#this ended up WAYYY longer than i intended

[boywifesammy]

imagine repressed & closeted transfem dean who never figures it out. imagine the sheer amount of guilt, fear, self-hatred and disgust he’d feel at what he is. big, clunky, dangerous. he takes comfort in his power, but it makes him feel sick. when he looks into the mirror and sees his hard edges, his body feels like it’s trying to rip open from the inside, yet he has no idea why.

dean plays his father’s wife until he dies. he takes care of sam and raises him as if he’s his own son. he’s a housewife in everything but reality. he desperately wants family, desperately wants to nurture, but his body isn’t built for that.

he’s taught by john and the world that he has to be strong. he has to be a man. he can never show emotion, because it’ll only be a weakness, and weakness is deadly. dean can never have a family because his body is wrong and he can never love like a woman because he cannot be weak.

so dean holds tight to those little moments of female connection with sam and his father like a dirty secret. he lays in bed at night and pretends he doesn’t think about being softer and lovelier. he stares at himself in motel mirrors until it makes him sick. he builds muscle and crops his hair short because this thing inside of him terrifies the hell out of him and he has to do anything to keep it at bay.

women comment on his looks a lot. when he’s young, they call him pretty, beautiful, gorgeous. they compliment his soft green eyes and plush lips and spattering of freckles. secretly, dean loves it. it makes that thing inside of him flare up in joy, which is why he knows that this is dangerous, and not something to be indulged. he stays up at night obsessing. shaves every morning and runs his fingers over his soft cheeks, flutters his long eye lashes, tries to find the soft edges of his cheekbones.

this thing is slowly eating away at him. the closer he gets to it the more volatile he feels. he jerks off under the blankets with a hand over his mouth to stifle the gasping, whimpery sounds he makes. the sound of his own voice scares him. his throat chokes up when a guy hits on him and john gives him a glare. one time he puts a finger up his ass and comes so hard that he sees stars, not because of the stimulation, but just from the idea of being wet and slick and pliant between his legs.

dean loves women and it makes him feel sick to the very core. he wishes that he loved women in a normal way. instead, he sees their curvy bodies and an awful, disgusting mixture of greed-lust-jealousy rocks through him. it’s all a strange, roundabout way of wrecking himself, because it’s extremely easy to play the role they want him to play, but god if it doesn’t hurt like hell.

dean loves fucking women. he’s desperate in bed but he’s always sure to be gentle with his thrusts. it makes him feel less disgusting. he likes shoving his face into a chick’s pussy, eating her out until she’s dripping, or nuzzling into the crook of her neck as he fucks her wet cunt. he likes listening to their gasping whines and moans. the feeling of it all makes his teeth clench with guilt; her cunt on his dick, his strong thighs, the way she keeps moaning his name. but it’s so easy to pretend in moments like these.

dean puts his face into her hair, and smells her citrus shampoo as she wails out cries. he doesn’t imagine being her, but he focuses on her noises, on the softness of her body and the wetness of her pussy. he always cums silently, his entire body quivering and shaking, because he’s too scared of the noise that’d come out of his mouth if he opened it.

when rhonda hurley makes him wear her panties, he nearly throws up on her carpet from how hard his heart is beating. they’re silky on his dick. rhonda calls him pretty, beautiful, she strokes at his flaccid penis through the panties and kisses messy lines up his belly. dean is hard and shivering by the end of her teasing, leaking through the panties and flushed from head to toe.

rhonda is both the best fuck that dean ever has and his worst fears coming to life. she calls him good girl as he fucks her. it ends embarrassingly early. when dean cums, it’s with a gasping cry of her name and a girly little keen that haunts his nightmares. he doesn’t remember ever cumming so hard in his life. he shook with aftershocks for minutes after, dazed and disgusted with himself.

rhonda gives dean her number. he never calls her back. after dean leaves that town, he burns the panties and stops shaving his stubble so short. memories of rhonda make him angry. he sinks into hunting and drinks until he’s cross-eyed. dean takes solace in the horror of violence. he bathes himself in that disgust and he feels right at home in the middle of it.

sometimes, dean can’t sleep at night from how sick he feels. he tries to figure out why, but he can’t place the reason. it eats him up inside. makes him feel like a monster. he thinks that he may just be a disgusting freak of a man.

as dean gets older the comments about him getting pretty melt away. he knows he’s objectively extremely attractive, in a male model sort of way, but it doesn’t match up with the images in his head.

the thoughts get more and more humiliating as time goes on. he’s not a twink anymore and he can’t be fantasizing about being fem, but he can’t stop it. he stays up at night itching in his own skin, brutally aware that he’d look hideous and disgusting in anything girly. his body is too big and bulky. he’s a freak for being into that sort of thing.

dean eventually admits to himself that he might be a little gay. he keeps it on the dl, visits gay bars when they hit more liberal cities, and doesn’t ever repeat the same place. he likes being dressed up and bent over. he chalks it all up to a crossdressing fetish, and while that’s humiliating and sickening, it’s easier than having to deal with whatever it is that’s going on with him.

dean aches inside perpetually because he is flawed. he wants to hold his child in his arms and wear dresses and flirt shamelessly with men. he knows he’s a freak for it but he’s accepted that he’s going to perpetually live with this pain.

he gets older and older and the dysphoria gets so fucking bad that he can’t even look in the mirror anymore, but it doesn’t matter at this point. he’s completely disconnected himself from his body. he’s a sick, perverted freak in the body of a man and none of it feels right. he uses his body like a tool, a weapon, and he purposefully keeps it masculine and well-toned to push back any illusions that he’s anything but a man.

and sometimes, he’ll go to gay bars and let himself get railed to incoherence. he’ll drive three towns over while sam’s asleep and put on his makeup in an alleyway nearby. he always looks for men bigger than him. men who’ll call him pretty and beautiful and treat his ass like a cunt.

and if he’s lucky, maybe they’ll let some other words slip. maybe they’ll call him babygirl or darling or play with his pecs like tits as they pound him deep. and sometimes, if he’s really lucky, he’ll get to wear something pink and lacy. sheer panties. a bralet. stockings or a necklace.

he always cums in the first few minutes on those nights. he doesn’t mind being fucked until the other guy finishes, as long as he keeps calling him a good girl for taking it.

dean always throws up in the club bathroom afterwards. he spends hours wiping off all the makeup from his face and sleeps in the impala for the night. he gives himself another wipe the morning after and tells sam that he was out with a one night stand. it technically isn’t a lie.

one time, sam makes a joke about dean being a woman. he pushes. he calls him a pretty lady, and dean is horrified when his eyes wet a bit at it. he can’t take it. he starts the fight, but sam wins it. he pins dean down and starts to yell at him. then he sees that dean is crying. he isn’t making any noise or shaking, but his cheeks are wet.

don’t, is all he says. it hurts like hell to get out. sam seems confused, but he doesn’t question it. he doesn’t make the joke again. dean forgets about the whole thing and pretends he doesn’t feel the weird looks sam sends him sometimes.

dean dies like that, alone and angry, in a body that’s all hard edges and grief and hatred.

he’s the same in heaven. he can’t imagine being any other way. he doesn’t even know what he wants, what would make him happy. most days, he’s happy with driving his impala aimlessly, drinking while watching sunsets and tuning into the world around him. thinking, and thinking, and thinking. about rhonda hurley and her satin panties and his father and the soft, warm thing buried inside of him.

dean doesn’t know why he feels sick inside when he looks at himself, but he’s too broken to ever figure it out. the only thing that he knows is that he doesn’t feel guilt the same in heaven. that means that when he has those strange dreams of warm kisses, strong arms around his tiny waist, and the warm, beating heat of his child’s heart against his own pillowed chest, he can spend some time in bed in the morning trying to recollect the memories without hating himself for it.

[crystallizsch]

thinking about jamil traveling alone for the first time but for some reason you’re still constantly on his mind

(i’ve been thinking about this and i just needed to get this out of my system and omg this was just supposed to be shorter but it ended up wayyy longer than intended)

(this is also an attempt at another x reader and it was proofread only by myself. some things might read awkward so go easy on me, i barely write 😔😔😔)

(kind of like a future au??? and can be read as romantic/(queer)platonic??)

Jamil had been planning this trip for months.

He had always wanted to travel to a new place by himself where he didn’t have to worry about anything or anyone else. Just himself and his own enjoyment.

Jamil planned on maximizing this whole trip. Reading everything about the place and making sure to see all the things that he would want to see while he was there.

However, you made sure to let him know that he should let himself loose and enjoy his trip naturally. It was supposed to be a fun, stress-free trip after all. Planning it out entirely defeats the purpose of that.

He needed to embrace a little bit of unexpectedness. You said it was “all part of the fun”. If he knew everything there was to expect, what would be the point in visiting?

Jamil saw what you were saying and admitted defeat. He gave you the benefit of the doubt and decided to have flexible and “loose” plans, as you suggested.

Meanwhile, Kalim had already thrown a whole “goodbye” party for him. Thank goodness that Kalim had gradually learned over the years to be more aware of Jamil’s wishes. They simply compromised on a small and humble party (even though Jamil would have preferred not to have one in the first place).

You came with Jamil to drop him off at the station where he was heading. You both exchanged your usual banter, and you wished him safe travels and for him to have fun especially.

You thought you imagined it, but before he was about to leave, he looked like he was about to say something else. And he definitely was about to. You'd never know what it was though.

Instead, Jamil simply bid you farewell.

As Jamil was walking away, you playfully shouted after him to not forget about you. It was only a joke (for the most part).

Jamil didn’t look back, but you know he rolled his eyes in exasperation. And he certainly did, which was followed by a soft smile on his face that you wouldn't get to see.

━━━━━━✦

Once he reached his destination, Jamil took in the new sights. He breathed in fresh air, his chest feeling lighter and more relaxed.

It felt wonderful that, in this place, he was just another face in the crowd. Nobody knows him. And he knows nobody. Everything was new and unfamiliar and he reveled in that feeling. You were right, it was better to experience these things firsthand as being there felt like a fresh start. Even though he knew that this anonymity would only be temporary.

One of the first things Jamil made sure was to keep his phone out of the equation. He needed to experience everything naturally without having the need to document what he saw as well as the stress of other people contacting him.

Jamil might have partially failed on the latter. He had to have his phone open for emergencies for certain people. Unfortunately, some worries and responsibilities can’t really fully leave him.

━━━━━━✦

Jamil first visited an antique clothing store. It was a charming and unique place filled with different kinds of wear, displays of jewelry and trinkets, and of course, the touristy souvenirs. Those were noticeably out of place, but it was to be expected.

Having experience and knowledge about his own job of being aware of what is around Scalding Sands, Jamil was delighted to know that the majority of the products in this store, at least, seemed to be of genuine quality.

Jamil may have to come back to this place. He thought you would really like that little trinket he saw through the window.

As Jamil strolled through, he was surrounded by a vibrant mix of sounds and colors adorning the streets. Individuals, families, tourists, and locals bustled about. There were even street entertainers as well as vendors who tried to sell him their wares, which was always amusing to say the least.

A catchy melody caught Jamil's attention, and he spotted a breakdancer performing on the street. He thought to himself that he might try out the routine for fun, and he'd ask what you would think. You'd enjoy the performance too, wouldn't you?

Jamil was exploring when he unexpectedly stumbled upon some festivities. It appeared to be the festival he had read about that he hadn't planned on participating in until later. Since he stumbled upon it now, he figured he might as well just check it out.

As Jamil looked around, he noticed a dance circle filled with people of all ages. Friends, families, and couples were all dancing together. He felt compelled to join in. It was as if the lively music and the enchanting atmosphere were inviting him personally, and he found himself dancing amongst the people.

The band played with much fervor, and the people were equally as energetic. Jamil was having fun. He caught himself laughing despite himself, his body swaying to the beat and in sync with the other dancers.

No one was here to judge him. No one to evaluate his front, or tell him to keep up an image. Jamil could easily just be himself. And after everything, he could easily choose to fade back into the background.

As soon as the energy died down for him, he looked back at the crowd. It still held the same energy when he went in, but he was personally spent.

Jamil wondered. If you were there, he might have enjoyed it more with you. That thought slipped through his mind, and immediately went away as it came.

The following days were a bit more mellow but still enriching. Jamil wanted to build up to an exciting finish but it seemed like the enjoyment peaked within the first few days.

The cuisine being served there was particularly fascinating. Jamil entered a restaurant, the aroma of delicious food enticing him in. He ordered dishes at a surprisingly decent price for the amazing quality they were being served. Seeing the way the dishes looked reminded him of how he had been getting better at making his own dishes more presentable. It still wasn't perfect; he could still learn more. He could actually take some inspiration from these dishes.

Jamil planned on researching more of the local cuisine once he returned. Then, he could try some rendition of his own and see what you think, as well as hoping that he could do these dishes justice.

━━━━━━✦

This isn't good.

Jamil felt... lonely?

He shouldn’t be feeling this way. What happened to enjoying this trip by himself?

Against everything Jamil told himself not to, he opened his phone and checked his messages, the majority of which were from people who inquired about his trip. This simply soured his mood. If Jamil had his phone ringing for them, he wouldn't have had a break. Why did he even open up his phone for this?

Oh, he knew why.

Your name specifically caught his eye with a preview of your message. He decided to open it up and he saw texts from you telling him to be safe and to have fun, which were basically the same things that you both exchanged when he left.

In the most recent text, you jokingly asked for him to send pictures, fully expecting that he wouldn’t. Admittedly, you were wondering what he was up to. You had really wanted to come with him but knew he really needed his trip for himself.

You felt a bit selfish sending that text because you knew Jamil shouldn't really be worrying about updating you or anyone else about what he was up to.

