snug pull of his shirt and pants. Harry knew Draco was fit, had seem plenty of him in the locker room back at the footie club, but there was something about disheveled but still proper Draco that drew his eye.

Finally Draco stood and took his tea in hand before sitting beside Harry on the couch.

Harry watched as Draco iust stared into his mug of now cold tea frowning. Smirking he tapped the edge with his wand and a curl of steam rose from the now hot tea.

Draco gave a half hearted smile and sipped the tea.

"Well?"

"It's good."

Harry folded his arms across his chest and rolled his eyes. "Not the tea Malfoy. Y/n and you? What happened?"

"I don't even know." He said numbly as he stared at his mug. "One second we were kissing ..."

"Wait you kissed!?"

"Then the next thing I know she's going on asking who I've kissed and then talking about all the people she's slept with and how I just need to see her way even though this whole bloody thing HAS BEEN. HER. WAY!"

Harry's eyebrows disappeared into his curls and he set his mug down before gently taking the one out of Draco's hands.

He glared back at Harry before shooting up and stomping back and forth.

Harry leaned back in the couch and pushed out a big breath. This was going to take awhile.

[]

After you finished your tea, and Severus insisted he didn't want a slice of cake , you tucked into your own piece. Severus took his time combing your hair and putting it into two braids.

Severus wasn't always the best of guardians but he at least learned how to help braid your hair. At school the kids spoke horribly of him. As a teacher Severus was often cruel and enjoyed punishment. But once at home for the holidays he relaxed. He would dote on you, make you tea, and listen intently as you gabbered on about this and that. He was patient and could give some rather sound advice from time to time.

"Well?"

"Draco is pissed because I didn't wait for him but I didn't know I was supposed to wait for him!" You tried to keep your tone level but your voice squeaked at the end.

Severus sighed and began undoing the braids before running his fingers through your hair.

He starting braiding it into one braid as he spoke. "It seems to me that you both had expectations of the other and neither of you are living up to them."

You groaned and let your head fall back against his knee, "I didn't come here so you could make sense! I came here so you would agree with me!"

Severus tutted and sat back in his chair. "You're right, how could Draco not understand that basically everything he has ever been told by his parents is a lie or at best a half truth. All while putting aside any of his own feels he may develop for others because all he could think about was you. You and your feelings."

You opened your mouth to speak before Severus cut you off. "Not to mention his time spent is Azkaban. Think how isolated his life has been and now everything he has ever known changes..." Severus let the sentence fall, looking at you expectantly.

"Fine! I guess since I'm the problem." You grumbled as you push yourself up. "I better come up with a solution."

You ran your fingers down the braid with a frown. "What if this doesn't work?" You whisper, hoping Severus can't hear you.

"It has to. For both your sakes." Severus took your hand and gave it a squeeze. You squeezed it back once but dropped it harshly at the sound of a rather rough knock on the door.

[]

Draco had finished telling Harry about your conversation together. He had calmed down enough by just talking about it and sat back on the couch. His head hung against the back of the couch, eyes closed.

Harry thought it over before clearing his throat. "Sounds to me you got defensive about the bruises and then embarrassed that you might have done some similar ... activities... that you are so against her doing."

"Oh please its not like I went around sleeping with people."

"No, but just like how she doesn't blame you for this marriage you can't blame her for her choices."

The silence hung in the air, Draco slowly lifted his head up and looked at Harry.

"She doesn't blame me?"

"Of course not, why would she?"

"I just figured..."

"She knows this was both of your parents and voldemort," Draco flinched, "who caused this. She is trying to make the best of it and keep moving forward. She came up with the dating thing, how's that been going?"

"Fine." Draco grumbled

"Just fine?" Harry leaned closer.

"It's grand. I don't feel comfortable talking about this with you."

"I can see. But you have to talk to someone Draco and who else knows all the details."

Draco sighed heavily, scrubbed his face in his hands, and finished the last of his tea.

"I like her. I like her a lot. And when we are just together everything is easy." He breathed a sigh.

"It's when we starting talking about this whole arrangement or our past then things get bad."

Harry nodded and pressed his lips together.

Harry racked his brain for what to say. "Do you think you are trying to hold on to the last thing in your life that you believe to be true?"

Draco narrowed his eyes as he glared at Potter.

"What?"

"You know your parents and you know who told you this whole idea of pureblood ways. How to act and what to believe to be the best in the world. But now you seem to understand that a lot of their teachings were wrong. And on top of that you've waited your whole life for the one person who was supposed to love you. And maybe you created, in your mind, the perfect wife for you. It's okay to mourn an idea." Harry touched Draco's thigh speaking softly.

Draco had slowly, very slowly, started to be comfortable with Harry touching him. His muscle still twitched but it didn't bother him anymore.

He never realized how little physical contact he had had in his life and until you and Harry were around. It wasn't just him though he noticed you both were just touchy people and so were your friends. He can remember 3 times his father had reached out to him or hugged him in his whole life. Harry hugged all his friends, you hugged all your friends, and you both hugged Draco quite often.

Still, he zeroed in on Harry's hand and watched it closely.

"How are you all knowing all of a sudden."

"It's not all of a sudden. But honestly after the war I saw a mind healer and she helped me a lot.

Draco snorted and leaned back on the couch closing his eyes again. He pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath.

"Well then, oh wise wizard Potter, what do I do?"

"Maybe go talk to her. Apologize for raising your voice and ask to try again. Knowing her she will probably apologize to you too. An argument isn't going to end things but not addressing it will."

"Where would she be?"

"I'm not sure, sometimes she goes out to a pub but usually she goes to her guardians house."

Dracos ears pricked as he remembered something, "You don't know his name do you?"

"The guardian? No she doesn't talk about him much. I guess I never brought it up." Harry shrugged but deep down, and only because his kind healer told him, he knew he avoided talking about family with anyone else because he didn't want to then in turn talk about his own home life growing up.

Draco raised an eyebrow but didn't comment.

"Have you met him?"

"Yes."

