#and to the friends who have stuck around thank you for another year :D

[spiriteddreams]

happy new year!! 🎊 may 2025 bring you all the love, happiness, and warmth that you deserve!

[man-i-love-fanfiction]

To Share the Space with Simple Living Things - Hozier x Fem!Florist!Reader

Chapter One: Blue Hydrangeas- Gratitude

Summary: Your job as a florist has been the highlight of your day for years. It becomes even more exciting when a certain new customer becomes a regular.

Word Count: 2286

Author's Note: Hey guys! My first multi-chapter fic, i'm so excited!!! i don't have a strict posting schedule, but I won't go more than two weeks without an update. please bear with me here because I have no idea what it's like to be a florist. I hope you all enjoy!!

p.s. special shoutout again to @deprivedmusicaljunkie for beta reading, i can't thank you enough!

fic below the cut :)

You were a part of the small minority of people who actually loved their job.

The concept of this was strange to most people — strangers making small talk, men asking introductory questions on dates, even your own parents. Maybe because it wasn’t exactly a career; more so a job that someone has as a way to make rent while getting their degree, which is how you originally began to work at Earth's Laughter Florists. College had been years ago for you now, and yet you stayed behind the counter, making bouquets for customers with a genuine smile on your face. It got to the point that when the old owner decided it was time to retire, she chose you to take over. Of course, you immediately accepted; this job was the best part of your day. While all of your friends were going insane with their office jobs, you… admittedly still went insane from time to time, just in a much prettier workplace.

You had even taken it upon yourself to learn flower language: different types of flowers having different symbolic meanings. It was almost like extra credit. It gave you a new challenge of arranging flowers while keeping both color and symbolism in mind, and helped you create bouquets and arrangements with more meaning. This, in turn, gave your customers a new incentive to buy different flowers for different occasions based on what they meant. More business for you, more smiles on people's faces, and more money in your pocket. Everyone wins.

Another benefit of the job — your favorite part — was that it gave you small glimpses into the lives of other people. Flowers had a multiplicity of sorts. They were so versatile that people bought from you for almost every occasion. Weddings, funerals, birthdays, dance recitals, you name it. It made you more appreciative of others. Every day was a new insight into whatever your customers had going on. And today was no exception.

You arrived an hour before the store opened, as usual. You went into the back and threw on your apron, adjusting your name tag. Thoughts of everything you had to do before opening ran through your head, and you quickly began to busy yourself with everything from giving some flowers new vases of water to following up on an order for a wedding. Your two coworkers came in around a half an hour after your arrival, donning their aprons, saying their hellos, and also beginning their day. When the time finally came, you flipped around the sign hanging from the door, telling everyone outside you were open. You stood behind the counter and waited.

And waited.

And waited.

One of the only downsides of your job was that it required a lot of patience.

It's not like you were just staring at the clock, biding your time until a customer entered. You still had work to get done, mostly tying up loose ends from what you didn't finish before. Your coworkers were occupied with a tall order of arrangements, so they stuck to the back, with the occasional popping in to ask if you needed assistance. Politely, you declined.

Mundane was the word that kept repeating itself in your head as you did your odd jobs around the store. Not necessarily a bad thing. In fact, mundane meant nothing horrible was occurring (even though it meant nothing was occurring). Of course, mundane never does last long.

You had just finished creating an arrangement to put on display when your first customer of the day walked in.

The bell above the door rang, and you quickly walked back over to where you were supposed to be standing, not even bothering to see who had walked in until you were behind the counter.

The first thing you noticed was that he was taller than you had expected, with long brown curls that fell down to his shoulders. His outfit, a black turtleneck, a brown leather jacket, and black jeans, was the right mix of formal and casual; you could tell he had somewhere to be, but with people that wouldn't mind if he laughed a little too loudly.

To top it all off, he was handsome. You couldn't pull your gaze from him if you tried.

He walked forward, slowly looking around at all the flowers on display until his gaze locked onto you. He broke the silence between you.

“Hello. I need some flowers.”

You maintained your composure and brushed off your previous thoughts. You started your usual routine, asking him the same questions to get to know the situation (and him) better.

“What's the occasion?”

“It's my mum’s birthday.”

“Does she have a favorite flower?” You asked. He replied with no hesitation.

“She loves hydrangeas. Blue hydrangeas. She always has.”

His immediate answer brought a small smile to your face. You nodded intently and began to think of all the possible combinations of flowers that would work well.

“You're specific. I like that. That makes my job easier. Usually guys say something like ‘I don't know’ or ‘the purple ones’ or just ‘roses’. It's like some people don't even pay attention.”

“Well, that's all I know how to do.”

“A blessing and a curse, I imagine.”

“More of a blessing, believe it or not.”

“I have a similar blessing, though it seems to be laser-focused on plants of all things.” You joked. “Speaking of plants, let me start on your bouquet.”

You left your spot, walking over to the wall of flowers on display for you to pick from. You stopped and stood next to the man, fixated on the wall as you tried to decide what flowers would go well together, in meaning and in visuals. Mumbling, you thought out loud.

“Alright. For his mother. Blue hydrangeas… that's gratitude. What can go with that?”

The customer tilted his head in confusion, clearly having heard you.

“I don't mean to interrupt, but what's with blue hydrangeas and gratitude?” He asked. Your eyes widened, and you turned to face him as you started your explanation.

“Oh, it's flower language. I learned about it to help me make more symbolic bouquets. Back in the Victorian era, people would use bouquets of flowers to convey messages they couldn't say out loud. Most of the time it was a love confession, though you could also reject someone if you picked your flora wisely. Individual flowers have meanings, too. Blue hydrangeas, your mum's favorite, symbolize gratitude. There was even a change in the meaning based on which side the ribbon was on, or if they were given upside down, and…” You cut yourself off when you realized you’d been talking for much too long, your excited expression dropping. “I’m rambling about something you definitely don't care about. I’m sorry.”

He gave you a confused look, and a small laugh of disbelief escaped him.

“What? Don't apologize. That was fascinating. I don't know if I’ll ever see flowers the same way again. In a good way, of course”

The fact that he was actually invested in what you had to say pleasantly surprised you. People — not just customers, people you actually choose to surround yourself with — would often tune you out after the first two sentences.

You knew this man for two minutes and he was already raising your standards.

“Well then, I’m happy to give you a new perspective. I’ll get started on your arrangement.”

You stepped back to get a better look at the flowers lining the walls of the room. You already had a vague idea of what you wanted, you just needed to put it into action. Hydrangeas were grabbed first, and made the focal point of the bouquet immediately. Other flowers were picked up and put down, a trial-and-error of sorts until you found which ones truly matched.

Occasionally, you looked over your shoulder to find your customer still standing there, spectating you from a few feet away. He watched you with a certain gleam in his eye, one you would attribute to admiration if you didn't know any better.

Once your selections were made, you picked out a plastic sheet and took the flowers into the back, where there was a smaller room with a much larger table surface for a workspace. The wrapping was laid out, and meticulously, flowers were laid down. Rearranged. Shifted around. After a few small touches, everything was in the exact place you wanted it.

You finally finished up, wrapping the flowers in the silver plastic and tying it up with a blue ribbon. You went back behind the counter and held the bundle of flowers up, pointing at each one as you described the meaning of each specifically selected flower.

“There's the blue hydrangeas for gratitude, white roses for loyalty and beauty, and belladonna delphinium for protection and well-being. You're basically showering your mum with compliments with this thing.”

“It's gorgeous,” he replied, the look of astonishment from before lingering on his face.

“As nature tends to be.”

“I mean, you can't argue with that, but the way you’ve arranged them, it's… stunning. She’ll love it.”

His compliment surprised you; it wasn't too often you got such a compliment for a simple bouquet. It caused your heart to flutter in your chest in a way that definitely crossed the border of the employee-customer relationship you had going on. Frightening. Maybe if you kept acting unaffected, it would magically stop.

“Let me ring you up.”

There was no true cash register, and you instead relied on a pen, a yellow legal pad, and mental math for customers’ totals. It took a moment, but you calculated what he owed you.

“That'll be $54.”

He muttered in agreement, and you watched as he reached into his coat pocket. His hand stayed there, fiddling around. After a moment, he reached the opposite hand into the opposite pocket. He felt around for a second, pulling his hands out and placing them on his hips. His content expression was replaced by one that was much more panicked.

“Shit. Shit, shit, shit!”

Your brows furrowed in confusion.

“What’s the matter?”

“I…I forgot my wallet back at my house. Do you take any online payment?”

You shook your head.

“No, sorry. We're old school. That's alright though, I can put these to the side and you can run home and get your wallet.”

He let out a frustrated sigh in response, angry more at himself than anything else.

“That's the thing. I live thirty minutes from here and I’m meeting my mum in fifteen minutes, and I have specific instructions to be on time. I might just…”

He stopped his sentence, paused, and took a deep breath to calm himself.

“I’ll find something else. Thanks for all your help, though. You have a gift.”

You caught the sincerity behind his now bitter tone, and it made your heart ache. He turned to leave and took a few steps forward. You didn't process that you had said anything until his reaction.

“Wait.”

He immediately stopped in his tracks and turned around, and you realized your impulses led you to call out for him even though you had no plan whatsoever.

Biting at your lower lip, you thought of an idea. You genuinely wanted to help this man give his mother flowers�� The fact you found him attractive was merely an added bonus. Besides, the pity you felt for him overrode that. Once the metaphorical light bulb lit above your head, you spoke again, leaning in closer and lowering your voice so only he could hear.

“Okay, I’m not supposed to do this, and this definitely isn't a good business practice, but I can tell you're not just doing this to steal flowers from me, so I’ll make an exception.”

He leaned in as well with a look of intrigue. You continued to explain.

“You can take the bouquet for now, and then within… I don't know, two days, you have to pay me back. I’d just need a name and phone number so I can contact you if you don't show up.”

You snatched one of your business cards from the display and flipped it over so the blank side faces upwards, leaving a pen in front of you so he could write. He picked up the ballpoint, seemingly scribbled for a moment, and then slid the card back over to you. Written in surprisingly beautiful handwriting, you read his name aloud.

“Andrew… Nice to meet you. I’m Y/N.”

“I know.”

This caught you off guard. For a second you wondered if maybe you did accidentally give a free bouquet to a shady guy.

“Excuse me?”

Andrew’s mouth went agape as he realized the connotation behind what he said, and he quickly muttered an explanation, flustered. “Oh my god! No. Not like that. You… your name tag.”

A sigh of relief escaped your lips, and you gave him a nod.

“Right. Forgot that was there for a second. Alright, take your bouquet. Happy birthday to your mother. And remember, two days.”

He gave you a gesture showing his gratitude, pressing his hands together.

“Thank you. So much. I don’t know how I’ll repay you.” He said, grabbing the bouquet.

“Hopefully with money in two days,” you joked.

He let out a laugh.

“Money would do the trick. I’ll see you soon.”

“See you soon.”

You watched as he left, the smile of your face growing as you noticed his appreciation of the flowers you had arranged by the doorway. He paused for a moment before opening the door and leaving, and you caught him humming a tune you'd never heard before.

You hoped he would come back much sooner rather than later.

[terresdebrume]

for the prompts - "i'm not worth saving. please." and/or "a few more steps. we're nearly there. i've got you" for a ship/ships of your choice?

Hey friend! Thanks for the prompt :D Sorry it took a bit, you know how it is with work^^" Still, I hope this AU without a cause will satisfy! Prompt list here, if anyone wants to send me another one!

Edwin huffs as he leans backwards, suspending his entire weight at the end of Charles' arm and still not managing to move him more than a couple of inches. He pauses, heaving for breath, and watches as Charles heaves himself up the last few steps with a painful-sounding mechanical whir.

"Come now Charles," he pants, forbidding himself from sitting down. "We only have a few steps left."

"I can't," Charles says.

His words comes out flat, mechanical. His voice modulator must have given up somewhere between the bottom of the stairs and now. His chest is rising and falling too fast, cooling circuits working overtime, but the audible sound his systems make tells Edwin it isn't quite working. Charles must be approaching overheating, and there is nothing Edwin can do about it here, in the hallway to the agency.

"Charles, please," Edwin begs, but Charles shakes his head.

"I can't," he repeats. "My left knee's piston is malfunctioning."

Edwin inhales, sharp and loud, and ignores the beeping in his systems that say his shell is too warm. They found spare parts for his cooling system last month: he can handle a little heat, but Charles--

"Charles, you must keep going, you can't--we have to plug you in!"

It took a lot of time, and even more money--although they are lucky Crystal never asked them what it was for--but they finally got their systems up to a point where they can handle one of them, at least for a time. Charles' software isn't as solid as Edwin's, but ROWLAND persocons had a reputation of hardiness for a reason. They have the memory banks required, and more than enough compatibility coding between the two of them to keep Charles safe until they can find him a new chassis, but none of that will matter if they can't get him connected before he shuts down.

"You should leave me here," he says, Edwin gasps.

"Do not say that," he warns.

"You should," Charles insists, eyes closing. "I'm not worth saving."

"Do not say that!" Edwin all but shouts, not caring about the time, or the human neighbors whose suspicions they've been trying not to arouse. "I forbid it, Charles!"

"Look at me!" Charles exclaims.

Edwin, electrical core on overdrive, looks down at Charles. Some of the hair is missing from his skull, burned away in the accident that nearly tore Edwin's head off a few years back. There is a long streak under his eyes where the synthetic skin peeled away, revealing the gray of his chassis, and the open jacket he wears fails to conceal the three large dents in his chassis, left there by the older ROWLAND model he used to live with. He looks resigned and, impossible as it should be, exhausted.

Even so, even pulling up the necessary softwares to run a simulation of existence without Charles prompts half a dozen alerts in Edwin's system, and he shudders. Crouching down, he puts a hand to the side of Charles' face.

"I am looking at you," he says, voice modulator struggling to keep his tone even through the shiver of his cooling system going overdrive.

"I'm old," Charles says, bitter. "I can't even move. Even if we do preserve me: I won't even have a body. I'm an industrial unit--what good am I if I can't even move around?"

"Charles," Edwin says, surprised to get an alert from the hardware around his throat, "please stop. You haven't been a dockhand in decades--"

"But I am!" Charles cries, or must try to. "That's why I'm the brawn, isn't it? Stronger chassis, longer batteries, building routines--that's what I'm for! What am I if I can't do what I'm for?"

"You're my friend!" Edwin says, fiercely, bringing his face closer to Charles. "You're the man who got me out of the scrapyard I'd been stuck in for seventy years! You're the one who made me look human enough to go out again!"

"Yeah, and now I'm the one who looks like a rogue!" Charles retorts, closing his eyes in distress. "If anyone from Endless Co. sees me, they'll do more than scrape us--"

"That will not happen--no!" Edwin insists, louder, when Charles looks like he is about to protest again, "That will not happen! I will never let it happen. You are my friend! You are my confident, and my companion, and you must stop talking about yourself like you are a glorified forklift!"

"That's what I was programmed for!"

"And I was supposed to be a sex unit!" Edwin breathes harshly in the stunned silence, gathering himself closer to Charles, until he can curl up around him and touch their forehead together. "I don't care chat they made you for," he whispers. "You're the one who decided to download all those fighting programs. You're the one who saved me. You're the one who came up with the name of the Agency. I don't care that they think we're not alive, Charles, I know they're wrong. You and I, we're alive in all the ways that matter, and I--"

Edwin stops talking. His voice modulator refuses to add even one word, some previously unnoticed subroutine cutting off his access to his dictionary. Fantom code, perhaps: a glitch. Or maybe the people who programmed his model line back at Payne Industries wanted to make sure they couldn't evoke certain feelings. Either way, Edwin's voice absolutely refuses to shape the words he is thinking, and so he does the only thing he can possibly do in this situation: he leans forward and presses his lips to Charles'.

Charles twitches under him, unnatural and poorly coordinated, but when Edwin pulls away to look at him, he is met with eyes filled with wonder, and joy, and that same word Edwin's core software won't let him say.

"Oh," Charles says, and brings a hand up to touch Edwin's cheek.

"Yes," Edwin replies, arch and haughty, "oh. Now, if you would please help me. It's only a few more steps."

[christinesficrecs]

Hell beautiful person! I’m looking for Sterek Fics set in High School where Stiles and Derek are the same age! Always a happy sterek ending, all fluff, angst is okay to as long as they are together at the end. No cheating please! Thank you so much!

High School fics are so fun!! 😍

The Lawn Ranger by Snowjob | 47.8K | Mature

In which Derek is an adolescent werewolf with a penchant for chocolate bunnies, and instead of the dream summer of lazing around the house playing video games and nibbling on his hoarded supply of easter candy his mother makes him get a job.

In which Stiles is a showoff jock with a broken arm and an embarrassing crush who can no longer push the lawn mower around the yard.

When You’re Close I Feel the Sparks by  Leslie_Knope | 39.6K

The guy is hot as hell, sure—leather jacket and glasses, Jesus, be still Stiles’ poor, bisexual, beating heart—but more importantly, it must really suck being new on the first day of senior year.

“We’re adopting him,” he decides, tugging Scott and Kira by the elbow in that direction. “Let’s go.”

Strut on a Line, its Discord and Rhyme by xiaq | 61.8K

“Carry me,” Stiles says.

“No.”

“But I’m injured.”

“You have a rash,” Derek says. “On your arm. Your feet work just fine.”

“Please?”

“No. You weigh almost as much as I do. And you ate a pound of chicken at lunch.”

Kingdom By The Sea by kilaem | 4K

Lydia grabs his arm and pulls him down in the seat next to her. “When the hell did you find time to bag a guy like Hale?”

“We’re friends,” Stiles feels his face heat up, and then the team are running out and Derek sees him and smiles. His blush gets worse.

“Oh really?”

“Our moms were friends, okay? We’ve been in diapers together.”

“I thought you two hated each other.”

What Good Are Rules (If You Can’t Break Them) by wishingonalightningbolt | 9.5K | Explicit

In which Derek and Stiles engage in no-strings-attached sex. It works out about as well as you might imagine.

Option C) Some Bad Guys are Werewolves, but Not All Werewolves are Bad Guys by  calrissian18 | 9K

Derek Hale—the Incredible Meat that Thinks—needs a math tutor. Stiles Stilinski needs something that will look better on his college applications than ‘passable D&D Dungeon Master.’

It’s a match made in heaven. Er, right?

Let Me Be Yours by EvanesDust, isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella) | 30.3K

What if Stiles did end up believing one day and he got a soulmark and it... wasn’t Derek’s? What if it was a completely different design? Derek would hate the other person on principle because they would’ve gotten what he wanted.

Hadn’t he earned Stiles? He’d been there for him for years, and they were both such good friends, and had stuck by one another regardless of their differences. He was sitting in a fucking movie theatre to watch a movie he wasn’t at all interested in instead of playing ultimate frisbee with Boyd and some other friends, for fuck’s sake. He loved ultimate frisbee! Much more than superhero movies!

But not more than Stiles.

He couldn’t possibly love anything more than Stiles.

i wanna dance with somebody (who loves me) by bleepobleep | 10.5K

Derek gets in an accident and loses a few years of his memory; suddenly everything is different— he’s not a freshman loser anymore, but a popular senior, captain of the basketball team, a shoo-in for prom king, too, and he should have everything he’s ever wanted— except he doesn’t seem to be friends with Stiles anymore.