You didn't know that as soon as Jamil read that message, he briefly considered humoring you. He thought that perhaps he could take only a few photos here and there just to satisfy you. And then explain what else he had seen and experienced so far.

Jamil started to draft a message to send to you. He’s sure that you’d enjoy hearing all about it, plus it’ll be nice to have someone to share this experience with—

He paused at the thought. He saw that typed all he wanted to share at the moment, his finger hovering over the send button.

Wait a minute. No, no. What was he doing? Jamil quickly erased everything he typed out and shoved his phone back in his bag.

This experience was for him and himself only, at least for now. You’ll just have to wait once he returns from his trip.

━━━━━━✦

If Jamil was to be honest with himself, he had actually initially planned this whole trip with you in mind.

Throughout those months of planning, there was never a moment when he wasn't going back and forth with himself whether or not to include you in the trip.

You didn't know about this, of course. If he did manage to plan this whole trip with both of you, it would have been a surprise leading up to it.

But you yourself drilled into him how wonderful it was that he was finally able to go on a trip by himself. This was his very first opportunity to travel by himself and he doesn't know how long he will have that opportunity again. Perhaps it was your sentiments that finally convinced him that this trip was supposed to be for himself alone.

But deep in his heart, Jamil still felt something missing. He felt some kind of regret and longing that now he could not shake off.

As Jamil brooded to himself, he found himself standing in front of the antique store again. Once again, Jamil caught a glimpse of the trinket he had been eyeing the very first day he had been there.

━━━━━━✦

When you told him to not forget about you, you didn’t mean for him to take it so literally.

Jamil shrugged at the call-out, attempting to look unbothered. He had souvenirs for his family too, so it wasn’t like you were the only person he had on his mind.

But you just know he was embarrassed knowing that most of the souvenirs were meant for you. It was funny but really sweet. You assured him that you’d just return the favor next time.

Jamil really didn’t need you to, but perhaps it’ll also be payback enough for you occupying his mind while he was supposed to be away focusing on himself.

Maybe next time it'll be easier if Jamil would just bring you along.

[wheresmymilliondollarman]

please do a part to the Grayson Hawthorn head canons maybe where he meets eve and that whole mess.

the moment i knew

grayson hawthorne x fem! reader

you're confident in your relationship with grayson hawthorne. that is until a girl who look exactly like emily laughlin shows up at the mansion.

(part of these hcs )

a/n: im SO glad someone requested this bc i had ideas while writing the hcs for this scenario. get ready for some drama and grayson being dumb💯 also finally happy to be back to posting!! been hectic but now i have free time <3 ty to everyone for being so understanding ur all amazing. listened to my sad playlist for the fighting part LOL also i wanted to make this fic format but i was already way too deep into the bullets to fix it.

word count: 7.2k (wayyy longer than intended)

warnings: angst (i love and hate it), swearing, eve, fighting, death threats, final gambit spoilers but also plot changes

dating grayson hawthorne was truly the most beautiful feeling. you would even consider it better than finding out you were going to inherit billions. that's not true, but dating grayson is a close second still.

he was a fantastic boyfriend who cared so deeply for you, and you greatly got along with his family.

the two of you had occasional fights, but it was never anything that lasted more than an hour of being mad at each other. plus, he always caved in first whether you were right or wrong.

life was truly straight out of a movie for you. you were going to be a billionaire, run a foundation, and have a boyfriend. freshman year you would never be able to believe it, especially the boyfriend part.

it was almost too perfect. you should've expected an event to come crashing down at some point. because, after all, this still was the hawthorne family you're dealing with.

the road to disaster was initiated the moment grayson hawthorne left the house. he'd gotten into the ivy league of his choice, harvard and you were more than thrilled for him. but you were unsure of where it put the two of you at. he would be leaving the mansion, while you were forced to stay.

your's and avery's contract had yet to end, you still had a few month to bypass - so you couldn't leave the residence for more than 3 consecutive days.

grayson assured you the long distance thing would work, and he'd visit you as often as possible, then when you passed the year mark, you'd be able to visit and stay with him for long periods.

the plan he formated has eased your worries about your relationship. however, a small, but growing wall had formed between you, and you feared him leaving would lengthen it. you'd begun to notice a distant feeling from grayson at times, it was as if he was still concealing a part of himself. it was a build-up of all the unresolved emotional stresses he's faces - mainly from the death of both emily and tobias.

there were moments when you had attempted to get him to open up - but he either never got the hint or desperately wanted to remain ignorant. you'd decided to leave it as is, and perhaps that was your first error.

before leaving the family had put together a party as a 'farewell' gift. since the night began, you sensed the distant feeling had returned and grayson wasn't entirely there.

when a young girl had fallen into the pool, and grayson was quick to save her, jumping right into the pool in his suit and tie. you were quick to approach them with towels; even after the girl was returned to her family, grayson stayed still with a distant look in his eyes. you called his name and shook him a few times before he finally snapped back. but before you could question anything, he sought off into the house - leaving you on your own.

you gave him time alone since that was what he obviously wished for. you were relieved to see avery return with grayson, so relieved that you were insensible to the tension between the two.

thought things weren't resolved when grayson left, you were still hopeful for the both of you.

it started off great; frequent texts, late-night calls, occasional visits, and even gifts delivered to you. you felt silly for not having faith in the long-distance thing.

but your doubts returned when those daily calls turned into weekly texts and updates and those every other weekend visits shifted to seeing each other once a month.

grayson's excuse had been he was adjusting and had a hard time getting a grip on balancing everything in his life. had it been anyone else, you'd believed it better, but because it was grayson hawthorne, who you knew could effortlessly take on any task - you were growing suspicious. but you had yet to have a serious with grayson about it.

your silence broke the moment avery sat you down and revealed what had gone down in the wine cellar with grayson the night of his party.

she started with her concern for grayson, then ventured onto what happened after grayson ran off. avery had been in the wine cellar getting a bottle at jameson's request when grayson stumbled in. she immediately noticed he was in distress, and it wasn't long before he started breaking down. avery did her best to help, but he just insisted she leave, then went on a tangent about seeing hallucinations of emily and all the stress caused by being a hawthorne. avery's first thought was to get you, but he begged her not to tell him, which is why she was silent until that moment.

you were too occupied on the information regarding your boyfriend to even get a little mad that avery withheld the information. you had an inkling grayson wasn't well, you hadn't known it had gotten as bad as it did, and it was probably much worse by now.

you made an urgent call to grayson the as soon as you got to your room, and it took a couple tries to get him to answer. he answered a bit agitated, but you didn't care and started hounding him for an explanation on everything avery had told you.

at first, grayson was taken aback by both the interrogation and avery betraying him, then he finally confirmed that avery's words were true.

your heart grew heavy, and he confirmed everything. it was silent on the line for a second before you spoke up again. the first thing you asked was 'why?' why didn't he tell you about his trouble, especially the fact he was having nightmares and hallucinations about emily, his ex- girlfriend. and why, why had he confided in someone else instead of his own girlfriend.

you weren't jealous of avery nor did you fret over something happening between grayson and avery, but it hurt like hell to know she was the first he opened up to, whether it was intentional or not.

grayson repeated apologies over the phone, but by then, you were over it and wished him goodnight before hanging up. and once the line went dead, you curled up in bed and cried til you were tired enough to pass out.

grayson called multiple times the following day, and you declined them all. when calls were a bust, he turned to a flux of texts hourly, all consisting of the same mantra of sorry's and 'call me back'. you still didn't budge. you continued that behavior for a week or so, still upset at him.

however, you couldn't help but feel bad - the last thing you wanted to do was add stress to this place. nonetheless, your emotions were also valid; no one likes their boyfriend keeping things from them, telling said secrets to another woman he used to live with at that.

what you didn't expect on your monday morning was grayson to show up behind your bedroom door when you opened it. knowing he came all that way just because you were ignoring him made your heart flutter, however, you kept you solid composure.

grayson begged you to hear him out, so you hesitantly let him into your room and sat on the bed, waiting for him to say something. then grayson gave permission, he spilled his guts.

he revealed to you all of the difficulties he was going through, and you listened with an open heart. by the end of it he was crying, and you didn't hesitate to comfort him in his arms, a gesture he gladly accepted.

when it was safe for you to speak, you told him he didn't have to face all of it alone, there were many people in his life who cared for him.

"hawthorne or not, i'm your girlfriend. you are free to run to me when things get hard. then we can take it on together, okay?"

"you still want to be with me even after i've cried on your shoulder like this."

"the crying actually makes me like you more." you joke, and he gives a small smile at that.

you felt everything had gotten better after that. you'd manage to knock down another wall grayson had built, and now the two of you were closer than ever. avery's birthday was soon, so any two weeks after that, you'd be able to see grayson much more.

you were going to surprise your boyfriend by telling him you'd been looking at apartments in cambridge and landed on the perfect apartment for yourself. so, as soon as the year was up, you were moving there. yes, it was a huge step for someone you hadn't even been dating for over a year, but there was no place you'd rather be than by grayson's side.

avery's birthday had been, as jameson described, an "introvert's ball." and to be frank, you'd prefer it that way. after the way the last big party ended u, you were happy to have it just be immediate close friends and family.

everyone had a great time, grayson had made time to attend, and the both of you danced almost all night long. by the end, you're feet were blistered and bruised, but courteously swept you off your feet and carried you in his arms and into his bedroom. you were out like a light, but not before hearing grayson say 'love you' when he thought you were sound asleep. you went to bed with a smile etched on your lips.

you would've never left his bed had you known what was in store for you both the next day.

you'd just eaten breakfast with avery when you had both been informed by oren of a visitor name eve. avery looked anxious about it, and you didn't wait for her permission to follow her to the gates.

from the distance, you'd assumed it was rebecca, but as you approached, you realized that wasn't her. the girl in front of you was an exact copy of emily laughlin, more than her own twin.

"what the hell."

you were stunned to see a version of emily in person, and not just from photos you'd seen. avery was shocked, but it wasn't because of her appearance, more so due to her appearance at the manor. you were highly confused and began to think you were still sleeping.

avery had no choice but to confide in you everything that had gone on with toby and grayson's father, and how eve was toby's daughter. it was all much for your morning brain. but you processed enough to know the hawthornes, mainly grayson, seeing eve was the last thing needed. a part of you wanted to halt the meeting for selfish purposes. but the issue with eve being at hawthorne mansion meant a bigger issue; toby was taken.

oren, you, avery, and eve were discussing how to proceed, but there was little time to discuss the matter because the first person to come outside was grayson. the last person you'd wanted to come out of the mansion.

"emily?"

he was, understandably, pale as a ghost. it wasn't every day you saw a replica of your ex-girlfriend. you ran up to him with no plan of action. what could you possibly say? 'oh, this isn't emily this is eve, who just happens to look exactly like emily. and she's toby's daughter. oh, and by the way, your father is actually dead.'

grayson walked closer to eve, the resemblance becoming clear as day. looked to you to verify if what he was seeing was real or another figment of your imagination. you could only nod in response.

grayson didn't look away from eve, even when you tried to pull him back into the house. eve was annoyed by his trance and demanded to be taken inside for a shower after all she's had to deal with for the day.

so it was decided that everyone would gather in avery's room while eve used her bathroom. jameson had already been in avery's room when you four entered. he obviously noticed eve but made no comment until she was into the shower. since eve locked herself in the bathroom, grayson's eyes didn't move from the door. you couldn't lie and say it didn't create a sour feeling inside of you.

you knew it was horrible to make your boyfriend's trauma about you, but you couldnt help it. you were worried eve having the same face as emily was going to bring back unwarranted feelings. you bit back your envy, seeing that jameson was unaffected by eve's face, in contrast to grayson who stared longingly.

"tell me everything, heiress one and two."

avery briefly went over eve's appearance and toby's disappearance. she believes toby being taken has to do with a disk he gave her, one eve didn't know about. she ended it with an open discussion on ideas on how to get toby back.

jameson was the first to recognize how little you all knew about eve, and if you could truly trust her. you were glad someone had similar thoughts and you wouldn't be the first to voice them.

"we have to help her."

you turned to grayson at his words, your lips turned slightly down. jameson and avery also looked at the brother weirdly. was he seriously defending eve because she was an emily dupe?

"gray, we don't know her."

"it doesn't mean we should leave her to her own devices."

eve stepped out of the bathroom with clothes provided by avery,and grayson now had a look in his eye you coulden't identify. you had just about enough and lamely excused yourself to your room.

a part of you stupidly hoped your boyfriend would follow, but he never did.

as you busied yourself in your room reading books of fantasy lands to forget your own reality, avery knocked at your door. you hollered at her to enter, and she did. you continued reading, waiting for her to speak first.

"what do you think of a few welcome festivities?"

you raised a brow, "what did you have in mind?"

"how does chutes and ladders sound?"

chutes and ladder did not sound very fun, and frankly you'd never heard of it until that moment, but avery needed everyone in the game to get eve on board. you were even less enthused finding out grayson had been where eve was.

'you trust your boyfriend. you trust your boyfriend. you trust your boyfriend.' you repeated over and over. maybe you would believe it at some point.

as everyone gathered in the study and took a seat, you took your usual place next to grayson. you clenched your fists in your lap as you witnessed eve do the same.

as xander droned on about the rules of the game, you subtly side-eyed the pair beside you. your attention shifts back to the game when xander instructs the first person to go is the person with the best-kept secret. so that meant each of you had to confess something.

grayson took the liberty of starting off, not before sparring a guilty glance at you, "a girl tried to kiss me at harvard."

your head snapped, "what?"

"seriously, it was nothing."

"i can't believe you wouldn't tell me, i thought we agreed no secrets!"

"i didn't think it matter, it obviously pushed the girl away."