"So you know where she is then? She was still in her sleep clothes so she probably went there to at least change if she did go out. We could ask him..."

"I think it's best if I go alone" Draco started.

"What is this guardian an ex death eater or something?" Harry joked but Draco had to school his face into something neutral before he read too much into his expression.

Harry's face fell, "of course he is! I don't know how I didn't see it! She said he was half blood but I should have known!" Harry had stood now and was pacing in the room. Draco couldn't help smirk from the irony.

"If it makes you feel better he was tried like I was and you, personally, spoke out at his hearing."

Harry looked confused at first before realization spread across his face. He snatched Draco's hand and disapperated on the spot.

[poppiesforthirteen]

we'll do it right

the doctor rescues the timeless child.

tags: the timeless child, generational trauma but it’s one person, the doctor is the master is yaz, the tardis trying to put it all back together, pre-flux, child abuse/neglect, killing & unkilling gallifrey like a toggle switch

ao3 link is in the notes

—

Yaz discovered the corner rooms of the TARDIS some weeks back. Most of them are storage for things the Doctor lost or forgot about some centuries ago, treasure troves she's done her best to keep Yaz away from, but this one—a nook one left turn off the bedroom corridor—has to be both their favourite so far, stuffed with cushions and sofas and hammocks hanging from the ceiling. For the past hours, they've been sitting here and peacefully ignoring each other: Yaz is reading (studying, maybe, though the Doctor can't say what she's studying) while the Doctor draws Old Gallifreyan equations on the walls to keep her hands busy while her mind circles.

"Yaz," the Doctor says.

"Yeah?" Yaz looks up from her book; she drops her pen between the pages, closing them on the sticky notes she'd been scribbling on. The Doctor keeps her eyes trained on the book, head hanging upside down from her hammock, half-written calculations neglected on the ceiling.

"What if"—back at the calculations, she's dropped an x somewhere; that must be the problem—"what if you knew that your species—not just everything you did, but everything you are—was due to someone misusing the power of an alien they took to Earth?"

Yaz's eyes trail off. Her brow furrows as she stares into the distance, then looks back at the Doctor. "You mean, like Tim Shaw and the Ux? Or is it a sort of Edison thing?"

"No, as in—before anyone can remember, a human found an alien and"—something else is wrong, is it just a dropped variable? What did she miss—"used part of them, changed what it means to be human forever.

"Made humanity better, part of it at least"—oh, she forgot a minus there, that parenthesis is meant to be negative—"but the alien was still abused for it."

"Did that happen?" Yaz's eyes follow the Doctor as she draws another line of equations on the ceiling. "Wait, 'made humanity better', is that why some people can have lactose and others can't?"

"Just a hypothetical." No, the variable is still definitely missing. The Doctor thinks back a couple of lines. "Nothing to do with Earth."

"Oh." Yaz is thinking again; the Doctor can't see her face; she's at the line with the mistake, almost got it, tip of her tongue. "I mean... if I can do everything I can now—we'd go back in the TARDIS and rescue them, right? Even if it helped humanity, it's not worth their suffering."

"Right," the Doctor says absentmindedly. "Thank you, Yaz."

"Why do you ask?"

"Just a moment, almost got it... ah!" With a flourish, the Doctor writes in the missing x, adjusts her equations and wipes her charcoal-dusted fingertips on her trousers. "There we go! How do you feel about a picnic?"

The corners of Yaz's mouth pinch together. Wriggling out of the hammock, the Doctor is already half out the door when Yaz gets up to join her. "Sure. Picnic. Where to?"

—

A picnic basket under her arm, the Doctor steps out into the field—sun on her face, grass brushing along her legs, green plains dotted with blossoms of yellow and white and blue. It looks like Wales, a little bit, but once you've been around the universe (and the United Kingdom) often enough, everything starts to look a bit like Wales. 

"Here we are!" she says. "The rolling fields of Soria T4—it's all plant life aside from some short-lived pollinators; not much else evolved here. Beautiful planet, perfectly safe." Yaz is holding a rolled-up blanket and a thermos of tea; the focused look in her eyes makes the Doctor feel like a particularly complicated maths problem she's trying to solve. The Doctor sets down the basket. "Now, I have to go for a moment—can you pick out a spot for us? I'll be back before you know it."

Yaz opens her mouth but the Doctor is back in the TARDIS before she can hear her protest; she takes off into the vortex before Yaz can run in after her. Yaz will be fine, she tells the TARDIS (and herself); the Doctor chose the planet well. Anyway, she'll be back within minutes.

The Doctor's eyes catch on a yellow leather jacket hanging by the door. She looks away.

Rocking on her feet, the Doctor takes a deep breath; relaxes her shoulders; cracks her neck. "Right, Doctor, time to find them. Us." Another breath. "Me."

She unlocks the telepathic circuits; pushes a hand inside; jumps back when it tickles her palm. "Would you mind?" she scolds the TARDIS, then eases back inside. Presses down her fingertips first, then her whole palm; breathes through the electrical current tingling and sparking through her arm into her spine.

"I know they're out there. Before Tecteun found them. Look for..." The Doctor bites her lip. She doesn't actually know that much—only what the Master let her see. The Timeless Child. No, she'll have to find them later. If she can make it, she'll land before it's too late.

The Doctor shuts her eyes and pictures the first regeneration on Gallifrey.

—

Before the Doctor opens the doors, she's nauseous. The sense of being too close together, too far apart; she's existing in two bodies right now and one of them is terrified. One of them has never died before and is learning what it means to be concussed, to have vertebrae splinter and bore holes in your central nervous system, to lose feeling in your lower body.

The Doctor steps out of the TARDIS as Tecteun rushes to her child's side. Too slow, Doctor. Better try again. It's started already; light gathering in the child's hands and stomach and hearts until they're so full they can't breathe, until the fire drowns out all other pain. The Doctor shuts the door before it can burst from them. She takes off.

In orbit around Gallifrey, the Doctor can breathe again without bile rising in her throat.

