#you can really tell how the quality declined the more i write..

[mooncleaver]

To Live Fully Is to Live With Love

this sweet, passionate and blazing side of namor is only reserved for you, and your defiant detour to a fight with the surface dwellers seems to bring the most out of his fretful heart.

pairings: namor x fem!talokan!reader

warning: descriptions of blood and injury, worrywart husband namor, eh mid writing, CANON DIVERGENT!!

notes: another part of my talokan!queen reader series!! so this obviously is a little prequel to this fic. but def can be read as a standalone :D

"I told you not to come this time, in amado. I knew you could get hurt and here you are now," he said sternly, reprimanding your actions just a few moments ago when you swam along the talokanil warriors, brandishing your own embellished spear to protect your kingdom's vibranium source. The surface dwellers have gotten much more advanced with their weapons over the last years you've encountered them, now with an artillery of ones more deadly, with technology that could bring down the world if it were to be held in the wrong hands. When they had proceeded with their own attacks, you defiantly climbed up their ship despite Namora's fervent warnings against it, ending up with a gun wound when you got back to Talokan.

To you it was just a stray bullet grazing the skin of your thighs, the wound easily mended with some salve and a touch of your enforced regeneration abilities. But to Namor.. oh to Namor it was as if they had committed the most heinous of crimes against you, the shallow cut like a valley of bleeding carmine. And of course you understood where he came from. He was always protective of you in one way or another, never not keeping a vigilant eye on you; it was one of his ways of showing you his love and as much as it could be a bit much sometimes, you always appreciated the gesture.

So here you were now, swimming around your home with a bandaged wrapped around your thigh, the crimson blooming onto the alabaster stripes to remind you of your.. minor, incident.

"I know you said that with the intentions to keep me safe, but I refuse to stay back knowing I could offer them another pair of hands to fight, I'm sorry." You could only stare at the floor, your stubborn heart proving itself fickle once again at juggling the dilemma of justifying your actions and defying your husband's one request. On one hand it had made you so determined and resolute when you thought about absolutely obliterating any surface dwellers who even dared to touch a hair on your people and a single stroke of vibranium, but also.. it pained you to make your husband so disheartened. And you knew he did it out of love, and that made it all the more defeated.

If there was one thing about you, you would always fight for what you thought was right—for the benefit of everyone's safety—even if it meant hurting yourself or being brash and spontaneous. You wouldn't for a second catch yourself endangering any of your people and loved ones; you'd be dead before you backed out of a fight you could easily help in.

"They are strong, I'm aware my king.. but it hurts me to know they must suffer for even just a second." The wellbeing of your people has always been that tender spot in your heart. From the moment you saw just how much they have fought and paid for their freedom, their lives have been something of a pulsing spirit in you, entangling every word you say, every move you brandished; it was all so you and the Talokanil could keep what was rightfully yours all along. Only you would know how much it pained you to see familiar faces on bedrest, their restless—sometimes defeated���faces engraining itself in your head. And of course, you knew your people were stronger than the average warrior. One stray bullet wouldn't kill them immediately, and a striking slash on their skin would only wound them for a few moments, but knowing that you could have done something—could have been there at that moment with them, preventing them from even being touched by a sliver of a bullet or a knife—it made you frustrated. At yourself and at the cruel world.

"They- they have families, children, parents, sisters and brothers waiting for them.. I couldn't bare it to see the devastation again." The last word ringed in his head, reminding him that you too, faced your own share of weighty grief, a kind that would slowly deter one should they be exposed to it for over millennia. It's the guilt of having someone's life in your hands.

And right after that flash of vulnerability you broke, looking up at him with eyes that were wide—almost innocent with a certain naivety—all tainted with affliction and ardor that could not only be delineated as the love of her queen to her people. Her family. "Taak in yaantal ti' tu yiknal leti'ob.. taak in we'esik chan juntúul bey kaajal."

(I want to be with them.. I want to show that we are one as a people.)

You were always bad at hiding what your heart truly wanted. It was something that Namor admired about you; despite how much you try to put on a strong and regal facade for the sake of your kingdom, your compassion and devotion would always win at the end, welting through the hardened walls like a blazing shooting star in the stygian sky. That was what made you such an admirable ruler and woman, because you learnt how to exist between the lines of politics and heart, always wielding your emotions to be something more powerful than any crown or medals that decorated a royal's figure. You never forgot who you are and what you stood for, knowing just how to conduct yourself as if all your past experiences and everything you had learnt continues to live inside of you.

"As their queen-"

"As my wife you should know I can't sit back and watch you fall. Wherever I am you know I would stop the world from spinning to come to you. Losing you.. losing you is something I never want to think about." Namor cut you off, finally holding you in his arms. At the end of the day—without the titles or how long you have lived—you two were just people in love, looking after one another despite the disappointment or irritation. His voice practically trembling with a copious amount of concern and you're reminded of just how much you have to lose.

You weren't like you were back then when you were younger, naive and free of responsibility, not yet discovering the absolute euphoria of loving someone. But now you have your life partner and a kingdom to watch over, the people living in it coming in tail too.

Namor gave you his gaze now, fully and truly as his eyes clashed with your own emotion-ridden one and you couldn't help but dance in the torrid currents billowing in his. He slipped the palms of his hands between your neck and the side of your face, brushing his thumbs below the waterline of your eyes, back to the peak of your cheeks and your temples. "You have me, in puksi'ik'al. I'm always waiting for you right here."

And you couldn't help but close your eyes and clutch the soft cape he was wearing over the half of his body, holding onto it so tightly as if it was your lifeline, because of the words he had just said to you.. they pierced your heart in the most beautiful way.

Somehow.. somehow he always knew what to say. In every situation his words rung out like the melody of a song, sometimes riddled with jagged knives that could splinter through the toughest minds, or sometimes like the feathers that adorned his headpiece, so much softer than the clouds that you have grazed with the tips of your fingers, calming like a breathe of fresh wind.

He gently nudged your face back to his,—an arm never leaving its rightful place around your waist—gaze so close that you could see every bit of umber and brown in his eyes, the gentle singed specks in his irises dotted like the milky way, every gleam and glisten of the water reflecting on the salient expanse of his skin.

"For millennia I have searched for that missing piece of my heart. The one that has only ever beat for my people, for my mother and for Talokan. I've given myself to protect those who cannot, to give them the sun when all they've ever seen was the darkened trails of the moon." A quiet brush from the back of his fingers grazed your cheeks as he continued,

"But you.. you are the one my restless heart calls out to."

A warm wave of his breathe brushed your face and you felt just how powerful his words were—like he was baring his entire heart vulnerable right in front of you. It was so peaceful, to hear it pulsing around you, urging you to float still, becoming one with the home you found in Namor.

"I can't lose you, in reina. You are the piece that I was always meant to find. Kin ts'áik ti' teech le ujo' yéetel le eek'o'obo' wa quisieras, in yakunaj."

(I will give you the moon with the stars if you want, my love.)

The sweet breathe of release you experienced was something you would live for again and again if it meant you could hear those heartfelt words from him, to hear his passion and his ferocity in loving you as if you were the most brilliant piece of diamond in his eyes, as if he would lose apart of himself if he ever let you go. You gave him an airy chuckle as you shook your head lightly, reaching your hands up to encase his face between your hands, looking up as you fiddled with the tapered tip of his ears.

"You know I don't want the moon, the stars, or the entire constellation. All I want is you. That is infinitely more than enough to me."

And at that moment the feathered serpent god couldn't help but relish the sense of pride surging through his veins; the feeling that you were standing in front of him, right here right now and for however long you chose to love him, being the one he gets to call his love, his heart and his entire world.

You were the moon to his sea, the one that calls out to his tides with your beautiful song. When he found you, miraculously catching your gaze in the middle of the buzzing sea he felt as if he'd finally opened his eyes. To open his eyes and see just how beautiful the world could be. How radiant his life could be when he let the love spill out from his hardened heart. He has been living for his people and the legacy of the battles they've fought for so long that in the middle of it all, Namor forgot what it was like to live for himself too. And you were the one to reignite that light inside of him, with your soft smile and your searing soul, you'd awoken something long buried under a mountain of grief and anger and with you by his side, the king of Talokan has flourished so magnificently, centuries to come with a scorching brilliance of hope at the end of it.

"In yaakunech, amal xéet' ta."

(I love you, every piece of you.)

"Yéetel in yaakunech, K'uk'ulkan. Tak tu xul."

(And I love you, K'uk'ulkan. Until the end.)

OMMMLGJFHD the dialogue really brought my emotions out like i was screaming crying making this..

anyway i do feel like this is really subpar, but i wanted to post it because despite my silly little writers block i still enjoyed writing this story. and i hate seeing it sitting in my drafts.