John Hughes Did Not Direct My Life by nascentgalaxies | 48.6K | Explicit

Stiles and Derek are childhood friends who drifted apart. When Stiles joins the lacrosse team against his will, the universe (with a little help from Laura and Lydia) chooses to push them back together.

Chocolate & Pomegranates by Dexterous_Sinistrous | 9.6K

Derek has been an Omega for what feels like centuries. He is constantly hounded by Alphas and Betas who can't control their hormones. He's thankful for Laura defending his honor, but there is one person he's always dreamed of giving himself to.

Too bad Derek is certain Stiles doesn't know he exists.

It’s Always Been You, Dumbass by stilinskisparkles | 11K

“Alright, cool, we should go,” Stiles says breezily, dusting off his hands as he stands.

“We should?”

“Yeah!”

“But… Do you even care about photography?”

“Not as much as I should,” Stiles plants both his hands on the table, bracketing Derek in, “You’ll have to correct my miscreant ways.”

This Might Be Irony by thepsychicclam | 38.3K | Mature

Stiles and Derek have been close friends since the Hale siblings moved in next door after their parents’ death. But Derek’s in the popular group, he’s a star baseball player, and he dates popular Pep Squad captain Jennifer Blake. Stiles doesn’t have any of that, just his skateboard and a hopeless crush on Derek (oh yeah, and his Vote Lydia Martin Prom Queen button). As prom and the baseball state championship grow closer, Stiles and Derek start rekindling their friendship.

And it all begins with two white boards.

A Cunning Plan by yodasyoyo | 32.7K

Stiles has a plan to get Lydia Martin to notice him. Derek is not impressed.

But Then What… by Stoney | 24.3K | Explicit

Senior year is almost over, and all Stiles needs to do is keep his head down to survive. A teacher calls in a favor, leaving him stuck tutoring Derek Hale, one of the most popular jocks in school and a member of a group of douchecanoes who have bullied Stiles for years. He’s someone Stiles totally hates. Totally. Like, doesn’t like him even a little bit. DEFINITELY isn’t attracted to him.

Except that is a total lie. Fuck his life, seriously.

[stumachersfavoritegirl]

His Favorite Girl <3

Stu Macher x Reader

Disclaimer: The use of Y/N pertains to you inserting your own name. The main character in the story is you, but you just have a a different description. Imagination is fun girlies ;3 I also deeply apologize for the late post, life has been very stressful for me right now and whenever it becomes overwhelming, it's hard for me to think about anything else, which includes "My Favorite Girl" but, don't worry, I'll still be posting it because it's definitely a solitude for me. But, I won't be giving a schedule for it anymore because I feel like that ruins the trust between me and you guys <3 Thank you for understanding and enjoy!

Chapter 2: D-dont...you walk away from me

I tap my pencil on the desk repetitively, anxiously waiting one more minute before the final bell of the day rings. I'm biting my lip as my thoughts race, it's becoming a reality and not another dream my mind thought up. Stu Macher is actually going to the Brew to meet me, and no one else. Not Tatum, Billy, his friend group, me. I've never felt this special before, it was a feeling I didn't want to end. I've never had a boy be vulnerable with me about how they felt, let alone about me. I mean, just yesterday I was a nobody to him. Now, he's meeting me in janitors closest alone, saying my name, thinking about my breast? I mean, holy fuck! Who am I right now that Stu Macher knows me, likes me, wants...me? It's almost overwhelming, the feeling of being wanted by someone you'd never thought you'd have for years. It's too unbearable actually, almost... too good to be true. My thoughts are cut off by the final bell, and I sigh as I finally gather my notebooks in my backpack. A smile uncontrollably forms on my face, as I imagine him looking at me in awe as he walks into the brew. Me sitting there with my hair down, no glasses, skinny jeans and an old tank top of my moms that she doesn't know I took...what? Desperate times call for desperate measures. Probably some cashmere sweater my mom has in her closet too, so my chubby arms can still be covered, while my cleavage is basically full frontal. I blush as I sling my backpack over my shoulder, beginning to exit the classroom. I wonder if he'll be wearing the same thing, or maybe he'll change like me. I wonder if we'll only talk about school work, or maybe we'll talk about us. I've been dying to ever since the janitors closet. All those things he said, what did it mean? My minds been racing since. I still can't believe he was looking at me like that, his pupils were so dilated, I felt like I was staring into his soul looking into them. I make my way into the hallway and walk towards the exit of the school with everyone else. Students begin to scream however, and everyones voices combined grows too loud, ruining my thought process. I roll my eyes, reaching for my cassette player and headphones in my backpack. I grab it, zipping my bag closed, when I look up and see Billy Loomis. He walks pasts me and our eyes meet before he looks away and chuckles, covering his mouth. I furrow my brows as he pasts me, looking down as I rest my headphones on my head. What was that look about? I drag my fingers across my face, trying to pinpoint any food residue on it. When I feel nothing, I reach for my hair, running my fingers through it. Hmph, nothing stuck in it. I let my tongue linger over my front teeth to feel any food stuck in between. But when I feel nothing, my face scrunches together. What could he have been laughing at? I roll my eyes as I exit the building, pressing play on my cassette player as I walk down the school entryway stairs. As I put my cassette player away, I see Tatum and Stu again. His arms are wrapped around her shoulder as a pre rolled blunt rests in his hand. His other hand is flailing around as he talks to Tatum, and she walks beside him with a lollipop in her mouth, toying with it using her tongue.

He looks down and sees this, and he bends down to lick her lollipop. She scoffs, preparing to pluck him in the head with it. He takes off before she can though, and she follows him as she screams out, laughing "Asshole!" He giddily laughs as he runs away, shockingly in my direction. My eyes widen as I see them approach me, and I swallow as I press my lips together. I subtly look up to meet his gaze as he passes me, and he doesn't even look at me. He continues to laugh as he runs by, his smell washing over me again and my knees almost buckle. She runs after him, towards me and her eyes throw daggers at mine. I quickly look away from her, but she makes a note to bump my shoulder as she passes me. I sigh as I rub my shoulder, rolling my eyes. I've literally never hated someone more. I turn to look at them , and he runs back into the building as she's close in pursuit, yelling after him. I shake my head in disbelief as I face forward and continue walking home. Why didn't he look at me? I mean, how could he go from standing over me...confessing his feelings for me, being completely vulnerable with me, to running past me, not even looking in my direction? That was really really weird, and a knot forms in my stomach, trying to depict what it meant.

///////////////////////

As I open the door to the Brew, I look at the clock inside, 4:00 on the dot. I smile to myself as I look around, trying to find his piercing blue eyes. When I don't see them however, I walk to the nearest table, placing my backpack and cassette player on the table before I take a seat. I tuck my wild curls behind my ears, looking around again, dreading that I didn't bring my glasses for emergency purposes. I feel a slight breeze and cover my exposed cleavage with my mothers cashmere sweater, snapping my neck towards the door. It's an older couple, both with canes, laughing as they walk in together. I smile as I look down, feeling as though I'm invading there privacy by staring. I continue to smile as I imagine that being me and Stu eventually. I shake the thought though, and as the breeze continues I decide to grab a small coffee as I wait for him. Looking at the clock again as I get up, it's 4:04. I figured he'd get here before me to see if I was on time or not. I try to calm down though, as I tell myself it's literally only been 4 minutes. Even if it were 10, did I really even expect Stu Macher to show up on time to discuss school work? Granted, he asked, but he never really seemed like the academic type. I kinda liked that about him though, his carefree spirit. He never seemed to let anything bother him, even a bad grade or detention 4 nights in a row. He just kinda, went with the flow of life, something I always admired about him. Something that always made me drawn to him. As I reach the counter, I pull out $1.05 to pay when I feel a sharp breeze from the door again. As I turn to look, I notice it's one of the kids from my school. His hairs blonde and spikey almost, his big brown eyes sweep the crowd of the Brew until they land on mine. I think I've seen him in science class a few times, other times he's blatantly skipping. I flash a friendly smile his way, but he doesn't return one. He quickly looks away as he heads to sit down. I feel like everyone is acting so weird towards me today, and I straighten my squished eyebrows as I approach the register to order.

As I wait for them to make it, I look in his direction and see him sit by the chair next to me. I face forward to grab my small coffee, and head back to my seat. Our eyes meet again, and he quickly averts his again, while pulling out school supplies. I place my coffee on the table as I sit back down, scratching the back of my neck as I continue to look around for Stus tall frame and brunette short hair. I take a quick sip from the coffee, sighing as I pull out my school supplies. I'll just get everything ready for his arrival, maybe I should've gotten him a coffee too? I mentally face palm myself as I pull all my English notes and Algebra textbooks out, pulling out two pencils, two Crayola highlighters, and a Hewlett Packard calculator. I align everything on the desk neatly to pass time, glancing at the clock again. 4:10 now...sheesh, I mind as well have took an extra 10 minutes to do my makeup. I could've used a wand of mascara, my eyes couldn't be more squinted from the lack of sleep I've been experiencing lately. I keep having repeated nightmares of Stu rejecting me in front of the whole school in the cafeteria after realizing I've had a crush on him since Sophomore year. He tells me that, "He'd never like a weird, fat, and boring loser like me. Not even in my dreams." and then as soon as the entire cafeteria erupts with laughter, I'm always startled awake by my alarm clock, covered in sweat, gasping for air, and on the verge of pissing myself from embarrassment. His words will always echo in my head shortly after I'm awake, and they almost begin to echo now, as doubt fills my mind. Why is he so late? But, I shake the thought though, pursing my lips together as I take another glance at the door. Any minute now, he'll walk in. He'll be sweating from running to make it on time, our eyes will meet as he swings open the door, and he'll flash me a sly grin before walking towards me. I'll probably blush and look away, wondering why I was so nervous about this afternoon. Any minute...

/////////////////////////

10 minutes turns to 3 hours, and before I know it, I'm rolling my eyes as I witness another person walk into the Brew that isn't him . Wow, if this isn't straight out of my regular scheduled nightmares, then I don't know what would be. Stu Macher completely just stood me up. This isn't even a date, which makes it worse! I'm literally just supposed to be helping him study, and he couldn't even show up for that? I fight the tears threatening to pour out my eyes as I begin to pack my supplies, aggressively throwing them in my backpack as I mumble to myself. "Fucking prick. How dare he act like that towards me? Like he had the biggest infatuation with me for months, then stand me up only a few hours later. How could he? I mean, what did I ever even do to him? What have I ever even done to anybody? I'm one of the nicest people at that school, I deserve to at least be treated like a person. I mean, at least-" as I get up, slinging my backpack over my shoulder in a huff, my eyes lock with the boy from school again. He's almost looking at me worried, but this time, there's too much rage in me to avert my eyes. This time, I stare directly back at him. "What the fuck are you looking at?" I yell aloud, and his eyes widen before he looks back down at his textbook.

The whole Brew flashes their heads at me, and feeling embarrassed by my outburst but too angry to show it, I completely storm out, swinging the door open and letting it hit the wall behind it. It starts to rain as I walk home, which makes me even more livid. I stomp my way down the street as I continue to mumble more curse words amongst myself. "This is exactly what I get for ever thinking a guy like Stu Macher could ever have any interest in me. I should've known everything was too good to be true! He's never even looked in your direction until today, but had the nerve to have me believe he had some type of serious interest in me? I mean, he couldn't even look at me on school grounds a few hours ago! As soon as I noticed that, I should've made the decision to never come. That was literally the biggest sign I could've seen, that he isn't actually into me. This must just be some sort of game, this has to be. He told me not to be late, just to never show? Who am I even kidding? Why did I ever expect another outcome? This isn't a fairytale Y/n. I'm a loser, he's popular. Our worlds don't even mix. " The rage fills my throat, and I scream aloud, letting all the anger, sadness, pain, and rejection I feel out into the rain. Fuck Stu Macher, Fuck Woodsboro High, fuck everyone! I'm sick of being the nice, quite, good girl. I'm so sick of being everyones target for an easy ego boost, for sadism, for the next human joke. It's my turn to be a fucking asshole.

///////////////////////

As I walk along the school grounds, I notice news anchors scattered everywhere. It's 7:50 am as I rush to my first class, walking by each of them as I listen "-are doing drugs they buy in the classroom. And that they're involved in the occult..."

“Occult?”

"The small town of Woodsboro, California was devasted last night when two young teenagers were brutally murdered. Authorities have yet to issue a statement, but our sources tell us that no arrest have been made and the murderer could strike again."

My eyes widen as I continue to look around, noticing every student is paired up with someone. All of them talking amongst themselves. All of their faces, were plastered with worry…with fear. I overhear a few of them as I pass by. "Oh my gosh, I had social studies with Casey."

"-Steve was one of the best football players on our team. What are we gonna do about next weeks game-"

"I heard, they found Casey gutted like a fish. Hung up by her own intestines!"

"I heard they found Steve and Casey chopped into pieces with their body parts scattered all over her house."

I furrow my brows as I continue into the school building, resting my headphones back on my head to drown everyone out as I process everything. I think… Casey Becker and Steve Orlin are dead! I can't believe another murder happened in Woodsboro. We all kinda assumed it would stop after Cotton Weary was arrested. What happened to Mrs. Prescott was horrific and everyone was relieved when he was issued the death penalty. But now, it looks like there still may be a murderer amongst us. I enter English class at 8:00 on the dot, but this time, Mr. Tate doesn't bark at me. He doesn't even raise his head to acknowledge me. I quickly make way for my seat, when I notice Stu Macher isn't in his. I quickly hang my backpack over my seat, pulling out all of my supplies and placing them on my desk before I sit down. I look around at everyone, noticing how silent it is. Usually people would be talking, loudly listening to music, passing notes, laughing amongst each other. But this time, it was different. You could feel the death, the darkness everywhere you looked. I sigh deeply as I face forward, opening my textbook when I notice a post it note sticking out of one of the pages. I flip to the page, dragging my fingers along the familiar messy red thick ink as I read.

"I couldn't make it to the Brew, but I need want to see you before lunch today. I need I'd like to talk to you. It's important to me. Be at our spot by 11:55."

First of all, the audacity! He had me wait 3 hours for him, just for him to not show, and he really thinks I'm gonna show up for him now that he “wants to see me”? I scoff as a chuckle sneaks up and out of my throat. Prick. I should have him wait there for me for an entire hour. I should have him feel exactly the way I felt last night, stranded and abandoned. I rip the post it note into small pieces, allowing each piece to cover my desk and the ground below me, not caring if it's drawing attention. I start to care however, when I notice Stu walk into class. "I know I'm late Mr. Tate. The news anchors are crowding the whole entryway! I almost got tackled to the ground just for a simple little interview." He says, chuckling as he walks backwards to his desk. "Mr. Macher, please quietly take a seat. Some students are trying to mourn in peace." Mr. Tate motions his hand to the crowd of students sitting down, all pouting, staring at a wall or out the window. Stu shrinks into his shoulders as he grits his teeth, mouthing an "oops..." as he pretends to tip toe to his desk. When he passes mine, he looks down at the post it puddle I've left scattered around for anyone to see. He almost stops in his tracks, and our eyes meet. He furrows his brows almost, and smiles like he's accepting a challenge, but I stare back at him angrily, my eyes read that there's no game being played on my end. He quickly squints at me, almost like he's trying to figure out a puzzle, before he continues his way to his seat. I listen as he drags out his chair loudly, plopping into it. I slightly turn my head to look at him, and he’s staring at me so hard, I almost melt right into my seat. I quickly face forward again, swallowing as I tap my pencil on the desk silently. Damn, I definitely didn’t mean for him to see that. I thought he was skipping class today…I mentally face palm myself as I bite my lip, tapping my pencil faster as my anxiety builds. Holy shit, what if that ruined everything? What if he thinks I hate him now? What if he doesn’t wanna talk to me anymore because he thinks I tried to embarrass him by ripping up the post it? What if he-wait, fuck him.

I almost forgot I’m angry at him, in fear that he was angry at me. But I don’t want to be fearful of that. Good riddance he saw it, maybe he’ll leave me alone. Maybe, he’ll finally stop taunting me with his modelesque good looks, bright blue eyes and lean muscular frame. Maybe, he won’t want to torture me with being fake study buddies anymore to boost his already inflated ego. Maybe- “Ms. Y/n. I just told Mr.Macher to keep quiet for the sake of everyone else! What makes you any different?” I taste blood as I stop biting my lip, realizing I’m tapping my pencil on the desk so loud it’s drawing everyone’s attention, including Stu. I purse my lips together as I sink into my seat, looking around and locking eyes with Stu again. He’s grilling me at this point, and feeling rather impudent, I dramatically roll my eyes as I sweep the rest of the post it pieces onto the floor. I rest my head on my hand as I sigh softly, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear as a student comes in, handing Mr. Tate a piece of paper. The whole class faces forward, and everyone’s attention is drawn to Mr. Tate. “Kaitlin Bennett, the principals office for questioning.” Everyone turns towards her, and she stands up flustered as she walks towards the exit. I rub the back of my neck, feeling as though it’s burning, and I look behind me to face Stu again, who's still looking at me, sneering. I face forward and watch the girl shimmy past all the students sitting, throwing a small smile at Mr.Tate before she and the other student exit the room. I look down at my textbook again, deciding to just study for my english exam this week. I adjust my glasses as I continue to read, but with everything going on, I easily get distracted. Why did they call that girl to the office for questioning? Do they think she did it? She doesn't look like she'd kill anyone, let alone two. I heard a lot of people saying the crime scene was pretty brutal, no way she did that.

I raise my brows, trying to get back to my english work when suddenly the student behind me passes me a note from under my arm. I slightly jump, never receiving a note in class, I'm startled by the sudden gesture. I quickly turn around, but the student behind me is buried in a Harry Potter Novel. Understanding the concentration that kind of book takes, I quickly face forward, not wanting to interrupt them. I sigh before opening the letter, recognizing the bold sloppy red ink by now,

"See me at our spot after class. Walk there before me, I'll be behind you. I need to talk."

I roll my eyes as I close the note. Jesus, someone is persistent. I crumble the note into a ball before tossing it onto the floor. I refuse to give him any satisfactory communication today after yesterday. I refuse to give into the daze of Stu Macher. I refuse. I hear someone clear their throat behind me, but I don't turn around, expecting our eye contact to turn me into stone.

///////////////////////////

The bell finally rings, and I quietly close my textbook to avoid more eyes on me this period. I gather all my books in my arms as I stand up, grabbing my backpack to place it on my desk. I open it, throwing all my books and school utensils inside before zipping it closed, and tossing it over my shoulder. I exit the classroom, and as I walk around, I notice almost everyone is either mourning, or gossiping about how crazy this recent murder was. Especially after last years. You can tell some of them were Casey or Steves friends, while others are just excited that something is going on to talk about. I look down as I continue towards my locker, when suddenly, I feel someone grab my arm, hard and almost yank me forward. I look up to protest, and it's Stu. "Don't draw attention..." he says with a suggestive tone, and obviously fake smile plastered across his face. "...just walk." I obey, afraid of any retaliation if I didn't, and I walk beside him. We walk past my next class and down the janitors corridor. A few eyes glare at us, but none linger for too long. I think everyones just too focused on the murders to care about regular school gossip. I should be too, but how can I ignore something like this?