"You could have told me it's a fixed event," she says. "No, you're right; I should have known." Her eyes pinch closed as her stomach turns. "She should have prevented it." The Doctor's fingers tingle, hearts pounding in her chest. She's not the one regenerating, not this her.

There has to be a moment in the child's life that isn't fixed. She's already here; she's found them; she only has to tug on their time stream a little. How hard can it be?

—

It's dark out. She's on the edge of the citadel, where the air lies heavy on her skin—it's always been light and cool outside where she grew up (the second time), and inside the spires, the academy, the government, the air is so artificially pure it stings in her nostrils. No, this is heavy, laden with dust and chemicals and work. The Doctor stifles a sneeze and her gaze catches on a flash of golden light through a window.

Peeping through the window, someone's voice reprimands her at the back of her mind as she sneaks closer, is that what you've come to, Doctor?

Shut up, she thinks back, and hides behind the wall until she can get a look inside.

A small electrical lamp illuminates a beaker filled with something like honey, pure and amber and crystallising at the bottom. The opposite wall is filled with curious experiments like it, fluids running through simple hydrolysis machines up and down the shelves, crystals and jars and a ring of soot in one place or another. Towards the back of the room, the Timeless Child sits and draws circles in crayon on the wall.

Now what?

Tecteun isn't anywhere in sight—the Doctor could walk in and take them and leave and she'd be none the wiser. That is, until her pet—her child doesn't come when she calls.

Do they remember where they were taken from? The Master wasn't specific. Could the Doctor find it?

She feels nauseous again.

That's the problem, Doctor, says the voice again, you never think these things through. Are you going to be a kidnapper? How does that make you any better? You'd raise yourself right back into the person you are now; cut out the middleman; you'll never be more than—

The child is staring directly at her. Crayon clutched in their fist, eyes wide, mouth open because they haven't learned that it's proper to keep it closed yet. The Doctor stares back as if eventually, she'll recognize the eyes she's looking into. As if it will make the child see her and know.

This is what happens to you. Please tell me you like it.

The door flies open and Tecteun marches through—the child flinches and hides their crayon behind their back, not quickly enough. The Doctor can't hear what she yells; she can't make herself watch.

By the time she's back in the TARDIS, her whole body is trembling. She slumps down, leaning against the shut door and closes her eyes as the first hint of phantom regeneration pricks her palms again. Breathes in through her nose and out through her mouth and tries not to imagine sparks flying from her lips.

The air in the TARDIS is lighter, cool like night air is meant to be, free of the chemical undertone the Doctor will taste for the next week. It smells of metal, of rock salt, of something sweet and earthy—the Doctor opens her eyes to find Yaz's jacket dangling on a coat hook some feet from her face.

She's never really noticed Yaz's perfume before. Shoulders relaxing, nausea subsiding, the Doctor inhales again, filling her lungs with jasmine and sandalwood, steel and glowing crystals and her box out of time. She can be back with Yaz within minutes of her leaving. She can save the child, change the foundation of Gallifrey and still return to have a picnic on Soria T4.

The TARDIS takes off and the Doctor doesn't ask where they're going. She crawls over to the mattress left out on the floor. She hugs a pillow to her chest, kneading the fabric until her hands stop tingling, breathing in the familiar scent of herself until she's no longer split in two. The Doctor rests her eyes and, for the first time in a while, she sleeps.

—

The Doctor awakes to the suns streaming in through the windows. Blearily, she sorts her coat (never sleeping in it again; her shoulders are all sorts of twisted) and runs her fingers through her hair. She opens the door only to slam it shut, blinking spots from her vision after staring directly into the closer of Gallifrey's suns. In orbit again, the door facing the wrong way.

"Did that on purpose," she mutters. "Cheeky."

The Doctor pushes down the lever. The TARDIS hums, then lands, and the last of its thrumming is overtaken by enormous turbines—the sound of an ancient spacecraft landing. The blazing suns greet her again as she steps out—this is well outside the citadel, a landing platform for an early Gallifreyan space mission. Dozens of people around her—they're not Time Lords, not yet—hold their breath as Tecteun leaves her vessel, a small child holding her hand.

They shrink behind her, intimidated by the crowd, turning their head and—they shouldn't be able to see her; she's too far off; but maybe they catch a glimpse of the TARDIS, or they just know.

"Another fixed event," the Doctor says to herself. "Why do we keep going to moments I can't change?" She watches herself be tugged down into the crowd, still facing her, off in the distance, until they disappear into a crowd of taller people. Into a future of neglect, sensationalised, then forgotten, then abused.

She was a child.

No one should have done that to her.

She turns away.

The TARDIS' door slams behind her as she storms to the console. "Let me get closer," the Doctor demands. "I can't just leave them there."

The air hangs heavy like a blanket over her shoulders. "Spare me your pity," she hisses. Jaw clenched, she shoves her hand in the telepathic circuit and pulls.

—

Wherever they are, it must be closer to the present. The Doctor's nerves are on end, all tingly—she tries to take it as a good sign.

It's late in the evening—one of the suns has already set, the other has half vanished behind the mountains. The sky has gone from orange to deep red; this far from the citadel, the darkness vanishes in the light of millions of stars. To her left, a house, distantly familiar in a way she can't place. No children in sight.

As she approaches the house, a figure ducks away from an upstairs window—there, that would be them, different this time, blue eyes, light skin. Already started.

Maybe they remember her. Probably not—regeneration scrambles her mind badly each time she does it, and she usually has a few decades to centuries space between them. Still, it's a nice thought.

Tecteun isn't around. Now could be her chance—she could change her life. Change the future of Gallifrey, the course of the universe. Save herself.

She can't.

She has to leave herself behind.

The child's head pokes up again. They wave—slowly, the Doctor waves back. At least they look happy. Not yet eight—they wouldn't be academy age. They seem familiar, oddly, like she's seen them before. Not through archives, but really seen them. Echoes of who she used to be.

The child ducks back down. The Doctor turns away, watching the sky go black, and doesn't think about how long that body has left.