"it was enough of a deal for you to choose it as your secret."

you got up from your seat and opted to sit between avery and maxine. grayson grabbed your arm in an attempt to stop you, but you shook him off and took your new seat. grayson attempted to throw apologies, but you disregarded them.

to lighten the mood, maxine continued revealing she had a tattoo and xander continued telling the room he found his birth father; most of you gasped and asked for more, but xander kept his mouth shut. avery went next, heartfelt, saying she felt tobias made a mistake choosing her. you couldn't deny you didn't feel the same at times.

then eyes shifted onto you, awaiting your confession. you had a plethora to give, but you settled for one that matched the vulnerability of avery's.

"not to speak ill of the dead, but sometimes i think tobias hawthorne is a coward for leaving a game in his will instead of an explanation."

the room was silenced by your voice. you and avery each gave a look toward one another in understanding. you couldn't bare to turn your head in grayson's direction for his reaction. plus, you were still upset at him.

eve took the moment to finish the circle of secrets with her own. she disclosed her relationship with her family and their resentment toward her. you didn't fully trust eve, but you sympathized with her story. part of that sympathy was broken off as you saw grayson lean closer to her without a second thought. you started to think you would explode if the game didn't start any sooner.

as you wished, the game commenced - no surprise to you when eve was decided to go first. then the rest of you followed, and the race began.

you truly had no intention of trying that hard for a game, but it seems your inner competitiveness took the lead when you noticed eve ahead and grayson trailing right behind her.

maybe your anger and irritation spurred you on, but in everyone's, including yourself, surprise - you were right on eve's tail climbing up the ladder behind her.

your next move was a dirty one, maybe even callous, but in all honesty, you hadn't meant to do it. you think.

trying to grab onto the next rung as fast as possible, you managed to also grab the heel of eve's foot - causing her to misstep, lose her balance, and hang off the ladder by an arm and a foot. you utilized the time eve had to stabilize herself to then slide past her. you shot her a sorry look on the way up, and opened the hatch to the rooftop, declaring you the winner.

eve was right behind, grayson and jamseon after, and avery after two minutes. eve shot you a glare but didn't say a word about the incident. grayson was making his way in your direction, but you steered the other way to where jameson and avery stood.

jameson chuckled, "i didn't know you had it in you to play dirty."

"it was an accident, she tripped!" you defended.

jameson gave you a knowing look, but raised his hands in surrender and walked away to where xander and maxine were on the verge of entering. (they got sidetracked by a pillow fight)

you told avery you were off to shower and change; you hadn;t realized how sweaty you got until that moment. she nodded and you made your way to the hatch, but before you went down, she grabbed your arm.

"between you and me, was it an actual accident?"

"it was... if you count grabbing her foot and dragging her down as an accident."

avery shakes her head, "can't say i wouldn't have done the same given the opportunity."

walking down the hall, you heard your name being called. on instinct, you turned; grayson was behind you. you figured avoiding him wouldn't work forever.

"can we talk?" he asks, interwining his hand into yours.

you open your mouth the respond, but he cuts you off - "actually, you don't get a choice. i'm going to talk, and you're going to listen."

his tone left no room for argument, so you conceded. grayson went on to apologize for the 'almost-kiss' incident and for the lack of telling you.

"forgive me, angel. it was idiotic of me to assume it wasn't a important matter to communicate to you. you are the only girl i'll ever want to kiss."

you were a sucker for sincere apologies, and his piercing eyes made for a compelling argument. you sighed, "okay, i'll forgive you. but next time a girl tries to kiss you and you don't tell me, i'm kicking your ass, then hers."

grayson smiles and leans in for a kiss, which you accept. as his lips ignite with yours, you can't help but think of how much of a hypocrite you're being by not telling him your emotions regarding eve. 'it wasn't the right time,' you told yourself. it was only her first day, you were jumping to conclusions too soon. everything would work out.

the morning made for a rude awakening; threatening note sent to the gates hadn't been on your to-do list. avery shook you so hard you jumped out of bed, thinking it was an earthquake and smacked grayson's face in your alarm. (he wasn't pleased at that)

the threat contained a photo of toby, and a crypt message you all decoded. everyone started to think of suspects for the culprit behind the kidnapping. number one being skye hawthorne.

however, the investigation proved to be fruitless because she didn't have toby, and the other suspects led to a dead end. the threats hadn't stopped either.

you found yourself sleeping in grayson's more frequently. grayson didn't feel comfortable leaving you in your room, but you also knew it was because he secretly loved cuddling you at night. he held off going back to harvard, claiming he couldn't leave while there was danger lurking. it made you feel safe, but you also wondered if eve had anything to do with it. part of you didn't want an answer to that.

on this night, the two of you were in the pool past midnight. now that you learned to swim, grayson wouldn't stop challenging you to races. you knew what the outcome would be, but you accepted everytime, telling him you'd beat him eventually. (doubt, but it was nice to dream). for every win, you'd award him a kiss per his demand.

on his fifth victory, you leaned in to kiss him, only to ambush him with water to the face. grayson pretended to be annoyed and claimed revenge. you quickly swam away, but it didn't take long for him to catch up to you. he hands attacked your sides, and you were tortured by the ticklish sensation. you begged for him to stop, but he refused and wanted an apology.

you were stubborn, but finally threw in the towel, and accepted defeat. even after he stopped, grayson kept you in his arms as you calmed down from your fits of laughter. for a moment, it was just the both of you gazing into each other's eyes lovingly. at the same time, you titled you heads and reduced the gap between your lips.

before your mouths made contact, the lights, alerting the presence of another, shone. you both quickly turned toward the direction of the light, and grayson made a swift move to push you behind him. you were half expecting it to be another hawthorne brother, or worst-case scenario - the kidnapper.

but instead, there stood eve. she wore a silk lilac nightgown with a small slit that stopped midthigh. you immediately recognized it as your own by the small tear on the strap. 'when did she get this from my room?' had she stolen it or did grayson give it to her? both answers made your blood boil.

grayson relaxed as he recognized her, but you stayed tense. eve apologized for the intrusion, she was walking around the grounds and hadn't realized there were others awake. despite hating the interruption, you assured her it was alright, and she should be careful roaming around at night.

you thought that was that, and she'd just wander off, but it wasn't.

"do you mind if i swim, too?"

"well we-"

"not at all."

you turned your head to your boyfriend and gave him a questioning look, but he ignored it. his attention was now on eve. you had no choice, but to go along with it.

eve was quick to remove her your nightgown and reveal a one-piece swimsuit under. you were a bit confused, didn't she say she was just roaming the grounds, why did she already have a bathing suit on? but you stayed silent.

she jumped from the edge of the pool and landed a few feet away from where you and grayson. for a moment she struggling to reach the top, likely from not expecting how deep the pool actually was. grayson, ever the hero, swam to her aid, grabbing her hand to reel her back to the surface.

at this point, you couldn't even blame eve for these little accidents. you were getting upset at how grayson never failed to aid her when she was in need.

eve laughed, and thanked him for the gesture. then they started conversing about a topic you didn't care to pay attention to. had you just become a third wheel? 'no, no. he's just being friendly. gray will come back to you any second, then you'll both return to his room.'

except that didn't happen. eve asked grayson to race her, and he gladly accepted. even teased her about how badly she'd lose. not once did he turn back your way. no, but as eve swam to the edge, she gave you glance, obviously noticing how you awkwardly floated in your spot waiting for grayson. but she didn't speak a word, and continued to race in preparation for the friendly competition.

you had more than enough at that point. you swam to the pool's railing and pulled yourself out. you stomped out the swimming area, not even bothering to get a towel, and walked back into the mansion. you'd apologize to the cleaners for the wet mess later.

you were more heartbroken than angry. which was worse in your book. you'd been trying not to act like a jealous girlfriend who couldn't trust her boyfriend, and you took grayson's trauma with the emily situation into account, so you made excuses for all of grayson's actions toward eve. but sometimes, you shouldn't deny what's right in front of you.

now, you were cold and wet. you just wanted to go to bed. taking on threatening notes seemed so much easier now.

with all your deep thinking, you missed the sound of running feet from behind you. when a hand grabbed your wrist so suddenly, you were startled, and on instinct - you hand went flying at whoever stood behind you.

seeing now that it was grayson, you gave a small apology, seeing him clutch his face in pain. but you weren't that sorry at all. you probably would've done the same thing if you knew it was him.

grayson collected himself like nothing, "why did you leave?" he gently asks, wrapping a towel, you just noticed he brought, around your form.

you feign innocence, "oh, you actually noticed i was gone? 'figured you'd be too busy racing your new best friend."

"what are you acting like this?"

"i'm tired. tired of standing by as you treat eve like she's a damsel in distress. eve's no better; she clearly knows the effect she has on you."

"you're misinterpreting the situation. eve is one of us, we have to protect her."

"i'm sorry, did we forget you launched a full federal investigation on avery and i as soon as we got here? even after the will reading, i don't remember getting this warm welcome from you."

grayson lips form a straight line, frustrated, "that was different. eve has no one else-"

"she's not emily, grayson."

"trust me, i know that."

"i dont think you do! you see her as your second chance. news flash grayson, she isn't, emily is dead!" you venomously spit out. you hadn't intended for the harsh words to come out, but you wanted to hurt him as much as he was hurting you at the moment.

grayson's fists clench at his sides, he eyes brim with rage toward you, "jealously isn't a good look on you, y/n." the blow cut deeper than you had wished.

"neither is ignorance." you bite back.

you angrily turn your back and storm off in the direction of your room. luckily, it was only less than twenty feet away. you hoped grayson got the hint to not follow.

"we owe her our loyalty, y/n." grayson calls out one last time in a calm voice - different from the aggravated one from a second prior.

you enter your room and turn to him, deciding your final words before closing your door, "your loyalty was to me first."

part of you expected an apology the following day, but it never came. you were unsure where the two of you stood, and you weren't going to waltz up to grayson door to ask.

you confided your feelings in avery and libby, both defended your stance. avery was also wary about eve, and libby just loved any chance to bash a hawthorne.

you were sure the whole house was aware of the argument, likely the laughlins and thea calligaris as well. news travels easily around here. you didn't even want the know eve's point of view on the whole thing.

you steered clear of grayson, and busied yourself with toby's kidnapping along with everyone else. (which honestly should've been the most important matter.) you ensured avery everything was fine because you felt selfish making it about you when toby was in serious danger.

even without being in the same room with grayson, the tension was painfully evident. you could always sense when his gaze was on you, and it took everything to not return it. when you both were in the same room, you made sure to stay on opposite ends. everyone else had trouble deciding on how to handle the situation, but there were no direct comments, at least not that you heard.

there were nights when you wished grayson would show up at your door and just apologize. you wanted a reenactment of those cheesy romance movies where the guys begs the girl for forgiveness, and then they kiss and makeup. truthfully, you would've taken him back in a heartbeat. but this wasn't a movie, and he never showed up at your door.

you wondered if he even felt half of the heart ache you were going through. by the way eve was still hanging around him, even after the argument, you were starting to doubt it.

the more the investigation ensured, the more you and avery grew suspicious of eve. though whenever you thought you had a smidge of proof, it never followed through. it only succeeded in making you look like the villainous ex girlfriend and eve the innocent protagonist.

you and grayson were in a forced proximity when you had to investigate the wine cellar, along with avery and jameson. it was an awkward situation for all four of you, especially pertaining to the event with avery and grayson. but nonetheless, it proved to be useful because the final clue was hidden in the crystals of the chandelier. 'DON'T TRUST ANYONE'

you shouldn't had been so surprised that it was another vague message.

after critical thinking, you and avery came to the same conclusion - eve. the game started with her, she had to be the one tobias was warning about.

however, jameson and grayson weren't convinced by the conviction. both inferring that it would've stated 'her' instead of 'anyone'. but you persisted, avery backing you up.

jameson sighed, "i think recent events are affecting your judgment, y/n." you were taken aback by the claim, especially it coming from jameson. hadn't he been suspicious of her as well?

"i'm not acting out of jealousy. the old man knew of her, even made a plan in the event she arrived to the mansion, yet failed to mention her to anyone. why is that?"

"y/n." grayson spoke to you for the first time in awhile, "this isn't like you to act so rash. if you gave evie a chance-"

"evie? what, you guys have fucking pet names for each other now? don't you see how she's played you since the beginning!"

"y/n, you're not thinking straight."

you shake your head, "no, i don't think it's ever been clearer than right now. so, i'm going to give you one last chance grayson. to, for once, take my side over eve's. because if you don't, you're going to lose me."

there was silence, a hairpin being dropped could be heard. grayson put his head down and said nothing. and yet, it told you everything. you laughed at yourself for expecting a different outcome.

you scoffed with a humorless grin, turned around and walked away. you heard avery call out for you, but you ignored it. you didn't want to see the pity she'd have in her eyes after that embarrassing debacle.

you made it all the way to your room before crying into your pillow. you finally got the answer of whether or not it was over. the pain of the night at the pool seemed like an easy feat to face compared to your anguish now.

when you calmed down a few hours later, you looked out the window and saw the pool. a flashback of pain seared in you at first, but then you noticed something peculiar you failed to notice before. there was a part of the tiles that weren't aligned with the rest. you likely would miss it if you were close to it, but from far away it was noticeable.

something inside you told you to investigate. maybe it was the need for a distraction, but you followed your gut, not even stopping to change attire.

once getting to the pool, you jump straight in to create enough force to reach the bottom of the pool more efficiently. there, you observed the tile for a second before attempting to move it. nothing happened, and you readied yourself to get a breath of air -but suddenly, a key popped out from a compartment under the tile. you got it and returned to the surface.

without the chlorine in your eyes, you were able to immediately know where to put the key to use; the chapel tobias built for nan hawthorne. you rushed there, not caring for how soggy your hair and clothes were.

luckily, nan wasn't anywhere in sight. you rushed to the statue in the center of the room and eyed it for a moment before finding the intended target, the statue's mouth. you fit the key inside and wiggled it around before hearing that 'click' to let you know it was unlocked. a second later, a small plate popped out and with it it contained a usb. you'd never been prouder of yourself for figuring out one of tobias's stupid puzzles without avery's help.

you pulled out your phone and pressed on avery's contact, and started ringing her. she picked up in an instant, "hello?"