He's everywhere to me but almost no where at the same time, it's almost impossible to not think about him for a second. We enter the same janitors closet we were in before, he leads me in with one hand before looking both ways and entering behind me. The rooms dark again, and I feel completely vulnerable just standing in the middle of it. He closes the door behind him, and I hear him slightly groan before he turns the light on, turning around to face me. I'm completely flustered again while I stare up at him, and he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear as I whimper beneath him. "Y/n..." he speaks to me softly, almost singing my name. He backs me up against a wall, and leans his hand against it, towering over me. My knees almost buckle from the music in my ears. My name coming out his mouth is almost dreamlike, and I pinch my thigh to make sure everything is real. "I know you made it on time to the Brew yesterday. I like that, you listen." he says, smirking as he gestures at me with his index finger. He taps me in my chest before letting it drag down my cleavage, past my belly, and almost at my pelvis.

"But, unfortunately I couldn't make it due to that little rumor you spread of us. I mean, Tatum was pretty pissed. A lot of things are out of my control when her rage is involved." He taunts me with this, playing with a loose strand of my hair in his fingers as he maintains eye contact with me, the slyest grin on his face. " I mean..." he pushes himself off the wall, stepping away from me as he begins to circle the room. "I know you've had feelings for me for some time now, but maybe I should've emphasized how much secrecy would be important in this situation." He completely faces me now, "I thought, maybe I'd be able to trust you?" His question sounds almost threatening, but a frown is plastered across his face, and his eyes are soft as he continues to look at me. "It wasn't m-me Stu. I-I would never discuss anything w-we do to anyone, I mean, I d-don't speak to a lot of people here."

"Then who do you speak to?" His demeanor hardens now. He looks me up and down, almost like he's trying to read me, "I mean, n-not really a-anybody. No one. I swear." I find myself being awfully eager to please him, and I loosen my shoulders as the last word leaves my mouth. He sucks in his breathe before mumbling a small, "mmm" placing his hand on his chin as he says it, almost smiling before he says, “I had a good feeling I could trust you then.” He’s smirking as he says this, and anger begins to boil inside of me. How can he even accuse me of being untrustworthy, when just yesterday he left me waiting for him in a Brew, alone for 3 hours! How could he even sit here and stare at me like I'm the problem here? "W-what about me?" I manage to spew out, almost in a whisper, but he hears me. He begins to slowly walk towards me, "What about you?" he asks me, leaning back against the wall over me. I hesitate at first, scared of where this could go, but he grabs my cheeks with his right hand, lifting my face up to look at him. "Speak." His face is inches from mine, and I close my eyes. Moaning silently as I bite my lip, wishing he'd just kiss me already and forget about fucking Tatum. I open my eyes before I continue, completely flustered at his domineering demeanor towards me.

"I thought I could t-t-rust you last night, you left me stranded there alone for 3 hours. It was so emba-"

"You waited for me for 3 hours? " He snorts almost, and my face burns completely as it forms a snarl, gritting my teeth before I mutter, "fuck you." I begin to push past him.

"Yeah, I'm looking forward to it huh? Hey!”

Before I can exit the room, he grabs my arm, hard. I wince at the pain and franticly look up at him, shocked at the sudden aggression. "D-dont...you walk away from me." He says, calmy. His eyes are closed as he says it, but he opens them to look at me, his smile is gone and his stare leaves my heart pounding out of my chest. I swallow as I look back up at him, and he swings me back up against the wall before grabbing both my shoulders. "I'm...sorry. OK. I should've let you know somehow that I couldn't make it. That was on me, that was my fuck up." He maintains eye contact with me the whole time as he says this, sweat beads begin to form on his forehead and his lips are almost dripping with spit. "Just...don't-walk away from me. We aren't done talking." His head is slightly tilted to the side, but he slowly lets go of my shoulders before he begins to run his hands along my arms. "Now, let's make this date happen, huh? Tonight's not a good night for me unfortunately..." he says, tilting his head to the side as he grits his teeth and widens his eyes, but he smirks as he continues.

"...but tomorrow, after school ofcourse, we can meet. Finally. Let's say, your house around 9." I purse my lips, wanting to protest at the time stated but too afraid for his reaction. "Be a good girl and agree...right?" He says, rubbing his thumb against my bottom lip as he gently nods his head, waiting for me to do the same. I slowly nod my head as my lip quivers. "Good." He slowly inhales as he drags his finger down my lip, to my chin and down my throat. He lets it trail along my collar bone before he leans in, I feel his breathe against my neck as he rests his hand on my shoulder . "I'll make sure to make it up to you tomorrow night." His breathe lingers against my ear, and I close my eyes before accidently moaning aloud. I quickly open my eyes as I purse my lips together, and my heart begins to beat through my chest and out my ass. I quickly clear my throat as I look down, and he backs up before chuckling slightly. "Don't feel the need to hide that later on, ok?" He says, smirking as he bites his lip, exiting the room. I'm left standing there alone again in a puddle of my own juices. Could he be anymore of a tease? I take my hair out its ponytail, as I migraine attacks my skull. Why does he have to be so confusing? And why am I so turned on by it? I run my fingers through my hair, replaying the entire moment. It was supposed to be a moment of power for me, but instead I surrendered to him, just as Tatum did yesterday. But, it's almost like I couldn't resist him, like I had to obey him. Who am I kidding? Why even spend this entire experience being upset with him over one small accident, when I could instead enjoy this entire moment in it's glory?

Stu Macher was finally speaking to me and there was no way I was letting one little form of miscommunication get in the way of this ecstasy ride. I mean, whatever time was wasted yesterday will be made up tomorrow night, right? I inhale sharply as I run my hands over my face, squinting my eyes together as I swallow. Ok, get it together. I take one last breathe in, before exiting the janitors closet. As I enter the school hallway, I realize I meant to tell him my address. Shit, then my parents will be home...I sigh, realizing this might not go as dreamlike as I hoped it would. The late bell rings and I pick up my pace as I head to my next class, I have to figure out a way to get my address to him, I have to make tomorrow night happen, I have to finally spend time with him. I mentally face palm, angry at how flustered I was in the moment that I didn't even tell him my address. How could I let that important piece of information slide? Ok, I have the rest of this school day and tomorrow to get my address to him. It has to happen, not matter what, there can't be another miscommunication that gets in the way of us. That gets in the way of my future.

[utilitycaster]

Stuck my I Voted sticker on my stress ball due to the joys of living in a swing state.

Valinari Ziegler (or Nari for short) was a character I played in an Exandria campaign that unfortunately died a few years ago due to scheduling issues. He was a half-elf Shadow Sorcerer who eventually multiclassed into Rogue (when the campaign died he was 6 Sorc/2 Rogue, I probably would have gone either Swashbuckler or Mastermind if I'd gotten to level him up).

When I created him, I had two thoughts in mind: I wanted to do something fun with the Shadow Sorcerer ability that allows them to possibly stabilize at 1 HP when they would otherwise drop to 0, and I wanted to create a character with a vested interest in being in an adventuring party (because I've noticed that a lot of the time people struggle to come up with a reason their characters all want to be in a group). I ended up landing on the idea that he was a former member of the Deastok Myriad who was betrayed and almost killed by another member on the orders of someone higher up (only surviving due to his sorcerous abilities kicking in), but he had no idea who or why. His goal, then, was to make powerful friends and come back to find out why he was killed and get revenge.

Once I started playing him, however, a few things I didn't anticipate happened. First, I made him in Heroforge and inadvertently made him look like the MCU version of Loki (I had already named him after the mythological Loki's children), which prompted a whole bunch of jokes from my group and ended up informing his character a good bit--I'd always planned him to be a smooth talker, but the Loki lean in characterization made me more inclined to embark on stupid plans that bit me in the ass as often as they worked out (this also meant I was the character that pushed the shiny red button more often than not, and it caused me to utter the line "Fuck it, I have poor impulse control and proficiency in CON saves", which is one of my favorite things I've ever said in D&D). Among other things, he managed to con a treasure map from a merchant by exchanging it for a piece of bent metal that he claimed to have come from the Whispered One's stronghold but actually was pilfered from a dead kobold, but he also almost got killed by a fiend that he had threatened thinking that she was imprisoned in a way that she couldn't harm him. The other thing that happened was the classic character development of him initially seeing the other party members as instruments of his revenge but coming to care about them (in particular our party's Druid was very nice to him and, in her player's words, immediately engaged Mom Friend mode upon hearing him refer to her, the person she'd traveled with for two weeks, as his oldest and dearest friend and our Monk was both interested in the way he operated and willing to call him out on his bullshit--they had a really fun dynamic).

Mechanically, Nari is one of the characters I've put the most thought into build-wise, and I had a lot of fun playing him in combat. His build was centered on the spell Shadow Blade combined with the Shadow Sorcerer ability to cast a version of the Darkness spell that only the caster can see through. Throw in sneak attack I was doing a lot of damage. The DM also gave me a magic item that allowed me to teleport in dim light and darkness 3 times a day--it was, however, identical in appearance to MCU Loki's stupid helmet.

Hey! I saw your other message, and no, i just got off Tumblr and went to bed last night for my own well-being before seeing this, no worries about word count.

I know it feels, well, kind of silly to finish up now, but I do want to thank you for voting. It's by no means the only tool we as people in the US have to express our opinion nor to enact change, but it's certainly one of the lowest effort for the highest impact and it has become bizarrely fraught on online spaces. And so silly ask memes are by far from the only thing I do around elections or in my advocacy; but they are one of them, and I hope to continue doing them for a long time.

Getting to the actual character, I think Nari sounds all around great. "Why is my character here" is perhaps the most important thing you can ask yourself in any story, whether it's D&D or original fiction, and a lot of people don't, so having a character with clear motivations available is not faint praise: it's a sign that you put care and thought in and I think the relationships your character was able to build with others in the party reflect that. I also think the Darkness + sneak attack combo is a really creative and fun multiclass - a lot of my frustration with rogues is that I love a cool assassin in fiction but D&D mechanics explicitly make being a rogue in that archetype almost impossible, and I think you reclaimed that. And I love a big red button pusher. There's hooks! Find them!

Anyway this game and Nari sounds great, and man, I kind of hope for your sake there's a way to revive it.

[awooghan]

24 to 25 ✧.* y.ji (part one)

❄ PAIRING: jeongin x fem!reader

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

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

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

❄ SUMMARY: “stay for christmas?” was a phrase jeongin first uttered to you when you were both ten years old, but 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

[part one] | part two

network tags: @straykidsland

9 years old. (prologue)

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why did you even have to move?

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

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

And there he was.

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

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

Here goes nothing, you guess.

“Um… hi.”

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

Gulping, you continue. “I’m Y/N.” 

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

“Huh?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Want to be friends?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Can I sit up there with you too?”

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

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

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

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

“Is that…”

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

“Snow…” is all you manage to mumble. 

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

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

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

That is, until now.

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

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

10 years old.

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

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

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

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

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

You can’t take it anymore. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Finally. It’s snowing. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Race ya!”

“Hey!”

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And frankly, neither will you.

11 years old.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Laughter? That’s it?

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

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

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

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

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

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

Snow.

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

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

“Shut up,” he whines. 

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

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

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

“Wanna make a snowman?” you suggest.

Jeongin shrugs.

“Suit yourself.”

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

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

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

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

“Y/NNN,” Jeongin whines.

“And it was kinda funny—”

“Y/N!”

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

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

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

“Oh, it’s on!”

12 years old.

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

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

“‘Sup, babies.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You blink a few times. “Huh? Yeah?”

��What are your plans for Christmas?”

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

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

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

“On—” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“‘Cause it’s funny!” you shout back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh no, no, no. Not that direction.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?”

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

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

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

“That’s not a word.”

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

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

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

13 years old.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Can you hear yourself when you speak?"

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

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

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

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

“I know,” you huff.

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

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

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

You suck in a deep breath. Here goes nothing.

“Hey.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I…” miss you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I just want my best friend back.” 

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

“I know you do.” 

14 years old.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Um… is this seat taken?”

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

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

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

“Go for it.” You gesture to the seat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

“ME!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The boy scoffs. “Oh, really?”

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

“Stay for Christmas?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Fine, then stay.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

15 years old.

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

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

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

“You’re doing that again?”

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

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

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

“I do not!” you scoff defensively.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Next: enter separately.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So? Let them.”

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

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

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

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

“I thought you did…” 

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

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

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

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

“Um…”

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

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

“Oh my god, Y/N.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ahh, sorry!” you exclaim.

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

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

“Yeah, I’m okay.”

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

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

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

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

“Really?” you question. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You hum, looking over at him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

16 years old.

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

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

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

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

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

“Mom!” you gasp in surprise.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“...A marshmallow?” 

Jisung nods again affirmingly. “A marshmallow.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Kinda seems like you do,” Jisung sings. 

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

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

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

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

“You need to get your ego checked.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’ll admit it one day,” he jokes.

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

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

“Hi,” you smile. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding!”

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

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

You stay silent, maintaining your pointed stare.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You better be,” Jeongin grumbles. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What was what just now?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Spill.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s not that,” you respond quietly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“In your dreams, asshole.”

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Stay for Christmas?”

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

“Not a chance, now go home.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’d do it again in a heartbeat.

17 years old.

“Can I open my eyes now?” you whine.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you okay?”

The three words and a light squeeze of your hand pull you back down to earth. You didn’t realize Jeongin stepped closer to you, and you feel yourself exhale shakily, your hand slowly slipping from his grasp.

You stare back with wide eyes, and something inside you compels you to step closer to him. “Y-Yeah,” is all you manage to get out.

The colorful lights seem to flicker as you look around. For a second, they do feel like little fireflies, floating around you as they emit their warmth. And when your gaze lands back on the boy in front of you, the warmth seems to encircle you even more. You nearly forget about the cold nipping at your cheeks, and a rosy glow fills them instead. 

“It’s just… I…”

As your eyes meet Jeongin’s once again, you can’t help but notice a slight redness in his cheeks as well.  His lips curve upward slightly, and he gently takes your hands in his.

“I know. It’s beautiful.”

You smile up at Jeongin and notice something moving behind him. You squint, looking past his ear, and find those all-too-familiar fluffy crystals fluttering down. Immediately, your jaw drops and your smile grows wider. 

“Jeongin, look!” You let go of one of his hands and point to the snow surrounding you. 

The scene unfolding around you leaves you awestruck. The colors from the lights bounce off the falling snowflakes, and the music seems to chime more vividly as the snow whisks around, making everything feel brighter and more alive. You feel like your head is spinning as you swivel around, sparkles in your eyes that could rival the spectacle in front of you.

A shaky breath leaves your lips as you take one more step towards Jeongin. Your hands slowly find their way up his shoulders and around his neck, and you let his body heat swaddle you, wrapping you up in a wintry glow as you take it all in. It truly feels like you’re in a dream.

Jeongin follows your gaze and chuckles, a fond smile on his face as he gently pulls you closer. “Yes, Y/N, I know what snow is. Is snow bad?”

You look at him again, your wide, shimmering eyes meeting his warm ones. In that moment, nothing else mattered: just you, the snow, and the boy in front of you.

“It's perfect.”

And like the blonde girl in the firefly scene, you’d give anything for the moment to last forever.

…

“Where were you?”

Your mother’s words nearly make you jump out of your skin the second you step in the house, and you hiss to yourself. Your time with Jeongin at the light festival had swept you off your feet so much that you forgot you weren’t even supposed to be there.

After the events from last year, your parents had grounded you for a whole month, effectively barring you from even stepping foot outside of the house unless it was to school and back. Even worse, they grew so concerned about your so-called “excessive time with this boy” that they placed a strict curfew on you once your grounding sentence was lifted. No seeing friends—read: no seeing Jeongin—after 8pm, lest unspeakable things happen to you. It was ridiculous, not only because you’re seventeen, but because, somehow, your best friend since you were nine was now this supposed threat.

The only way you had been able to skirt around this was to lie, usually about studying at a coffee shop with an unnamed friend. You can’t remember what excuse you gave this time, but at this point, it didn’t matter much.

Your mother crosses her arms, a look of disapproval etched on her features. “Where were you, really? And don’t say the school library this time.”

You curse to yourself, your mistake dawning on you. Why'd you pick a Saturday night to say you were meeting up with some friends at the school library? Did your excitement over Jeongin and his ‘mystery surprise’ really mess with your head that much? It couldn’t have been him… could it?

After a minute, you conclude that you just slipped up after exhausting your list of excuses over the course of the year. It was bound to happen.

“Well?” your mother says expectantly.

You just sigh, throwing up your hands in defeat. “I was with Jeongin.” 

Your eyes flick up, waiting for her next frustrated ramble about how you’ve been spending too much time with him. Instead, you get a throaty chuckle as she shakes her head at you, a smirk taking the place of her frown.

“Of course you were.”

Blinking, you stare at her in shock. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing! It means nothing.” She turns around, busying herself with wiping some crumbs off the dining table. However, after closer inspection, you see that the table is spotless.

“No, it means something,” you protest. What happened to all her complaints about how much time you’ve spent with Jeongin? Why the sudden change of heart?

“I didn’t say anything, sweetheart,” your mom says. “But did he?”

“Did he what?”

“You know, the three words,” she looks up, sending you a wink and imitating Jeongin, “‘Stay for Christmas?’” 

Mortified, you feel heat rush up to your ears as your mother lets out another laugh. “Mom!”

You refuse to admit it to her, but you actually said it first this year.

It was just half an hour ago. Jeongin walked you to your car, a gentle hand on the small of your back as he followed you down his driveway. He wrapped you up in a strong embrace before you could even unlock your car, and you looped your arms around his neck in return, smiling into his shoulder.

The hug was sweet—Jeongin’s hugs, which seemed to increase in frequency lately, always were. But he held you for a second longer than normal in this one, and when you tried to let go, he let out a small whine and held you closer to him for one more moment. The move took you by surprise, but you hugged him back nonetheless.

You let your eyes flutter shut as you melted into his hold, letting your head fall against his chest. The sound of his heartbeat could’ve lulled you to sleep if you let it, and the light snowfall twirling around you two certainly didn’t help matters. Gradually, you relaxed your arms, letting them hang loosely around his neck, and you let out a contented sigh. You truly never felt more at peace.

Maybe it was safe to say something in the air shifted while you were wrapped up in each other’s arms. Usually, he’d give you a fond chuckle and a curt pat on the back right before he pulled away and took off. But when the two of you finally let go, you opened your eyes to find him smiling down at you. Something akin to affection swam in his soft irises as he slowly pulled back, his hands gently resting on your waist. It was… different, for sure, especially coming from him. 

You smiled back warmly, linking your hands together behind his neck. “Are you okay?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jeongin nodded his head, an adoring smile still tugging at his lips. “Just… got a lot on my mind, that’s all.”

Something seemed to swirl in his features that you couldn’t quite pick up. You registered the return of the light pink on his cheeks and the tips of his ears as you stood under the streetlight together, but nothing else. It was probably just the cold that stirred this up, so you decided not to ask.

You could only stare back at him as you tried to think of something else to say. Something about the position you two were in—arms wrapped around each other under the moonlight—felt too close to lovers in the movies. You couldn’t explain why, but it made your brain go static. And in your attempt to relieve the tension, you gulped once and spat out the first stupid one-liner that came to mind.

“By any chance, are any of those things ‘Stay for Christmas’?”

Of course it had to be that.

Jeongin let out a light scoff, rolling his eyes playfully as he dropped his hands from your waist. You giggled at his disappointment, but you instantly missed the warmth that radiated from him. Luckily, you had half a mind not to say that out loud.

“Okay, moment over,” he mumbled, gently pushing you towards your car. “Get home safe, Y/N.”