—

The Doctor marches past Yaz's jacket, the door closing behind her. "I don't know," she says into the TARDIS. "I'll figure something out. Just anywhere for now."

The TARDIS starts, sputters and stops. The Doctor pulls the lever again and it restarts—

—the TARDIS shakes. Nasty bit of turbulence, crossing her own time stream; the Doctor circles around the console to fix it, stabilise. She's nearly thrown off her feet, but can grab on to a psychic sensor. Inhales; closes her eyes; calms her mind. I'm here. It's alright. The TARDIS stutters, then the engines relax; they're stable, but still not safe. Flying through dangerous territory, something unknown. She connects back in, tethers her visual nerves to the sensors and—

There he is. The same child, the one she just saw at the window, barely older. Staring into the Untempered Schism with piercing blue eyes. The Doctor watches him; at the back of her mind, she hears drums.

"I'm so sorry," she breathes.

The four step beat continues; it shakes the TARDIS; the Doctor pushes buttons to divert it but it only grows louder. She's torn through time and space, through everything the Master will see and do, through the drums the drums the drums—

She sees herself at the window, at his side, at the other end of a blade, holding him as he dies in the Doctor's arms. The drums mellow. The world goes quiet.

The TARDIS leaves.

—

Sat on the steps up to the third hall, the Doctor worries her lip between her teeth, fists clenched, blue eyes burnt into her mind. This is it—this isn't just his past, it's Gallifrey's, it's so deeply intertwined with her own she can't find a thread to cut without unravelling herself in the process. But he's a child. He's a child and none of this is justified. Gallifrey ruined their

lives to make itself better and the Doctor can sacrifice her past but she can't leave two terrified children behind.

This is the past she can remember; it's too much of a risk to cross. She can't tell herself any of this. She can't learn it before her time.

Maybe he can.

"I'm not experimenting on him," she says, typing in coordinates, "leave me alone." She knows them by heart; doesn't need to watch her hands as they adjust dials, each setting lower a satisfying click between her fingertips. She sets them to some years before her first practice flights around a featureless TARDIS with half a dozen other nervous students, she and the Master daring each other to take greater and greater risks before they both got kicked out of the class. The first time they lifted out of the garage and bobbed in the river, a massive stone obelisk tits-up in the water.

The TARDIS glows warmly. The Doctor pretends it's not a warning.

"Just a couple minutes. We'll be gone before you know it."

Jasmine and sandalwood. Liar.

"Don't need you to parent me." She takes off and the TARDIS complies.

—

The Doctor has seen this courtyard hundreds of times. The TARDIS lands in a corner behind a group of trees losing their leaves; they don’t crunch as nicely under the Doctor's feet as they do on Earth. Doesn't stop her from expecting it.

She even got the time right: There's barely anyone around to notice her, the last red-robed students heading for the heavy metal gates and not paying abandoned corners of courtyards they see every day any mind. Her past self isn't around—for a moment, she worries she won't recognise herself, but the Doctor would recognise the Master any day and she couldn't be found too far from his side.

Except for now. There he is, alone. Same blue eyes; he grew out his hair around year twelve and she always kept a hair tie around her wrist for the low ponytail he put it in. The robes, incredibly impractical, but while she always bent the uniform rules to make things easier for herself he broke them to make his uniform less practical on purpose.

She doesn't have to approach him directly—always more alert than the rest, brilliant, even this young—he notices her and is already half across the lawn (more curious than wise, but the same can be said for herself).

"Who are you?" he demands.

"Listen to me," says the Doctor. "You don't understand it yet—"

He scoffs.

"—but you will lead a life in which none of your suffering is justified."

"Honestly, who do you think you are—"

“l"And I want to say something hopeful, but it won't get better. You can't tell anyone about the drums, or the hunger, or the rage, because they won't understand. You think that this happened to you because you're special, but you're not. You're just unlucky."

His jaw sets. "I'm going now," he says, and turns. The Doctor grabs his arm.

"Listen. You haven't met this face yet, but when you do, you'll blame me for everything. That's fine. Hold onto that. It's not true, but it's easier." She stares into cold eyes, hardened; she used to be able to tell exactly what’s behind them. Somewhere, she lost the sense for whatever the Master is thinking. "Just know that I'm sorry. You didn't deserve it. You never did."

The Master laughs shortly. "This isn't real, is it? I've completely lost it this time." He pulls his arm from her grip. She lets him. "If you're a ghost from my time stream, I'll make sure to blame you once we meet properly. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'd like to go home."

You tried, the Doctor tells herself as the Master walks away, smooth as a cat trying to regain its honour after falling off a windowsill. That's all you can do. You can't change anything.

But this time, you tried.

—

It nags at her—the Doctor ignores the jacket, no matter how many coincidental spotlights the TARDIS shines on it; ignores the tugs to her conscience. Five minutes. As many five minutes as she needs, and Yaz will be none the wiser. You like her too; you want me to be put together before I get back. She won't be put together until she satisfies the nagging, the curiosity itching at the back of her mind. This is necessary.

Just a quick stop.

—

The Doctor feels the heat before she's opened the doors. She grew up in a desert; she's used to the heat—she's used to orange skies, red sands, burning suns. The warm light through the windows isn't unusual.

Her hand on the door—it has to be different now. Her effort is worth something; she makes impacts; it's what she does. She's going to open the TARDIS and be rewarded.

The door opens. She feels the flames before she sees them, same as ever. Nothing has changed.

—

The TARDIS lands on Soria T4—enthusiastically, the Doctor throws the door open, greeted by a dusky blue sky, the sun setting in her back. Ah.

Yaz looks up from her book. Eyes cold, jaw set. The Doctor winces.

"How long?"

"Three hours." Yaz stands and pushes past her into the TARDIS.

"Sorry," the Doctor says.

"Sure."

"We can still have a picnic—"

"Out of tea." Yaz takes her jacket from the coat hook. "I'm going to bed. Good night, Doctor. Hope you had a good time."

"Night, Yaz."