"avery! you won't believe it i-"

your sentence was rudely cut off due to your phone being shot of your hand. by a bullet.

you gasped and snapped your head to the entrance of the chapel. you saw the gun at once and its owner; eve.

"sorry, i think you're going to need a new phone," she says innocently.

you let out a cheerless laugh, "i knew it, you psycho bitch!" obviously not the best choice of words to say to the person pointing a gun at you, but god, did it feel good to be right about eve.

eve rolled her eyes, "i suppose you did, but it wasn't like anyone believed you. i'll admit you and avery almost, just almost, got me. but eventually, i was able to fool her too. now give me the usb and i won't shoot you." she got you there.

you gripped the usb tightly in your palm, "why do you want it?"

"i'm getting what's owed to me, what was taken from my family by that stupid old man. god, was it easy to infiltrate the hawthornes. especially grayson." you flinched at the mention of his name and eve took note of it.

she laughs, "right, he's your boyfriend- i mean ex-boyfriend, oops." there's no sincerity in that apology. "you know, when i heard you two were dating i was prepared to work twice as hard to get his attention.. but it was proven unnecessary because as soon as i stepped on hawthorne mansion - i had him." ouch.

"enough chatting, now walk over here slowly and hand me the drive." eve commanded, emphasizing the gun in her hands.

where was your bodyguard when you needed him?

you followed her commands, and took slow steps to her. she took on hand off the trigger to open her palm toward you. you made a motion to place the usb in her hand, but then quickly charged at the gun.

you both struggled back and forth, moving the gun. suddenly, the weapon flew out of both of your grasps and landed in front of the angel statue.

with the usb situated in your pocket, you ran to retrieve it, but eve was quick and tackled you from behind, causing you both to land on the ground. you were both rolling up and down the aisle, trying to get the upper hand. eve roughly situated herself ontop of your waist, immobilizing you. then her hands slithered to your neck and squeezed hard.

it was getting harder to breathe, but you were a fighter. your armed flayed at her, grabbing whatever was closest. as a last resort, you clawed at her face.

"bitch." you mutter as your nails scratch across her face.

it worked, eve howled in pain and retracted her hands from your neck. you briskly shoved her off your body. having little energy from the lack of oxygen, you still take your chance and crawl toward the gun. but eve had recovered, and dragged you back by your heel. 'talk about karma' you thought.

you're crazily moving your feet to shrug eve's hands off as you continue to painfully crawl. but suddenly the gun is lifted off the ground, both you and eve look up to see grayson now clutching the gun. you're both relieved and worried.

you stand up on your feet, eve does the same. grayson waves the gun toward both of you and both hold your hands in front of your forms.

"gray, thank god you're here. i came here looking for a clue, and found a usb, but then y/n showed up.. s-she took the usb from me then pulled out a gun and tried to kill me." her voice was no longer diabolical, now it was full of vulnerability and fear.

"grayson, she's lying, she almost killed me!"

"y/n's been working with vincent blake, she plans on giving that usb to him."

"oh, you little liar!"

"look at what she did to my face!" eve points at the bloody scratch on her face, starting from her left eyebrow and ending at her lip.

grayson eyes went back and forth in observing both you and eve. the gun was pointed in the middle, still deciding its target.

his eyes landed on yours, as does the gun. "y/n. give me the usb." your stomach drops.

"grayson." you plead.

"y/n. now." he held his hand out. you knew that tone. it meant 'no room for argument'.

if he didn't believe in you even now, then you had no choice. you took steps toward him.

"careful, gray, pretended to give the usb to me and then attacked me." eve warned. you shot her a nasty glare.

grayson doesn't say anything and waits for your move. you drop the usb in his hand.

"thank you." you say nothing.

grayson turns his head to eve, "i've always known who to believe." eve smiles at that, "i just had to stall long enough for john to show up."

in an instant, eve is brought down to the floor. oren is behind her, holding her arms behind her back long enough to put handcuffs on her wrist.

you let out a large breath you didn't know you were holding. grayson believed you in the moment that mattered most.

grayson tosses the gun to the ground and engulfs you in a hug. you accept it, and grip onto him like your life depends on it. his hold triggers your emotions, and tears spring out from your eyes. you can't help it when you start crying into his shoulder. he soothes you, cradling his hand on the back of your head.

"im sorry." grayson muttered into your hair. "you were right. i can't let emily rule my life any longer."

"you're an idiot." you say in the midst of tears.

"i am." he agrees

"and i'm still super mad at you."

"i know."

"you're going to have to work really hard to earn my forgiveness, like beg on your knees and hold a boombox outside of my window type stuff." you croak.

"i will, baby." grayson smiles.

for now, you were happy to feel safe and protected in his arms.

bonus:

"is this really necessary?"

"very," avery confirms, "you broke boyfriend code, now your penance must be fulfilled."

"you guys only made up those codes a day ago," grayson counters.

it was true, after the whole eve fiasco grayson was willing to do whatever to earn your forgiveness. you were ready to forgive him, but you also wanted to give him a hard time. it might've been a little evil of you, but you thought it was well deserved. after a girl talk with avery and libby, you came up with a new set of rules you liked to refer to as 'boyfriend code.' inspired by the code the brother share.

"exactly why we ought to use you as an example for future culprits," xander justifies waving a hand in grayson's direction.

grayson groans, looking up at the ceiling, "i love my girlfriend. i'm doing this for my girlfriend." he murmurs to himself.

"that's the spirit" nash cuts in, he lifts his drink up.

avery looks around, "where is y/n, anyway?" she asks.

"here!" you announce, walking out from behind the stage, "i was just preparing the song." you take a seat next to jameson and grin mischievously at grayson, "you'll love it."

graysons eyes narrow, "i have a feeling i won't."

just then, the beginning of a song plays out from the speakers.

grayson eyes widen, and he looks at you, "no."

your smile widens, "oh, yes."

"c'mon gray, we're all waiting." jameson hollers from his seat.

everyone starts egging grayson on, cheering for him to commence.

he takes a deep breath, "guess i have no choice."

as grayson starts to sing the lyrics of "shake it off" by taylor swift, jameson leans over to you.

"gotta say, this is a brilliant punishment for him."

you nod in agreement, "and it'll be even better after when i reveal, i have ten other taylor swift songs for him to perform." specially, 'ME!' was next.

"yikes. remind me to never break boyfriend code."

[zillaphoneswag]

I’ve seen this discussion floating around lately about people being annoyed by the amount of marathons being put out instead of new videos and honestly? It’s a bit unfair to the cast (a seemingly unpopular opinion but I’m generally pretty unpopular already).

They already shoot several videos for a whole week in one day and who knows how many times they do *that* in a week. And it’s also the beginning of January. Everyone deserves time off, no matter the job. Fuck it I’m at university as a top student and an intern and if I didn’t get some time off from that I’d probably die.

Not to mention they were going to post those videos anyway. They have marathons for *everything.* Better to do it now during time off versus when the work schedule starts up again and they get back to filming new content. It’s like when I post old oneshots or random stuff I’ve written in the interim on AO3 because I have a big ass project that’s taking a lot of time because it needs it.

Finally with Sword AF, I think it’s just important to be patient. It’s some of my favorite content of theirs. But that shit takes *time,* speaking especially as a DM myself. You think campaigns take long to play? They take even longer to write. Besides, this is clearly Damien’s passion project. If they need more time, they need more time.

I’m sure everyone can agree that we’re not just here for the content, we’re here for the people. The cast makes the content worth watching. And while some of them move on, while it’s sad, Smosh has a great track record of finding some *amazing* people to work with them.

Plus you can still follow the cast with their other projects. Angela has a short film coming out at the Sundance Film Festival. Those projects get nominated for Oscars! If we appreciate these people like we say we do, then we’ll be happy for their successes outside of Smosh.

This got wayyy longer than originally intended but at the end of the day, we’re all a family. This fandom appreciates these people in their own ways and at the end of the day that’s what brings us together. Love you Smosh family!

[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.

[quigzahhutt]

5, 8, 9 from fic asks! -- wiz /goesvroom

oooo goodie!!

5 - what scene did you write first in your current WIP?

The scene I write first is usually just .. the first scene in the fic (as boring as it is), but one of my recent WIPs did actually start way differently than how it is now.

this is a Logan/Alex/George fic I lowkey might not even finish orz

As unnamed hands stroke at his belly and grab at his waist, Logan is yanked back to the current moment by a harsh sob– a sharp and heaving sound that makes him forget if he's 23 or 13. It's not a pitiful or even pathetic cry; it's a raw emotion that has been forcibly pulled from the depths of Logan's chest– a cavern of still water bursting open, the mineral rich liquid seeing the light of day for the first time in history– as the warmth of two bodies smother his skin and every inch of his body. Suddenly, all movement stops. The halting of Alex's fingers mid thrust makes Logan jolt, the harsh stillness amongst the previous, neverending attention causes goosebumps to flare along every inch of his skin– the feeling is shocking, like iced water being poured over your head or the disturbing, sticky wet feeling of showering fully clothed.

It starts wayyy differently now bcuz I really hated this as an intro, but tbh I didn't intend for this to be the first scene, it was just the part i wrote to get started

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8 - what was the fastest time you've finished a fic?

I actually tend to finish all my fics in relatively the same time which is about 4-5 days on average, but I think the fastest was about 2 and a half days? it was for my shortest fic (1.8k words) so that explains why it took like half the time bcuz I think I wrote it all in one day and then spent a day and a half proofreading and whatnot :]

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9 - do you write your fic as you go, or finish it before publishing?

usually I do it all before publishing so I can dedicate a day to just getting it posted. typically i write it all over the span of 2-3 days so I can just get the main body done, and then I spend as long as I need to edit and finish it fully (which can sometimes take 4 days on its own for longer fics). I do one last read through right before posting just to make sure I didn't miss any spelling errors and whatnot, but I don't usually end up changing anything ^-^

[kaeyahiya]

Hello! I've got a quite angsty request bc- ALL I HAVE IN MIND IN ANGST IM SORRY

with Kaeya where f!reader (preferably, but idm gn!reader if you feel like writing that more) loses her/their vision after an injury in a fight? I'd love some fluff at the end if you want to ^^

I hope this wasnt requested before aaaa I might have overseen it maybe? and also pls don't write this if it doesnt inspire you or anything waaah ;v; (dang I write a lot I'm sorry urksjfll)

Listen with the new patch coming out and my coming out of retirement; I'd be happy to oblige bc I love me some good angst.

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"A Vision Does(n't) Make A Person"

Pairing: Kaeya X Vision holder (Knight) Reader (GN)

Warning: Angst (with a happy ending), mentions of violence, use of strong language, mentions of injuries, light fluff, and implied relationship with the reader

Word count: 1107

Authors note: This turned out WAYYY longer than I thought it was gonna be. I also didn't intend for this to be GN but no use of pronouns came up?? I hope the minimum amount of fluff was okay too! Please enjoy and remember my requests are open; I'm back baby 🤠

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 The fight was rough. That's the only word you could conjure in your mind to describe it as you lay bloody bruised on the ground. You were walking back from Dragonspine in the late evening, when a group of at least a dozen treasure hoarders ambushed you leaving you completely blindsiding you. 

  You lay almost lifeless on the floor for a few seconds more, mustering the strength to stand. Once you finally do; you go to retrieve your weapon, which managed to completely break during the battle, and you pat your side to check your vision. Your blood runs ice cold and a sense of dread falls over you... Your vision wasn't where you had it normally. You know you had it during the fight but?? Did it get dislodged in the scuffle??

 You drop to your hands and knees moving around the dirt and grass looking for any sign of your gleaming vision. Sensing nothing you become more frantic tearing through surrounding bushes until it finally dawns on you. 

The fucking treasure hoarders took it. 

Your pride and joy, something the Archons blessed you with someone else wrongfully ripped from your possession. Tears fill your eyes. "A vision doesn't make a person" is what Jean told you long ago when you first received yours but after having it for so long it felt like a piece of you. Right now you felt like your vision did make you a person. 

Before being gifted your vision, you were lost, directionless in the world. You didn't know what you wanted to do with your life and you hit a low you don't care to ever relive. 

After the Archons bestowed you with it in your lowest moments; your life rapidly improved... You joined the Knights, trained under some of the best, met the love of your life, and on top of all that helped the traveler save fucking Mondstat. 

You hit the ground with your first, sobbing so loud you're sure all of Teyvet can hear you. You bury your face in the ground not caring about anything at this point. 

-------- ••• ------- ✧ °✧° ✧ -------- ••• -------

You're not sure how long you lay there crying on the side of the road but eventually you hear footsteps approaching rapidly. " (Y/N)??? Are you okay???" A familiar voice bounds towards you. "Hey look at me please?" Fuck, you forgot Kaeya was overseeing nighttime patrol.

 You raise your head from the fetal position you had tucked yourself into, you know you probably looked awful covered in dirt and blood. The look on Kaeya's face didn't make matters any better, full of genuine concern. "Got ambushed..." You state flatly, your voice sounded foreign to you. His face contorts into a grimace. "It was the treasure hoarders Jean was worried about huh?" You nod dumbly and bury your head back into your chest. 