“I’m just kidding!” your mother cries in exasperation, bringing your focus back to her. “I know I can’t stop you from seeing him. He is your,” she pauses to make air quotes, “‘best friend’, after all.”

You narrow your eyes at her. “He’s my best friend. No air quotes needed.”

Your mother nods, clearly not believing you. “Right… for now.”

Feeling more blood rush to your face, you roll your eyes and unceremoniously march upstairs. “Goodnight, mom.”

She’s crazy, right? Absolutely. You know yourself and you know your friendships better than anyone. You and Jeongin are best friends for a reason—nothing more, and certainly nothing less. The way you felt like you were on cloud nine just hours ago? It was a one-time thing, you were just fascinated by the lights.

Jeongin had nothing to do with it.

18 years old.

Your scarf is wrapped tightly around your neck and face in attempts to shield yourself from the cold. You jump on the balls of your feet in place as you wait for one of the Yang family to open the door and invite you into the familiar warmth. It’s pretty much tradition at this point to spend at least part of Christmas Eve with the Yangs, but they’re hosting the Christmas party this year so it’s just another reason to stop by.

Shoving your hands into your coat pockets, your eyes brighten when you see movement through the front door window. Soon enough, Mrs Yang opens up the door with a smile of her own. 

"Y/N!" She sings, ushering you in before she pulls you into a hug. "I think Jeongin's still asleep, so you can do those honors?" She chuckles. 

You pull away, slip off your coat and scarf, and hang them up before you rush up the stairs. "Leave it to me, Mrs. Yang!" 

Once you’re up the top of the stairs, you creep down the hallway and knock on the door. When you get no response, you just let yourself in.

The scene in front of you is something you expect, but it brings a fond smile to your face nonetheless. Jeongin is spread out across his bed, his blanket bunched up around his chin. His hair is all fluffy from a good night’s sleep and his face looks peaceful as he snores lightly, like nothing in the world could ever hurt him. 

Going over to his bed, you let yourself fall onto it and your head rest on the pillow next to him. Examining his face, you notice how his eyelashes lay against his cheeks and how his lips part slightly as he breathes.

"I can feel you staring at me," Jeongin says, his eyes still closed.

You clutch your chest in surprise as you roll onto your back. "Oh my god, why do you have to scare me like that?” you cry, staring at the ceiling. "You could have said you were awake." 

"But then you wouldn't get your chance to admire me," he chuckles as he finally opens his eyes. 

"Shut up, no I wasn't!" 

"I don't know, your stare felt pretty heavy to me."

You glare at him, flying up and off of his bed before ripping the blanket off of him.

"Y/N! What the hell?!" Jeongin gasps, shooting up so he’s sitting. "What if I was naked?!" 

"I know you too well, you don't sleep naked." You bend down to stare at him. "You'd be too scared to sleep naked," you add as you throw his blanket back onto his bed. 

Jeongin rolls his eyes, grabbing the blanket before he wraps it around himself like a burrito. "What are you doing here anyway?" he mumbles. He runs one hand through his hair in an attempt to tame it, but all it really did was make it even more fluffy. Something about it makes your heart quicken its pace. 

"Don't you remember what day it is?"

Jeongin blinks slowly, his tiredness showing. "Friday?" 

You groan, sitting down on his bed again before quickly grabbing his pillow to hit him with it. "It's the Christmas," hit, "party,” another hit, “you idiot!"

You attempt to hit him again, but he catches the pillow with his hands and pulls it away from you. 

This only causes you to stumble into him, also making Jeongin fall back in the process. A gasp escapes your lips and you use your hand to stop yourself from head-butting the groggy boy. You blink quickly, his eyes gazing into your own. His nose brushes up against yours ever-so-slightly, and you clear your throat, your cheeks flushing. 

"This is your fault,” you attempt to joke. 

"Me?!" Jeongin scoffs. "You hit me first!" Mimicking his words silently, you roll your eyes. "Uh, but can you move, you're a bit heavy." 

Your eyes widen and you scoot away with lightning speed. "Sorry.” You blink, staring down to play with your fingers in your lap. 

"By the way," Jeongin says, "I didn't forget today was the Christmas party."

“Well, that’s why I’m here early, to help out,” you mutter, your face still down. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you watch as Jeongin gets off of his bed, goes over to his drawers and pulls out the first shirt he finds before pulling his pajama top over his head. You jump and turn in the opposite direction, your cheeks fully flushed.

“Jeongin!” you whine, holding the backs of your hands to your cheeks in an attempt to cool them down. “You could have warned me or told me to leave.” 

“Aww, you blushing?” Jeongin snickers. “Never seen a boy undress before?” 

Without looking back at him, you try your best to chuck his pillow in his direction. You hear it thump against the wall instead.

“You missed~” Jeongin sings, which makes you scoff.

“And I wasn’t blushing, asshole, just didn’t want to get scarred for life.”

Of course you’re blushing. Especially when he nonchalantly stood and started to strip off his top. And of course you had seen men undress before… in the movies. But there’s no way you’d utter a word of it to Jeongin, not when it would send his already-soaring ego to new heights. 

“We both know that your life would actually be improved,” Jeongin chuckles to himself.

He walks across his room and when he comes into your peripheral, you instantly move to cover your eyes. It doesn’t help your reddening cheeks when the sound of Jeongin’s laughter rings out louder.

You feel his fingers wrap themselves around your wrists as you try to fight him from pulling them away from your face. “I’m dressed, idiot, stop being so shy.” 

“Stop making fun of me!” you cry and he guides your hands away from your face. 

Your eyes meet his and you notice the cheeky smile playing at his lips, which only turns yours into a pout. You only wish he’ll soon forget about this and move on to something different to make fun of you with. However, when you note the playful twinkle in his eyes, you know your prayers won’t be answered. 

“Look, you’re blushing so hard!” He continues to smirk. 

“I told you, I’m not blushing!” 

You attempt to hit him, but with his fingers still wrapped around your wrists, you fail to do so. His grin seems to only grow wider as you roll your eyes and try to pull your wrists from his grasp. 

“By the way, Jisung said he was going to stop by later for the party,” you mention.  Jeongin’s smile seems to drop slightly at the sound of the older boy’s name. 

“Why? He doesn’t live in the neighborhood.” 

You shrug as you look at Jeongin with a blank expression. “How am I meant to know how Jisung’s brain works? He's in a world of his own.” 

Jeongin hums, his gaze dropping to the floor. 

“But in all seriousness,” you start, “he said something about missing us, and that, like, his college just isn’t the same without us?” you suggest. “Also, there was something about this girl he really likes and magic snow and shit,” you add, which causes Jeongin to snort.

“Did he actually say this or you making it up?” 

“It’s more like reading between the lines, if you will,” you giggle. 

“So he didn’t say shit, you’re just making it up as you go along.”

Jeongin crosses his arms over his chest as he stares at you, waiting for you to formulate your next response. But when the only one he gets is you playfully hitting his arm, he rolls his eyes for the nth time. 

“Don’t we have to help set up the party or something? Or a movie to watch?” 

“Right, yeah. We should do that.”

Jeongin laughs and as soon as he grabs your hand, flashbacks instantly flare up in your mind from the year before, of the Christmas lights he took you to see—of the way he seemed to shine under them all. You make sure to wish again that he won’t notice the new blush that presented itself as you thought of that time.

You keep quiet, not wanting to give yourself away as Jeongin gently pulls you out with him. You let your eyes gloss over his room once more. You’ve been in here a thousand times before and it seemed to grow with him over the years, and in a way, it grew with you, too. You remember the days when his bed was adorned with Toy Story bedsheets, Woody’s face front and center on his comforter (but you knew Rex was his favorite character). It had long since been traded in for sleek, black sheets—arguably more fitting for someone who is waiting for his first choice university, at the other side of the country, to respond with his admission decision.

And although you’ve been here a thousand times before, something new on his dresser catches your eye.

“Wait, is that…?”

Letting go of his hand, you make your way to the dresser, moving a crumpled up piece of paper out of the way to reveal a photo. It’s from when you were both ten years old; nearly a year after you had first met on the monkey bars, about two weeks before that classroom Christmas party. Mrs. Yang had taken Jeongin to a lights festival one December weekend, like the one you went to last year, and she happened to invite you and your parents along. You and Jeongin stood together in the center of the picture, and a giant Christmas tree towered behind your small frames. The mirthful glow of the tree enveloped the two of you as you posed for the photo, jolly smiles plastered on both of your faces.

Gasping in surprise, your lips part slightly as you take the photo in your hands. “No way…” you murmur softly, and you look up at Jeongin as he makes his way to you. “How… how did you find this?”

Jeongin peers over your shoulder. He gently holds the frame in one hand, his fingers brushing against yours as he smiles fondly. “My mom stumbled across it a couple months ago. She was digging through old photo albums and found this tucked in the back of one of them.” His thumb grazes over the glass. “She framed it and gave it to me, I guess she knew how important it was.”

You blink several times, hoping he doesn't catch the way your eyes briefly well with tears as you take in the details of the picture. You remember that night vividly and all the memories from it seem to come flooding back all at once. 

It was your first ever Christmas lights festival, and it was nothing short of magical. The vibrant holiday lights glistened all around you, rivaling the sparkles in your wide eyes. The bells in the soft Christmas music gently tinkled in your ears, as if Santa himself was reminding you he would be on his way soon. The gooey, fresh-baked (and rather expensive) chocolate chip cookie you had split with Jeongin, paired with the rich (and also questionably pricey) hot chocolate you had begged your mom to buy along with it, brought even more warmth pooling in your belly as you leaped down the lit-up aisles with your best friend. 

Looking back, perhaps that was what sparked your ongoing Christmas obsession. Sure, it didn’t snow that night, but seeing the bright bulbs all around you twinkling like stars in the sky captivated you wholly, wrapping little ten-year-old you in a warm, merry glow. It calmed the impatience for Christmas bubbling inside you by the day, but lit the fire inside you for the awaited day like never before. And best of all, your best friend was right by your side, being pulled into the evening’s embrace with you.

You notice one very important detail in the picture, though, that breaks your bubbling sentimentality, and instead makes you giggle.

“Oh my god, it’s the sweater.”

The fact that the picture was taken at night and the lights added a yellow glare to the photo made it difficult to spot. But one could take a closer look and see that, indeed, Jeongin was sporting that obnoxious purple sweater under his puffy blue coat.

Jeongin lets his hand drop, leaving the frame in yours as he frowns in offense. “Heyyy, it was comfy!”

You stifle another laugh. “Doesn’t change the fact that it was ugly as hell.”

He sneers at you, “Oh please, like you didn’t wear hideous clothes when you were ten!”

You shrug as you pull the frame up to eye level and continue to giggle. “Maybe, but nothing will beat that sweater.” 

You lunge out of the way as Jeongin tries to wrap his arms around you and grab the photo from your grasp. However, a giggle escapes your lips as Jeongin’s fingers graze your side, which causes you to jump away from him. 

A knowing smirk appears on his face. Your eyes widen. 

“Don’t you even think about it.”

Jeongin doesn’t listen to you though, and his hands are already at your sides. Your grip on the photo tightens in an attempt to not drop it as your eyes prickle with tears. Jeongin’s fingers run up and down your sides as he tickles you, and causes a mix of gasps and laughter to escape your throat. 

“Jeongin!” You continue to laugh as you try to step away from him.

Jeongin thinks quicker. Instead of torturing you more, though, you’re surprised that he chooses to pull you closer to him instead, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“I got you now!” His giggle rings in your ears as he wiggles you like a rag doll. You halfheartedly try to push him away, protesting in between your own giggles.

“Stop itttt, you asshole!”

He seems to listen to you this time, too, and lets you go. However, an evil grin lingers on his face.

You inch back cautiously, keeping a careful watch for his next move. He responds by slowly leaning closer, his smile stretching wider and wider. You slowly move your hands up to your sides to protect yourself from another tickle ambush, a nervous giggle slipping out.

He seems to inch closer and closer to you, and he stops right before your noses can touch, a shit-eating grin on his face. Then he mumbles, flashing his eyebrows:

“Stay for Christmas?”

You groan exasperatedly and lightly push the cheeky boy away from you.

“Oh my god, Jeongin!”

Jeongin breaks out into shy giggles as he steps closer to you, poking you playfully. You have to bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from doing the same whilst you try and swat his hands away.

“Come baaaack!” He chuckles after a moment, stepping close enough to wrap his arms around you again.

“Get me out!” You cry out as you try to break free. Your giggly demeanor completely breaks, however, when Jeongin just hugs you closer to him, taking you by surprise one more time.

“No,” you feel him hum through your shoulder, tucking his head in it when you try to step away. “Don’t move.” 

You fight and lose to the smile that appears on your face as you wrap your own arms around his shoulders. 

You can’t explain how in moments like this, he easily causes your heart to race by doing the littlest things. It makes you wonder if he can feel your heartbeat right now as you’re pressed up against him. If he can, he doesn’t say anything. 

“Ahem.”

A familiar voice breaks the silence hanging around you two. You both break away from the hug, keeping your gaze cast downwards as you turn to face Jisung. He had swung the door open at some point and was now leaning coolly against the doorframe as he watches you two.

Seeing you both cower under his gaze seems to amuse him greatly, and a smirk makes its way onto his face. “What was that?” he says, failing to hide the chuckle threatening to spill out.

You stuff your hands in your pockets as you sputter. “It– it’s not what it– we were just–“

“We were just reminiscing, Jisung,” Jeongin grumbles from beside you, his arms crossed over his chest. His cheeks seem to burn red as Jisung grins wider.

You simply nod along with Jeongin. “Yeah, reminiscing. What he said,” you murmur.

“Oh, you keep telling yourself that, baby.” He chuckles, running a hand through his hair, which he had seemed to let grow out during his time away.

He lets out a satisfied sigh before he continues. “Ahh, I knew this would happen! It was snowing by the time I got here, so I figured you two were up here together,” he wiggles his eyebrows for emphasis, “alone. And you called me crazy!”

You want to roll your eyes at his antics, but you can only chuckle fondly. Sure, it seems like the now-college boy still believes in magic snow, but you have to admit: you did miss hearing him gush about it all the time.

“Yeah, yeah,” you say, “why’d you come up here anyway?” You seize the opportunity to wiggle your eyebrows back at him. “Did you miss us?”

It’s now Jisung’s turn to roll his eyes at you. “Mrs. Yang was looking for you two so she sent me up here,” he says, dodging your question.'' You know the party started already, right?”

Your eyes widen, and you and Jeongin flush in embarrassment again.

“Oh, right,” Jeongin mumbles, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly as he exits the room. “The party.”

You place the framed photo of you two on the foot of Jeongin’s bed before following him out. Jisung holds the door open for you two, his smirk getting cockier by the minute.

The older boy pokes both your and Jeongin’s cheeks as you step out of Jeongin’s room. “For the record, I did miss you two.”

You snort, reaching a hand up to ruffle his hair before the three of you make your way downstairs. “I know.”

19 years old.

“You’re cheating!”

Hyunjin’s voice nearly makes your ears ring. He really has no need to be speaking so loud, as you’re literally right next to him.

You grip your controller tighter as he tries to swipe it from you with his hand, and you lean away from him. 

“Am not!” You yell back, your eyes focused on the tiny Nintendo Switch screen. “You just suck at this game.” 

At the same time as Hyunjin gasps, Felix and Seungmin burst into laughter at your response from the other end of Jisung’s bed. At the corner of your eye, you notice Felix fall to the ground amidst his fit of giggles.

“Just get better, Jinnie,” you quip, a confident smirk tugging at your lips.

Even with Hyunjin trying to swat you like a bug, you still manage to keep your eyes locked on the game. Your chosen character, Toad, remained in first place, and after getting a green shell from a lucky box, you send it backwards, causing Hyunjin’s Princess Daisy to spin out. 

He gets passed by multiple NPCs, landing him in 10th place with one lap to go. The way he grumbles and glares at the screen only increases yours and the other two boys’ laughter. 

You’ve successfully maintained your first place title as you raced around Moo Moo Meadows. That is, until halfway through the last lap, when a voice pulls your attention from the game. 

“Why are only two of you playing?” Jeongin says, entering the room with a bowl of popcorn in his hands. At the sound of his voice, you shoot up out of your seat and look at him with a smile. 

“Jisung only has two controllers and Felix was dumb and forgot his,” Seungmin snorts, which causes the blonde boy to pout. 

“Hey!” 

Hyunjin goes silent, his own eyes narrowed on his half of the screen as he slowly creeps up the positions. 

“About time you showed up,” you giggle, “thought you weren’t going to come.” 

Jeongin laughs, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry, had a few things to do first, but I’m here now.” 

Gasps erupt from Seungmin and Felix, and Hyunjin cries in triumph as he throws his hands and the controller into the air. Your head snaps to the game and your mouth falls open as you find Princess Daisy listed as first place, dancing in her car as she continued around the track—whereas Toad, in your distracted state, had been passed by all of the NPCs and was in dead last, “DNF” flashing on your half of the screen and on your 12th place ranking in the middle. 

“You cheated!” You gasp at Hyunjin, throwing yourself back down onto the couch as you mash the ’A’ button. 

“Just get better Y/Nie,” Hyunjin remarks as he grins mockingly, using your own words against you. 

“You guys did this on purpose,” you huff, glaring at the boy who just ruined your five-game-win streak. “Rematch, now.” 

“But it was meant to be our go next!” Felix cries, his pout exaggerated. 

“Maybe Hyunjin shouldn’t have cheated!” 

“Maybe you should have stayed focused!” Hyunjin fights back. 

“Where's Jisung?” Jeongin asks out of the blue, and you motion to the door without saying a word. Jeongin snorts, nodding his head. “Thanks.” 

He leaves the four of you in the tiny dorm room to join Jisung wherever he was outside—you assumed the convenience store by the dorm lobby. Your attention gets caught once again when your phone lights up, a message notification greeting you on your lockscreen.

baby: outside :)

you: be right there :)

You chuck the controller to Felix, and he jumps in surprise. “You can play now, I need to go get someone,” you state simply, but the grin on your face seems to give you away.

A single “huh?” escapes Felix’s mouth as the other two boys watch you with curious eyes. Not letting their gaze disturb you, you head to Jisung’s front door. 

You open it swiftly to be met with your fairly new boyfriend, Heeseung. you met him after starting college this past semester through a mutual friend, and have been dating for around two months now. you don’t remember what drew you to him in the first place, but one thing is clear—he’s so damn cute.

Your cheeks heat up quickly at the sight of him. His fluffy brown hair was hidden underneath a hat and the bits of his fringe that did stick out fell against his forehead. 

“Hey.” you smile, taking a step towards him.

“Hi,” he responds, wrapping his arms around your waist which you reciprocate. “Sorry I’m late.”

“All good,” you hum into his shoulder. “All the boys are here. I’d say they’re not crazy, but I’d be lying.” 

You feel Heeseung’s chuckle vibrate through you. “It's fine, you’ve met my friends, how much worse can they be?” 

Pulling away slightly so you could look at him, you push your lips into a thin line and feign a concerned look. 

“Eh, they’re something, alright,” you drop the fake look, chuckling. 

“They finally have those snacks downstairs~!”

Jisung swings the door open, prompting you to turn around. He’s beaming and there’s a bounce in his step as a bag of chips sways in his hand, but it all dissipates into an inquisitive, perhaps even nosy, stance once he sees the boy whose arms are wrapped around you.