Yaz disappears in the bedroom corridor, leaving the Doctor standing in the doorframe. She flops to the ground. Legs dangling out of the TARDIS, grass brushing her ankles. The picnic basket is still outside. She'll bring it in when she's ready.

The Doctor watches the stars appear one by one in the late evening sky. Feels the planet turn, a fixed point in the universe; does maths in the back of her head and thinks of every variable she's dropped.

—

thanks for reading!! the title is from the story of the phoenix by tamiscolaris, that and the ao3 link are in the notes

please reblog! and comment if you can, it helps me know i’m appreciated and above all else i want to know everyone’s thoughts - we’re running a little media discussion club here djsjdfj

have a nice day! <3

[100dayproductivity]

13/100.

So anyway. Here's my above-the-fridge cupboard in its well-hung glory.

I used this type of hardware, three of them along the top end of the cupboard. It's called a toggle bolt.

Alright. My next priority is Christmas gifts for my kids. If I'm going to order anything online I have to do it soon. Tick-tock tick-tock! The thing is, in order to stretch my budget, I want to use points I earn from doing surveys. I have about $100 worth of points with this one survey company called Web Perspectives. I've been doing surveys off and on for years, and I tried a whole bunch of different ones out when I first discovered you can earn a bit here and there doing them. Somehow Web Perspectives is the only one I do these days. Not sure if that means they are better than others, but there must be a reason why I still use them and not others.

There are a couple of ways I can cash-in the points. Two options are Amazon e-gift cards and Indigo e-gift cards. You just trade your points for the cards, then login in to Amazon/Indigo and apply the cards to your account. I'm thinking about getting my kids a couple of books and need to check whether I should get them from Amazon or Indigo. The Indigo cards cost 1000 points for a $10 gift card, whereas Amazon costs 1200 for $10. So you get a little more bang for your buck (er, point) with Indigo. However, you obviously have more things you can spend the money on with Amazon. You also have to factor in shipping costs. Also, I think Indigo changed something recently where you can no longer add a gift card amount to use for later, you have to apply it at checkout. With Amazon, you can squirrel away gift card amounts to use whenever you want. I currently have $70 of credit on Amazon, plus another $20 I haven't added yet.

Another detail about this process with Web Perspectives is that you can only redeem points for a maximum of two gift cards per day. So even though I have about $100 worth of points, I can't redeem them all at once, I can only redeem about $20 per day. So you need to plan ahead a little bit to use them.

The other company I use for points is called Nielsen Homescan. You get a scanner or, more recently, just download an app, and you scan the stuff you buy and they collect the data for companies that pay them for market research. In return you earn points that you can redeem for stuff. They used to only have a catalogue of actual stuff, which was kind of limiting because maybe you're not interested in any of the stuff in the catalogue (for instance, I've redeemed points for movie tickets, pillow cases, and a camping lantern in the past). And the stuff was really "expensive" (you needed a shit-ton of points to just be able to get the most inexpensive things). But now they also have an Amazon gift card option! I think this is fairly recent.

So that's the background info on my foray into online surveys. You won't get rich doing it but it's an easy way to earn a couple of bucks when you have 5 or 10 minutes to kill. It's great for when you have to be physically but not mentally present for something. For example, waiting for an appointment or a bus or a client, or when you have a couple of minutes gap between meetings or classes that you would otherwise be spending being bored out of your skull, or when you've taken the kids to the playground or the dog to the dog park and are just sitting there while they play and you just need to look up from time to time to make sure everyone is ok. Everyone has these sorts of "in between other things" times, why not earn some money while you're doing nothing anyway?

Alright, so here's my updated to-do list:

Gmail account sign in.

Buy new charger for Pixel phone.

Transfer Web Perspectives Amazon e-gift card to Amazon account.

Fill out eye surgery forms. ✓

Take photos and email back to clinic. ✓

Check previous clinic's paperwork to see which lens they recommended.

Make appointment at bank.

Print out bank documents.

No printer service at library--do I need to print it? Download to thumb drive and think about next steps.

Compare cost of books Indigo vs Amazon.

Recurring:

Alternate heat and ice on foot.

Do hamstring stretches.

Reference: https://www.sports-injury-physio.com/post/top-5-stretches-plantar-fasciitis

Roll out knots in leg muscle.

Do Sun Salutation x5 - 0/5

Take inhaler

[nonnui]

Stop the Darkness

I didn't use to understand idle games. It's the name - they're games where you don't do stuff, where "waiting" is a key mechanic. What's the point? But I get it now. They aren't games.

Idle games are wind-up toys.

Stop the Darkness is a pixelly civ-builder sort of game with, to a first approximation, one mechanic: click tiles to upgrade them. Once you wind them up they get you resources with which you can perform further upgrades. There is a lot of waiting, but unlike other idle games I've tasted, there's also an element of time pressure: in a slow square-spiral around the edge of the map there encroaches a Darkness. Tiles swallowed thereby accomplish nothing for you. If the whole map is dark, you lose. You can't just walk away from this game for half an hour. It's a wind-up toy being chased by a very slow, very ominous RC car and you have to keep reaching in to wind it up a bit more.

Quality of Life: Decent. Could use an undo button, and a way to queue developments to trigger as soon as you have the resources, and a way to preview the path of the spiral to save the effort of figuring out which middle squares will be safe longest. But the click and upgrade system is as simple as you could wish and the secret other things that aren't that are also pretty easy to interact with. Regenerating the map to desired specs in order to try different challenges or strategies is a friendly feature. 4/5.

Throughline: Idle games are usually very bad at this. Stop the Darkness is not sophisticated, but it is not bad. There is this threatened area, and the civilization you represent/control are trying to industrialize fast enough to beat it back while it chews resources away from you at every moment. You can make progress, you can succeed. Grading on a curve for the genre, 5/5.