+ for all my talokan queen fics, i imagine they speak in yucatec mayan, however im not able to translate everything into the language, but u get the idea!

once again i apologize if there are mistakes in the translations. please tell me if i have to change something :D

[anna-hawk]

Dexterity

Frank Castle x F!Reader

Summary: You're having some quality time on your own when Frank pays you an unexpected visit.

Explicit 🔞 • WC: 4,1k

Tags and warnings: masturbation, finger fucking, teasing, praise kink, hand & finger kink, dirty talk

Always time for Coffee series

⚠️ If you follow me on AO3, this is NOT a new fic! ⚠️

A/N: This month will mark five years since I posted my very first Frank x Reader fic. I made a small post for the series a few years back, but never a dedicated one for the first ever fic. After the news and pics of getting Frank back today, even if it's only for a small role, I was thinking back to the time I got first inspired to write and actually post something for once. It's been quite the journey since then and this series has now 16 parts, but most importantly, this fic played a big part in me joining the beautiful fandom that I've been a part of these past 4 years and getting me to meet incredible people. So I figured, let's be nostalgic and officially post it on here too.

Ever since meeting Frank Castle, you’ve been obsessed with his hands.

You know they have killed numerous people and could do cruel things to the ones deserving it, but you also know how kind and gentle they can be. When he would come to your shop as Pete, you’d seen how he would talk to one of your employees' kid, the boy having always had a short fuse, and manage to calm the boy down by simply putting a reassuring hand on his shoulder. The couple of times when he’d handled the fragile elements of your ice cream maker while repairing it with those deft hands had also shown how gentle they could be. 

Yeah, you really have a thing for his hands and the guy himself.

The first time you'd met him, you'd met Pete Castiglione the construction worker, who’d been visiting your Café for the first time. You had followed the whole Punisher debacle on TV and had been very intrigued by the man’s story. Yet even though you'd thought that Pete looked familiar, it had taken you a few weeks of him coming in every other day and helping you out with an electrical problem, to realize who had actually been hiding under all this wild hair and beard. That had been the first time you had come into contact with his hands, too. He had taken off his baseball cap, looked at you to ask where the problem was while standing really close to you, and something in his expression had finally made it click inside you. You'd breathed out, “Frank Castle,” in stunned realization a moment later. In the next second, he'd had you by your throat and against the opposite wall, asking who’d sent you. You had been so startled that you’d just started laughing at the absurdity of you being able to hurt him. Okay, so maybe not really laughed as much as choked, since he’d had his fingers squeezing rather hard around your windpipe. But you'd managed to wheeze out your thoughts, and he'd released you enough for you to tell him why and how you had recognized him. He’d deemed you trustworthy enough, apparently, because he'd let go of you and apologized for overreacting.

You had promised him that you would never tell anyone about him that same evening.

As weeks passed, and he’d still come by your Café, you'd managed to build a rather close friendship. After a while, though, you'd noticed that he was coming by less and less until he stopped coming altogether, making you worried. Finally, after the day everyone had found out that Frank Castle was still alive through live TV, he'd come to your shop when you were closing. You had been even more scared for him since the news and beyond relieved to see him unscathed. You had been touched to learn that he’d wanted to make sure that no one had found out that you knew about him and come to hurt you to get to him. He'd also told you that he would have to lie low for a while. You'd suggested that he should come to your place and hide there. He had declined, too worried about what could happen to you. Still, as you'd accepted his concern, you'd told him that he could come to yours whenever he needed to, no matter the time of the day or the night. You had never been more glad about giving him your address because weeks later, he had come to hide for the night and had done so several nights until the whole thing with Billy Russo had been over.

Nowadays, he still shows up every now and again. Mostly nights because he has some business to take care of, or just to say hi. You both grab a drink (mostly coffee) and chat. You enjoy his company a lot. Okay, more than a lot. You’ve had a thing for the Punisher even before meeting Frank, but since knowing the man himself, you couldn’t help being attracted to Frank and his beautiful large hands and agile fingers. Among other things. You don't know where he stands with romantic or even only physical relationships considering his past, but you do kind of flirt with one another. You know that Frank likes you a lot; otherwise he wouldn’t come to see you regularly. But even if you want him, badly, you feel that it’s more like bantering to him and nothing more.

That doesn’t stop you from dreaming or fantasizing about him and the filthy things that you’d love him to do to you or you to him, though. And that's actually exactly what you’re doing right now. You’re lying on your bed, the sheets tangled around your legs, one hand inside your sleeping shorts while your breaths come harder and faster. You’ve been teasing yourself for what feels like an hour, fingers alternating between circling your clit languidly and pushing three deep into you to mimic the size of two of his, getting yourself closer and closer to one spectacular orgasm. You’ve got your eyes closed, face flushed, bottom lip between your teeth, while your middle finger is rubbing faster and faster over your slippery clit. Harsh breaths leave you as you picture Frank spreading you wide with his fingers and whispering dirty nothings into your ear. You’re right there, on the brink, ready to fall, when there’s a resounding knock at your door.

You yelp in surprise and flinch so hard that you nearly hit yourself in the face with how fast you remove your hand from between your legs. You’re trying to get your bearings back, your body still trembling from being strung high for so long and not getting what it wants, when there is another knock. You groan in frustration and get up on wobbly legs to go check on who wants to see you so badly at that time of night. You look through the peephole and gasp when you see Frank’s face. He'd been here only last week, and he usually shows up only once a month at best, so you’re completely thrown when you open your door to the smirking man.

“Hey, Sweetheart,” he greets in his signature gruff and deep voice, upper body pressed lazily against the door jamb.

He’s looking calm and carrying no signs of a recent fight. Meaning that this isn’t an emergency call. Good. He’s wearing dark jeans and a charcoal Henley with his usual combat boots, three days worth of stubble on his face. He looks mouthwatering, and you valiantly try not to let anything show on your face.

“Was in the neighborhood visitin' Curtis and thought I could come check on you too. Sorry it’s so late,” he continues, confirming your earlier thoughts on there being no immediate danger.

“You’ve come by way later, Frank,” you remind him with a snort and motion for him to follow you inside.

You notice that your voice came out a bit strained, and hope that he doesn’t see how your knees are still shaking after the near orgasm and the effect his unexpected presence has on you. Well, turns out that you’re out of luck. 

“You okay there?” He asks, as he follows you into the kitchen.

You groan inside, of course he noticed. You still try to play it off.

“What? Of course, I’m okay.” You hate how your laugh sounds off. You’re usually better at faking stuff like that.

“Yeah?” he says, coming to stand right before you to give you a once over. “'cause you’re all flushed and breathin' kinda hard.” He even lifts one hand to feel your temperature, but you dodge it and turn to the sink, reaching over it to get two coffee mugs out of a cupboard. Anything to avoid him see you blush even more.

“I’m fine, Frank, don’t worry… Coffee?” You desperately hope that he’s going to let it go. You need to put yourself back together and slow your breathing.

“Can never refuse your coffee.”

You breathe a small sigh of relief when he seems to accept your answer and smile at how fond he sounds of your coffee making skills. You’re about to reach for the coffee beans when he says, “Seriously, though, am I makin' you this nervous or what's goin' on?”

You put your hands back down and groan in defeat, hanging your head.

“Could you just let it go, Frank? Please?”

He doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, and you don’t turn around to look at him while you wait.

“Did I interrupt somethin'?” He finally says, amusement clear in his voice. Damn him and his perceptiveness.

You hide your face in your hands and whimper in embarrassment.

“Oh God, just shut up, Frank!” Your voice is muffled by your hands. He barks out a laugh, making you lower your hands again. “You’re such a jerk.”

“Hey, hey, `s okay Sweetheart, there’s nothin' to be embarrassed about,” he tells you gently, though you can tell that he’s still grinning, the bastard.

“Yes well…” You still refuse to turn around, even though you can hear him move closer behind you.

“'could always show me, y'know,” he says, and even though the words hit you to the core because the thought alone sends a new wave of deep arousal through you, you can’t place his tone. 

That's why you do the only thing that comes to mind and gasp, turning around to backhand him in the chest and play into the joke.

“Oh, fuck you, asshole.”

You meet his eyes and see that there’s something there, lying just under the teasing glint. You suck in a breath, holding it in, while your heart beats a nervous tattoo against your rib cage.

“Or… I could help 'course,” he finally says, voice low, after what feels like minutes and not seconds, his piercing eyes never leaving yours.

You stare at him, still barely daring to breathe. The idea of him helping you out nearly sends you to your knees. Eventually, you exhale in a snort because come on, he doesn’t mean it, and go back to facing the counter, taking the coffee beans out of the cupboard.

“Yeah, right… Let’s get back to that coffee, yeah?” Bonus points for sounding offhand.

You hear him taking another step and then see his hands coming to rest on the counter, one on each side of you, effectively caging you in. His voice is a rough whisper against your left ear, making you gasp.

“Is that a no?”

Your hands, now inches apart from Frank’s, are gripping the marble beneath them, hard. You close your eyes and swallow.