"Not to sound like an asshole but you look like hell, how long have you been out here? We really need to take you to the church to get your wounds checked." Keaya was trying to lighten the mood, sensing you were obviously upset. "They took my vision Kae.." You can't help but to break out into sobs again. "They took my fucking vision, my fucking weapon is broken, why am I knight? I can't even defend myself from a bunch of stupid treasure hoarders! I'm fucking worthless!" You can't tell if it's from you yelling or the injuries you sustained but your head was pounding. 

Keaya plops on the ground next to you and wraps his arms around you, gently of course so as to not hurt you. He hushes you softly as you cry into his chest. "We'll get it back, luckily Jean has a good idea where the hideout is, due to some recent intel we got this afternoon."

"Also..." He pauses for a moment. " For the record, you're not worthless. I never once thought that, from the first moment I saw you there was this fire surrounding you. A will to succeed." 

 You look up at him meekly." That's because in training I had a vision when some of the others didn't.. Not that makes those without it aren't strong I just... it made me stronger." He shakes his head. " No, before that too. You were just as strong. I know you've had a rough past, but you didn't give up. The Archons only give visions to those who need an extra shove, a wake up call... " His eyes glaze over for a moment before continuing. " Your stronger than you know, especially since you put up with me and my unruly habits." He chuckles. 

You sniffle softly, finally cracking a smile. "Archons, I was worried I'd never see that smile of yours again." Kaeya sighs dramatically, but also lets a small smile of his own out. "I'd kiss you right now if you weren't covered in blood." He drawls as you roll your eyes. 

"Can you stand? I know your adrenaline has probably died down at this point so the pain for your injuries will begin catching up to you." You give him a small nod however he assists you standing up regardless. "Let's get you cleaned up and to the church okay?After that I'll gather some of the knights and we'll get that vision back to you okay? I promise I'll take care of it personally." He says in the sickly sweet tone, for a moment you pity those thieves for what they're about to endure... Almost of course. 

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Epilogue:

It wasn't until the next morning Kaeya returned. 

For a brief moment you were even worried about him, Rosaria was no help in quelling those worries but Barbara definitely made you look on the bright side of things. 

You sustained some pretty nasty injuries including broken bones and fractured in some places so Kaeya insisted you stay at the church until he returned. Thanks to Barbara you weren't in any pain and most if not all of your external injuries were healed. 

Seeing Kaeya walk through the door however sent you over the moon. With his signature smirk plastered on his face and instead of flipping a coin he was holding something much more valuable, your vision. 

"I believe this belongs to you?" He smirked, leaning in to place your vision in your hands. "Kea..." Your eyes brim with tears. "I cannot thank you enough, I'm eternally in debt to you." He smiles and leans in to leave a peck on your forehead. "I think buying me a couple rounds will do just fine." 

-------- ••• ------- ✧ °✧° ✧ -------- ••• -------

[witchcraftandburialdirt]

🔥 give me two , one about shipping , one about following / unfollowing — all good if you don't have an ' unpopular ' opinion per se ! just happy to hear your thoughts

✧ ━━ 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐃 "🔥" 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐀𝐍 𝐔𝐍𝐏𝐎𝐏𝐔𝐋𝐀𝐑 𝐎𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝙼𝚄𝙽𝙳𝙰𝚈 𝙿𝚁𝙾𝙼𝙿𝚃𝚂

I'm really glad you said that the opinion doesn't actually have to be unpopular because I have no idea what's considered a popular opinion or not (☛ ´∀｀*)☛ I know I'm always writing on here but I genuinely know nothing about anything on tumblr outside of the circle that I'm in, and I don't really take part of fandom except at cons. So I'll just list a few things I guess and we'll go from there ━

I don't like the idea of characters "deserving each other". I think what matters most is that the feelings are mutual and not one-sided. Not only that but sometimes people use this as a way to justify horrible things happening to said ship or between them? I dont know I'm just not a fan of the connotation.

Shipping real people feels ... icky to me, and like an invasion of privacy. I know a lot of idol/ k-pop companies push it, though. I'm not talking about "oh they look so cute!" I mean like ... 20+ minute analysis videos. If someone made one about me I'd be horrified so ━ I can't really support it being done to somebody else, even if it is innocent at heart, the feeling behind it is just ... not good.

I genuinely can't stand it when a ship that's going to inevitably be complicated and rather fucked up gets turned into a purely fluffy relationship. Granted I enjoy fluff as much as the next person, and anyone can show tenderness towards those they love, but my goodness please let the characters continue to be messed up.

Thaaat being said I can’t see any enjoyment in watching or reading two characters mercilessly abuse one another in a nonconsensual or purely hateful way. Play fighting, both being equally weird and mirroring eachother or general bickering doesn't count - obvs - but if a ship becomes abusive I'll step back from it. I know I know! But Egg you JUST said "keep the relationship and characters fucked up"! Yes! I did, and that doesn't mean that that messed up relationship is abusive or horrible for those characters specifically because its something they both enjoy/willingly take part in. Continuing about this because this is for my own tastes: Its okay to enjoy darker ships and toxic ships! This doesn't mean the person who is enjoying the content believes abuse is alright.

I find that stories that only revolve around romance tend to be extremely dull to me a lot of the time. There should be an idea of where the story is going without romance included, and if the ship comes along then it does. I think those are the ships that tend to feel the most natural since the characters interact without a specific romantic end goal in mind, which makes it all the more sweet when they do come to recognize their feelings as its come from them and not the destined plot ━ I just like it that way though and people can like whatever, y'know?

Possessiveness in ships is like ... very hit or miss for me in how it's portrayed. There's certain instances where its fun but others where it makes me wanna die. Mutual possessiveness/obsession though? Ohooho that is fun to play with, so long as it doesn't become abusive or unbalanced/unwanted by one of the parties. Man - tsk - idk anymore I feel like my opinion is so all over the place but like this all spins back to the toxic abusive relationships being a no no for me like as long as the insanity is consensual between two adults that both like it ? Yeah - that's fine. Does that make sense? I could probably go into stuff about Vladibin with this ( me and borb were talkin about it ) but I won't because I will go on forever and this is already WAYYY longer than I originally intended.

As for unfollowing it's ... whatever to me? There's obviously mutuals that if I lost I'd be really confused/wondering what happened + sad about it but I would still keep my distance; but for the most part I'm unaffected by it ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ I used to care a lot but I grew out of that within like ... 4 months. I know people grow out of their likes and what they want to view, or that they assumed my blog was something else and upon it not being what they wanted, unfollowed - which again, is valid! I don't know I just don't think unfollowing is anything personal ( like, 95% of the time ofc there's always the small percentage that is ). Don't harass people who block you or try to get around the block, things we've heard a thousand times. ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭ ̀ˋ I think though, that if you have been mutuals/friends with someone for a while and plan to unfollow - I think it would be most polite to message said friend to briefly explain why; especially since so many of us have anxiety sometimes it seems like an unfollow means the other party hates the other. It's just nice if you have a history with someone, not necessary, just polite (ง ื▿ ื)ว

[hearts401]

Honestly idk why l'm telling you this and sorry for bothering you with Michael afton but I used to be pretty neutral on him I until I found your blog. Then he just. Infected my brain like a disease. He's now a huge comfort character like what. Seriously, I think about this dumb little guy literally EVERY SECOND OF MY LIFE IM NOT EVEN JOKING HES TAKING OVER IM SOMEWHAT CONCERNED FOR MY OWN WELLBEING AT THIS POINT. what have you done.

This whole thing is /pos btw I just like the theatrics of it

Also ra question for the sweet tooth au, what animal are the hybrids like. Hybrids of? Like since you kinda compared Gregory to gus in the au is Gregory a deer hybrid? And what about everyone else?

Woah this ended up being wayyy longer than I intended I am so sorry

YIPPEE WE GOT ONE BOYS!!!!! I'M HAPPY I CHANGED UR BRAIN CHEMISTRY HEHEHEH

its kinda nuts that thats because of my posts tho wow...

heheheehehe hes like a little worm he crawls into ur brain and makes a home

also it depends!

Cassidy is a caracal for example, because i had too many bears and she gives cat vibes to me. But greg is a Hare!! (bc malhare and i had a bunny already)

uhh ill just list em

Gregory: Hare

Cassidy: Caracal

Evan: Bear

Susie: Chicken

Fritz MCI: Fox

Jeremy MCI: Bunny

gabriel: not sure yet idk if i want two bears but for now, bear be upon ye!

Cassie: Wolf (IF shes a hybrid im torn on it still)

everyone else is human!!

[sexiestpodcastcharacter]

Hey! After seeing all That with the birdname terf going down and what you said, I, the person who submitted Cyrille (from 5 Minuten Harry Podcast) wanna clarify some stuff:

First off, I'm trans. Maybe not be that relevant but let's establish that. And yes, I do condemn JKR, don't think anyone should give her money and frankly even frown upon most fanworks that weren't started before it became widely known.

Secondly, the podcast does in fact criticise JKR (tho unfortunately not for the stuff that matters) very frequently and the creator has gotten in legal trouble with her and Warner Bros before (over copyright, she made an extremely popular abridged HP series when I and most of the german tumblr population were teens and some pre-teens) so even though she sometimes pays lip service to them, we can probably take that with a grain of salt.

Thirdly, outside the podcast itself, coldmirror (the pod's creator) has criticised JKR more than on it, including calling her an idiot or something to that effect for "everything she's doing right now" back when her being a terf became widely known tho she didn't get more specific than that. Also, the podcast started wayyy before then, it started so long ago, Alan Rickman was still alive. There's even a mention of his then recent death a few episodes in since coldmirror had a major crush on him for decades and he's how she got into HP. The format doesn't really allow for changing the subject matter after the fact and it was massively popular from the get go, coldmirror's most successful project in years, possibly even outshining that abridged series by now and so I get she was incentivised to continue it.

Fourthly, coldmirror herself is very much a problematic fave and we all know it. Due to the massive influence that abridged series and all of her later works had on my generation, we do still love her, but we know she's far from flawless. Even so, all the times after JKR's terfness became known that coldmirror mentioned spending money on HP stuff for research (eg different versions of the movie that show different parts of the screen since the whole podcast is about overanalyzing every frame and background details) she has always bought it second hand. She did go to Wizarding World pretty early on and took pics of props etc there but that was before. Still tho, we know she's not that great a person, even tho we all love her. And that's not just me talking, I dare you to find me three germans above the age of 20 on this site who dislike coldmirror. It'll be very difficult.

So, was it a great submission? No. Is the podcast problematic? Yes. However,

Lastly, Cyrille was never intended as a serious submission. Iirc it was very late, I had submitted like five in a row and I got a little silly with it. I did not intend for her to end up in the tournament, I 100% counted on her being disqualified and simply you mentioning her as a little shout out to my fellow germans. I think I mentioned something to that effect in the submission but it appears I was not unambiguous enough about her not being a serious submission. Sorry about that.

(Oh, and the playing with gender part wasn't intentional btw, coldmirror read the name Cyrille, assumed it to be feminine and from that sprang the fictionalised Cyrille, even tho the real Cyrille is a man. She did acknowledge this way, way later in the podcast.)

None of this ofc is all that relevant to the discussion regarding the bird terf, but I figured you, personally, might appreciate the extra context.

(In response to this post for those seeking context.)

Don't worry, you were perfectly clear about it being a joke, but including it I only had 62 characters for the bracket (and I wanted 64) so I seeded it in last place behind my own choices.

And yeah, pretty much every podcast (and book and television show and-) I have at least some issues with, and some of those issues are large enough that I no longer derive enjoyment from the show despite liking other aspects. I think recognizing the "problematic" aspects of art is necessary to have any useful or fun conversations about it, and acting like everything must have both ideological and executed purity only results in people ignoring, denying, or trying to hide the issues that are there. Which personally I find boring, frustrating, and can often ruin my enjoyment much faster than the problematic aspects themselves.

Thank you for submitting the characters, and for your insight into 5 Minuten Harry Podcast!

[vaultscavver]

wasteland, baby!

falloutober day two: NEON 5.3k / ( eventual sole x hancock x maccready )

a/n: this is wayyy longer than i intended, but once i started writing i just couldn't stop. i've actually deleted nearly half of this chapter (it was originally nearing 9k words) just to make it feel more organized, but i really like the idea of the sole survivor contemplating philosophy and morals and ethics in this wasteland they don't know how to live in, so i kept a lot of the scenes that are mostly just nora's inner thoughts. it can be kind of dreary and slow-moving but it'll speed up quick enough! i just really wanted to touch base on some topics that, realistically, nora would probably find herself overthinking constantly. i also really love nick valentine so i really wanted to introduce him early on to set up his dynamic with nora <3 i hope you enjoy!!

xx, scavver

SYNOPSIS — Ripping apart the Commonwealth in search of her son, Nora runs into dead ends at every turn. Tracking down Nick Valentine, a synth detective with a sarcastic streak, only led her to another rocky road that cut straight through the heart of the city: Goodneighbor.

─ ─── ──── ─── ♠ ─── ──── ─── ─

"Gotta love the irony of the reverse damsel in distress scenario." The detective, shrouded in darkness, was clicking a lighter as if they had all the time in the world. "Question is, why did our hero risk life and limb for an old private eye?"

Nora stared at the shadow, incredulous and more than a little frustrated. Diamond City had been more trouble than it was worth; the detective wasn't even there, having left weeks prior to work a case in Park Street Station, and his secretary was half-sure he was dead. But Nora's son was still out there, in hands that weren't her own, and finding the detective felt like the only viable option available to her.

She had snuck past dozens of gangster-like triggermen inside the station in order to get to Nick Valentine, her hands shaking as she was forced to shoot at them before they shot her, and when she finally got to the room the detective was trapped in, he was just... standing there.

Nervously checking the magazine of the gun she picked up (she had no idea what it was, only that it had bullets and a trigger and could probably kill someone), Nora used her sleeve to wipe blood off of the stock. Her shoulder, where her son's kidnapper had shot her, burned with the movement.