“Who's this?” The chestnut-haired boy tilts his head, his eyebrows drawn together.

You can’t help the smile that adorns your face. “Jisung, this is Heeseung, my boyfriend.”

You gesture one hand towards Heeseung himself, and you grin wider as he pulls you closer, nuzzling your nose against his shoulder. When you settle your head against his chest, you look back at Jisung and his jaw is practically on the floor. 

“Boyfriend?!”

Oh boy.

Heeseung chuckles again, shyly this time. He glances down at you, unsure of what to say, and you take that as your cue to do most of the talking.

“Yeah?” you affirm with a nod, but your statement sounds more like a question. “Is… is that bad?”

Jisung, still in a shocked state, opens and closes his mouth like a fish. He brings a hand to the back of his neck, rubbing it nervously. “Oh, no, of course not! I’m happy that you’re happy, it’s just…”

Heeseung cocks an eyebrow at the older boy. “It’s just…?” He repeats, trailing off at the end like Jisung did.

You want so desperately to pretend you don’t know what Jisung meant by that last bit, but the fact that you catch three heads peeking from around Jisung’s bed only seems to prove your suspicions correct. Looks like Seungmin wasn’t exaggerating when he mentioned that “Jisung has told us so much about you!” when you met him and the others an hour ago. From the way Jisung glances fervently between you and the door, though, it’s safe to assume the majority of what he said involved Jeongin in some context.

Maybe you should’ve told them ahead of time the “plus one” you were bringing to the Christmas hangout was, in fact, your boyfriend. In hindsight, it was foolish of you to assume they’d get the memo from the mere mention of “plus one.” And by someone, you meant Jisung—the main man on the “Y/Ninnie train”, as he liked to call it. 

Funny enough, you were just following his advice from that winter formal back in high school: date and move on. Sure, it was three years too late, and there wasn’t anything in particular that you needed to move on from, but advice is advice.

Still, you send the flustered boy a stern glare. You were not getting Heeseung involved in his shenanigans if it’s the last thing you do.

But you notice Jeongin stumble in the room, bag of gummy bears in hand, and Jisung’s eyes grow wide. Your voice nearly strangles, but you quickly snap out of it before Heeseung can notice.

“And this is Jeongin,” you gesture to the hooded boy, “my best friend.”

You don’t notice the way Jeongin’s smile falls slightly as his eyes land on you, though your eyes trail after him as he wordlessly shuffles past you two and plops on Jisung’s bed. 

Jisung seems to recompose himself, and he steps closer to you and Heeseung, holding out a hand. “Heh, I’m sorry about that,” he laughs nervously, but Heeseung smiles curtly and shakes his hand. “Make yourself at home, we’re happy to have you here.”

“No worries, man.”

Jisung leaves you two alone, but you don’t miss the look he gives Jeongin. It’s full of concern, and you can’t pinpoint why.

Blinking, you shake off the sinking feeling in your chest, and take Heeseung’s hand as you two move to a spot on the floor by Seungmin’s feet, as the bed was all occupied.

Heeseung snakes his arm around your shoulders as you both focus on the tiny console screen. Felix and Hyunjin were on their last lap of Cheep Cheep Beach, neck-in-neck with each other, and you both chuckle at the boys’ chaotic screams as they pass each other back and forth.

You notice throughout the evening that Jeongin will occasionally meet your gaze when you glance his way. Each time, he opens his mouth to speak and there’s this look pooling in his eyes—some mix of longing but urgency that you can’t sense the reason behind. Regardless, your chest tightens at the sight.

You observe Jeongin whisper something to Jisung, ignoring and trying to filter out the screams of the other three boys as they argue over who gets to be Yoshi, but it’s no use.

“Are you okay?” Heeseung asks softly, the hand around your shoulders gently rubbing your arm.

You gulp but nod, not taking your eyes off of Jeongin but leaning into Heeseung’s side. “Yeah.”

An hour or so passes, and it seems like the awkward glances have only increased in frequency—not just from Jeongin, but between the other boys, too. It eats at you inside not knowing why. All you have gathered so far is that it definitely involves you and Jeongin.

“Hey, Heeseung, is it?'' Felix suddenly pipes up. Both you and Heeseung look up to his spot in the middle of Jisung’s bed, his legs criss-cross applesauce.

“What’s up?” Heeseung responds.

Felix smiles and hands Heeseung his Switch controller. “Wanna play a round? You haven’t had a turn yet.”

A smile of Heeseung’s own forms on his face as he takes the controller in his hands, slowly moving his arm from your shoulders as he hops on the bed. “Oh, bet!”

You’re happy to watch your boyfriend get along with Jisung’s friends as if they were your own—in a way, they kind of are. But one look at Jeongin and all that comes crashing down, seeing the longing look in his eyes.

You still don’t know what’s wrong. Is it because of Heeseung? Does he have some unspoken beef with him? If so, why were all his gazes targeted at you and not him?

Jeongin looks back at Jisung hopelessly, and you attempt to eavesdrop as they whisper amongst themselves. Again, the other boys in the room are too loud for you to get anything useful.

That is, until you glance back at the screen as Seungmin and Heeseung go head-to-head on Rainbow Road, and Jisung scolds Jeongin out of the blue—probably louder than he intended to.

“You need to tell Y/N. Now.”

Your head snaps their direction. Your gaze lands on Jisung for speaking so loud, but slowly shifts to Jeongin. The other boys seem to fall silent, too.

“Tell me what?”

You’re already driving yourself crazy trying to figure it out. All you want is an answer.

Jeongin sighs and sits next to you on the floor. You carefully follow his movements with your eyes. He clasps his hands together, resting them on top of his knee. He opens his mouth to speak, and you nod expectantly.

And… nothing.

After a minute of strangled silence, Jeongin sighs in defeat and drags his feet as he shuffles back to Jisung. The older boy gives him a look you can’t quite read and quietly scolds him some more. The other boys just exchange glances with each other and continue to play Mario Kart quietly, making for the worst awkward silence of your life. So much for your first college hangout.

At least you’re able to pick up some information now. You can barely hear Jisung and Jeongin’s hushed whispers even though the room is largely silent, but you do hear the word “college” over and over.

You guess it makes sense. After months of patiently waiting during your senior year of high school, you remembered Jeongin’s dispirited form when he found out he had been waitlisted for his top choice school. Following that, he’s been going to the state university in your city with you, but he mentioned something offhand about re-applying for the spring semester. Maybe he’s stressed about that, but it seems like Jisung has it covered for now.

Still, they both look over at you with those concerned, longing stares, and it’s not hard to miss.

Even after you get another turn on the Switch, you’re still left with an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of your stomach by the end of the night. Yes, you won another cup and got your sweet, sweet revenge on Hyunjin for earlier, but it does nothing to tell you why Jeongin hasn’t spoken a word to you all night. Well, he tried to, but look how well that went.

It seemed like everyone around you knew except, well, you. You hate that feeling, but at least, whatever it was, Heeseung wasn’t involved. He doesn’t need to be thrown in whatever drama had concocted under your nose, especially not during his first time meeting them all.

By the time the boys start heading out, with Jeongin being the first to go, you’re practically squirming in your spot. You can’t take this anymore.

You give Heeseung a goodbye peck as he slips his coat on and leaves the dorm. “Thanks for inviting me, I had a great time.”

You smile. “I’m glad. I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

Heeseung nods, leaning down to kiss your cheek once more before exiting the dorm. That left just you and Jisung, and you turn towards the wide-eyed boy the second the door clicks shut.

“Okay, what is going on?” You don’t mean to snap, but your pent-up emotions get the better of you as you storm toward Jisung. “You and Jeongin have been acting weird all night. Actually, all of you have! What the hell, Jisung!”

“Y/N—” Jisung tries to speak, but you cut him off quickly.

“Was it Heeseung? He didn’t even do anything wrong, he was the quietest one here besides Jeongin!”

“Y/N—”

“And you think I’m not gonna notice you and my best friend staring at me like you two just did?” You stop to take a breath, and you feel heat rush to your ears the more you think about this. “How do you think Heeseung felt?! Is this some kind of sick joke?”

“Y/N, listen.”

Jisung’s soft voice makes you step back. It’s the same tone he gave you in the school parking lot when you were sixteen.

“Jeongin got into the school he wanted for spring semester. He’s been trying to tell you for weeks, he— he just didn’t know how. He leaves tomorrow morning.”

You freeze, and your heart sinks to your stomach. It’s like everything around you comes to a stand-still and the world goes deathly silent. All your attempts to speak go unheard as all you do is open and close your mouth, unable to formulate a sentence, let alone a single thought. 

A long list of questions fly through your mind at rapid speed. Why didn’t he say something? Why didn’t you push him to say something? Why did he not want to tell you when Heeseung was there? Why couldn’t you have just stayed with him instead?

“What?” 

You feel Jisung gently place a hand on your shoulder as he frowns. He pulls you in close and wraps his arms around your shoulders. That's when you notice tiny dots dampening his shirt and you finally realize you’re crying.

[go to part two HERE]

[cainnleacghlovers]

Stupid Chilly - MM

Pairing: Mason amount X Fem!Reader

Summary: The famous Ben Chilwell throws a party. What happens when a specific boy catches your eye.

Warnings: Smut

“Noooooo. Don’t make me go. Pleaseeeeee.”

You did want to go, really, but that time between when you finished getting ready and heading out the door had settled in, and the thought of taking off your slippers, and replacing them with your heels made you shudder.

“I didn’t let you use my charlotte tilbury foundation for you to not go.” Your best friend stated. Hands on her hips as she looked you up and down. You lay on the floor, in a star fish position. She bent down to help you up, and you graciously accepted. She handed you your heels, and you nodded in thanks.

How could you describe Ben Chilwell. He was definitely a character. He bordered the line of his jokes being offensive, and he most definitely crossed the line of not knowing when to just, well how could you say this? Shut his mouth.

You’d known Ben ages, well 2 years. You’d met him after a dramatic sprint in the rain to your car, your Uni books slightly blurring your vision. You couldn’t find your car keys, and deciding that wet hair was better than wet course work, you gave up. He was driving past, and like a gentleman stuck his head out the window, asking if you wanted to sit in his car. Looking back, that was probably a bad idea, but you’d grown to love the boy. And your best friend had definitely grown to love him.

Heels were strapped, and lipstick had been reapplied. Taking a few selfies in the mirror, and quickly adding them to your story, you and your best friend headed out the door. Ben only lived a short distance from you, and you two had just decided to walk. Broke Uni students could not afford taxis.

It was a mild evening in April. Not warm, not cold.

“Do you think Ben actually likes me. Or does he just like my tits?” Abbie said. You couldn’t help but laugh at her. Abbie was the sort of girl who fell in love after one glance. You knew Ben, and you knew what he was like.

“Abbie. Ab. My bestest friend in the whole wide world-”

“Cut the crap. Just tell me.” She said, her words harsher than what she meant. You knew she didn’t mean it.

“As I was saying, before I was rudely interrupted.”

You laughed, giving her a light push. As much as she tried not to, she grinned too.

“Ah yes. Abbie. Ab. My bestest friend in the whole wide world. You my dear, are absolutely gorgeous, and if he doesn’t see that. What a fucking loss.”

She smiled. You two knew each other too well. You were grateful for her.

“You always know what to say.” She put her arm around your shoulder, and you relaxed into her. A comfortable silence fell between the both of you.

“Just letting you know, I so plan on getting laid tonight.” You grinned, earning a laugh from her.

“Same here babe. Same here.”

—

Some random song played, the beat echoing through your whole body as you headed into the kitchen for another drink of whatever Ben had concocted. What was it last time? Oh yes, Chelsea surprise as he called it. Vodka, Gin, and Whiskey all in one. Absolutely rank.

Pouring yourself a drink, you crowd watched. Something you often found yourself doing at parties. You liked her dress, hated his shoes, wanted to know her lip combo, man his shirt was tight. You scanned the crowd, sipping your drink as you watched. You didn’t realise a figure had swept in beside you.

“Yep they’ll definitely have makeup sex when they go home.” Said a voice. You jumped slightly, and turned to face this mysterious person. Recognising him, you two were mutals on Instagram. A like here and there.

Mason Mount. To quote Jack Grealish, ‘the greatest thing since sliced bread.’

“Jesus. Way to give someone a heart attack.” You scold, not really cross.

“And no. She’ll dump his ugly arse, and block him on everything. Including spotify. I forgot to block an ex one time on spotify. He made playlists called ‘Unblock me.’ I don’t know whether that was dedicated or just weird.”

You didn’t even realise you were talking his ear off, one ounce of alcohol and you seemed to tell everyone your deepest secrets.

“Has anyone ever told you, you talk some shite.” He laughed, swigging his drink. You admired the way his throat bobbed when he swallowed. There was a tinging between your legs. Shit.

He caught you looking and smirked.

“Like what you see darling.”

“Yeah Ben’s cabinet. It’s really nice. Top quality really.” You indicated to the kitchen cabinet behind him. He pretended to admire it, nodding and scratching his chin. Like it was some amazing art piece.

“It really is isn’t it. Simply divine.” You snorted at his comment, and covering your face in embarrassment.

“GCSE english all over again. Pigs from animal farm.” You joked, you were thankful he got the joke.

“Major was some lad wasn’t he.” He follows along with the joke, you liked that he didn’t embarrass you.

“He was the man. Or the pig.” He laughed, and the sensation came back again.

“So how’d you end up here? Not saying it’s a bad thing. I’m Mason by the way.” He introduced himself. You of course, already knew him. He didn’t have to know that though.

“Ben’s a friend. I’m Y/N.” He nodded as he listened to you. An active listener. Hmm. Nice.

“A pretty name for a pretty girl.” Anyone else who used that cliche, would have you bent over the toilet bowl in pure disgust, but the alcohol and the sheer fact, this man was hot, you couldn’t find it in yourself to care.

“Well. This pretty girl with a pretty name wants to dance.” You stuck your hand out, and he went to grab it. You pulled away, winking at him. Play the game, or the game plays you. Mason being the game in this weird analogy.

“A teaser? I should’ve known Miss Y/L/N.” He smirked. So he knew who you were.

“Let’s see what those hips can do then Mason.”

He followed you onto the makeshift dance floor, in the middle of Bens living room. Sober you would’ve worried about the mess Ben would have to clean up, slightly tipsy you laughed at the mess Ben would have to clean up.

Somehow, Tammy Abraham got ahold of the aux, and that song from despicable me started playing. ‘Where them girls at.’ What a tune.

You began to sway your hips, probably out of time with the best. But who fucking cares what beats playing when Mason Mount had his hands on your hips in front of you. Tossing your hair around, you catch him staring at your chest.

“My eyes are up here Mason.” You chastise.

“I can stare at both, doesn’t bother me. Both are stunning.” That sentence doesn’t really make sense. But he’s tipsy, and he’s flirting with you. So keep talking rubbish Mason.

You two sway to the music, eventually ending with your bum having his crotch. You feel something press into your back, and smirk as you turn around. A new found confidence.

“Little Mason has made an appearance.”

He practically growled into your ear.

“Little Mason isn’t so little darling.” Butterflies erupted in your stomach, as you felt heat pool between your legs.

“Well. Let me be the judge of that.” He smirked.

“Gladly.”

—

Dragging you up the stairs, past who knows who making out on the stair case. Enjoy that back cramp in the morning babe. He checks one room, his hand not leaving yours, as he swings the door open, only to be met with a butt naked Ben Chilwell. Ass hanging in the hair like your mums washing line. Jesus, why is he so pale?

“Sorry man. Don’t let me disturb you.” Ben didn’t even hear Mason, as he shut the door. You wonder if the girl was Abbie, having not seen her downstairs. Probably was her.

He checks a second room, and finds it empty, and pulls you in. Slamming your body against the door handle, as he fumbles with the lock. His lips find yours, and you become dazed from the passion of his kiss. He bites your bottom lip, a way of saying ‘open that fucking mouth’ and who were you too decline?

You open your mouth, and he slides his tongue in. Exploring your mouth. You groan into his mouth, and you feel Little Mason, sorry, not so little Mason become even harder under you.

“Keeping moaning like that baby, and the whole house will know what I’m doing to you. Making you feel this good already.” You moan at his words, not used to someone talking to you like this. And god, you like it.

As his tongue continues to explore your mouth, his uses his knee to spread your legs, and puts his thigh in between them. Letting you use his thigh for leverage. And you needed it, his kiss making you weak. His hands left your hips, and found the back of your thighs, tapping them slightly. Signalling for you to jump. You obliged, and his large hands grubbed the back of your thighs. Your dress hiking up to expose even more skin to the boy.

His lips leave yours, as they find your neck. Moving up and down feverishly like he can’t get enough of you. Your hands find his hair, and you tug slightly on it, guiding him to where you want him. He find that sweet spot, just above your collar bone, and earns a groan from you.

“Fuck baby. You’re making me feel like i’m 16 again.”

He groaned into your neck, and your legs found the edge of Bens spare room. You’d slept in here, and now you were going to, well. Have sex with Mason in here.

Lying down, he climbed on top of you. And began to push the sleeves off your dress off of you. Looking at you for consent. You have him a nod, which he didn’t take.

“Gonna need you to be vocal with me baby. Tell me what you want, but tell me what you don’t want. Can you do that for me?”

Unable to answer him, you have him a nod.

“What’d I say about using words hmm? You going to be a baf girl. You know what we do to bad girls don’t you baby.”

Not wanting him to stop touching you, you breathed out a response.

“Yes Mason. Please keep going.” Pathetic that you’d resulted to begging, and he hadn’t even touched you properly yet.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it baby?” He shot a devilish grin at you, as he pushed your sleeves down. You shimmied out of your dress, it getting caught at your hips.

“Dress has to come off over the head.” You said.

He helped you get the dress off, struggling to get it over your head, you both laughed a little. As you lay there in front oh him, in your bra and pants, you cursed yourself for not wearing a matching set.

“So damn beautiful.” He whispered against your stomach, as he began to kiss up and down it. His hands rubbing your hips, and he worked his way to the top of your panties.

“It’s hardly fair that i’m half naked and you’re not.” You pouted, and he struggled out of his shirt.

“Happy now baby? Hmm?”

You moaned in appreciation, as he slipped his jean covered leg between yours. You rubbed yourself against his jeans, the rough fabric of the denim making you moan.

“So needy baby. Use my thigh hmm. Keep going doll. Just like that.”

As you continued to move again his thigh, he gave you another feverish kiss. Grabbing his hair, to pull him impossibly closer he moaned into your mouth. You wanted to record the sound, and never ever stop hearing it.

He moved his thigh, and before you could complain about the lack of contact. He slipped one finger in you, and began to move at a steady pace. Your hips bucked up against his, and your back arched to get, again, impossibly closer to him.

“Mason, p-please.”

“Please what baby. If you don’t ask, you don’t get.”

You groaned, knowing he wanted you to beg.

“Please Mason, a-another finger.”

“Another finger where baby? Your hair? Your arm? Your back?”

You groaned again, as he slowed his movements, and used his other hand to push your hips back into the bed.

“You know where.” You managed to get out, seeing stars at the pleasure this man was giving you.

“I don’t know actually.” He had you around his finger, well quite literally.

“Another finger here. P-please.” You moved his and into your throbbing pussy.

“That’s all you had to do. Wasn’t that easy?” He teased you, as he plunged another finger into you.