Pacing: Most idle games are clicker games, where you can get 1 of the most basic resource by literally clicking on something, and 10 by clicking ten times, and so on and so forth. Not so here. The beginning of the game is slow, and even toggling the speed from x1 to x3 doesn't make it not-slow. Later portions of the game can be either stressfully crunched, or just long waits to see if the numbers will go up faster than the darkness will encroach, with no more moves possible or advisable to make. The midgame is all right simply by being in the middle of these extremes. 2/5.

Aesthetics: It's pixelly, and not high-res about it either, but it has a pleasant enough palette and whatnot. Within its constraints I don't mind looking at it at all. They're just pretty strict constraints 3/5.

Charm: I enjoy contemplating the valiant efforts of my pixel nation as they build cities and study magic and try to juggle investing in their villages and learning science against spending down what they have on shorter-term solutions. I have beaten the game several times now, yet still don't have a very good reliability rate at it, which is a feature I often value in a game. Magic is mostly derived from mushrooms, which I think is kind of funny. But I think once the shine wears off I will pretty much never think about this again. 2/5.

Nonnui: While - after a one-time exploratory upgrade of every tile on the map to maximum to see what they'd all turn into at the highest levels - I don't tend to keep playing after I Stop the Darkness and instead declare victory and close it once I win, it's a good half-attention game for when I'm watching TV or playing card games. A transcendent experience it is not, but it's fine. 4/5.

[the-baddest-of-batches]

Dar'Aliit: Chapter Nineteen - The Name of the Peace (Part 2)

18 BBY Krayt Bridge

"Two of them. They're hiding out on Nar Shadda." I toss the disk on the desk.

Admiral Rent looks up at me. He arches an eyebrow. "Impressive results, Lieutenant."

The rank stuck. I don't know why. At least the Admiral hears out my request to work alone. In fact he's heard out many of my requests ever since I walked into his office and told him I wasn't going to plant my shebs on a barstool until the Empire decided to throw me out. He might be a bureaucrat, but he's a solid man with a solid head on his shoulders. And he understands the value I have to the Empire, unlike some.

I shrug. "All in a days work, sir."

'You've located fifteen rogue Jedi, Lieutenant. I would hardly call that a days work." The Admiral picks up the disk. "If this information proves useful, we shall certainly be requiring more of your efforts. In fact, I could quite see you on track to become someone working directly for the Grand Admiral."

I can't tell him that I don't care. It doesn't matter where I'm shuffled off to, I just want to serve the universe and its new Empire. This time we might really have a chance to bring peace. To protect.

"Thank you, sir," is all I say aloud, though.

"You are dismissed, Lieutenant."

I nod and turn to leave. Kamino is gone, but Coruscant feels like home. The Jedi still run rampant, running from their inevitable demise. They're all traitors. Every last one of them.

My quarters wait for me, quiet now. Headshot got his retirement a year ago after the bill passed decommissioning most of the GAR. Only those who elected to stay did. I don't know if Booker went with him. He vanished one night, kind of like Raf. So it's just me now.

I toggle the door and toss my helmet on the bed. There's new armor being circulated. I don't care. I know what serves me well, and it's this old kit decked in white and red.

I sit on the bed and stretch out my neck. Crawling through vent ducts is not the most comfortable method of snooping. I'd do it again, though.

Laying down, I fold my hands behind my head and close my eyes. The edge of sleep washes over my senses and then I hear the chime of another summons. Groggy, I sit up, rub my eyes, and blink before standing up. I snag my helmet and drag my body back out into the hall. As I march back toward the Admiral's office I notice the troopers outside. They aren't dressed like me. They look–newer.

And they're all looking at me.

I manage a tired salute. They split aside one by one and the door slides open for me.

"Sir, is something–" I pause as I step into the room only to find I'm not the only occupant.

"Lieutenant," the Admiral steeples his hands. "Forgive the immediate turnaround, but the Moff has arrived early." He turns to the wizened old man who stands to one side. His uniform is stiffer, well pressed, and his eyes watch me with the sharpness of a man who has seen war, and has won it.

"Lieutenant, I've heard of your accolades." The Moff nods his head slowly. His hair is only grey at the ends. I don't know his name and I can only nod back. Discomfort settles in my stomach.

"It's just my job, sir."

The sharp eyes take me in, every inch of me. I feel invaded, perhaps even mildly violated and I resist the urge to stiffen, as if a straight spine were enough to defend me from his analysis.

"I want you for a new unit we will be installing soon, Lieutenant. I am aware you have been working here on Coruscant for some time and have grown rather comfortable here, but I believe your talents are being squandered."

Talents? I keep my mouth shut.

The Moff turns to the Admiral. "I would like to present a formal request for transfer."

Admiral Rent almost scoffs and it becomes a sigh. This isn't a "request" , it's an order. He nods, however, resignation on his thin pressed lips. "Of course, Moff."

"Then it's settled. We shall process the transfer soon." The Moff turns and there's the hint of a smile on his features. I would describe it more of an elation, however, that only reaches his eyes. The look of a man who is victorious in some war no one else was aware they were fighting. I know it well.

"It will be a pleasure, Lieutenant. I shall forward the onboarding soon, and someone shall be sent to collect you."

"Yessir."

The Moff leaves briskly. The troopers with him and those outside march off and leave us alone. I turn to Admiral Rent.

"I suppose a promotion was in your future," Rent admits, bleakly.

"It's for the peace of the universe," I say bluntly. I turn, my helmet gripped in my arm. Behind me, I can almost feel the sigh of resignation and disbelief at my words.

"Yes," Rent says quietly. "Peace."

#

4 BBY Cargo Bay

"I really wonder what's in that thing that everyone got so worked up over it," Dross notes as the artifact we've retrieved is carried off by several workers taking great care in moving it.

I watch the coffin vanish from the cargo bay where it was relegated after our return. Sarcophagus is the proper name of it, although we strictly call it "the artifact" to keep its nature safe from prying ears. Wouldn't want anyone on the crew getting any ideas about grave robbing.

Course, I don't know what lies inside, but I know one thing, if it had fallen into the hands of those pirates or worse, the terrorists who were truly after it, this universe would be a lot different today. I can't fathom if it's power, or money that draws terrorists to come after such things. I only know that they will use such objects for one intent purpose: evil.