The idea of taking a life wasn't something she was ready to face, but the gun-wielding maniacs who attacked her at first sight were obstacles in the way of finding her son. She had to fight back.

Valentine managed to light his cigarette as Nora stood there silently. The orange glow lit up his face — and Nora forgot all about the blood on her gun.

The detective's face was torn down the left side, exposing a metal jawline and clicking mechanisms, the gaping hole of ripped not-flesh following the column of his throat and disappearing under his beige trench coat. As he put his lighter away, the dim glow of fluorescent light from across the room gleamed from his equally robotic hand.

"Look, I know the skin and metal parts ain't comforting, but I still need to know why you went through all this trouble to cut me loose." Valentine said flatly, inhuman yellow eyes narrowing at the gasmask she wore, which she was instantly thankful for: she had no idea what her face must have looked like upon realizing that Diamond City's famous detective was a robot.

Biting the inside of her cheek, Nora tried to make her voice as nonchalant as possible. "I need you to find someone, but it's... complicated. I don't know where he could be, exactly how long he's been gone, or who took him."

"Hm. I've done jobs with less. Somehow, nice and simple never make it onto the menu in my world." He exhaled a cloud of smoke, the grey wisps twirling out of his exposed neck and cheek, and brought his cigarette to his lips again. "I've been cooped up in here for weeks. Turns out the runaway daughter I came here to find wasn't a hostage at all, but rather Skinny Malone's new flame, and she's got a mean streak. You've got troubles, stranger, and I'm glad to help. But now ain't the time. Let's blow this joint. Then we'll talk."

Giving a single, sharp nod, Nora turned to leave. "The way out isn't completely clear; we might have to fight through some—"

"No, stranger, you misunderstand." The detective fixed his frumpy coat and hat, tossing his half-finished cigarette to the side. "I'm wrapping up my Malone case, then we're leaving."

"Fuck your case." Nora snapped back, her mask modulating her voice and making her sound a lot tougher than she actually was. "If the girl wants to be here, let her. I don't give a fuck. My kid is missing and I'm not wasting any more time here."

"If you want my help, we're doing it my way. I don't drop a case until the damn thing's closed." Valentine didn't seem bothered, as if he dealt with worse on the daily... which was probably true. He smoothly stepped passed her and picked up a revolver from a dead triggerman.

Feet rooted to the spot, it took Nora a solid count of ten before she could make herself follow the detective, her entire body trembling with both nerves and anger.

As they continued deeper into Park Street Station, the half-built unused Vault started to feel endless. Each hallway looked exactly like the last, and the steep staircases only made things worse. The maze of locked doors and trigger-happy gangsters weren't fun, either.

Reloading her gun, hands shaking, Nora decided she wasn't bothered so much by the killing, but rather the fact that it was so easy. Taking someone's life was always the subject of horror, of grief, a character trait of every bad guy in every piece of fiction she'd ever consumed.

But as soon as one part of the human body fails to work in tandem with the rest... lights out. Just like that. A little too much blood lost, a wound a little too close to the neck, a punctured organ, a hard hit to the head — death was always hovering close, waiting for the first opportunity to swoop in.

It was kill or be killed, Nora reminded herself as she raised the gun again, gunshots ricocheting around the metal walls, bullets tearing through her enemies like playdough. It felt like a physical burden, to carry the weight of their lives, to carry each shot, each pull of the trigger. None of it left her. It never got easier.

She would get her son back. She would. And if this was what she had to do to get there, then so be it.

Valentine was talking to her as he led her through the Station, but she barely heard him.

He knelt down next to another locked door, the sharp metal rods of his robotic fingers clicking as he picked the lock. "I think this is the one. Once we step through this door, get ready for anything."

The door slid open not a moment later, and Nora lunged out of the way, putting her back to the wall as pullets rained upon where she'd been standing not a moment earlier. She grimaced in pain as her shoulder knocked against the metal of the wall, sending a sharp tang of pain through her entire arm.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" A new voice yelled, a Chicago accent ringing in his tone. "That's Nicky! C'mon, man, what're ya doin'? You come into my house, shoot up my guys? You have any idea how much this is gonna set me back?"

Valentine snorted from the other side of the doorway, where he'd ducked for cover. "I wouldn't be here if it weren't for your two-timing dame, Skinny. You ought to tell Darla to write home more often."

A shrill woman's voice laughed. "Aw, poor little Valentine! Ashamed you got your ass beat by a girl? I'll just run back home to daddy, shall I?"

The detective swooped around the doorway casually, walking out towards Malone and his gangsters.

Nora followed more hesitantly.

Malone was wearing a crisp tux that matched Darla's sparkling dress, and the rest of his crew wore beat-up mismatched suits, their submachine guns pointed toward Valentine.

Skinny shook his head, "Should've left it alone, Nicky. This ain't the old neighborhood. In this Vault, I'm king of the castle, you hear me? And I ain't lettin' some private dick such us down now that I got a good thing goin'!"

"I told you we should've just killed him!" Darla stomped her foot, pin-straight hair swaying. "But then you had to get all sentimental! All that stupid crap about the old times!"

"Darla, I'm handling this! Skinny Malone's always got things under control!"

"You call yourself Skinny Malone?" Nora blurted, words falling out before she could catch herself. "Like, unironically?"

Darla's icy eyes turned on Nora. "Who's his friend? He must've brought her here to rub us all out!"

"...Tempting, but no." Taking a slow step forward, Nora stood next to Nick, her hands raised in a sign of peace. "Darla, listen to me. You have a home to go back to. You don't want to throw your life away with these thugs, not when you can do so much better somewhere else."

Immediately, the girl's chin started quivering. Darla burst into tears, blue and black eyeliner running down her face, "You're right! You're right! What am I doing? I've gotten all mixed up!"

"Darla?" Skinny tried to hold her, arms out for a hug, but she shoved passed him and raced towards the subway station's exit. "Wh-where are you goin?!"

"Home, Skinny!" She cried over her shoulder, "Where I should have stayed!"

Skinny Malone seemed at a loss for words as Darla escaped, a moment of silence passing as his grief and shock was replaced with anger. "Come on, Nicky! You cost me my men, now your little friend cost me my girl?"

"My little friend here just did you a favor, Skinny. You've always had bad taste in women. Besides, don't you think Darla's a little too young for you?" Valentine put his revolver on a nearby table, spreading his empty hands towards Malone. "Now that she's not around to feed that temper of yours, maybe you'll see sense and let us walk? You still owe me for two weeks in this hole."

"You smug, overconfident ass." Skinny put down his weapon, too. "You get to the count of ten. I see any of your faces after today, I'm gunning you down!"

Valentine wrapped a metal hand around Nora's elbow. "Let's get out of here. Fast."

They took off running, Valentine leading the way through the Vault's exit and from there, through the abandoned tunnels of what was a construction site two hundred years prior.

Climbing through a maintenance tunnel to safety, they found themselves in the middle of a street in Boston. Nora vaguely recognized the buildings around them, mostly brownstone apartments with a few scattered shopfronts that she'd never gotten the chance to properly explore before the world blew up.

Valentine lit another cigarette. "Ah, nothin' like the empty Commonwealth sky... never through anything so naturally ominous could end up looking so inviting."

Glancing up at the sky above them, Nora cringed. There were no stars, only green-tinged clouds covering the moon, and a ripple of irradiated heat moving across the pitch-black nighttime sky. She was thankful again for her gasmask. She had no idea what state she would be in if she were to inhale the post-nuclear-bomb irradiated air.

She turned the glass lenses of her mask towards the robotic detective, tilting her head. "I'd probably use different wording."

Laughing, Valentine took another huff of his cigarette. Could he even feel the nicotine? What kind of robot smoked? "Thanks for getting me out. How did you know where to find me?"

"Your secretary."

"Ellie? Huh. She's a worrier. I figured she'd've thought I'd died and have sold the agency by now. I'm surprised she told you anything at all, with that mask you're wearing. One look at you and half of Diamond City would've been screaming synth."

"...Synth?"

He went quiet, eyes narrowing at her again. Then, softly, "Synthetic person. Like me. All the parts, minus a few red blood cells. I got built, I got old, I got tossed. Now there's newer, more humanlike synths running around, and I opened up that little agency in Diamond City, and it turns out people have plenty of missing friends they want me to find. Missing friends who typically turn out to be synths, if you believe the stories. In fact, you mentioned a missing person. No trace where he's gone?"

It took Nora a long moment to wrap her head around what he was saying. People were being kidnapped and turned into robots? If that's what happened to her son... "No trace. Just... taken from Vault One-Eleven."

"Hm." Examining her unblinkingly, Valentine exhaled a long billow of smoke. "Who else have you told about this?"

"A Mister Handy robot named Codsworth. He's an old friend. I thought he deserved to know."

The corners of Valentine's mouth went up and for a moment, Nora couldn't see any robot in his expression, not a single trace of any synthetic-ness in his being. Minus the tear in his cheek that exposed metal and wiring, he seemed... human. She wondered what he was like when he was new, before he was visually different from an organic person.

Valentine finished his cigarette and stomped it out. "I've got a hunch. We should start in Goodneighbor."

"Where?"

"The heart of the Commonwealth. You're lookin' for someone, then Goodneighbor's your place. Everybody knows everybody there. Ready to go?"

Not at all. Nora was the farthest thing from ready. She didn't want to take a step forward, she wanted to take two hundred years worth of steps back, to go back to her home and her son and her family and her plans before the world went to absolute shit. But, gulping past the bile in her throat, she managed to nod, putting one foot in front of the other. "Yeah. I'm ready."

─ ─── ──── ─── ♠ ─── ──── ─── ─

The zombies found them in exactly twelve seconds.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck—" Nora stumbled in her too-big boots, her heavy gasmask shifting on her face with every thundering step she took, running as fast as she could through the city.

She didn't know where the detective went. She'd lost him when the hoard found them.

And she didn't know where she was going, but running was easy, running was safe, running was the only instinct that seemed beneficial. The familiar streets of Boston all seemed wrong, and she circled the same building twice before ushering herself on a different path, hearing the screeching and slapping of the zombies chasing after her.

Heart pounding, sweat dripping down her spine, legs pumping faster and faster — she didn't even care what kind of sounds she was making. She couldn't take on a dozen zombies.

Her lungs rattled as she breathed heavily, the metallic taste of blood on her tongue, her own warm breath filling the gasmask that sat wrong upon her face.

Even with half-decayed feet, the zombies were fast. They fell over themselves just long enough for Nora to have the upper hand, heaving herself up onto the roof of an old school bus and falling onto her ass on the faded, peeling yellow paint, panting and clutching her wounded shoulder, which had started to bleed through the haphazard bandages she'd wrapped it in, the blood soaking all the way through her jumpsuit and spreading along the blue fabric.

On the ground, unable to climb, the decaying zombies screamed furiously at her. She shrieked right back at them.

Then she wasted three bullets, her shaking hands missing every shot.

"Studied my ass off for a degree, and what do I show for it? Jack shit."

Reloading the gun wasn't as easy as she felt it should've been, but she managed to get the bullets secure and fired again, this time hitting one of the creatures in the shoulder. It's entire arm detached and fell to the ground with a sick, sad plop.

It stopped screaming and stared down at the limb with mild interest. Then, slowly, it's foggy-eyed gaze lifted and locked onto Nora.

The others were still crowding the bus, trying and failing to climb it, shoving each other down and attacking their fellow undead in their eagerness to get to Nora.

But that one zombie, with the smokey black eyes, just continued to stare. Nora found herself staring back. She memorized the slope of it's haggard skin, the tearing of flesh and the exposed bone of its jaw, the bloodstained clothes that were better described as scraps and rags.

It was human. Or it had been, once. She wondered how it became as it was now; could its circumstances be explained by some kind of virus or disease? Was this the outcome of the nuclear waste? The irradiation?

The Pip-Boy that she'd taken from a skeleton in Vault 111 started clicking. She was familiar with the Geiger counter, but the ominous half-there clicks still made her blood go cold.

Nora didn't know how long she sat on the roof of the school bus; heart heavy with a grief that wasn't her own. Long enough for the armless creature to finally leave, and long enough for her to teach herself how to properly reload a handheld pistol.

The foul-smelling rotting zombies eventually seemed to forget what they were fighting for and wandered off, grunting and hobbling along the rubble of the roads. Some of them just collapsed, twitching, waiting for the next meal to approach them instead of hunting for it.

While sitting there, bringing all of her limbs tight to her body to prevent the zombies from grabbing her, Nora questioned the morality of shooting them. Was there a person left in the husks of bodies trying to tear her apart? Was the stare of the creature a reaction of the human it used to be, or just a mindless action done by a zombie that had no thoughts outside of hunger?

Did killing them count as survival? Or did they need help? Was there some kind of cure she hadn't heard about yet? Maybe the kindest thing to do was put them out of their misery.

Nora decided she hated ethics.

It shouldn't be her job to decide what lived or died; and she'd killed enough for the day, enough for her lifetime.

Eventually, the hoard roamed away, scattered into the concrete jungle, out of her view.

The city was drenched in darkness, the moon casting a dim glow over the rubble.

Sliding off of the bus as carefully as possible and lowering herself to the ground, Nora snuck into the shadows at the edge of the road, away from where the zombies had gone. She turned to the right, seriously hoping this path wouldn't kill her, and started walking as carefully as she could, avoiding the gravel and debris littering the ground.

But the zombies saw her anyway.

Nora took off in another sharp run, not even caring where she was going, not even caring if she never found Nick Valentine again — she just needed to get away.

The creatures grunted and groaned, and she could hear the gross slapping of their decayed feet as they scrambled and stumbled towards her, but she didn't dare look back.