“Don’t play games with me, Frank.” Your voice goes deeper and colder in warning. You might not expect anything romantic-wise from him, but you won’t be made a fool of.

“‘m not playin', Baby.”

To confirm his words, he glides his nose along your nape and bites you lightly on the juncture between neck and shoulder.

You moan, all need. That nickname. He's never used it before, but it does something to you. Babe you’ve never liked. But Baby? The way Frank says it, just gets to you. You incline your head to the side, a silent surrender, and feel him grin against your skin. Your eyes are closed so that you don’t see his right hand leave the counter, but feel it settle on your hip and slowly glide down your thigh to the hem of your shorts. To your dismay, his mouth leaves your neck.

“Spread your legs for me, Sweetheart,” he rumbles into your ear.

You oblige instantly, parting your legs and leaning slightly forward to accommodate him. Frank hums in approval. You can feel his fingers on your skin now, just beneath the hem of your shorts, slowly making their way under your right butt cheek and to your center, the touch light and measured. How is it that he's barely touching you and making your breathing speed up again? You try to relax your hands because you’re still gripping the hard kitchen surface like crazy; anything to anchor you. But Frank chooses that moment to push the short’s to the side, hooking it between your ass cheeks and the left side of your outer lips, to grant him easier access. One large finger slides through your still wet folds. One lazy pass through your slit and up to your clit, and your hands lock into place again, a harsh gasp leaving your mouth.

“Shit, already so fuckin’ wet, huh? Guess I did interrupt somethin' good.”

You say nothing, you can’t right now.

Frank keeps up his slow and torturous pace, sometimes staying over your clit and circling it with a featherlight touch that has you nearly screaming in frustration. You try to get a bit more pressure by pushing down on his finger every time he does this, but he just goes back to teasing your slit. Your arms are trembling from the strain, and you murmur a nearly silent plea for more. He seems to hear you though because he chuckles kindly and applies enough pressure for you to moan in satisfaction for a few seconds, before he stops again, too soon. When you fantasize about him, you usually picture him as the teasing kind of lover, but your imagination could never have reached this level.

“Tell me… What you been thinkin' about earlier?”

You’re kind of put out to hear that his voice is still steady, so you decide on the truth. In for a penny and all that.

“You,” you breathe softly.

His movements stop, and you’re satisfied with his reaction, when you realize that you might have overshared. His hand is moving again a moment later, and he growls deep in his throat. He presses his chest to your back, left hand coming up from the counter to grab your jaw and pull it to the side to press biting kisses into your neck and shoulder, making you keen.

“Me, huh? Fuck, now I really want ya to show me sometime…,” he pants roughly into your neck, index finger rubbing tighter and harder over you. “And what was I doin’?”

You have to concentrate to answer him, the pressure on your clit so delicious now. Your voice ends up breaking on each word.

“Something… like… that…”

“Something?”

“Finger-fucking… me.”

He inhales sharply, and you feel him adjust his position behind you, his clothed erection brushing against your ass for a second.

“Something like that?”

Two of his large fingers plunge deep into you, filling you to the brim. You cry out in bliss and go up on your tiptoes for a second as your body rises. Your back bows backward, resulting in your head coming to rest on his shoulder, while your eyes close, and you catch your bottom lip between your teeth.

“Fuck, you feel so good for me, Baby,” he groans into your temple. He withdraws slightly before pushing back all the way in, setting a steady rhythm as the way his name keeps falling from your lips keeps him going.

The hand on your jaw slackens after a while and travels down your neck, over your collarbone and a covered nipple. He’s stroking down your belly and to the junction of your thighs before he finally stops directly over your clit. He rolls it between index and thumb with just the right amount of too much and not enough pressure, or flicks quickly over it repeatedly to keep you on your toes and not know what to expect next. The rhythm of his two hands are completely different. Where his left hand is teasing you slowly but mercilessly, his right hand still has two fingers fucking you fast and deep, making you whimper brokenly. His fingers feel absolutely incredible, yet you know that it’s to keep you on the edge of release. You love and hate it at the same time. The dual sensation has you removing your head from his shoulder to take your weight with your hands on the counter again, leaning forward a bit more to push your ass out and give him even better access.

Frank grunts his approval and keeps up the pace. You feel him resting his forehead on the nape of your neck.

“Holy shit, girl, look at ya takin' my fingers so perfectly,” he says gruffly. You squeeze down on said fingers at the praise, resulting in a groan of appreciation from him.

Eventually, no matter how long he’d intended to keep you on the brink, you’ve been strung so high for so long, that your orgasm is building inexorably, your body ready to crash back down again. His continuous praise is speeding it up as well. Your legs start to shake and a light sheen of sweat is covering your skin. Your harsh breaths are intermingled with moans and gasps of please mores and yesyesyes.

“Frank, please,” you beg one last time. “Please!”

“I gotcha, Sweetheart,” Frank answers finally and starts upping his pace on your clit.

“Yes!” you hiss, elated.

But Frank is apparently not completely done with you because he removes his two fingers from inside you, only to push back but with a third one, this time. You can only cry out in surprise and deep pleasure as he gives you half a second to adjust, before he starts an intense rhythm again. You’ve never felt this full with only fingers, and you can now feel as your release starts curling hotter and tighter in your belly.

“F-f-f-frank, I’m so, so close,” you manage to breathe out.

Frank keeps a litany of words spilling out of his mouth against your neck, “So fuckin' perfect for me” and, “Takin' me so beautifully”.

Suddenly, you're right there again, just like before, ready to take the leap. You feel the shivers running through your whole body and centering where Frank is rubbing tighter and tighter circles. Frank lifts his head from yours and growls deeply into your ear. “Now come for me, Baby. Come on my fingers.”

“Oh fuck, Frank!” You mewl, high-pitched, and that’s it. Everything in you snaps at his words. The intensity of this so long to come orgasm hits you like a freight train driven by Frank Castle. Your body curves back against his, your head back on his shoulder, facing his neck. Your hold on the kitchen worktop becomes deadly again after having slackened somewhat, and you cry out in pure, unadulterated bliss. You dimly feel Frank stopping the fingers inside you and taking them out to circle your waist and push you even more back against him. His focus is on his left hand, index finger still stroking your bud with intense precision, prolonging your release.

As you’re slowly coming down, your body begins to tremble and Frank tightens his hold on you to prevent your knees from giving out on you. You finally release the worktop, fingers a bit stiff, and put them over Frank’s arm to hold on to. His finger hasn’t stop working you, though, and while it’s sending you nice aftershocks, which have you jerking and gasping against him, you finally reach down with one hand to grab his wrist to stop his movements and rest it against your waist with the other.

“Too much,” you mumble into his throat.

You stand like that for a while, both not saying anything while you try to get your breathing back under control. As the seconds trickle by, and you process the last fifteen minutes, you can’t help the laugh that bubbles up and escapes your lips.

“What?” Frank asks, and you can hear the amusement in his voice.

“That was so not what I was expecting from your visit… Not that I mind, of course,” you grin, all relaxed limbs and all.

Frank chuckles, “‘m a man full of surprises.”

You reach down to tug at your shorts and make yourself presentable again, and snicker.

“That you are,” you say and turn around in his arms to look at him, your hands coming to rest on his strong chest.

Your heart misses a beat when you see his face. He’s a bit flushed, and he’s still breathing rather deeply, but it’s his eyes that capture your full attention. They are still dark with arousal, the gaze intense and fixed on yours. Frank’s lips break out in a smirk as he catches you staring. You swallow and clear your throat as you finally take in the hard outline of his dick against your body. You’re about to open your mouth to inquire about it, but he beats you to it.

“Don’ worry ‘bout it, Sweetheart.”

“But-”

“‘m good,” he cuts in again, kissing your temple to take the sting out of his rebuttal before letting go of you.

You stay quiet and lean back against the counter as you nod vaguely. Frank takes a few steps backwards away from you, one hand coming up to rake through his hair and down his neck in a nervous gesture. He doesn’t look at you, so you decide to break the silence. You’re still floating on your high a bit and don’t want things to get uncomfortable between you two.

“So… coffee?”

You see him take a small breath and look back at you with a smile. His eyes are kind but unreadable, like they so often are when he’s thinking about something.

“Yeah, I’d like that, thanks.”

You smile and get back to grab the things you need, Frank going to sit on the couch. The silence is only broken by the coffee grinder for a small while. Your apartment is one large space with an open kitchen that gives on a big living area. A comfortable couch and a coffee table, that are framed by two armchairs, face a flat screen TV and huge floor to ceiling windows. Your bedroom with en suite bathroom is on the opposite side from the kitchen. You adore this place. From where you’re preparing the two mugs, you only have to turn your head to the left to see Frank sitting on the couch, arms thrown over the back of it, legs spread wide. He stares unblinkingly at the darkness and buildings outside your windows. You bite your lip and sigh softly. Once you’re done, one mug with strong dark coffee for Frank in one hand and in the other one with decaf because you definitely don’t need any more excitement tonight, you make your way over to him.