The fact we have it, makes the universe a safer place.

Zur and Dros walk with me back toward the temporary quarter's we've been assigned. Our flagship is still under construction, so for now, we will stay here. I follow behind the two with my helmet in hand but behind me I can hear the click of heels rapidly catching up.

"Captain," calls out a partly familiar voice. I turn back and see Myren rapidly gaining on the three of us. She holds a datapad close to her chest, dressed in a well pressed white ISB uniform. I slow and let her catch up.

"Something you need, Lieutenant?"

Myren straightens up as she falls in beside me. "I wanted to congratulate you on a successful mission actually. Also the Director wants to speak with you later."

I raise an eyebrow.

"Nothing too important, he simply wants you to meet someone." Myren glances over as a unit of crew passes by. "It will be someone important, however," she lowers her voice quietly. "I'd advise you to behave."

"Sounds like you're implying I don't," I mutter.

Myren looks sideways at me, her face a cold deadpan. "You don't."

I avoid her stare. "But I get my job done."

"That, so far, is your only good track record, Captain." Myren pauses when we reach the outside of the crew quarters. "1700, be there, please. On time, in uniform or," she glances at my armor, "in something proper, and on your best behavior."

Resigned, because I know I can't argue with Myren, I nod. "I'll try."

"You'll do it," Myren confirms.

"I'll be there," I sigh.

Myren sticks out the datapad she's holding. "A bit more information we gathered as well, for your reference. It's from the copied computer data R3 pulled and confirms that the pirates and civilians you eliminated had no connections with the artifact beyond transporting it, as we already knew. I sent all this information to your personal datapad, but I know you don't read the reports."

"You know too much about me." I glance up at Myren's deep red eyes as they judge me, only because they can. I take the datapad from her.

"That's my job," Myren says firmly. "Now do yours, Captain."

The way she says everything makes it sound almost like she cares, maybe a little more than an officer should. It's that hint of worry that's always lingering right behind her stoic glare, and in the back of her voice. I wonder why she cares.

But she's right, I have a job to do right now. And I've always done my job, and done it well. The peace of the universe depends on that.

Next chapter coming soon...6/13

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[impala1967dwinchester]

Sam Winchester: Running Away

Pairing: Sam W. x Reader

Pov: Reader/Sam

Warnings: Panic, anxiety, being scared, mature content, talk of sex, Sam, inner thoughts

Summary: With Y/n and Sam only being together for a short time, when Y/n learns she pregnant she freaks thinking every bad thought about the things that could go wrong.

Word Count: 2.1k

A/N: This is Dominant Sam I'm talking about here, but also a protective Sam. This is for band--pyschos 1.5 followers bingo writing challenge.

Square: First Child

Sam Winchester Master list

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TagList: @sweetdetectivequeen @wonderfulworldofwinchester @band--psycho

So, maybe I've been with Sam for a few months, but it's not that big of a deal. We're just a once in a blue sorta thing. Sam and I yes live together alongside his brother Dean, but I don't mean that Sam and I share a bed you know.

Okay well, maybe we do share a room. We share a comfy large bed when a hunt goes bad, or Sam wants to release some tension. We go and let go of our bodies' tension. Together we let everything go, and we sort of become one.

Sam is a giant teddy bear, but when he's had enough put onto his shoulders he needs someone to ground him, that someone for right now just so happens to be me. Bad hunts turn into long, fast, and hard nights.

Nights when Sam drags on, his large hands wrapped my throat pinning me down to the fluffy bed. My nails leaving red marks down his muscled back. His hips snapping against my cervix, his lips leaving bruises on my skin.

The way he'd snap his hips into me as I rode into him. In moments like these Sam was my cowboy, and I was his baby girl. The loud grunts and moans that echoed off the motel, or bunker walls were the most amazing sound to my ears.

The sound of our skin slapping together, and the dominant nature of Sam, his almost animalistic way of fucking me. I wasn't a virgin when I met Sam and Dean, I wasn't a virgin when Sam first came to me with this idea of friends with benefits.

But even without being a virgin, taking Sam for the first time. That made me feel like I had died and came back to life. I know saying that seems probably very odd, but Sam there is something about him that makes him so fucking... fuckable.

The moment that I came down from my high and he laid on top of me, trying his hardest to not lay all his weight on me, I reveled in those moments. Was this what it was like to fall in love with someone?

Would Sam really want that? Would I be enough for Sam?

Months it went on like this, bad hunts or just wanting to let go. It went back and forth. The deal that we held, was for the both of us, and usually, we needed each other at the same time.

Bumping into each other, cute moments. Moments when I would try to put more effort into it. I learned real quick that Sam had a thing for lace and the color red. Something about the way it felt against his hands, or how it looks against my skin tone.

Nothing's more special than having your boy toy pull off your lace panties with his teeth while he makes direct contact. Again there was that dominating nature of Sam. Sometimes my mind would float to what it would be like with Dean, but I would be very much slapped out of that thinking when Sam would snap his hips into me and ask me 'who do you belong to?' or 'Who owns your body?'.

This of course in my world would only last for so long. Something always had to go wrong. So wrong that everything that I had worked for wasn't worth it. Wasn't worth it, if I would just be crashed in the end. I didn't think any wrong could come from fucking my best friend in a way.

Because that was Sam and I are.. were. We are friends, best friends, who know everything about each other, who know when the other is about to have a break or the other needs space. What happens when Sam finds out about this.

This is a normal fuck up that be taken care of. This is my fuck up, this fuck up is huge. He won't want to stay. No, see I've ruined this for the both of us.

What happens if Sam. What if? That's the big question stop overreacting. You've spent time with Dean, ask your question then act, not the other way around. You need to actually find out if your pregnant.

'pregnant' "FUCK" I said out loud rather loud, louder than I should have said it. "Y/n you okay?" I outside the bathroom door. Panicking I slipped the pregnancy test into my sweater pocket. "Yep, I'm super," I said and unlocked the door, slipped by Sam. Smiling before I casually walked away from him. Panicking on the inside.