You moaned loudly, grabbing his bicep for support. You thought you were gonna pass out as he found your sweet spot. Hitting it perfectly every thrust of his hand. He curled his fingers in you, and your back moved off of the bed, as his chest met yours.

“Cum for me baby? Cum all around my fingers and show me how good I make you feel.” He whispered into your ear, and his lips found your neck. He definitely was going to leave a mark, having to find some sort of hack on tiktok to cover it. Newsflash, whisks. Do. Not. Work.

His thumb found your clit, as he moved a third finger inside you. Rubbing in a circular motion, you gave one last moan, and came all over his fingers.

He took his hand out, licking his fingers clean, not giving you anytime to catch your breath as he attacked your lips once again. You were gonna die. Imagine that on your gravestone. Cause of death, Mason Mounts legendary fingers.

You worked on the zip of his jeans, getting impatient when you couldn’t figure it out. Curse your foggy brain, from the way he made you cum.

“Let me help you darling.” The way he said darling made you moan out loud, earning a light chuckle from him, as he kicked off his jeans. That’s when you seen Little Mason, and little Mason was not little, at all. Wasting no time, he rid himself of his boxers, and threw them somewhere. Who knows where; who cares where.

You traced the line of his abs, to his v-line. Hearing his breath hitch as you got closer to his dick. You palmed him a few times, and he leant down to moan in your ear.

“Baby. God. If you keep doing that i’m not gonna last. W-wanna be inside your pretty pussy.”

You moaned at his words, moving your hand into his hair, and he lined himself up with your entrance.

“This okay?” He asked you, looking at you with his dark eyes. Pupils completely blown out.

“More than okay Mason.” That was all he needed, and he pushed inside you. Allowing you to adjust to his length, he lingered, before he pulled out.

“Shit. Condom.” He looked at you, waiting for your response.

“As long as you don’t have something that i’d have to explain to the doctor absolutely mortified. continue. please.”

He nodded, laughing slightly before pushing back into you. Both of you moaning into each others mouths.

He moved slowly, and he knew he had you like putty under him.

“Mason. P-please. Faster.” You’d be embarrassed in the morning when you remembered everything you said tonight, problem for another day.

He sped up, his hips moving into yours, as your hands found his hair, and his hands toyed with your bra.

He slid the straps down, and you took your hands out of his hair to remove the back. Your tits bounced free, and he wasted no time attaching his mouth to them. Licking the right nipple, as his hand toyed with the left one. Taking it between his fingers. You moaned into his mouth, breathing deeply into his. You smelt alcohol off of his, somehow you found this pleasant.

He moved his mouth to lick a strip down your breast canal, as his mouth found your left one, and his hand found your right one. Never had your boobs ever gotten this much attention. I’m sure they were loving it.

“You feel so fucking good inside me baby. Could do this all day. Wanna fuck this pussy all day.”

He moaned into your hair, your hips bucking as his pace increased. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head.

“Uh no. I don’t think so doll. Keep those pretty eyes on me.” He made you look at him, your eyes meeting his dark, lust filled ones. Your eyes scanned where his dick slipped inside your soaking pussy.

“Mase. You feel so good.” You praised him.

“I know baby. Tell me how good I make you feel.”

You groaned at his words, not able to describe the pleasure he was giving you.

“Making me feel so good Mase. N-never felt like this before.”

He moaned at your words, obviously enjoying the praise.

“No dick has ever been as good as this one. And to think you called him Little Mason.”

He thrusted into you powerfully, and you felt that knot in your stomach again.

“Mase. I’m gonna cum.”

“I know you are baby. I can feel you clenching against me. Taking me well.” His hand moved from your hair, as he rubbed your clit, in the previous circular motion. That was enough, and your back arched off of the bed, as your orgasm washed over you. Your head slightly dizzy. The sight before him, was enough for Mason, and he pulled out of you, cumming all over your body.

He stayed on top of you, his hands at either side of your head as he looked down at you. Smiling. Giving you another kiss. But not like the ones before, this one was sweet.

He fell beside you, taking your hand in his as he rubbed circular motions on it. Bringing it to his mouth, and pressing a kiss against it.

“You look so pretty with my cum all over you.” He teased, giving you another kiss before getting up to find something to clean you with. Ben being on his way too big salary, of course had a walk in wardrobe on every room, so Mason nicked the towel, and cleaned you himself. Pressing kisses against all the spots were dark, purple bruises were forming.

“I didn’t hurt you, did i?” He looked at you worriedly. You simply shook your head, giving him another kiss.

“No. You were perfect.” He smiled, before throwing the towel somewhere on the floor. Lovely surprise for Ben in the morning.

He lay beside you, playing with a strand of your hair. Touching your hair made it greasy, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. A content sigh passed your lips.

“I gotta pee Mason.” You stated, knowing the importance of peeing after sex.

You got up, walking to the bathroom, and feeling a hand slap your arse.

“Hey!” You exclaimed, peeking your head outside the bathroom door:

“Sorry baby. Your arse is really slappable.” He threw you a wink, and as you finished your business in the bathroom, you lay beside him. He turned to face you.

“This was totally a one time thing, wasn’t it?” You asked him.

“Definitely.” He replied, you detected a hint of lies in his quiet voice. Tiredness, making him yawn. He snuggled into your side, and your hand found his chest.

You had a feeling this wasn’t going to be a one time thing. And you were more than okay with that.

First time writing smut. I refuse to reread this for mistakes because i’ll cringe and delete the whole thing🥰 anywho, hope you enjoyed! Leave your requests for me!

[acolorboom]

Your art is so so pretty, can I ask more about the neglected space AU?

I am so so intrigued if you have anything you wanna share, please just ramble at me :D

Thank you dear anon for the ask! I guess it’s time to explain it??

(Loooong rant below, tw for character death I guess?)

So it all started roughly around the end of 2022, and I at that time decided to re-listen to the song by Imogen Heap, and your guy got INSPIRED.

The song itself is supposed to be from the pov of an abandoned house, and at that time I was watching Tango build Decked Out Two, (specifically the Deepfrost Citadel), and the parallels between the empty halls of the house portrayed in the song with the cold and dark tunnels of DO2 kind of clicked in my head.

And then I saw a post on here (don’t remember who it was from unfortunately) that talked about Jimmy and some other people from (@ the time, Empires s2) accidentally getting stuck in the tunnels of Decked out and Tango helping to guide them through it, falling in love with Jimmy in the process, but the two of them end up going separate ways in the end.

I read the post, and then it resurfaced in my head while I was looping Neglected Space, and it kind of spiraled from there-

So, I started concocting my own version of that idea.

Tango was part of an expedition that has the mission of exploring a system of recently-discovered frozen underground caverns. Unfortunately, due to circumstances, Tango was the only survivor, who was now imprisoned in the tunnels with no way of escaping.

The main events happen after several years of Tango living in the Citadel, and by that point he’s not the same person who entered it. He follows a path of odd footprints that lead him to an injured avian (Jimmy) who it turns out, got in by accident and injured his wings, making him incapable of flying and leaving him stranded.

The two at first have some friction due to Tango’s disheveled appearance and the fact of him not speaking to another person in a very long time, but eventually realize that they kind of need each other to survive, and becoming friends.

One night they are talking while making dinner and Jimmy asks Tango about what happened to him, and Tango tells him everything, from the gradual loss of his friends and contact to the outside world to the sheer loneliness of that place.

Jimmy listens and after gives him a goat horn in case they ever loose each other in the tunnels, along with a feather. Tango doesn’t know what the feather means, but accepts it regardless.

Time passes and eventually Tango is lead by a soul of someone who didn’t survive the Citadel towards a Nether portal. At first Tango hesitates about telling Jimmy about it, due to fearing that they might never see each other again.

Tango, after some thought, decides to tell Jimmy about the portal and the two make plans to escape.

(There’s a kiss in there somewhere fshshsh)

I’m torn between giving this AU a happy or sad ending, one where Tango goes with Jimmy and the other where he stays behind to continue to oversee the tunnels (I’ll decide it eventually lol)

As for Etho, he was part of Tango’s research group and the last to die. He probably dragged away by a ravager while gathering resources and Tango finds his coat later.

Him and Tango had a lot of unspoken feelings towards each other and I’m still figuring out how it will tie into the story. Maybe it’s gonna create conflict between Tango and Jimmy? Hmmm

Anyways that’s all I have so far

Im very bad at keepup with my projects so don’t expect anything major, but enjoy some of the earliest concepts I found :D (circa dec. 2022)

[bodrewritten]

Daughter of Discord Rewritten Chapter 4: The Best Day Ever

Screwball was 6 when she started school. There was some debate that morning on who would take her, and I'm the end they both went, since they both wanted to. It was almost fall, and the auburn light reflected through the falling leaves, the air smelled like warm remnants of cider and wood shavings. The schoolhouse shone brick red, white fences lines the area.

As they slowly approached the red building, Screwball felt her stomach churn.

"What if the ponies don't like me?" she asked her parents.

"Of course they'll like you!" Discord replied, playfully twirling the propeller on her hat. "Why wouldn't they? After all, who wouldn't like the most adorable filly in all of Equestria?"

Silence fell over the schoolyard as the foals stopped their playing at the sight of the draconequus. The kicked up leaves seemed to still and the light on their faces highlighted the unfamiliarity. Screwball gestured to them.

"Because I'm different?"

"And that's what makes you so adorable!" her father exclaimed, ruffling her mane.

"Everything will be alright, honey," Fluttershy assured the filly. "Dinky will be here, so will Autumn Glory and Taco Grandé."

After Pinkie and Cheese Sandwich had their first son, Taco Grandé, Applejack caught the baby fever once more, and rainbow dash and Rarity wouldn't object once she'd taken them to the orphanage and they'd seen the childs that made their hearts skip a beat. They adopted the cinnamon twins shortly after, maple cinnamon and cinnamon twist.

"Your teacher is also Cheerilee," Fluttershy continued. "You remember her: the crusaders' teacher? Oh, and big mac's daughter is there too!"

Apple Blossom was also around Screwball's age. They had not met that often, but she knew she was Aunt Applejack's real niece. She also remembered Sugar belle, a very nice mare who always smiled crooked and warm.

"And don't worry if any pony makes fun of you," Discord added. "Just show them who's Boss and turn them into an orange!"

Fluttershy shook her head. She looked back at the filly. "If any pony can't accept how special you are, that's their problem. As for your magic…don't get into any trouble and don't make any pony feel jealous…Promise me you'll behave. Okay, honey?"

Screwball nodded. "I'll be good, Mommy."

Pinkie pie strolled up to the playground with her Coltfriend, cheese, bounding with her foal on her back. Then rainbow and Applejack showed up with their own children.

The twins landed with a thud as Dinky tackled them both. Applejack chuckled as she appeared behind them. At her side was a light brown colt with a black mane and autumn brown eyes.

"I see y'all are just as excited as Maple here," the cowgirl said, patting her adopted son on the back.

Dinky looked up and blushed slightly at the sight of Maple Cinnamon Screwball noticed him returning her blush.

"hi d-," he stuttered. He was stuck on the letter "D".

Dinky waved her hoof with unmatched enthusiasm."HI!!!"

Fluttershy, Rainbow Dash and Applejack shared a knowing look.

Every pony looked up as the school bell rang and Cheerilee emerged from the building.

"Alright, kids! Come inside!"

Fluttershy gave her daughter a light shove. "Go on! We'll come and pick you up at three."

After receiving another kiss, Screwball joined her friends as they raced up the steps. She stopped at the door.

"Oh, Ms Cheerilee!" Rainbow exclaimed, handing her the apple. "This is for you!"

"Why thank you, Dash," Cheerilee said with a smile. "How's the twins?"

"see, that's just what I wanted to hear. Cuz' I got something I needa tell you, ma'am. See, Maple's got a stutter, and he's really shy about it. Try not to hold it against him?"

Cheerilee put her hoof into Rainbow Dash's. "You have my word, miss. You too, miss Applejack."

Cheerilee attempted to get her new students to settle down. "Alright, class! I know you're excited and all. You'll find your name on your new desk."

"Well, welcome to the new school year, my little ponies!" Cheerilee announced. "I'm your teacher, Ms Cheerilee. We're going to spend this morning getting to know one another. Everyone turn to the pony next to you and introduce yourselves."

When Maple turned to his right, he met the green eyes of an earth pony with pastel yellow mane, yellow-green coat, and lots of freckles.

"hey cuz! I haven't seen you around so much, you moved to ponyville?"

"darn right I did!"

Screwball's desk partner on her right was a white unicorn with red, white and blue striped hair. She flinched at the sight of the earth pony's eyes. Screwball eagerly extended her hoof.

"Hi! I'm Screwball!"

The unicorn hesitantly shook her hoof. "Aquafresh."

"Isn't this all exciting?"

"Uh…yeah. Hey, are you…?"

Cheerilee tapped her ruler on her desk to get every pony's attention. "Alright, now we're each going to introduce ourselves to the class. State your name and please share something interesting about yourself. I will go first as an example." She cleared her throat. "My name is Cheerilee, I have a strawberry garden, and currently teaching a wonderful class!"

Screwball tried to pay close attention to the others as they introduced themselves, but the only ones she really listened to were her friends.

"I'm cinnamon twist, I like reptiles and ants!"

"I- I'm.... Maple Cinna-cinnamon." He took a deep breath and closed his eyes tight. "I l-like herdin' dogs a...and interior design."

The twins did a hoof bump before Apple Blossom spoke:

"My name is Apple Blossom, I like helping around the house and playing in the flowers."

Dinky was very excited for her introduction: "I'm Dinky Doo and I like muffins!"

Screwball giggled slightly and then realized it was her turn. "I'm Screwball and my dad's the Lord of Chaos!"

The room became so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Screwball shrank at the thought that maybe she had gloated, despite what her mother had told her. She had not meant to brag, but the teacher had asked for something interesting, and well, that was the most interesting thing about her.

She could not understand why every pony was so shocked. Based on how the twins were looking at her, she had the feeling that what she said was wrong. Why? It was not like they did not know. It was not like she had grown a second head.

"Did I say something wrong?" she asked the teacher.

Cheerilee shook her head. "No, Screwball, you said nothing wrong. Let's continue."

"I'm Aquafresh," the unicorn beside her said, rather shakily, "and my mom's a dentist."

Screwball did not hear the rest of the introductions, or pay attention as Cheerilee began the lesson. She was too busy listening to the whispers of the two colts behind her.

"She's the one my sister told me about! Her daddy's supposed to be a big scary monster!"

"Yeah! I think I saw him this morning!"

"My sister tells me she's as much a freak as he is!"

"Yeah! I mean look at that hat she's wearing!"

She protectively held onto her treasured hat from Aunt Pinkie.

Her head wrenched around her neck as she faced the colts. "I like my hat!"

"Screwball!"

She faced Cheerilee, realizing that she had said that out loud.

"What's going on?" the teacher asked crossly.

"Sorry, Ms Cheerilee," she pleaded. "But…they're saying mean things about me."

"Tattle tale," whispered the boy behind her.

"Is this true, Gold Digger?"

The colt with golden fur and a light green manebshook his head. "No, Ms Cheerilee. We were just talking about her eyes."

The teacher squinted at him. "Your sister was a pupil of mine, so I expect you to be familiar with the rules of this class. Every pony, let it be known that from now on, there will be no talking during the lesson! And boys-"

"yeeees?" They batted their lashes Innocently.

"it's not nice to talk about other ponies' features."

Screwball glanced over at Apple Blossom and tried to copy her pose by sitting upright and folding her hooves on her desk. She could not get in trouble on the first day of school. Mom would get upset.

She flinched as she felt a prick on the back of her neck. She glanced around and shrugged it off, assuming it to be a fly. Then she felt it again. It did not hurt really, but she found it quite annoying. Then something hopped onto her desk: a rubber band. She looked at the golden colt out of the corner of her eye. He and his friend were snickering with pleasure.

She thought of what her father had said numerous times that morning: If any pony makes fun of you, show them who's Boss. She did not want to disappoint her mother, but these colts needed to be taught a lesson. She had to be subtle in her revenge, for Cheerilee knew about her powers.

Screwball glanced at the rubber band that had missed and remembered Aunt Pinkie showing her something called a Cat's Cradle. She smiled deviously as she made a rubber band appear between Gold Digger's legs and copied the trick. When she was successful, she tried it on the other colt.

Then the bell rang for recess and the two boys tripped out of their seats.

"What the…?" Gold Digger uttered, looking at his tied legs.

Two Pegasi, thunder crack and lightning slash, gawked at the sight and gave Screwball a questioning glance. She nodded with a devilish grin.

"Nice," Lightning muttered, giving her a hoof bump.

"Let's get out of here before the teacher notices," Thunder whispered.

The fillies agreed and rushed toward the playground. For the first five minutes of recess, Screwball and Dinky spun a rope while the twins competed over who could jump the longest

"Nine, ten…" Dinky counted. "Uh…what comes after ten?

"Eleven," Screwball continued. "Twelve, thirteen…hey, guys! Watch this!"

She let go of the rope, but it kept spinning as if some pony was still holding that end. Dinky gasped and released her end as well.

"Awesome!" the twins exclaimed.

"We have the coolest friend ever!" Lightning declared.

"And the sneakiest!" Thunder added.

"are you guys Rainbow Dash's kids?"

"aw, we wish! We met at flight camp one day, and we been friends eva since! Practically twins, like the Cinnamons."

"Who wants to play kickball?"

The twins stopped jumping, entangling themselves in the rope.

"I do, I do!" Dinky hopped excitedly

The three laughed at their friend's enthusiasm and followed her to join the other students as they gathered round. Screwball's smile faded when she saw that Gold Digger was the one who had made the announcement. His blue eyes met hers and they gave each other a mutual glare.

"Sorry," he said. "This game is for ponies only!"

"But I am a pony," Screwball insisted.

"No, you're not. You're a Discord. My big sister Diamond Tiara told me so! You saw that big monster?" Gold Digger asked the foals. "That's her daddy!"

"My big sis said your daddy took over Equestria! Three times! He's the baddest of bad guys! He's evil!" Silver platter announced.

Screwball had no idea what he was talking about, but she stomped her hoof in anger. "Daddy's not evil!"

"He is evil! That means you're evil too! Look at her eyes!"

"Hey!" the twins cried, standing in front of their friend.

"Leave her alone!" Thunder crack cried.

"What's wrong with you?" Lightning demanded.

"What's wrong with me?" Gold Digger repeated. "What's wrong with her? She's got funny eyes! Like her dopey friend over there!"

Screwball gasped and glanced at Dinky, who was on the verge of tears. Picking on her was one thing, but no pony made fun of Dinky! No pony! She might look different, but she was not a dope!

Gold Digger made Screwball so mad she just wished the sky would come crashing down on him! The students looked up as a dark shadow covered them and screamed when they saw a piano hurdling directly towards Gold Digger. They all scattered out of the way. Screwball managed to grab Dinky before the instrument hit the ground, smashing into piece

As soon as she heard the crash, Cheerilee rushed out and gasped at the sight of the broken piano. How had that gotten into the schoolyard? She looked towards Screwball, who had a horrified guilty look on her face. She shook violently with her mouth agape.

Fluttershy knew something was up when her daughter did not come out of the building immediately. Dinky then explained that Cheerilee had kept Screwball after class. Expecting the worst, Fluttershy entered the classroom. Cheerilee was sitting expectedly at her desk, and Screwball on a stool in the corner. As soon as she saw her mother, she faced the wall in shame.