You walk around the back of the couch to sit at the opposite end, your back resting against the armrest. You extend your hand with Frank’s mug toward him. He blinks down at it for a second before taking the mug. He turns his upper body to face you, and you relax a little more at the half smile, half smirk that he usually wears and that he gives you now.

“Thanks,” he says gratefully and hums in pleasure when he takes his first sip.

“Anytime,” you chuckle warmly. You had been proud to find out that Frank had initially come to your Café because he had heard people talking about the quality of your coffee.

You sit there without saying anything, but this time it’s a comfortable silence, both savoring your drinks.

“So how’s Curtis?” You inquire after several long minutes.

It’s an honest question, but you also want to show Frank that you can still talk like you used to. You’ve never met Curtis, but you’ve heard a lot about him and how he has always been there for Frank. That alone means a lot in your book. You end up talking for a small amount of time, conversation becoming easier, before Frank decides to bid you goodnight. You walk him back to the door, and he envelops you in a hug that you hadn’t been expecting at this point. He kisses you on a temple like he often does, making you smile into his neck fondly before returning the kiss but on one cheek instead.

“Take care,” he rasps into your ear, before letting go of you and opening the door.

“Be careful,” you counter with raised eyebrows and a meaningful look.

Frank chuckles and nods. “I'll see what I can do.”

He walks off to the elevator, which opens for him immediately when he pushes the call button, and steps inside. He lifts a hand in a wave as the doors slide closed in front of him, and then he’s gone.

You close your door and lean against it, heaving a heavy sigh. You don’t really know what to feel right now. You’ve just had one of the most memorable orgasms of your life, but still don’t know where you stand with Frank. If you go back to how things were before tonight, that’s fine with you. You’re kind of afraid that you might have scared him off, but the way he behaved before leaving makes you feel confident enough that you haven’t. The ball is definitely in Frank’s court now. You would have to wait and see.

[hollowfyshunsuikubo]

Mayuri Kurotsuchi Headcannons

A/N: Thie fic itself is going to take a while (Uni started up again and I am Suffering) so to feed yall before the self-indulgent smut im going to write, here's some SFW and NSFW headcannons. NSFW (and NSFW contents + warnings) is below the cut!

Mayuri Kurotsuchi x Gn!Reader (but Fem!Reader mentioned for NSFW)

Warnings: Smut, general Mayuri insanity, Slight Yandere themes, mentions of minor surgery, goofy silly moods

SFW:

You and Mayuri tend to have a very argumentative relationship once you've been dating for a few years

In the beginning, he was very possessive but also distant

He was very in denial that he felt anything, but he opened up after a while

You two have lots of arguments over morals and people

He believes that as long as you're safe, everything is fine

You're just trying to tell him that yes, you're safe. But the damned shinigami noble on the table getting a second heart because they paid for a years worth of funding is definitely not at that particular moment.

Hes often rude and blunt, but he means it in a good way. He'll often sound disinterested, but if you ask him about what you were talking about, he'll repeat it word for word and ask if you're going to continue or if he can keep working.

His version of being sweet is showing you his Lans and creations, but keeping you close my his side, his long nail always touching you if he needs to move forward or a little further away to show you something

Has definitely tried to show you how to dissect something odd, like another shinigami he picked up stole from the 4th Division. Needless to say, a fight broke out between you two, which ended with a scalpel and Akon both being thrown.

He also likes to have you sit on his lap while he's working.

Did he make a chair that he can sit in comfortably while you sit on his lap? Yes.

Does this chair have more comfort than any other chair in the 11th Division? Also yes.

Hes quite big on quality time you see, mixed with physical affection

Though some days, when he's more on edge than others, he'll opt to keep you in sight, but doesn't want to be touching you.

Like cuddling with you at night, when he can be bothered to sleep.

When he is very busy and can't make it to bed, he'll send Nemu with his regrets. He'd prefer to go himself, but it's far too busy.

He has contemplated installing a lavish, closed off, private, quadruple password locked room for you in his lab, just so he can see you easier, but he felt it may be too dangerous for you

He also enjoys seeing you chat with Nemu, though he does reprimand her if she gets too 'free' with you. Nemu is just happy her master is happy.

Nemu treats you like a mother. Yes I believe that Mayuri and Nemu are father daughter and not husband and wife come @ me. She enjoys going on "surveillance trips" with you (AKA walks around the Seireitei)

Moving on to nicknames and pet names, he doesn't really use them, but he does have clear favorites when he's in the mood. Baby and my dear are his go-tos if he feels mushy, but sweeting and rabbit are for his muh softer moments. He likes using rabbit as a teasing word. Not bunny, rabbit. He doesn't like bunnies.

He likes making sure you have things to do if you want to spend time alone, or if he's too busy.

His Captain's salary used to fully go towards funding the lab, but buying you things you want is also a good use of his money.

Hes never overstepped that particular boundary of excessive buying, though, especially if you're money conscious (all my people raised poor wya!)

Being with Mayuri is generally just an odd, but fun, if a little strained, time.

Tiny drabble:

It was cold today. You were bundled up as warmly as possible, attempting to not freeze before you go to Mayuri. You'd hoped to see him last night, you even stayed up far past your usual time, but Nemu poked her head around the corner and said that he'd regretfully be spending the night in the lab. You were welcome to join him, though.

You declined. It's been getting much colder, so you stayed in bed.

Now you wished you hadn't. You're tired and cold. A few Division members say hellos to you as you walk, and when you finally reach the lan, you see Mayuri in his chair, hunched over the console, looking at data.

"Nice of you to join me. Come, sit, now." He waved you over, not taking his eyes off the console. When you pause to wrap yourself up a little more, you hear the clacking of his fingers on the keys stop. "Sweeting, come here."

You forget about how cold you are and hurry on over. He's already leaning back in his seat, his hands away from his console, his brow irritated that he has to wait for you. You slide into his lap, and the smart chair registers that you're there. Another back pops up behind you, soft and squishy. But you opt to snuggle into Mayuri. His headpiece is a little annoying, but it's more endearing knowing you've seen what's underneath. That handsome face, alongside the soft lips that aren't covered with paint. He is finally able to get back to work, not saying another word.

That is, until he notices how many layers you're wearing.

"This lab has the best technology in the entire Soul Society, underfloor heating, and is warmed precisely so nobody is every distracted by the cold. If you're feverish or sick, go back to my room. I will provide you with warmth and a cure-all for your sickness." He doesn't look zt you just yet.

He feels a little insecure. How would you get sick? Is he not doing enough to keep you safe and healthy? Does he need to strengthen your immune system so he can spend more hours like this with you?

"I'm just a little cold, that's all." You reply gently. "There's nothing wrong with it. I'm not sick." Your reassurances did nothing to persuade him, but he supposed he could at least keep an eye on you while you're with him. At least you're with him. If you weren't, he have to take drastic measures to make sure you were. Nobody else was going to have you, that was for sure.

"Hmph. Fine." His clacking increased in speed. You closed your eyes, ready to finally cure the tired part of you, when you heard the clacking stop again and fabric wrap around you.

You opened your eyes to find he's wrapped his Captain's cloack around you, pulling you closer to him while also keeping you warm. The combination of his body heat the warmth of the cloak, and the renewed rhythmic tapping of his fingers on the keyboard fixed all your ills. The cold and your tiredness ebbed as you fell asleep in his arms, nestles close to him.

Despite the fact he was still working, he cursed you fot breaking his concentration. You were a little pest sometimes.

But at least you were his pest. He'd been working all night, after all... having you asleep with him, providing hum some much deserved affection as a reward for his hard work was worth it. After all, he was the most intelligent man in the Soul Society. He deserved to have a beautiful woman on his arm, in his arms, providing him with pesky emotions he didn't exactly not like, but rather enjoyed. He especially liked the strange fuzzy feeling he gets whenever he sees your peaceful sleeping face. What was that feeling called again?

NSFW:

a/n tried to keep it as gn!reader as possible, but there is ONE mention of a womb and pregnancy. (I fully believe Mayuri would give a biological male a working uterus and womb just to get them pregnant though)

WARNINGS: Sex toys, marking, nipple play, slight exhibitionism, breeding kink, degrading, power play, mentions of branding, mentions of knifeplay, semi-public sex, creampies, mentions of cock, womb mention/s (f!reader), masturbation, implied yandere in drabble

So, he likes toys.

Hes even made them for you.

Vibrating dildos in the shape of his cock to keep you coming while he's not there.

Vibrating panties that are so silent you can't hear it when you're right next to them.

A little toy kind of like the rose toy, except it's unsettlingly like his actual tongue

Needless to say, he's got you covered while he's away

When he's with you?

RIP.