Climbing a patchy wall and jumping over another pile of rocks from a broken building, she came to a sudden stop at the sight of bright neon lights.

The sky was dark and dim, heavy with bog-like green clouds covering what little glow the moon provided — and the hot pink mismatched lettering of the giant sign reading GOODNEIGHBOR was jarring. It was set upon a clumsily made but sturdy-looking wall between two towers, nestled in the old historic district of Boston. As far as Nora knew, there were museums and a hotel and a couple of restaurants in this area, but she was too shocked to move.

She'd expected Goodneighbor to be, well, a neighborhood. Not some random corner in the middle of the city.

The zombies, somewhere in the ruins behind her, maybe a street or two away, started screeching. Gunfire echoed across the building, the screaming of humans accompanying that of the undead.

They'd found new prey.

Despite being ill, tired, feeling disgusting, and half unable to even comprehend this new, horrible world... she wanted to trust Valentine, to trust that there was someone within this patch of the city who could help her.

She made her way to the gate, edging it open and slipping inside. The occasional dim streetlight broke the darkness, the flickering of candle flame lighting up storefaces and dirty sidewalks. Above, the dark green clouds crackled with the oddest lightning Nora had ever seen.

But as she stepped further into Goodneighbor, her heart lurched with yearning.

There were people loitering around; real, actual people. Not zombies, not homicidally insane trigger-happy madmen shooting at her for no reason, and not the snobs of Diamond City who cringed and hid from her as she walked through the haphazard streets.

Even in the darkness, the night sky looming green and sickly above them, humans perched upon stools and stood lazily in front of small shop tables, talking and laughing and drinking together, wearing all sorts of mismatched clothes. Nobody was attacking each other. Nobody was screaming. Nobody seemed... frightened, like they had in the other city.

This place was safe. This place was safe.

She had to find the detective — he should already be here, somewhere.

Nobody paid her any mind as she took another few careful steps forward, glancing around nervously at the handful of people bustling in the shops to the right side of the entrance. To the left was a big brownstone building with boarded windows and an alleyway to the side that led to what Nora presumed was the other half of whatever "Goodneighbor" was.

Slowly, so as to not draw unwanted attention, Nora edged closer to the small crowds of people, trying to find Valentine.

"Hold up there." A man stepped in front of her, hands out. His bug-like eyes bore into hers with devious intent.

She tried to step away, but he matched her movements, drawing closer as she stepped back — he cornered her back in the entryway of the city, approaching slowly like he was stalking prey.

The man wore a leather jacket and matching pants, a skull bandana over an otherwise bald head, and a cigarette hanging from very pale lips; everything about him seemed washed-out and ill, and he blinked too much like he didn't really know if what he was seeing was real.

"Excuse me," Nora tried to evade him, raising a hand to her face to make sure her gasmask was still in place, her shoulder aching with the movement. "I'm looking for a detective—"

"First time in Goodneighbor?" He asked, unmoving, as if he hadn't heard a damn thing she'd said. He gave a low chuckle, rubbing uneven stubble. "Can't go walkin' around without any insurance."

"I'm not interested. Just here to look for someone."

"C'mon, now, don't be like that, sweetness... I think you're going to like what I have to offer."

He took another step forward and Nora took a step back, trying to keep an even distance between them. But he was quick, too quick for the dazed look in his eyes.

Like a viper, he lunged towards her, grabbing her arm and holding tight enough to bruise — the movement knocked her shoulder out of place, and as he tugged her arm, pain shot through her entire body. She tried to yank away from him but stopped at the stabbing twinge, the blood draining from her face.

His other hand, which casually removed the cigarette from his lips and held it precariously between two fingers, rose towards Nora's chest, easily undoing the singular button that held together her black canvas coat — as he released the button, the material fell away, revealing the bloodstained blue jumpsuit from Vault 111.

He seethed, lips pulling back in what could've been a snarl as easily as it could've been a smile. "Now, sweetness, you're gonna hand over everythin' you've got on you, yeah? Including that fancy Pip-Boy. Or else accidents will start happening. Big, bloody accidents."

"Whoa, whoa! Time out!" Another man swaggered over with his hands up to deescalate the situation, and Nora did a double-take, breath catching in her throat at the sight of him. "Someone steps through the gate the first time, they're a guest. Lay off."

The man was on the shorter side, with a giant tricorn hat to make up for the height. He wore a red frock coat to match the hat, an old American flag as a belt, and a frilly white shirt — making him look like he just stepped out of some off brand of the Hamilton Musical. But the outfit wasn't what caught Nora's eye.

He was a zombie. Or, he looked similar enough to the one Nora had stared at only minutes beforehand. His skin looked... burned, in a way, almost like it was peeling off of his skull. He had no nose, no hair, and his scarred skin was discolored and half-gone, large indents carved into his cheeks, pulling around his sarcastic smile.

"Why d'you care?" The pale guy, still holding onto Nora's arm, dropped his cigarette and stomped it out harshly with a metal-lined boot, sneering at the man in the red coat. "She ain't one of us."

The scarred man sported a misty expression and a hyena grin, but there was no mirth in his expression. "You ain't hear what I said? Let her go, Fin. Last warning."

Fin squeezed Nora's arm, and black spots danced in her vision. He grunted out, "You've gotten soft, Hancock. Keep lettin' outsiders walk all over us and soon there'll be a new mayor. Like what you did to Vic, yeah?"

"C'mon, man, this is me we're talkin' about!" Hancock's grin widened as he walked confidently towards Nora and Fin, close enough for Nora to see the stormy grey of his foggy eyes — just like the armless zombie on the street. He leaned closer to Fin, "C'mere, c'mere, let me tell you something..."

Fin, either high or stupid, fell for the bit and leaned in.

Hancock casually grabbed the man's shoulder, patting twice like one would for an old friend.

A knife appeared in Hancock's other hand, and in an instant, the blade was driven into Fin's chest.

Nora yelped as Fin went down, almost taking her with him. She scrambled backwards, ripping from his slackened grasp, and stumbled over her too-big boots, falling on her ass. Blood splattered over her blue jumpsuit.

Stabbing Fin three times, Hancock had his teeth clenched as he finally let Fin's body fall heavily onto the cobblestone ground, limp and lifeless. He tutted, "Now, why'd you have to go and say that, huh? Breakin' my heart over here."

On the ground, Fin let out a whine, wide eyes staring up at the starless sky as blood puddled around him, his ribcage little more than a sunken cavity.

How strong did someone have to be for three stab wounds to look like a hundred?

Hancock shook his head mournfully. Then he looked towards Nora and stepped over the corpse as if he'd forgotten about it already, as if he hadn't just killed the man, as if Fin wasn't just murdered in the middle of the street — and, to Nora's surprise, none of the townsfolk even cared, and hardly anyone seemed interested in the scene before them.

"You alright, love?" Hancock asked, extending a bloody hand for her to take. A hand that was just as marred and pocked as the rest of his skin.

Nora flinched back, leaning away from him, her shoulder throbbing as her elbows propped her upright upon the ground.

"Ah, not so friendly with ghouls, eh?" Smile thinning, he retracted his hand and gestured to his face, "Like it? I think it gives me a sexy king of the zombies look, yeah? Big hit for some folk. Now, there's a lot of us walking rad freaks around here, so you might want to keep those kinds of reactions on the low burner next time."

Staring up at him like he was crazy, glad for the gasmask to hide her expression for fear she'd be stabbed next, Nora stammered, "Y-you think I... You think I care—" She gulped thickly, unable to find her voice for a long moment, shaking her head. Blood ran down the side of her mask, dripping onto her jumpsuit, staining it further. "You just killed that guy less than a foot away from me. I'm not too concerned about your face, given the circumstances."

He grinned, actually grinned. "Goodneighbor's of the people, for the people. You feel me? Everyone's welcome."

Nora's gaze drifted down to the dead body that this so-called mayor had so casually abandoned. "Of the people, for the people... oh, brother..."

Hancock laughed, kneeling next to her and extending his hand once again for her to take. "Oh, I can tell I'm gonna like you already. Just consider this to be your home away from home. So long as you remember who's in charge, kapeesh?"

Blinking up at him, she didn't really know how to respond. Her entire body was sending alarms up: what the fuck, oh fuck, what the fuck, who the fuck, why the fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck—

Through her fear, Nora recognized this man to be someone important. The coat and name felt like a title more than an endearing play on history, and from the way Fin spoke to him...

Hesitating briefly, she took Hancock's hand and let him help her to her feet, wincing as her shoulder pulled again.

Once rightened, Hancock slid a forefinger and thumb through a lock of Nora's greasy black hair, gently pinching and pulling, removing a clot of blood from the dark curls.

Without further ceremony, the ghoulish mayor led Nora over the dead body and towards the tall brownstone building, where a heavily armored redheaded woman stood cross-armed against the brick, enveloped in shadow.

"This here's Fahrenheit." Hancock introduced, and the woman gave a single sharp nod. "She's the one you go to if anyone like Fin comes back around, alright?"

Nora nodded slowly.

Fahrenheit turned back to the body on the street and frowned. "Too bad about Fin. I'm gonna miss him the next time a super mutant attack comes around."

Hancock gave another good-natured laugh, turning back to Nora. "What brings you to Goodneighbor, sweetheart? Anything I can do for ya?"

Nora kind of felt like bursting into tears. She fought for words, "I'm... I'm supposed to be meeting someone here. Nick Valentine."

Hancock's grin widened with glee. "So you're the one Nicky told me about. Hm... He painted a different picture than the one I see."

Having no idea what that meant, Nora took the safe route and stayed silent.

The mayor gestured towards the door to the brownstone, "He's inside, up in my office. If what he said is true... I wanna hear your story."

[big-city-times]

due to popular demand (two people in the replies of this post) i will now complain about how agitating the penny the pony and the pirate is to me (coming out as a hater) [under the cut][not going to put a whole essay in the main tag without a cut]

prepare yourself [i am so sorry]

before diving deep into my "he would not fucking say that" syndrome, there are ?? a lot of things i like about this episode ??

positives

the biggest, and the one that makes me the most sad, is how much i love the b plot. partially because it feels ironic watching becky and violet try to rewatch the mid-summer special of pretty princess and trying to convince themselves that its not as bad as they had thought originally, as i desperately try to convince myself that this episode isn't as bad as i had thought, but also because its just so ??? funny ??

like. fucking watch this

that's ?? hilarious ??? and it's used in this episode ???

not to mention that violet is just so adorable and funny in this episode and i love myself some good violet characterization AND theres really goofy botsford moments !! like them bullying tangent for not being able to tell a good story. father daughter bonding /j

also, about tim specifically, i find myself saying "can you believe this guy!! hey buddy !! the doubloons exhibit was last week !!!" a lot strangely enough

there's also some really silly bits about tangent himself !! like i've really stuck with the idea of him LOVING hearing other people's stories, stealing only when he's low on cash, or having a mom who's an artist

like !!! those are super cute and fun !!!!!!!! hearing about villains daily live's is one of my favorite parts of this show !! they're just presented in a way that doesn't sit right in my head !!

nice and goofy animations as well :]

negatives

yk. this is a rant. it's not really intended to be about the positive stuff so

cutting straight to the chase, i know exactly what the main reason is. it's the voice actor change im not gonna lie

for a minute, imagine, a character with a higher-pitched voice that you like, say, spongebob

then imagine them with a voice that is an octave deeper than their usual voice

isn't that weird and disorienting ??? like it just doesn't feel like them anymore ??

as violet says in this episode itself, that's. not their real voice, not to you at least

in this case, not only is his voice deeper, but its brash and gruff rather than his usual young, kind sounding voice, with a obvious (and often broken) fake accent. he sounds more like an adult and it BOTHERS me

its giving the minor change in chuck's voice in a world without wordgirl. while still the same person, a minor shift in his speech patterns makes him far less likeable

obviously this is no hate to brian stack (his va for this episode), he did a very good job on the actual acting, the voice just doesn't feel right for the character :]

there's also something that feels off about the way a lot of his lines are presented, not in voice, but more in the style of writing

in the previous two episodes, despite being absent minded and annoying to those around him, he's very selfless and kind, (caring about the safety of scoops and the dogs, leaving people alone if they reject him, noticing that scoops is upset [though he does interpret it wrong], ext.) but, here, it feels more like he's less distracted by his thoughts, and more self-focused. for example, regardless that he did enjoy tim's history lesson on the bumblebee penny, he immediately turns and begins to tell his own story, which just feels ??? way out of character ??

less negative, but he feels wayyy less focused here, and begins and ends stories very often, feeling less like they're tangents, and more like really brief, mildly annoying tidbits about himself ?? lmfao

it feels almost like they tried too hard on the tangents and ended up staying way too close to the topic. we are no longer going from pirates favorite wood to ballet slippers and that makes me very sad :[

i guess theres just something very offputting about how pirate-y he feels. he doesn't feel like some dork in a costume, and that's what i feel his character is supposed to be like !! he's not really a pirate !! he doesn't have a ship !! he rides around in a wagon !!! a flying wagon !!

conclusion :

as i said earlier, i keep coming back to this episode hoping that i'll like it better, but i never do.

who are you !!!!!! idk what villain that is !!! this episode has so much potential !! the crime is so goofy !! he's just written in a very strange way !!!

bonus bit - why is it so funny to me that his arm literally makes a clanking noise when he touches it. look at this stupid little twig arm. there is no way youve ever been to the gym youre lying

[pepperyduck]

falling in love with hanta sero

word count: 1.6k

warnings: not rly anything bad, college stuff, talking about growing up, sero being a cute boyfriend, not proofread. mdni.

notes: this was wayyy longer than i intended, it gets pretty mushy in some parts. much love and let me know what u think!

masterlist

you first meet hanta sero in the back of your humanities class – a class he failed the previous year, by the way.

              he’s a year older than you, being forced to retake all the classes he flunked so he can finally graduate in the spring. you find him quite funny, with his peculiar laugh and weird jokes, and he takes a liking to you, too. it only takes you a week to get ahold of his number and attend a frat party with him the following weekend.

              hanta will introduce you to all his friends, and you become a regular in their group “study sessions”; which always end up in everyone watching a movie and falling asleep in sero’s dorm. you and him always end up being the last ones awake, sharing philosophical conversations and laughing until the sun rises. it’s totally platonic when you fall asleep in his arms, the both of you exhausted from the week’s worth of schoolwork.

              during winter break, hanta is a mess because you aren’t there to complete the group anymore, since you’re staying at home for the holidays. he sulks around all day, missing your intelligent conversations and pretty face. denki and kirishima try their best to cheer him up, but things just “aren’t the same” without you.

              your absence for the few weeks is what makes hanta realize he really likes you.

              upon your return, sero is the first one to envelop you in his arms in the group hug. once everyone else lets go, his embrace lasts for a second longer, because he just missed you so much. and now, he’s acting a little bit strange around you; he stiffens every time you playfully swat his arm, and silent when you come out to show the group all the new clothes you bought from the mall back home.