"I appreciate you coming here, Fluttershy," the teacher said softly, yet bluntly.

"What's going on?" the pegasus inquired.

"Have a seat, Fluttershy."

Fluttershy pulled up a chair and sat across from Cheerilee.

"It appears that there was a little…accident today."

The pegasus glanced over at Screwball. "What happened?"

"Well…how do I put this? A piano dropped from the sky."

Fluttershy's eyes widened in shock. "A piano?!"

"Yes. I checked, and there was no moving cart in the sky at the moment."

"You think…Screwball?"

Cheerilee looked to the filly in the corner. "Well, Screwball?"

She turned her head slowly, wincing at the expression on their faces.

"I didn't mean to!" she insisted. "They were making fun of me and Dinky! I didn't want it to happen! They made me so mad!"

"Honey, you promised you would behave!" Fluttershy shouted, almost too loudly.

"They called Daddy evil!"

Her mother's angry expression changed into one of fear. She then faced the teacher again.

"I assure you it won't happen again."

"See that it doesn't," Cheerilee said, solemn. "I understand that it's hard to keep it in check, and I can give you some resources to help with the situation."

The filly slid off the stool and smiled nervously up at her mother. The tragic glare she received in return caused her to hang her head. The room was suddenly all too tall, all too cold and empty, nowhere there was a sight of life.

"We're going to talk with your father about this."

"Would serve the brat right for picking on my daughter!"

They were sitting at the dinner table. Fluttershy had just explained the events at school.

"I also tied his hooves into a Cat's Cradle," Screwball admitted, picking at her peas.

Her father guffawed. "You did?! What'd you use? A string or rubber band?"

"Rubber band. He threw rubber bands at me first."

"Giving him a taste of his own medicine, huh?" He clapped his hands. "Genius! Pure genius, that's what it is!"

"He said you were evil," Screwball stated.

They both turned to her with wide eyes.

...

"Who told you that?" Discord demanded, quiet, as if afraid to rouse awake some deep feeling locked away in a bitter sharp tower with a moat of red roses.

"Gold Digger," she replied. "He said you were evil, and that I was evil too. That I wasn't a pony like they are."

"Sweetheart," her mother said, stroking her mane tenderly. "You're not evil and neither is your father."

Screwball looked her father in the eyes. "He said you took over Equestria."

Discord shrank guiltily into his seat. "Um…yes. I took over Equestria once…or twice, but that was a long time ago."

"You see, honey," Fluttershy explained, "your father was…evil, long before we met."

"Seems like a thousand years ago," the draconequus reminisced. "Actually, it was. I was ostracized because of my appearance and well…you could say I went crazy…like you did today with the piano. The princesses punished me by turning me to stone for a thousand years. When I was released…I met your mother. We didn't start on the friendliest of terms. She was one of the bearers of the Elements of Harmony, the only things that could defeat me. Of course, now just a look from your beautiful mother can do that..." He winked at her and she couldn't help but smile as she rolled her eyes.

"I came up with a plan to dispose of the Elements of Harmony, but that didn't work out, so I tried something else. You see, I…"

He did not want to go into detail of what had happened. He did not want his daughter to think him a monster. Thankfully, Fluttershy summed it up gently.

"He said he would leave Equestria be in exchange for a willing bride."

He sighed in relief. "Yes, I…had grown rather lonely over the years and…your mother was the one who accepted the deal."

Screwball's eyes widened. "You were forced to marry Daddy?"

Fluttershy hesitated. "No princess. I only married him when we fell in love."

"your mother brought out the good in me because she gave me a chance," Discord finished, placing his hands on her shoulders. "Your mother is an amazing mare. Remember that. She was the only one who had truly accepted me back then. I then realized that I could not have Equestria and her at the same time, and I could not live without her, so…"

She took his paw. "We got married."

He grinned and kissed her lightly on the lips, making Screwball gag. "Yes, we did. That's what matters, letting ponies give you a chance."

"So never you mind what Gold Digger said."

"But he made fun of Dinky too!" Screwball reminded them.

"And that was wrong of him, but if that piano had hit him, would that have made you any better?"

She hung her head. "No."

"Good."

"So…Daddy's not the baddest of bad guys?"

Discord chuckled. "No. Well, once upon a time…" He trailed off as Fluttershy poked him in the ribs. "I mean no! I found something better than chaos."

He smiled at his wife and she returned his smile.

"Remember this, honey," Fluttershy said. "When it comes to love, appearances are insignificant."

"Indeed," Discord agreed. "It's the most powerful form of chaos there is!"

A deep brewing pain seared through Discords's heart. His consciousness seemed outside himself as the girls talked themselves okay again. He couldn't ignore the ringing in his ears as the world became insignificant to him.

Justice and freedom are mutually exclusive.

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

Hiii how are you?

Could you write a marilyn x student!r fic where the school goes on a weeklong camping trip somewhere and just r and marilyn being cute not really smut just maybe suggestive? and them sneaking around the entire trip, maybe in one instance they almost get caught but manage to get away.

Thanks a lot!! Love ur writing nd take ur time ❤️

Yesss here it is!!! I hope you like it and sorry about the language mistakes!!!

The Hidden Lovers Camp

Pairing: Marilyn Thornhill Fem, Student! Reader

Warnings: Fluff, implied smut, not explicit

Word count: 3,371

Summary: This camp is not like the others, you’re going to have fun, and you’re gonna be to be with Marilyn…

 N/A: Requests are open!!! Sorry about the delays, I’m working hard on your requests. I love you all!!!

“I choose the top bunk,” you sang as you reached the small cabin where you would stay for the next week.

It was spring and like every year, Nevermore organized “nature week,” an educational camp a few miles from Jericho. For the teachers it was the perfect opportunity to you to live together and strengthen ties with classmates and nature, but for you it didn't mean any of that.

It was a week of clandestine late-night parties. Of laughter and scary stories under the gloomy light of a flashlight. You honestly didn't know why Principal Weems thought it was a good idea to let you loose out in the nature, at the mercy of all the crazy things teenagers could do.

You threw your luggage on the bed and climbed, smiling triumphantly.

“You're always the same, (Y/N),” Yoko told you, who left her stuff in the bed below, resigned.

You peeked out of the bed and stuck your tongue out at her mockingly, earning your friend to throw her jacket at you.

“Girls, girls, calm down, you need all your energy for the tonight girls' party,” Enid, another of your best friends, said. You swallowed hard, you knew you weren't going to be there to enjoy the gossip and screeching laughter, you had other plans.

“It's not fair, (Y/N),” the vampire said, sighing. You smiled, jumping off the bed.

“You should arrived earlier, bloodsucker,” you mocked.

“Hello, girls, are you already installed?” Marilyn Thornhill, your teacher, asked entering the cabin before a small war began. You looked immediately and nodded, looking at the redhead in awe.

“Yes…” You said at the same time. Marilyn raised her eyebrows.

“Well... Good,” she said, smiling a bit in a hurry. “Okay, I don't know what you're up to, but I want you to know that here there are rules too.”

Your companions rolled their eyes, ignoring that sentence. You didn't, you just looked at Marilyn trying to hide the blush on your cheeks.

“Ms. Thornhill, we already know,” Enid said.

“It never hurts to remember them,” the teacher said, crossing her arms. “Lights out at 10, no walking around the camp at night, no parties and of course…”

“No boys,” You three said at the same time.

“Great,” the redhead said, clasping her hands. “Go to the meeting point, we will explain the activities that we will do throughout the week.”

The three of you nodded and moved towards the door. When you were about to leave, Marilyn grabbed your arm to stop you.

“Wait a minute, (Y/N), I have to talk to you about something.”

You nodded and let your companions walk away. Then the redhead closed the door and looked at you smiling.

You threw yourself into her arms, kissing her tenderly. She laughed, holding you back a bit and caressing your cheek.

“Calm down, (Y / N), leave some kisses for later…” she whispered to you.

“I was thinking of kissing you so many hours …” You said, giving her little kisses almost against her will.

You wouldn't know how to explain how that relationship began, but it did. The trust you had with your teacher went outside the professional sphere, from the normal relationship that a teacher had with her student. You had so much in common, so much chemistry. It was something inevitable and when you decided to take the step and confess the love you felt for her, you did not receive the response you expected.

She felt it too. She was trying to suppress it. She felt guilty for having those feelings for someone she shouldn't have, but she couldn't help but be honest. It was your last year at the academy, you were no longer a child. You would just have to hide a little longer, until the school year was over and you could start a real relationship.

Her intention was precisely that, to wait. But the temptation was very great, too strong to not be carried away. The nights in her room, the kisses hidden in the labyrinthine corridors, the caresses, the looks, the smiles. All of that became habitual, just like the “I love you.” You wanted to get out of there, to build a life with her, and each time you had less patience, you took greater risks.

You were convinced that this camp was not going to be an exception. It was like a trip for the two of you, full of people, full of dangers. You'd be lying if you said you weren't a little turned on by the idea.

“Me too, but…” She told you, pointing to the glass window. You huffed, pulling away a bit.

“Yes, yes... The dangers blablabla, they're going to fire me, blablabla, they'll call your parents blablabla,” you said mockingly, exaggerating your expressions.

“Why are you like this?” She asked, hugging you around the waist and kissing your neck.

“Because you love me,” you answered, closing your eyes and leaning on her shoulder.

“Oh, you're the queen of reasons, (Y/N),” she whispered to you.

“I know.”

“I have prepared a surprise for you tonight … Meet me in front of the lake at 11 pm.”

You opened your eyes, excited.

“A surprise?” You asked, turning around. The redhead nodded.

The door was flung open, and Enid entered. You separated immediately, hiding as best as possible.

“Sorry, I've left the… the phone,” the blonde said, passing a hand through the nape of her neck.

“I was telling (Y/N) that we'll be watching you, so be careful,” Marilyn said, fleeing cowardly from the cabin.

“What's wrong with Thornhill?” Your friend asked. You shrugged, trying to maintain your composure. “And with you?”

You coughed nervously, but gestured to dismiss the question.

“I'm fine, I'm tired from the trip, you know.”

“From a 20-minute trip? I'll give you some advice, (Y/N), learn to lie better.”

After that clear accusation, you decided to behave like the Nevermore student you were. The teachers explained the activities that you would do in that desert camp. All boring, tired. The fun was at night, and after dinner, some nerves began to haunt you.

“Tell the truth, (Y/N), you have chosen truth,” Enid told you, around a small lantern.

The lights had already gone out and you and a small group of friends were in the cabin playing typical teenage games. You didn't think about that absurd game, you constantly thought about what would happen soon. You were anxious and you kept looking at your watch and looking for a valid excuse. You didn't even get the question your friend asked.

“Can you repeat the question?” You said, dissimulating.

Yoko and Enid looked at each other knowingly and blinked rapidly.

“My question was: Do you have something with someone from the school?” The werewolf repeated.

“What's the point of that question?” You said, crossing your arms.

“The point is that Yoko has told me that she has seen you sneak out at night. The point is the fact that lately you live attached to the phone,” she told you, pointing her mobile flashlight directly at your face. “Come on, confess.”

You sighed and looked up, like you were searching your mind for some good answer.

“No, I don't have anything with anyone…” You whispered, lying blatantly.

“Liar,” your vampire friend said.

“I am telling you I don’t.”

“I am telling you you do.”

“Please, can we stop talking about my life?” You said, looking at your watch that it was time to escape from that trap of nosy witches.

“Never,” they said in unison, while you got up.

“Well, I'm going to…” You said without thinking, opening your eyes when you realized your mistake.

“Where are you going at this hour? We are not allowed to go out,” Enid said, frowning.

You had to think fast and you had to get out of there.

“I'm going to the bathroom,” you said, feigning absolute security. They all looked at you suspiciously.

“To the bathroom…” Yoko said, nodding mockingly.

“Yes, to the bathroom, don't ask me for details,” you said, putting on your jacket.

“Be careful, Thornhill is watching us,” Another girl said.

“Maybe that's what you want, right, (Y/N)?” Enid said wryly.

You widened your eyes and gasped while holding the wooden door. You decided to ignore that comment and leave the cabin.

“In the lake…” You whispered to yourself.

In the dark of the night you could hear music, laughter from your classmates. There probably wouldn't be anyone to bring order to the camp, and it's not like there was anything bad going on, they were just having fun.

You reached the small jetty and put your hands in your pockets. The light from the few streetlights that were there were not enough to illuminate the entire area. You weren't scared of the dark, but the sounds of the night and the constant movies of bloodthirsty killers in camps made you feel a little uncomfortable.

You felt hands grab your waist and you jumped.

“(Y/N), it's me, calm down...” The redhead's relaxing voice said to you, clearly enjoying the scare you had.

“Don't you know that you shouldn't scare people when they're in the dark? It's a matter of politeness,” you said a little annoyed to see how Marilyn had a good time at the expense of your cardiovascular health.

She hugged you and kissed your forehead while she rubbed your back.

“My scary girl…”she whispered tenderly to you. You rolled your eyes and pursed your lips, feigning a little annoyance.

“Well, what's that surprise?” You asked impatiently. Marilyn smiled again, shaking her head.

“Patience, honey, first I'd like to take a walk with you in the moonlight, it's a magnificent night,” she told you, holding your hand and starting to walk.

You walked by that lake talking, laughing and kissing. You were crazy about her and you felt strange, happy to be able to do something you normally didn't get a chance to, try to be a real couple.

Marilyn stopped, looking at the landscape, searching for something.

“Oh, there it is, come on, come,” she told you, pulling you. You smiled and drifted into what looked like an old ranger outpost.

“What is this?” You asked, as she opened the door.

“I found this on the map. Turns out it's abandoned. Nobody comes around here. But that is not the best, come in. But before...” She said, standing in front of you. “Close your eyes.”

You sighed and made a tired face, but you obeyed. You heard Marilyn's footsteps on the wood, and also some, "click", while in the darkness of your closed eyes, you began to see some soft flashes of light.

“Open them,” she whispered to you, standing next to you.

When you opened them a smile automatically formed on your face.

There were several candles scattered around the room and a bed that looked like it had been made especially for you. It was a good surprise, the kind that made you almost cry.

“Marilyn... Have you prepared all this for us?” You asked, approaching the bed, where there were a bunch of rose petals. The redhead nodded and pointed to the ceiling.

“Look, (Y/N),” she told you. You looked up and you were mesmerized. There was a large window on the roof, from which you could see a lot of stars.

“Tonight is for us, (Y/N)…” She told you, sitting on the bed. “I want to love you under the stars.”

The night was amazing. You had already made love, but it had nothing to do with the other times.

Being in a school full of people made unforeseen events happen, uncomfortable situations. Not there. There was no one there. Everything was for you.

You could finally be yourself. You could moan, scream, truly love her, just as you had dreamed so many times. It was a long night between words of love, caresses, kisses and intense, deep moans. It was a wonderful place, and best of all, you still had a week to enjoy it. You had never made love like that, you never told so many times that you loved her, nor did she.

It was a real honeymoon, a moment of commitment, of security in your relationship. You could feel how your soul ached when it was time to go back. You didn't want to do it, you wanted to sleep with her, hug her naked under those scented sheets, but it couldn't be.

After a farewell that almost ended in another assault of merciless love, you returned to your cabin, where no light could be sensed.

The creak of the door opening made you squeeze your eyes shut. You needed all your stealth. You didn't hear any movement, just soft snoring sounds. You began to regret choosing the top bunk, since you would have to lean on Yoko's bed to climb up.

You put on your pajamas at full speed and put your foot on the wood, trying not to touch the mattress. You already felt safe, but none of that. A hand on your ankle nearly tripped you.

“There you are, (Y/N),” Your friend said.

A strong glow hit you right in the face.

“You took it easy on going to the bathroom...” Enid whispered, pointing her mobile flashlight at you.

“For God's sake, Enid, get that out of my face,” you said, protesting. The young woman dimmed the light and you had to blink to regain sight.

“Confess, (Y/N)…” Said the vampire, letting go of your ankle. You took the opportunity to escape and climb onto the bed, getting into the sheets and ignoring your companions.

“Good night…” You said, joking.

The camp days passed too quickly. Canoe competitions, craft workshops, excursions to the mountains, swimming in the lake.

The days were exhausting, but the nights were unforgettable. You would remember those nights in that ranger post as the best ones of your life.

It seemed impossible to love the redhead even more, but you did. Those nights of intimacy, of love, of clandestine sex were like a preview, a trailer of what your new life would be like when you finished school.

She felt the same. You could no longer wait for the night, you took advantage of any moment to sneak among the people, to kiss behind each rock, each corner. All the time was good. One strangely oppressively hot night, you bathed in the lake. Without clothes and without conscience. She and you underwater, swimming between laughs and shy moans.

But it couldn't last forever.

You woke up sighing. Wishing it wasn't the last day you'd spend there. You sat up in bed, yawning. Your companions collected their clothes to go to shower and you automatically did the same.

Little by little, the resentment that your friends felt at your silence about something that was more than obvious, turned into indifference. They said that one day you would dare to tell it, and they were probably right. The day you were packing your bags for your new life.

“Fuck… why does everyone always decide to shower at the same time?” Yoko complained, standing at the end of a long line of students waiting for their morning wash.

“What a crap,” you said, looking desperately at the line that was there.

“Thornhill told me we can go to the teachers' showers if we need to,” Enid said.

Your face lit up.

“Bah, I don’t think so. I don't want to risk finding Mr. Wilson naked,” Yoko friend said.

You got separated from the line.

“Well, I'm going to risk. Enjoy the line, girls,” you joked, going towards the forbidden cabin.

You peeked timidly. You thought no one was there, but you heard one of the showers running in the background.

A chill ran through your body imagining your friend's comment minutes before and you approached one of the free showers.

You were going to take off your towel, but you heard a hum that sounded familiar. Marilyn, you were sure. You crept closer to the shower and looked under it, where you could see feet you recognized. That rose-shaped tattoo on her ankle was unmistakable.

You knocked on the door and the humming stopped.

“Who is it?” The redhead asked, stopping the water.

“Mari, it's me, open the door,” you whispered.

You heard the bolt click and the door open, with a somewhat surprised Marilyn peering up warily.

“What are you doing here?” She asked, looking to see if there was anyone else.

“I'm here to take a shower, have you any room there for me?” You said suggestively.

“(Y/N), it's dangerous…” She told you, looking down.

“There's no one here, nothing's wrong,” you said, blatantly sneaking in.

“Hey, did you…” She said, running out of words when you took off your towel, exposing your whole body. “Hear me…”

Without giving her time to complain, you kissed her tenderly, grabbing her head. She seemed reluctant at first, but soon she deepened the kiss and turned the water back on.

“You're crazy…” She whispered, raising the temperature of that small room.

“I know…” You answered, feeling how the hot water ran down all her curves. It was hypnotic and tremendously erotic.

The shower faded into the background. The overflowing passion that this situation caused was prioritized. It was so risky that you felt your heart was going to jump out of your chest. You could see her face getting carried away by all the sensations you made her feel. Your hands were nimble and hers were hungry, nearly tearing at your flesh as you stroked her just where she needed it, under the near-scalding water.

“(Y/N)?” You heard someone ask.

Panic seized you. You looked at her and she shook her head while she put a finger on her lips so you wouldn't say anything.

“At last, I prefer to listen to you…” the blonde said. “Are you there?”

You were on the verge of a heart attack and you thought quickly. You were trapped, you couldn't do anything. Enid was slowly approaching you. Marilyn was blocked by fear and shame, she was incapable.