Throwing it out there: he's a scientist. He's made his dick bigger. We've all seen how he carries Ashisogi Jizo. BDE.

So: 8.5 inches (cut, he likes to be clean) he keeps it unpainted (most of the time) and his balls are clean shaven, having slightly low. Good girth on him, enough to be somewhat of a stretch but not unpleasant. Really good hygiene down below too.

Anyway, he likes to study your reactions

The first few time you had sex, all he did was watch you. He even took notes.

You can't find the notes he took but you're sure that if you can't, nobody else but he can.

He's memorized your weakest, spongy spots

knows you live having your nipples sucked and licked and gently pulled.

those first few times were just you orgasming over and over and over again

loves biting. Marking is a big thing for him, as it shows that you belong to him.

Doesng like to mark with you cum though, as he feels it's a waste

Breeding kink? No

Hatred of wasting perfectly good seed with the potential to grow a genius nearly at his level within your womb? ✨️yes✨️

Is a more dominant man in bed, though likes to power bottom if you really want to ride.

The few times he's properly subbed for you, he didn't mind it, but he'd rather not

You made your sexual boundaries clear, but he's always asked permission to test them. A small brand he healed and got rid of here, a few interesting nights with knifeplay there...

Mayuri may be off the rails, but he'd do anything to keep you by his side. He knows your boundaries, and he knows his.

Moving on, he loves to degrade you.

Filthy slut, naughty whore, stupid bitch, and little cumdumpster seem to be his favorites

He loves the risk of being caught, as he loves the risk of you being humiliated

But he always makes sure you're never caught.

You'd be in an alley way, his cock thrusting in and out like a piston, one leg hoisted into the air, the cold air hitting your most sensitive part while he uses you like a toy, his other hand gripped firmly under your chin to tilt your head back to look at him.

You're dripping everywhere, the sounds of his dick going in and out of you something so lewd and pornographic you can't even contain your moans.

"You'd like to be caught, wouldn't you, you little whore? Go on, cum then, give the men who will walk past something to lick up and stare at."

When you cum, he shoves two fingers in your mouth, causing you to choke a little. He doesn't stop his hips, but you can feel your eyes rolling as he keeps abusing that sweet, sensitive spot inside you

Without warning, he's all the way in, his tongue running down your neck to bite the junction between your shoulder and neck as he cums deeply inside you.

Theres always a lot of it, to the point where it's almost like hes got years worth just stored there (even though your sex life is somewhat regular)

Oh yeah. I don't think Mayuri has a high sex drive, per se, I just think he likes to be close with you. Any chance he gets, he's like to be spending quality time with you and touching you in some way, and sex is quite good for that.

aftercare is pretty odd tbh

"You did better than I thought you would."

he generally likes to hold you close, and uses his captains hoari to wipe you down, if you want to be wiped down.

not many kisses, but he'll talk about the most insane things (i.e, how exciting it would be to study Ichigo Kurosaki, how annoying Captain Shunsui is, nitpicking over Akons work in the lab) quietly to help you get to sleep

once you're asleep, that's when the real aftercare starts

If your an afab, as much as he hates wasting it, he gives you a little injection to prevent his seed from taking hold in your womb

because of course, he's modified his semen to bypass any and all forms of birth control

after that, he cleans himself up, becayse he actually hates feeling sticky (as fun as it all was, that's one of his few icks when it comes to sex) he gets all the cum, the bodypaint, the sweat, and blood (if there is any) off before going back to bed

lastly, he'd make sure the bed was comfortable enough for him to settle down into, and he cuddles with you for as long as he can before either morning comes or he has to go back to work

he likes to cage you to him while you sleep, making sure you really can't escape

Tiny nsfw drabble:

His mouth devoured yours, much like how a lion would devour it's first meal in days. In the tiny corner of the lab, a hidden room long covered over but with no dust on any surface- he must have planned this, you think -he presses you against the wall, kissing you with such passion yet such possessiveness, you wonder if this is how the moon feels knowing the sun chases her. Knowing such heat is so close, yet only the sun can demand when you shine from it.

Everything in your mind turned into mush as he shoved you further against the wall, the pommel of Ashisogi Jizo pressing into your stomach, pushed a little further out than normal from his hard cock, still confined into his pants.

You tried. You really did. You knew his rule -"No touching until I tell you," -but it was so hard to abide by when you hadn't had him in over a week. It had been so busy, what with his newest big project...

So your hands moved to the front of his hakama, gently cupping his growing bulge through the fabric. You were rewarded so kindly for your disobedience, with a low growl from him and a hand flying to your throat to stop you from moving anymore, but the gentle grinding of his clothed cock against your hand. His lips nipped at yours and when you opened your mouth to gasp, he slipped his tongue inside, Ashisogi Jizo pressing painfully into your stomach as he leaned his entire body against you, quite desperate now to relieve himself of how hard he was. When he took his hand away from your neck, for a brief moment you had perfect clarity, and realized he wasn't going to punish you today.

Mayuri needed you. Over a week of yearning, battling himself and working so hard for his projects costs and hard work to pay off, he deserved to just stop talking. He deserved to not have to speak, to not say any words or make any sound. He just needed you.

The air was hot as you two writhed. His needs were coming and coming fast, much before yours, but when he dipped his head to bite and suck on your neck, his headpiece digging into your jaw, if felt as if you were about to orgasm just from that.

His hands were rough, pawing at your waist and ass, as if he could tear off your clothes and skin and get to the bones underneath, and make messy, bloody, raw love to your insides. Mayuri was a mess, to the point where he himself, who prided himself on his sharp mind and ability to be clear-headed through anything, began just desperately thrusting his clothes cock into your hand.

Your moans and little gasps when he kept attacking your neck with his lips and teeth, his body pain leaving marks of his lips all over your skin, but not marks like he loves to give, bruises formed by his lips that both adored and condemned you. Lips that lied and manipulated and coerced you into staying once, lips that now tried to make up for all lost time.

As soon as Mayuri found that sensitive spot on your neck- he didn't go straight for it this time, odd... -you scrambled wit your hands to pull down his hakama pants and grabbed ahold of his bare cock. The fleshy hardness of it, the girth, and the length... you couldn't do it alone, but he would help you out. He groaned into you neck, the second sound he's made since he dragged you into this small, abandoned room, pleased with you. He began thrusting, sloppily, into your hands, as you tilted your head back as he kept on kissing and marking your neck. One of his hands moved to paw at your chest, blindly reaching into your shihakusho to toy with one of your nipples as his tongue lapped at your neck.

You're breathy moans and whines, mixed alongside his occasional grunts, echoed in the room, and despite the locked door, he selfishly wished he'd dragged you anywhere else, just so nobody would hear you but him.

At the reminder to himself that you were his, his alone, and his until he chose to discard you (which he would never do), he grunts then exhales from the back of his throat, his cum coating your hands. He slowed his thrusts down, he stopped kissing your neck so hungrily, and he withdrew his hand from the inside of your shihakusho. His breathing was heavy still, and he looked at you with half lidded eyes filled with fire.

You felt a pull in your gut as his cock, which had been softening ever so slightly, hardened again. Mayuri kissed your neck softly, featherlight, before pulling his head back, but he didn't move his hips, or try to escape the grasp your hands had on his dick.

"You're not going to waste the next few, are you, my dear?" His voice is husky, raw with emotion. The look in his eyes reminds you of a man starved, a softly boiling rage born from need of something just beyond his reach. Mayuri leans forward to brush his lips against yours, his long nail on his right hand slowly tracing down the front of your disheveled shihakusho, opening it for his eyes and his eyes only. To see your skin, unmarred for over a week, displayed before him...

"I won't."

Your voice breaks him from his thoughts, and his gaze flicks to yours again. He grins, a predator, a man who will take what he needs to soothe his hunger.

"Good. On your knees then, and don't be wasteful."

[darkseraphscorner]

Money still controls how the series goes. If there's a strong fan base but weak revenue from the views. It's still not going to work. The new company is still in control of the IP. Kerry can say one thing today and be silent tomorrow. If her work is unprofitable. They would have the need to replace her with new blood or have her be under a different writer. If the series really was that strong. Then why the company went under. Surely the fan backlash and whatever action should have been enough to fix it. Even a bit. It was being talked about without any action or enough action to back it up. Monty oum's death is part of it. But more importantly. It is a business. What I said. Money still talks and have the biggest voice in the room. The company needs to assess the situation on the most cost effective solution. Say whatever you want to me. Ignore what I'm saying. But remember. Everything around the world is a business. From the device you use to the food you eat.

And besides. It's Monty's passion and love of his passion is the reason why you got RWBY. A lot of people went away because of his death. Some went away because of worsening story writing. Even more went away because of the controversies. There's more factors why WB closed down RT. Thus ending RWBY. In the end. It's still just a business. I'm telling you how business works. Whether you like it or not. It is what it is.