"what am I going to do?" I asked myself under my breath. "A Winchester baby, a baby, my baby," I said hushed under my breathe. A tap to my shoulder pulled me from my very important inner monologue.

"Y/n, what's wrong with you?" Sam said wrapping his hand around my shoulder. Mouth left gaped open. "Y/n?" Sam repeated, just my name this time made everything worse. The echo of Sam's voice grunting and moaning my name as he comes down from his high.

"Sam," I said looking up at him. These were moments that I said he was a huge teddy bear. Worry crossed his handsome face. "Y/n what's wrong?" Again he forced his first question.

"Nothing Sam. Just let it go." I said tapping his hand on my shoulder. There was a look of upset confusion on Sam's face. "Y/n don't you dare pull away from me, especially after what we have together," Sam said as I walked away. I stopped and thought about it. 'Don't pull him into it, you just take care of it.' I just kept walking.

I made sure that the pregnancy test was really correct, by going to a doctor's office. "You're about six weeks along." The doctor said. More panic. More anxiety, more questions, more thoughts. That drive back to the bunker I was fighting the idea of leaving.

If I just left, what if I just didn't come back. 'No go back and try to hide it, say you're sick, hide in your room. You won't be able to hide it for long' Sam will question you, Sam will notice, he'll notice your body change, he'll notice everything Y/n.

When I got back Sam was waiting for me in the library. "Where were you Y/n?" he asked me as I passed by him "I was out," I said passing quickly. Trying to stay away from him, the closer I am to Sam the harder it is to not tell him the truth. The grip of his hands around my wrist is so powerful, so strong.

"Stop running away. I just need you Y/n I thought..." Sam paused looking down at my body and then to my wrist. "Sam let go of my wrist. You're hurting me." I said ripping my arm from his grasp. Stomping away and down the louder echoing bunker hallway.

'LEAVE' 'No stop he's right you made a promise, a deal.' "Stop" Fighting with myself was the worst of all of this. You can't run away from yourself. No knock at my door, but I wouldn't have known. I had taken a nap my thoughts clouding my mind. Waking up to a quiet bunker and a note stuck to the coffee machine. "Y/n whatever is going on.

That's what I'm here for. Please baby girl. I don't know what to do. Shoot me a message, or even text Dean. Just let me know you're okay." Signed Sam. Yet another wave of new thought, new emotions. I want to stay, but it wouldn't be good for either of us. Nobody benefits from this.

A normal hunts take Dean and Sam about a week tops so with the letter that Sam left behind I can only imagine that Sam is pushing Dean to hunt a lot faster. Get the hunt over and done with come home and figure out what is wrong with me.

I say I've got two days tops before the boys get back. To toggle with the idea of leaving. Two days doesn't seem like enough time, but I need to not trap them in a situation like this. Sam doesn't need to have another thing on his shoulders, Dean doesn't need the worry or the panic. Of a Winchester baby.

Taking a long walk around the bunker brought memories alive in my mind's eye. The great, the good, and the bad. Most of them included Sam. The night he asked me to start this friend with benefits or the wild night that he took me on the book-filled library table. He fucked me in the middle of the wide open.

Would it be bad to say that I fell in love with him from that moment? He made me feel like the only girl in the world. A few spots in the kitchen early morning breakfast being made, and in the garage washing whatever car Dean would let us wash.

'You need to go' Memories pinging in my head. Hitting all the corners of my head. This is the most stressful thing I've ever had to do. There's a baby inside of me now, every choice has to be for this little one. This choice was for Sam and for this little one.

My hand laid on my still flat stomach. I wish that I could feel Sam's hand on top of mine, or watch his face. But that wouldn't be a good idea and I know that.

"They're going to a Winchester in and out," I said walking past Sam and Dean's rooms. I think I'll just have to write a letter to Sam, a sort of backwards odd way of responding to his letter.

This letter will just be my goodbye. "Hey Sam, by the time you read this I'll be long gone. Let me explain. I'm pregnant, with of course your child. We never got the chance to talk about being parents, never got the chance to even have a normal relationship. Sam, I fell hard for you, so hard that I don't want to hurt you. I know you most likely aren't ready to be a dad, so yes I know I'm taking that choice away from you. I am making so many mistakes and I don't want to be a burden on your shoulders or even a burden on Deans. They'll find out about you, they'll be nosy like you, be hardheaded like you, defy me like you defied your father." I wrote out pausing to let my shaking hand take a break.

"Cowboy, I'm running away, because Sam that's the only thing I know how to do. Don't you dare think... Don't you dare ever for a second think that I don't love you, or that this baby won't grow up knowing who is, who knows maybe I'll come back... I love you, Sam, I love you cowboy."

I read over it once and then twice, Dean stood over my shoulder. His hand lying still against my blade. I swiped the pad of my thumb over my Y/n nicely small handwriting. "Sammy?" Dean questioned. "Hmm?" I hummed fearing my voice would give too much away. "What did she write?" He asked, "Y/n wrote that she's pregnant, and she is running away afraid to put the burden of my child on my shoulders and on yours." I said continuing to look at the page in front of me.

"Dean we.." "I've got you, Sammy. We'll find her bring her home and you wife her up." Dean said, grabbing my bag and racing back to the impala. "She's on foot, and most likely hasn't made it very far, I'll call Charlie, you call her," Dean said, whipping out my phone it tumbled in my hands landing on the footwell of the front seat.

Pulling it out it came with pictures, pictures of the three of us. Sitting on baby's hood, her in the middle of the two of us next to her. I could see it now, a baby Winchester, sitting on her lap and taking that picture all over again.

"Sam, Charlie says that she's gonna try her, see if we can sort of trick her into going with Charlie until we can get to her and bring her home," Dean said.

"Yeah let's hope she wants to come home," I said the mix of different emotions and feelings shoring through me, I felt the revive of the impala's engine. 'There's no running away from the Winchesters.'

Completed on: 05/04/2021