Before Enid got too close, you made a decision. You quickly whispered “I love you” to your lover and winked at her as you put on your towel. You got out of the shower, pretending to shiver and rubbing your arms.

“Didn't you hear me?” Enid asked. You shook your head, walking past her.

“Let's go to the line, Enid, there's no hot water here…” You lied, grabbing the werewolf by her wrist.

“What? But... But…”  Your friend said, looking back while you almost forcibly pulled her out of the cabin.

You almost got caught. Everything is almost over for you. Fortunately it didn't happen. You thought fast and saved the situation like you always did. Poor Marilyn got very nervous when there was danger, she would block herself. If it had been up to her you would already be a long way from Nevermore.

That night, that last night, you joked in the ranger post, while you intertwined your bare legs with hers.

“It's not funny, (Y/N), we almost got caught,” the redhead said, while you bit her neck.

“We haven't,” you answered amused. “Come on, Marilyn, it's been funny.”

“I think we have a different concept of what is funny,” she said, moving away a bit.

There was a moment of silence. Marilyn was looking at you, and you at her. You didn't speak but your eyes said it all. Danger or no danger, you would never give up your love.

“I know I tell you many times, (Y/N), but... I love you... I love you so much,” she told you seriously, as if she wanted you to really understand, to believe in her words.

“Me too Mari... I can't wait to go with you, to be like this forever, without having to hide...” You said, lying down, resting your head on your chest. It was your last night, but there were only kisses, hugs. There was only pure love, affection, commitment and above all, a desire for the future, a desire to leave Jericho and live a lifetime full of "honeymoons" like that.

[kittyplushy]

when u get this, list 5 songs u like to listen to, publish. then, send this ask to 10 of your favorite followers or moots (positivity is cool) 💖

hi……. :-) (approaching you like a shy animal)

Hello!!! Come closer i don't bite ^_^!

Thank you!! Ahh what's been on my mind lately? Hm..

1. Palmcorder Yajna- The Mountain Goats:

I love both the studio and live versions of this song. They sound so..gruff and hard and it captures the feeling of desperately hanging on to what's keeping you alive even if it is a vice like drugs (it's a lil more explicit in some live performances) or being around bad crowds. But no one else understands now, do they? Fair tw ofc when u listen but it's a great song.

2. You, Me, And A High Balcony- The Mountain Goats:

Unreleased song that only appeared recently! It might have been on another band John D. was in but. I just really like this song bc it's about again, people who love each other but they're stuck in a strange situation hiding from the world what they are to each other. Some interpretations are they're sibling drug dealers but to me it's a butch-femme that know the world is after them and they're ready to die for one another or together just to preserve themselves. I picture a shitty apartment and a room that smells of smoke from cigarettes and burnt food. They're asleep on the couch awaiting thanatos or the police.

3. Pink Triangle - Weezer:

My friend just said it reminded him of Nigel. That's all there is to it. Nigel should've stayed an extra year in college and come out as bi. His ass should be at the club. I'm sorry but as serious and sad bttwns is, the plot happened bc a twink tried hitting on a butch.

4. Kiss Me - Sixpence None The Richer

I saw a Katara x Aang fancam with the song and. It just made me incredibly happy. I listen to it on the way to class because of how soft and sweet it is. It fits Julianne too but more on Julianne's side than Sam's tbh. I have great nostalgia for this era of music.

5. I've Got A Match - They Might Be Giants:

Bittersweet love songs are TMBG's specialty. If the protagonist isn't falling in love with a literal angel or if his love wasn't killed in the Vietnam war, he's withdrawing himself any affection at all. Also it's House Guest coded.

Thank you again yippee!!!

[childoflegend]

{ today is this blog’s seven year anniversary! Seven years ago I decided to take a chance and bring my precious baby Rin into this rpc in hopes that he would be accepted. At first he was a bit outcast, which I had been expecting, but soon after he received such a warm welcome that it gave me the confidence to also bring Rise into the rp scene on here. I can’t believe I’ve had this blog and been writing Rin and Rise on here for seven entire years! To celebrate, here’s a drawing I’m currently working on of Rin and Rise! <3 I only have the line art done, but I’m hoping to finish the colors either by tonight or tomorrow. Thanks so much for everything you guys, I love all of my friends here dearly and I couldn’t have made it this long without each and every one of you. To both those who are no longer here and to those who have stuck around despite how dead this rpc has become over the years, thank you. I love you all so dearly. Here’s to another great year of writing! <3 :-D }

[stillresolved]

GET TO KNOW THE MUN

NAME?: ferre :)

PRONOUNS?: they / them

PREFERENCE OF COMMUNICATION?: tumblr ims for newcomers, discord for friends/longtime writing partners!

MOST ACTIVE MUSE(S)?: rn aeri's taken over, but on here, it rotates fairly often; i also always have brainrot for suki & patrick ♡

EXPERIENCE / HOW MANY YEARS?: 9-10 years? i started in the shitty ims of quizilla, didn't realize this is something ppl actually did as a hobby for another year before i moved to tumblr. i believe i was on-and-off for about four years before in 2018, i made calum, where the hobby became more permanent, took a year long break and then came back in 2021....u're all stuck with me for life now :)

BEST EXPERIENCE?: THE PLOTTED GROUP VERSES I HAVE WITH THE PPL :'D from the thg verse to the crime verse AND NOW!! the celebrity verse i never thought i'd get to write and plot such intricate ideas with my partners, so it makes me SO HAPPY and thankful to have stuck around here all this time; also whatever's going on with suki & her co-workers i'm in, i love it

RP PET PEEVES?: admittedly, a lot :'D but moving blogs has helped with getting away from constantly encountering these pet peeves :D if i have to name one then recently i've been getting turned off by ppl who are always their soapboxes lecturing about rp. they talk about how rp should be and how people should interact with one another, but most of the time? i hardly see them practice what they preach. if you want quality partners, you have to be one first- that's how you find ur people :/ also excessive, consistent saltiness- i get uncomfortable.

FLUFF, ANGST, OR SMUT?: i don't really care, just as long as there's character/relationship development going on. that being said- if you want pain that will make u yell at me in the dms, hit me up ♡ ( i have references :DD )

PLOTS OR MEMES?: honestly plots all the way, but i'm also very picky with who i plot with in-depth, so memes are good ways to break the ice.

LONG OR SHORT REPLIES?: i tend to match my partners so most of the time my replies end up on the longer side...that being said, i am always down for shorter threads, it's a good exercise in brevity.

TIME TO WRITE?: recently it's been more on the weekends as i have solo writing projects i work on during the week although i do tend to hold onto completed replies/memes so that i can mass post them when i have a few more completed.

ARE YOU LIKE YOUR MUSE(S)?: NAH, one thing that's been making me happier these days is that i'm starting?? to branch out a bit more from the good beans i'm accustomed to writing....when it comes to portraying my characters, my goal isn't to make them do the right thing so much as do the most interesting ic thing ♡

tagged by: i stole it ♡ tagging: @geaesaekki @mythvoiced @velvetineblue @theimpalpable ( for when you've finished renovating :D ) @bloodxhound @byanyan @crue1 @irrwicht and you! stealing is acceptable in this house :D

[demonprincezeldris]

Happy Birthday to the crazy chaos man himself. I decided to write a little fluff piece to celebrate. Enjoy! :D

𝗧𝗮𝗸𝗲 𝗠𝗲 𝗕𝗮𝗰𝗸 𝘁𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗡𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 𝗪𝗲 𝗠𝗲𝘁

The heavy beat of the speakers overhead blared in Arthur’s eardrums, the loud music intertwining with the voices of the other patrons as they chattered loudly amongst themselves. Arthur’s eyes glanced around the room lazily, watching several drunk customers as they hovered around the large TV screens that were dotted around the bar, their eyes glued to the sports game that was currently playing. 

Friday nights at the bar were always chaotic, but it was nice for Arthur to get away from the mundane life of home. And it was a good excuse to get his boyfriend out of the house too, and socialize with other people, even if he wasn’t a social butterfly. 

He turned around to the empty chair beside him, noticing the raven-haired male that he loved so much walk up to their table with their beverages of choice. Arthur immediately leapt off the stool, quickly taking the beer from Zeldris’ hands as they sat back down to enjoy their evening. 

Arthur reached out, grasping Zeldris’ hands as he flashed him a soft smile. “Thank you for doing this, Zel,” he said loudly. “I know you’re not really used to being in public places, so this means a lot to me.” Zeldris’ emerald green eyes met his, a corner of his mouth twitching upwards in the hint of a smile. 

His fingers interlaced with Arthur’s, caressing the side of his hand with his thumb. “It’s no trouble at all, Arthur,” he reassured. “It is your birthday after all, so what kind of a boyfriend would I be if I didn’t allow you to take us out to a special birthday celebration?At least we don’t have Meliodas pestering us this time around.” Arthur laughed in response, his face breaking into a wider grin as the memories from his previous birthday danced in his head. 

They had invited some of Arthur’s friends to celebrate his birthday the year before, and safe to say Zeldris was less than pleased with the idea of their house being trashed by several guests. But he had gritted his teeth and pulled through the awful night, for Arthur’s sake. But after realizing Zeldris’ discomfort, he had promised him that they’d do a more private celebration. Just the two of them. 

Arthur grabbed his glass from where it rested, taking a gentle sip as he leaned back in his chair. “I really am sorry about that, Zeldris,” Arthur apologized, grabbing a french fry from the basket between them. He dipped it in some ketchup, before popping it in his mouth, allowing the salt to bathe his tongue. 

“It’s alright, Arthur,” Zeldris said, his eyes straying to a table as a few of the customers’ voices raised in pitch, who were glaring at something that had happened on the TV. He frowned at the sudden loud noise, shaking his head in frustration  as he too grabbed some of the fresh food, turning his attention back to Arthur. “As much as I despised having that many people, including my brother in the house, it was a celebration for you. I wasn’t about to ruin it by telling all the guests to leave because I was uncomfortable.” 

The two continued to eat in relative silence, sipping on their drinks occasionally as they allowed the sounds of the bar to wash over them. Arthur stuck another french fry in his mouth, washing it down with his drink as he tried to start up another conversation. “How’s work going for you?” he pondered. 

Zeldris shrugged nonchalantly, running his finger over the rim of his glass. “It’s the same as it's always been, really. I get some new clients here and there, and see some of my more frequent clients that stop by for whatever they need. And you? How’s the firefighting going?” He looked back up at Arthur. 

Arthur braced his arms on the table, letting out a low sound in the back of his throat as he too shrugged. “It’s been good. Some small house fires, some car crashes. The usual really. Thankfully it wasn’t nearly as hectic as that one lady who purposefully set her neighbor’s house on fire. We were out there for four hours trying to put the fire out.” Zeldris’ face twisted, clicking his tongue in disapproval. 

The bowl of fries were quickly emptied, both men finishing their alcohol as they continued to make small talk, chatting about whatever came to their minds as they ate their dinner. After the bill for their food was paid, Zeldris slipped off the chair. “Come on, let’s go take an evening walk. I’m starting to get a headache from this loud music.” Arthur quickly jumped off his own chair, waving to the employees with a bright smile as he thanked them for their service. 

Arthur held open the door, allowing Zeldris to walk out first. The air was cool and refreshing, a welcome relief from the heat of the summer sun. Soon enough the crisp temperatures of autumn would grip the town, the leaves changing to a brilliant blend of gold, red, and orange. 

The marina was calm, the dark waves crashing gently against the boats that rocked alongside the seawall. Lights dotted the edge of the walkway, chains between each pole. As Arthur gazed out into the calm ocean waters, he reached out a hand, brushing it against Zeldris’. He was more than pleased to feel him respond in kind, their hands instantly interlocking as they walked silently alongside the water’s edge. 

Zeldris led him out to a nearby pier, hearing the wooden planks thump under their feet as they wandered towards the edge of the pier. There weren’t many people walking, most everyone indoors at the nearby restaurants and bars that were scattered in town. Arthur smiled, allowing his eyes to close as he felt the salty seabreeze brush against his ginger hair. 

They approached the end of the pier, both men staring out at the dark horizon. “Gosh, it’s so peaceful out here tonight,” Arthur whispered, wrapping his arm around Zeldris’ form and bringing him in close. Zeldris’ arm curled around his waist in return, resting his head against Arthur’s chest as he smiled. 

“Yeah it is. Do you remember this pier?” Zeldris asked softly. Arthur nodded, a grin making its way onto his face as his fingers ran up and down Zeldris’ waist softly. “Of course I do. It’s the place where we first met each other.” 

Arthur chuckled, the memories of that day flashing through his mind again. “I remember it as if it were yesterday. I was out taking pictures of the ocean for my blog. And I saw you just… sitting on one of these benches. Just staring out into the horizon. Just as we are now.” Zeldris snickered as Arthur recounted their first meetup. 

“You were always such a bubbly man, even now you can’t help but be so damn happy all the time. I don’t know how you do it, Pendragon,” Zeldris teased, poking him in the ribs playfully. Arthur laughed, batting his hands away as he pulled away from his boyfriend. His smile lingered on his face as he recounted the moment when the two of them locked eyes with each other for the very first time. 

Arthur took another step forward, his hands braced on his hips as he allowed the sea breeze to weave through his hair. “I remember when I first asked you out. I was so fucking scared, thinking that you’d reject me. But here we are, five years later.” “Yeah, crazy how time flies,” Zeldris murmured. 

He heard Zeldris clear his throat behind him, his footsteps gently padding on the wooden planks below them. “Actually, Arthur, there was a reason I brought you out here,” Zeldris said, his voice starting to shake with nervousness. Arthur turned around, catching the subtle shift in Zeldris’ tone, only to gasp in shock, his hands flying to cover his mouth as he realized what was happening. 

Zeldris’ entire body was trembling as he held out a small box in the palm of his hand, staring directly at Arthur. He swallowed deeply, before he finally spoke. “Arthur, we’ve known each other for a long time. Six years now actually. And every moment that I’ve spent with you was special. Your bubbly attitude, your willingness to compromise my own comfort, even on your own birthday, your immense dedication to helping the public. It’s awe-inspiring to have met an amazing and kind man such as yourself. And I’m the luckiest man in the world to have such a kind and energetic man to call my partner.” 

Arthur’s face welled up with tears, his chest becoming tight as he stayed silent, allowing Zeldris to continue. Zeldris stepped forward, their eyes locking under the moonlight as he grasped Arthur’s hands in his own. “I’ve come to realize that I need you, Arthur. I can’t live without you. You mean absolutely everything to me. So this… is my birthday present to you.” The ginger let out a muffled sob as Zeldris got down on one knee, keeping his gaze steady on the ginger as he opened the box, revealing a beautiful green-colored ring inside.

“Arthur Pendragon, will you do me the incredible honor of marrying me?” 

“Yes. Fucking hells yes,” Arthur sobbed, his tears flowing freely down his cheeks now. Zeldris’ smile grew on his face as his own tears started flowing down, reaching out to gently take Arthur’s hand in his own and slipping on the ring. The band was a beautiful shimmering black; with a deep, forest green inlaid in the center of the ring. As soon as the ring fit snugly on his finger, Zeldris cupped Arthur’s cheek, wiping away his tears as they gazed into each other’s eyes. 

“I love you, Arthur. I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you. Happy birthday.” Arthur remained quiet as he leaned forward, his fingers trailing Zeldris’ jaw as he pulled his fiancé in for a kiss, the moonlight shining down on them from the navy sky. 

[laughingphoenixleader]

OC Mundane Tag Game

thanks for tagging me, @accidental-spice !!

Rules: Pick an OC you'd like to talk about and answer the questions for them! Then tag ten people, or as many as you can. 'Underdeveloped character I adopted' is fine, too! Absolutely no pressure to play, though

Also, if some of it can't apply to your OCs, just answer what would be the answer-- like if they're in a historical setting, they likely can't watch movies, but what is a movie they'd like?

(Also, most people have many ocs, so feel free to retag people and answer as many times as you get tagged! Or get really wild and just answer for as many ocs as you'd like! :D)

Questions:

1. What is their favorite movie? hmmm ok I’m picking Daesha! I think The Princess and the Frog would be a beloved of hers, as she’d really connect with Tiana! She’d love Mulan, too. She’d also rly like Legally Blonde!

2. What is their favorite season?

She’s an autumn person, I think! It just has her Vibes! She’d really enjoy watching the leaves change, and her caf cantina’s cozy vibes are even more immaculate in autumn!

3. What do they find annoying?

Men.

Just kidding lol. She would definitely make that joke and not mean it…usually. Homegirl has some Stuff to work through in that area. Anyways, she’s annoyed by anyone who messes up her cantina’s vibe. And everything about Twi’lek stereotypes infuriates her. But when it comes to domestic, everyday annoyances…I think she gets frustrated when people pick apart movies. She’s like “it’s my day off I took off w o r k to enjoy this so LET ME ENJOY IT”

4. How would they like to spend their Christmas or equivalent holiday?

She just celebrated Life Day with her parents for a long time, which was really intimate and enough for her. She and her parents are very close, and they’re super proud of her! Daesha loves welcoming people into her caf cantina, but she’s a bit of an introvert when she’s off work, and she’s quite the workaholic. So she doesn’t make a lot of effort socially, besides the customers who eventually become friends and family to her. One in particular…but that’s another story.

5. Do they play an instrument? If so, what? How good are they at it?

Nah, but Daesha does love listening to music! She’s got one headphone in most of the time and gives the BEST music recommendations!

6. What’s their favorite meal to eat?

Daesha’s breakfast is caf, so that one lol!

7. Do they have a favorite video game or board game?

OOH Daesha would play a lot of board/card games with her parents!! I think she’d love Monopoly lol and the card game Spades! She’s very competitive, but in a fun way. When she was a kid she was more fiery about it lol but she’s usually more chill now. Usually. Unless you get her really worked up. Also she’s secretly a gamer on her off days and story video games make her cry like nothing else, especially Undertale

8. Do they celebrate their birthday?

Her parents make her celebrate lol. and they leaked her birthday to her customers so they all join in and every year they bring decorations as soon as the store opens and hang them everywhere and buy way too much caf as a present for Daesha haha

9. What’s their bedtime routine?

she used to SUCK at self-care, but now she’s got a fire skincare routine lol. she always makes a to-do list for the next day before she goes to bed in her super organized planner! she’s an early riser, so she doesn’t stay up super late—unless it’s the night before an off-day, in which case she g a m e s so hard and then falls into bed. also occasionally she gets stuck in the hypnosis that is Brooklyn Nine-Nine and binges too many episodes. she only once in a blue moon, tho. also yes her favorite character is Rosa, closely followed by Amy

10. What’s an OC (or canon character) they like to spend time around? What do they tend to do together?

She and Hera VIBE. they connect for so many reasons and on so many levels! throughout the Rebellion, they don’t rly get to see each other, but afterwards, they reconnect, and they FaceTime/holocall or whatever about once a week! it’s therapeutic for the both of them, and they very occasionally meet up and Daesha makes her caf and they talk for hours. also Daesha loves Jacen so much she thinks he’s the cutest thing and sometimes when Hera’s out doing General Things and no one in the Ghost Crew is available she drops him off on Keothon and he hangs out with Aunt Day for a while and she lets him help out in the caf cantina! he loves being a mini barista and the customers adore him!

tagging @jessicas-pi @musewrangler @locitapurplepink @anileahvictoria and anyone else who wants to play!