To make it easier for you to understand: Declining viewership → Reduced revenue → Budget cuts/Layoffs → Employee departures → Loss of talent and experience → Lower production quality → Less engaging content → Further decline in viewership.

Blinks.

Wow, you are still on this?

Look, I am happy, you are not.

You will not change this, you can not change this.

They have hired on most of CRWBY, so that says they are shoving money into this project.... And if it was as bad as you said... Why would such a big named company buy it?

And no, Monty is not shy I got into RWBY, I got into it because I really liked the look of Yang.

But if you want to keep trying to tell me I am wrong, then go for it, I will just point and say No.

[greenerteacups]

oooh please someday tell us what you think of GOT

oh, no, it's my fatal weakness! it's [checks notes] literally just the bare modicum of temptation! okay you got me.

SO. in order to tell what's wrong with game of thrones you kind of have to have read the books, because the books are the reason the show goes off the rails. i actually blame the showrunners relatively little in proportion to GRRM for how bad the show was (which I'm not gonna rehash here because if you're interested in GOT in any capacity you've already seen that horse flogged to death). people debate when GOT "got bad" in terms of writing, but regardless of when you think it dropped off, everyone agrees the quality declined sharply in season 8, and to a certain extent, season 7. these are the seasons that are more or less entirely spun from whole cloth, because season 7 marks the beginning of what will, if we ever see it, be the Winds of Winter storyline. it's the first part that isn't based on a book by George R.R. Martin. it's said that he gave the showrunners plot outlines, but we don't know how detailed they were, or how much the writers diverged from the blueprint — and honestly, considering the cumulative changes made to the story by that point, some stark divergence would have been required. (there's a reason for this. i'll get there in a sec.)

so far, i'm not saying anything all that original. a lot of people recognized how bad the show got as soon as they ran out of Book to adapt. (I think it's kind of weird that they agreed to make a show about an unfinished series in the first place — did GRRM figure that this was his one shot at a really good HBO adaptation, and forego misgivings about his ability to write two full books in however many years it took to adapt? did he think they would wait for him? did he not care that the series would eventually spoil his magnum opus, which he's spent the last three decades of his life writing? perplexing.) but the more interesting question is why the show got bad once it ran out of Book, because in my mind, that's not a given. a lot of great shows depart from the books they were based on. fanfiction does exactly that, all the time! if you have good writers who understand the characters they're working with, departure means a different story, not a worse one. now, the natural reply would be to say that the writers of GOT just aren't good, or at least aren't good at the things that make for great television, and that's why they needed the books as a structure, but I don't think that's true or fair, either. books and television are very different things. the pacing of a book is totally different from the pacing of a television show, and even an episodic book like ASOIAF is going to need a lot of work before it's remotely watchable as a series. bad writers cannot make great series of television, regardless of how good their source material is. sure, they didn't invent the characters of tyrion lannister and daenerys targaryen, but they sure as hell understood story structure well enough to write a damn compelling season of TV about them!

so but then: what gives? i actually do think it's a problem with the books! the show starts out as very faithful to the early books (namely, A Game of Thrones and A Clash of Kings) to the point that most plotlines are copied beat-for-beat. the story is constructed a little differently, and it's definitely condensed, but the meat is still there. and not surprisingly, the early books in ASOIAF are very tightly written. for how long they are, you wouldn't expect it, but on every page of those books, the plot is racing. you can practically watch george trying to beat the fucking clock. and he does! useful context here is that he originally thought GOT was going to be a trilogy, and so the scope of most threads in the first book or two would have been much smaller. it also helps that the first three books are in some respects self-contained stories. the first book is a mystery, the second and third are espionage and war dramas — and they're kept tight in order to serve those respective plots.

the trouble begins with A Feast for Crows, and arguably A Storm of Swords, because GRRM starts multiplying plotlines and treating the series as a story, rather than each individual book. he also massively underestimated the number of pages it would take him to get through certain plot beats — an assumption whose foundation is unclear, because from a reader's standpoint, there is a fucke tonne of shit in Feast and Dance that's spurious. I'm not talking about Brienne's Riverlands storyline (which I adore thematically but speaking honestly should have been its own novella, not a part of Feast proper). I'm talking about whole chapters where Tyrion is sitting on his ass in the river, just talking to people. (will I eat crow about this if these pay off in hugely satisfying ways in Winds or Dream? oh, totally. my brothers, i will gorge myself on sweet sweet corvid. i will wear a dunce cap in the square, and gleefully, if these turn out to not have been wastes of time. the fact that i am writing this means i am willing to stake a non-negligible amount of pride on the prediction that that will not happen). I'm talking about scenes where the characters stare at each other and talk idly about things that have already happened while the author describes things we already have seen in excruciating detail. i'm talking about threads that, while forgivable in a different novel, are unforgivable in this one, because you are neglecting your main characters and their story. and don't tell me you think that a day-by-day account tyrion's river cruise is necessary to telling his story, because in the count of monte cristo, the main guy disappears for nine years and comes hurtling back into the story as a vengeful aristocrat! and while time jumps like that don't work for everything, they certainly do work if what you're talking about isn't a major story thread!

now put aside whether or not all these meandering, unconcluded threads are enjoyable to read (as, in fairness, they often are!). think about them as if you're a tv showrunner. these bad boys are your worst nightmare. because while you know the author put them in for a reason, you haven't read the conclusion to the arc, so you don't know what that reason is. and even if the author tells you in broad strokes how things are going to end for any particular character (and this is a big "if," because GRRM's whole style is that he lets plots "develop as he goes," so I'm not actually convinced that he does have endings written out for most major characters), that still doesn't help you get them from point A (meandering storyline) to point B (actual conclusion). oh, and by the way, you have under a year to write this full season of television, while GRRM has been thinking about how to end the books for at least 10. all of this means you have to basically call an audible on whether or not certain arcs are going to pay off, and, if they are, whether they make for good television, and hence are worth writing. and you have to do that for every. single. unfinished. story. in the books.

here's an example: in the books, Quentin Martell goes on a quest to marry Daenerys and gain a dragon. many chapters are spent detailing this quest. spoiler alert: he fails, and he gets charbroiled by dragons. GRRM includes this plot to set up the actions of House Martell in Winds, but the problem is that we don't know what House Martell does in Winds, because (see above) the book DNE. So, although we can reliably bet that the showrunners understand (1) Daenerys is coming to Westeros with her 3 fantasy nukes, and (2) at some point they're gonna have to deal with the invasion of frozombies from Canada, that DOESN'T mean they necessarily know exactly what's going to happen to Dorne, or House Martell. i mean, fuck! we don't even know if Martin knows what's going to happen to Dorne or House Martell, because he's said he's the kind of writer who doesn't set shit out beforehand! so for every "Cersei defaults on millions of dragons in loans from the notorious Bank of Nobody Fucks With Us, assumes this will have no repercussions for her reign or Westerosi politics in general" plotline — which might as well have a big glaring THIS WILL BE IMPORTANT stamp on top of the chapter heading — you have Arianne Martell trying to do a coup/parent trap switcheroo with Myrcella, or Euron the Goffick Antichrist, or Faegon Targaryen and JonCon preparing a Blackfyre restoration, or anything else that might pan out — but might not! And while that uncertainty about what's important to the "overall story" might be a realistic way of depicting human beings in a world ruled by chance and not Destiny, it makes for much better reading than viewing, because Game of Thrones as a fantasy television series was based on the first three books, which are much more traditional "there is a plot and main characters and you can generally tell who they are" kind of book. I see Feast and Dance as a kind of soft reboot for the series in this respect, because they recenter the story around a much larger cast and cast a much broader net in terms of which characters "deserve" narrative attention.

but if you're making a season of television, you can't do that, because you've already set up the basic premise and pacing of your story, and you can't suddenly pivot into a long-form tone poem about the horrors of war. so you have to cut something. but what are you gonna cut? bear in mind that you can't just Forget About Dorne, or the Iron Islands, or the Vale, or the North, or pretty much any region of the story, because it's all interconnected, but to fit in everything from the books would require pacing of the sort that no reasonable audience would ever tolerate. and bear in mind that the later books sprout a lot more of these baby-plots that could go somewhere, but also might end up being secondary or tertiary to the "main story," which, at the end of the day, is about dragons and ice zombies and the rot at the heart of the feudal power system glorified in classical fantasy. that's the story that you as the showrunner absolutely must give them an end to, and that's the story that should be your priority 1.

so you do a hack and slash job, and you mortar over whatever you cut out with storylines that you cook up yourself, but you can't go too far afield, because you still need all the characters more or less in place for the final showdown. so you pinch here and push credulity there, and you do your best to put the characters in more or less the same place they would have been if you kept the original, but on a shorter timeframe. and is it as good as the first seasons? of course not! because the material that you have is not suited to TV like the first seasons are. and not only that, but you are now working with source material that is actively fighting your attempt to constrain a linear and well-paced narrative on it. the text that you're working with changed structure when you weren't looking, and now you have to find some way to shanghai this new sprawling behemoth of a Thing into a television show. oh, and by the way, don't think that the (living) author of the source material will be any help with this, because even though he's got years of experience working in television writing, he doesn't actually know how all of these threads will tie together, which is possibly the reason that the next book has taken over 8 years (now 13 and counting) to write. oh and also, your showrunners are sick of this (in fairness, very difficult) job and they want to go write for star wars instead, so they've refused the extra time the studio offered them for pre-production and pushed through a bunch of first-draft scripts, creating a crunch culture of the type that spawns entirely avoidable mistakes, like, say, some poor set designer leaving a starbucks cup in frame.

anyway, that's what I think went wrong with game of thrones.