              “what do you think, sero?” you ask, as he seems to be in some sort of daze, mind wondering from the discussion about the new dress you bought.

              “um,” sero hesitates, “yeah- it’s…it’s really nice,” he tells you, unable to quit his staring at your frame. you think he’s beginning to not like you anymore. but oh, how wrong you are.

              you’re on his mind non-stop, every second of the day. his new attitude isn’t because he dislikes you, no, it’s because he’s so genuinely in love with you and has no idea how to deal with it. he’s had crushes before, sure, but these are grown-man feelings, so intense and pure, something he’s no longer able to cover up with a laugh and smile.

              it only takes sero two weeks after your return to confess to you on a pizza run late at night. you’re in his passenger seat, boxes of pizza warm against your lap, it’s the first time since you came back to college that he’s been alone with you. he’s even driving weird, back completely straightened as he grips the wheel with white knuckles. you ask him if he’s okay about 4 times before he finally snaps.

              “i just…i really, really like you, okay? i mean- you’re so pretty, and smart, and-,” he blurts while mentally facepalming himself.

              “hanta,” you giggle, interrupting his confession, “i like you, too. you need to chill out, i’ve had a crush on you since we first met.” you seem so nonchalant about the whole situation, but one of you has to be, because sero feels like he might explode at any second.

              you can see his body language immediately relax as you reassure him you also had the same feelings. at the red light, he slumps against his seat, the thousand-pound weight finally lifted off his shoulders. you ask him on a date on the ride home, and end up holding hands the entire way back, preparing one another for the teasing you’re both about to receive from your remaining friends.

              when the night of your first date rolls around, he’s 20 minutes early, pacing outside of your dorm room with a bouquet of flowers in hand. he’s so nervous, tripping over his feet as he strides from wall to wall, a clumsy mess of emotions. sero almost knocks on your door four times, the fifth time being the charm when he nervously hammers the door harder than necessary. and when you open the door and give him that million-dollar smile, his wobbly knees almost collapse under him as he hands you the bundle of flowers with a jittery hand. sero makes a point of taking you on enough dates for his nerves to settle before asking if you’ll be his girlfriend.

              things between you and sero continue as before, only this time there’s more kissing among other things involved. the more time passes, you realize sero’s the one for you, with the way you effortlessly talk to him about everything and nothing at once, and the comfort that comes with just being around him. at all the parties and social events you attend, he’s literally making other girls talk to the hand, and you know you’re the only one for him.

              once graduation comes around, he makes sure to put your name in his parting words, a sweet quote he probably found online, as you watch from the front row, supporting your man with everything in you. he’s got the proudest smile on his face after earning his degree, feeling so lucky he’s had you there to support him the last year. sero makes the photo taken of him dressed his graduate cap and gown and you, his screensaver. it’s the proudest moment of his life so far.

              you’re more than upset on move-out day, crying many times as you move all of sero’s belongings out of his dorm room. all the memories shared in that room are tremendously significant to your relationship.

              “it’s okay, baby,” sero says, catching your tears in his chest for the third time that day, “i’m only going to be a couple minutes outside campus, you can come and visit whenever you want,” he comforts you, assuring he will never be too far away. as soon as all the boxes are moved into his new apartment, sero gives you the spare key. you end up spending your summer vacation at sero’s apartment, and he invites your family to come stay whenever you miss them.

              when fall semester makes its way back around, you’re left alone on campus, filling up the space of sero’s old dorm room with your own things. it’s an odd feeling not having his taste in the room, the spaces that were filled with laughter and late nights are now empty, only taken up by the photos of you, sero, and all the amazing friends he introduced you to.

              you often find yourself coming to sero’s apartment before he gets home from his new, adult job, finishing your homework or cooking a meal for him. at times, you can’t stand sero’s old – your dorm, as it is no longer touched by him. but all that sadness quickly fades when sero walks through his apartment door, greeting you like he hasn’t seen you in forever. the change in your last year of college is uncomfortable, but necessary for you to transition into your adult life along with sero. your once puppy-love relationship blossomed and matured into a beautiful, strong connection as the both of you grow older.

              for winter break, you and sero spend it travelling to visit both of your families, making sure an adequate amount of time is spent enjoying yourselves with family members. your family members adore sero, with the way he dotes on you and helps out in the kitchen after dinner, a noticeable difference in his old immature self. he’s growing up to be an amazing man, and you feel so fortunate to have helped him do so, and to be the one by his side the entire time.

              falling in love with someone will always change you.

              time seems to fly up to the point of your last semester. after your break, you return back to your dorm, hoping time will speed up until you have to leave. the seat next to you is taken by someone else, and you especially notice that now, not having as much time on your hands to leave campus to see sero. you mostly spend weekends with him now, when he isn’t working, but your time together is always taken up by you typing away on your laptop at the insane amount of essays due.

              eventually, though, weeks pass, your last assignment is turned in, and you’re able to join sero in the next chapter of your lives.

              at your graduation, you have a whole section of support, sero being front and center with your family and friends you made during your time at college. sero’s a blubbering mess when you walk across the stage, kirishima and denki on either side of him, all crying seeing the baby of their group grown up. you put sero’s name in your parting words, too, and you can’t stop yourself when tears roll down your face when you see your beloved boyfriend practically sobbing at how proud he is of you. hanta’s the first one you hug after the ceremony, you wrap your arms around his neck with your degree in toe, and his first words are to express how immensely proud of you he is. he doesn’t leave your side when you hug all the other people there for you, his words of motivation mean the most to you.

              and of course, he makes sure you upstage everyone there, dropping down on one knee to propose to you in front of your entire class.

[builtbybrokenbells]

might post belladonna iii in two parts cause it ended up wayyy longer than intended (and I’m still working on it ffs). if I do that, it’ll give you guys something to read in the meantime while I finish it up, and probably will make editing so much easier on me lol

pls let me know if you’d rather have it all in one or separately 🙏🏻

[ashfordlabs]

THEODORE ASHFORD.

age: 21, october 31st, scorpio.

description: pale skin─ almost appearing sickly pale at times, blue eyes, dark curly, brunette hair, 5′8, scrawny body type.

sexuality: homosexual.

THE MASTERMIND ─ there had always been someone whispering in theodore ashford’s ear, telling him right from wrong. that if he were to step in even the wrong direction, people would latch onto his movements and attempt to slander his own name and his family’s reputation. and always had he listened to it, becoming the supportive younger brother that always stood by his older brother’s side. but there comes a time in which one can no longer stand idly by and listen to that voice that grows distant with every punch thrown in theodore’s way.

DOMINIC WALSH.

age: 21, march 12th, aries.

description: dark brown skin, brown eyes, black hair, 6′2, muscular body type, has a scar on his cheek from a knife wound.

sexuality: bisexual.

THE HITMAN ─ dominic walsh had grown used to the blood that stained his hands. there had once been a time when he had tried to hard to wash himself of it all, of the blood, of the guilt that surfaced every single he pulled the trigger, letting the bullet trapped inside fly free and hitting it’s target with ease. but one can’t feel guilty when in their eyes, they’ve done nothing wrong, simply ridding the world of men with cruelty dripping from their veins. it was an itch he need to scratch, one only satisfied when a body dropped in front of him. greed can often outweigh the guilt one can feel.

TAMRYN BELSKY.

age: 25, august 4th, leo.

description: ivory skin, green eyes, blond hair, 6′3 but has bad posture he sometimes looks shorter, lanky body type.

sexuality: aro/ace.

THE HACKER ─ tamryn belsky had always hated hearing the words, ‘you are so much like your father’. perhaps there had once been a time when he felt proud to be the mirror image of the person that had taken him under his wing and taught him everything he knew. yet his father had been reckless with trusting his son all there was to know, about all the things that happened behind closed doors. you trust too hard and it’s only a matter of time before the knife you gave them finds itself in your own back, because when it comes to tamryn belsky, the secrets one would do anything to keep hidden don’t remain that way for long.

ANNIKA BELSKY.

age: 25, august 4th, leo.

description: ivory skin, green eyes, long blond hair, 5′8 but constantly wears heels so appears 5′11, plus sized body type.

sexuality: bisexual.

THE SEDUCTRESS ─ annika belsky had once learned that in order to get a man’s attention, all one must do is simply sit and listen, nod your head and asks questions to keep them talking, because if there’s one thing that men love, it’s the sound of their own voice. but it reaches a point in which they can’t seem to stop talking and they make it so easy to get them talking, because in their eyes, they can’t seem to resist her. but the moment they try to lay a hand on her, the claws come out and bones begin to break because she’s the one that’s in control, never them.

MAYUMI SAKAMOTO.

age: 23, september 23rd, libra.

post-mortum description: transparent corporeal body that can sometimes look monochromatic, veins on her body are black and noticeable through the skin, short black hair, grey eyes, 5′8, athletic body type.

height: 5′8.

sexuality: lesbian.

THE GHOST ─ mayumi sakamoto missed being alive, once taken for granted all the things she could feel against her skin. wanting nothing more than to the wind through her hair and the grass beneath her feet. sometimes if she stood there long enough, she’d be able to remember what it felt like, and every touch but every kiss by her felt tattooed upon her skin. but any time she remembered what used to be, it was overtaken by what became of her. nothing more than a corpse walking, forced to remain amongst the living until justice had finally been served but it’s revenge she truly wants.

cursed bodies taglist under the cut (message to be +)

@isherwoodj @emiiswriting​ @houndmouthed​

[potatobugxo]

HI- ILYSM- CAN I GET HUGGY MEETING A HUMAN (GN) THAT ENTERED THE FACTORY TO EXPLORE AND HELPS HEAL HIM WHILE HE'S INJURED AND IT'S JUST PURE HURT COMOFRT AND FLUFF PLEASE-

WELL GOLLY GEE ILY TOO AND YES

you done got my brain working trying to come up for a whole plot for this one also this is WAYYY longer than you probably expected lmao

warnings: mentions of death, blood

-you were a journalist who was going on another "expedition" to uncover the secrets of the Playtime Co. Factory

-the whole story that all the employees disappeared really intrigued you and you wanted to investigate more. you already knew many background things on Playtime Co., as you grew up with some of the toys

-and so upon entering the factory (lets say you get there a little while before the mc does) you try to solve all the puzzles in order to get in. you end up getting the grab-pack to unlock the door that lead to the large room where the huggy wuggy statue was, you knew because you had toured there as a child

-huggy wuggy had always been your favorite because he was just so darn cute and cuddlable

-though your grab-pack ended up breaking after trying to get into one of the innovation areas, and while you jotted down some notes on your exploration so far the statue m o v e d

-when you went back into the room huggy was just straight up gone.

-you're completely terrified until you hear breathing coming from beside you

-you nearly jump out of your pants in fear as you see huggy standing in the corner, slightly crammed against the wall as if he was trying to hide from you

-he was HECKIN ALIVE

-you KNEW something had been up the entire time and you KNEW the employees had disappeared for a reason

-you would have ran if it weren't for huggy's puppy eyes looking down at you, even if his sharp teeth were bared

-he looked... scared? confused? and when you approached him with care you could have sworn you had gone insane

-he was a literal LIVING, BREATHING TOY in front of your very eyes

-nevertheless you try to help him and figure out what exactly happened by listening to a few audio tapes, though since your grab-pack broke you couldn't really get anywhere

-that was until huggy showed you to the vent system... that was how he got around, and since you were so gentle with your words to him (and weren't torturing or experimenting on him) he wanted to help you in return

-he also apparently picked up on the fact that you had no clue where the vents lead, so he just picked you up and carried you through them just like that. and guess what!! you LIKED having a 17 ft tall blue cuddle monster carrying you around!!

-huggy helped you find the areas you couldn't originally get to with you taking notes the whole time

-though you didn't intend on turning any of the notes in... because you wanted to protect huggy, and after listening to the audio tape about "experiment 1006" you finally figured out what happened to him.

-since you were so nice to him huggy just chose you as his human now, he doesn't let you go ANYWHERE in the factory without him. its very endearing having a giant monster friend following you around like a puppy

-and when the ex-employee gets to the factory, huggy goes FULL protective mode over you

-he does everything he can to scare off the intruder but nothing seems to work

-and then when he tries to chase them away, they trick him and he ends up falling deeper into the factory. you find him not long after thankfully, and are mortified to see him wounded and bleeding...

-he's like a hurt animal while you try to patch him up, he's scared and he was only trying to protect you. you reassure him that everything will be ok and that you'll be here for him as you want to help him too, even if it may seem impossible