[thevalkyriesshadow]

People saying SJM will write Elucien because she's not going to make poor baby Lulu (PBL) suffer again because he's one of her favorites ....

My brother in Christ.

They're ALL her favorites. It's her fucking book. They're her fucking characters.

Now if we were going to RANK her favorite characters, I still don't even think Lucien would make top 5. He's not a part of the IC for a reason - and considering that SJM has chosen to write about them over him - tells us enough about the ranking of her faves. It's always going to be:

1. Rhys / Feyre

2. Nesta

3. Azriel

4. Cassian

5. Elain

6. Amren

7. Mor

8. Lucien

And honestly placing Lucien at 8 is still debatable. His storyline has been reduced more and more with every single book. I'd say he was definitely up there with Feyre in Book 1 - but since ACOMAF his character quality and page persona has declined steadily. Significantly.

Idk if y'all have ever read a book or written anything - but typically a writer who likes a certain character ... writes about that character. A lot more than she writes about her other characters. That character might've started as a minor one or even background character - but the writer likes them so much they find a way to put them in the page more, finds a way to work them into the story. See what SJM did with Ithan Holstrom in CC. With Fenrys. They were introduced as minor characters and then became a big part of the story.

The exact OPPOSITE is happening with Lucien. It's not a slow burn - it is erasure.

If he is such a favorite - where is he?

Also what makes you think SJM isn't going to make her favorites suffer? Y'all saw what Aelin went through. Saw what Rhys went through. I don't like to compare traumas - but Lucien's trauma pales in comparison to some of the other harrowing backstories we've seen in ACOTAR itself. Genuinely I think whatever Rhys, Elain, Nesta, Azriel, Emerie, Gwyn went through is far worse than what Lucien went through. Not saying he didn't suffer - but the argument that SJM wouldn't have him lose his mate because she likes him is so ridiculous.

Let's stick to the books. And I mean the actual text in the books - not farfetched headcanons and fanfics and theories and claims of extrapolation "foreshadowing".

SJM can change her mind and her opinions and her interviews and her Pinterest boards. What she can't change is the story she's laid out for 4 books now. What she can't change is the direction her characters are taking her in and the words she's already written.

Hi anon

I hope you feel better after getting that off your chest... sometimes you just gotta rant

BUT

I would like to make a few points

1. I do write stories (beyond fanfics) and yes I have favorite characters I write but if I spent as much time writing about a character as SJM did with Lucien, that character has a story to be told. He's connected to many characters in the story and is mated to one of the Archeron sisters (who the stories being told in ACOTAR are ultimately about). To say he is being written off the page just because he wasn't as prevalent in ACOSF for example is a bold statement (he really had no ties to Nesta's storyline so it makes sense he wasn't in it as much) but a storyline he is connected to? Elain's - whose book we will inevitably get.

2. I don't like how you say his trauma is not as bad as the others. It's not okay to compare people's traumas. What might not seem like an emotional/psychological/physical traumatic event to one person doesn't mean it's not devastating to another.

3. SJM can absolutely change what she's already written... She is the god of ACOTAR afterall. She can do as she pleases. A perfect example of this is when she retconned that Azriel was present in Sangravah when it was attacked. Making him the first one there, the one to slaughter all the soldiers in one room, and save Gwyn from further harm. Previously, we were to believe he was just informed, but SJM changed that with what she wrote in ACOSF.

Hope you have a wonderful day anon!

[dawnisdreamlanding]

Chapter 4

Ghost x Reader x Konig

Neighbor!au and Roommate!au

About me | Masterlist |

Author's note: Hey!! my 3 month hiatus is finally over!! I finally have time to write hahahasdf I hope you guys like this chapter :) Lmk if you wanna get added into the taglist.

Truth be told, Konig could have come back home to you ages ago. But ever since his mission ended a month ago, he’s chosen the stiffness of his military bed over the softer, more appropriately sized bed that’s waiting for him at home. Why, you may ask? Well, it might have something to do with the way the blood of his enemies still cling onto him no matter the amount of times he’s tried to scrub it off and the thought of your horrified face when you find out that it was him who spilled their blood.

It’s a foolish thought to think that a man like Konig could live a normal, civilian life. He’s a battering ram made for the battlefield, and he’ll be that way for the rest of his life. He looks over at his desk which is nearly free of any reports. He’s been trying to find every excuse he can to not go back to your apartment, but it’s the promise he made with you to watch that stupid, stupid show of yours that finally gets him packing to go home.

—

You’ve never been so glad to hear that familiar long tired sigh that only your roommate makes. You practically rush out of the kitchen, dishes forgotten and greet him. “Konig!” you say with a smile. You excitedly stand in front of him, but you know better and keep your hands to himself. He’s never really been a big fan of touch since day one, and you swore to yourself to respect his boundaries, no matter how excited you may be to see him after so long.

So you’re very much surprised when Konig was the one to actually hug you first. His strong arms wrap around you, holding you close and tight, making sure you couldn’t run away — so much so that you couldn’t even lift your arms to hug him back. You don’t ask questions, you don’t pry into his private life, waiting patiently until Konig is the one who tells you about his life. It’s one of the qualities he likes about you so much. You don’t pry into his life yet somehow have the capability to care for him somewhat endlessly.

He takes a long, deep breath and it feels like half of his burdens have been lifted from his body when he exhales, the same way you drop a heavy bag after coming home from a long trip. He doesn’t let go of you for quite some time.

While Konig wishes he could be in the moment and enjoy this small comfort he has  in his bloodshed-filled life, he is stuck in his own head. How would you react if he told you the nature of his job? Would you push yourself away from him right now? Would you be so disgusted, you’d tell him to never come near you ever again? Konig would understand why.

His fingers press against the cotton material of your cloud sweater you’re wearing as an effort to ground himself. The feeling of your soft sweaters, the way his arms wrap around your body so easily, would he lose all of this? Would “Ko” cease to exist? 

It is then that he decides not to tell you — not quite yet, anyway. Call him selfish all you want, but he wants to keep you around and hug you a little more. Spend a couple more nights laughing about dumb characters in pointless shows and watching you eat his cooking after you come back from work. Just a little more of those moments before you slip away from his grasp.

—

The smell of butter melting on bread that wafts into your room wakes you up. You opened a bottle of red wine last night -- a Pinot Noir -- to celebrate him coming home after a long 3 months. He politely declined it when you had offered a glass to him, saying that he didn’t drink. Which struck you as odd, because you swore you remember seeing a can of beer lying in the trash the last time he was home.

You don’t remember much of anything that happened after you downed the 4th glass of red wine but hey, at least your head wasn’t pounding. You pull the blanket off you and you realize that you’re still wearing yesterday’s clothes. The bed creaks as you get up and can be heard all the way from the kitchen. “Maus?” Konig calls out.

You show yourself in the kitchen not long after, and he serves you bread rolls with butter and strawberry jam. “I eat this when I was young.” He opens up as he places the plate in front of you. You realize that Konig has opened up more to you in the last 24 hours than he has since you first met him, but you aren’t complaining.

“It’s good.” You say. It’s simple bread and butter, quite literally. Not much Konig could’ve gotten wrong anyway. He seemed nervous as he watched you take that first bite but after your comment, he lights up. “I’m glad.” He says. It takes him a moment to snap out of it, but he sits down opposite of you and he begins eating his own share of the bread rolls.

You can’t help but stare at him in slight wonder, watching him slip the bread rolls under his hood to eat them. “Does it ever get hard to breathe?” Konig freezes momentarily at the question and he thinks that maybe you’ve caught on to the monster he truly is. But after a short moment of silence, you motion to his hood and it all makes sense.

He looks at you; truly looks at you. A little bit of strawberry jam smeared on the left corner of your mouth, a sweeter shade of red than the usual blood he sees on the field. “Sometimes.” He answers with a subtle hint of a secret meaning that he doesn't dare utter. You continue eating but he can't help but stare at you. 

He leans forward and his thumb swipes the jam off your face, leaving you a little stunned and a little embarrassed. The jam on his thumb is the same color as the blood on the battlefield but with you in the frame, it isn't blood; it’s a peaceful breakfast eating bread rolls and jam with you on a Sunday morning.

Taglist: @gojo-mochi @itsthealice @multifamdom-lover3 @sleepyoriana

[fishfishiee]

shatter.

summary: In which you're an adeptus made of Noctilucous Jade. How would your companion react when they saw you shatter during a fight?

characters: Traveler, Zhongli

warning(s): body horror(?), gender-neutral reader, reader is a gem person, their relationship can be viewed as platonic or romantic

a/n: my first time writing characters! I was going to add more characters, but I can't think of anyone else. It's… quite alright, I guess. Hm. Writing characters is hard.

You were one of Liyue's best jewel smith. While you usually worked with whatever precious stone that caught your eye on the market, there were times when none of them were up to your standard. In times like this, you had no choice but to mine them yourself. The problem was mineral nodes are often teeming with enemies. While your body can easily withstand a few blows, you will eventually shatter, and be left defenseless against those who want to collect your precious shards. This was the reason you avoid fighting alone. So, you asked one of your friend to accompany you to mine the gems you need.

Like you suspected, you and your companion were attacked when you began mining. Battle was inevitable, so you and your companion brandished your weapons and attacked back. In the heat of the battle, you lost count of how many times you were hit, and one of the enemies slammed you with their hammer. One hit was all it takes to shatter your torso. Welp, at least your head was still intact…

Traveler The moment they heard the shattering noise and Paimon's horrified shriek, they knew something happened to you. They didn't expect to see you literally broke to pieces, each of them glittered a familiar luster. They were horrified to see some hoarders start putting your body parts into a bag despite your head's protest. After all the hoarders were knocked out cold, Traveler quickly took your head out of the bag.

“Phew, thanks for that. Being shoved into a bag is not nice at all!”

"Y-You-- How are you-- Are you okay!?"

"It's fine! Happens all the time when I fight. Can you please gather my pieces? Madame Ping should be able to put me back together, so don't worry about it!"

As Madame Ping put you back together, you explained that you were essentially a living gem made out of noctilucous jade. You apologized that you didn't tell them before, since you really thought you're not going to shatter with them fighting with you. Traveler marveled as Madame Ping put some powder that made your 'skin' looked human.

"Ooh, so that's why you always decline when we asked you to eat together! You can't eat since you're literally a living rock! Wait, then can Paimon have a piece of you? Just a piece--ouch!"

"Paimon, don't be rude!"

Zhongli He was the one that commissioned the jewelry in the first place. When you asked him to accompany you, he agreed without hesitation. That way, he can also assure the quality of the stone himself. During the fight, Zhongli knew you were fighting quite recklessly due to his shield tanking most of the damage done to you. Once his shield went down and you didn't seem to notice, he quickly took care of his share of enemies and went to your side. It was still too late. You were shattered, and Zhongli can only sigh as he put you back together.

"You were careless."

"… Yes. I'm sorry. It's just… It's really nice to go hard on them without worrying about my body sometimes! Your shield is really dependable, Zhongli."

"I am glad you find my assistance reassuring, but please pay more attention the next time you fight. After all, I won't be here every time you put yourself to pieces, lustrous one."

[taeraeszn]

can i request zb1 as love languages? thank you so much!

ps i LoVE your writing.. thank you for making my day

zb1 as love languages

hi luv! thank you for requesting <3 tbh i thought this request was very cute when i first saw it and now that i have time to write it, i'm so excited!!!

also thank you for your kind words!! it makes me so happy to know that people love my writings!

warnings: food mentioned but no more from what i saw but pls lmk if there is any!

btw these are all just my thoughts PLS don't attack me if we don't have the same thoughts. these are just what i pulled out from my brain so i apologize if it's similar to what other writers have posted on here.

kim jiwoong - gifts

idk about you guys but i think jiwoong is DEF the guy who'll gift you so many things when you two are dating

like your just heading to a cafe and he's outside waiting with a bouquet in his hands

most of them you don't even ask for, he just offers you them but you can't decline them either since he'll ignore you and hand you them anyways

i also think that for very special occasions like anniversaries and such he'll think carefully of what to give to you then make it the biggest reveal ever

^like maybe a ring or necklace!!

like bro is going all out for you

with every gift he gives, their for a reason, and that's what makes you love him so much <3

yeah i just love jiwoong so much guys <3

rest of the members under the cut!

zhang hao - acts of service

NOBODY CAN DISAGREE WITH ME ON THIS

hao definitely loves giving acts of services that may seem small to others but are actually so thoughtful and considerate

say there's a day where you come home from a long day and the house is literally spotless bc hao offered to clean it, thinking you were mostly likely tired

and this could also be like him helping you with something so you're not struggling alone!!

he's just your little helper and you love it!!

not just that but he'll always talk to you when your feeling down and listen to whatever you have to say and try to make the situatio better

in general, having hao in your life helps everything become so much easier with his presence

and you're always thankful for everything he does <3

sung hanbin - words of affirmation

fun fact this one was the first one i thought of when i saw this request lol

LIKE IT JUST SUITS HIM

and seeing how he originally wanted to be a therapist really shows this

you can just tell he cares about what others have to say and he listens to them with full attention

and same goes for you!! i think everyday he'll remind you of how amazing you are and how much he loves you just because

sometimes he'll even send a text or two reminding you that he loves you deeply

and whenever you come home, he'll remind you that you did well and worked your hardest!!

idk im squealing writing this, ALSO HAPPY EARLY BDAY HANBIN!!!! <3

seok matthew - physical touch

i was pondering between this option and gifts but idk after seeing how affectionate matt is with some of the members i chose this one!

i think matthew just loves hugging you or holding your hand

like in public he will REFUSE to let go of your hand bc he doesn't want to lose you in the crowd

as well, i think matthew would also give you sweet kisses on the forehead and lips, reminding you once again of how much he loves you

idk maybe i'm thinking ahead on this because this is my love language lol

and whenever you two are sitting together he'll just casually rest his hand on your thigh to ensure that he's right there

and though he claims that he wants to be woohyun oppa, he's still your cute little matthew through his physical affection

in the end he's clingy and you love it!!

kim taerae - quality time

i chose this since a lot of the trainees on bp said that taerae would bring his guitar with him and just chill with the trainees

i think he'd also do the same with you!!

like his stay that was supposed to be only twenty minutes ends up becoming 2 hours since he keeps singing songs for you and just wanting to be by your side

and out of the blue he'll just message you and say that he wants to be with you

or he'll just sit on facetime with you for hours on end while studying and not say much, only because he wants you to be with him

you are his favourite person to be with and he will always show that through his quality of time

especially seeing how in the taerae he went to each member's room to see how their doing, idk man that just did things to me

best boy kim taerae

shen ricky - words of affirmation

i was torn between this and acts of service tbh but i think woa suits ricky so well

like hanbin, he'd always remind you of how much you mean to him as a partner and never make you second guess his feelings for you

he's quite literally the perfect boyfriend ever!!

as well, he'll also encourage you to do what you think is right whenever your talking with him and give you great advice for situations

not only that but i believe that ricky would remember small things you mentioned in the past and bring it up again to remind you of how much he actually listens to you

and at night he'd casually slide in a text or voice chat that tells you that he loves you forever and always <3

idk mane ricky is just literal perfection!!

kim gyuvin - physical touch

anyone who says no is lying to themselves

gyuvin LOVES affection especially seeing how he literally adores yujin by touching his face 24/7 and being close with his other members!!

and as your boyfriend, gyuvin would quite literally do the same to you

just always touching your face to kiss you gently

his arms always wrapped around you to keep you near him at all times along with a few sweet hugs

^also he never lets go of your hands

even when your sitting down he'll casually intertwine your fingers together

but you love it sm since it reminds you that gyuvin adores you dearly <3

park gunwook - acts of service

idk about you guys but this just makes total sense to me

as a class president in school, gunwook probably has lots of experience helping others

for you he'd always want to offer a helping hand

you text him that your bored at home and one second later he's at your door with food

or when your sick he takes time off of studying to take care of you despite you telling him that he doesn't have to

even small things such as you saying your thirsty leads to him running to the vending machine to grab you a drink

he goes out of his way to pretty much do everything for you

you always thank him for his help but he plays it off as what every partner should do <3

han yujin - gifts

originally i was thinking another one but after seeing him gift ricky those figurines with the box and matthew with the protein bars, i had to choose this

he genuinely thought out those gifts well which makes me :"")

for you, he'd consider everything he gives you carefully, thinking of what you've been wanting and telling him about

and for each birthday of yours, your always surprised at how thought out each gift is

and the times when you express wanting an item, he goes out to buy it for you right away, packing it nicely for you

i also think his gifts would have a cute note on it!!

he always prioritizes you and rejects your offers to buy him something

i know yujin is still very young so i think this suits him very well

[hvllowheart]

hi! regarding your last post about abandoning projects, do you have any advice for overcoming that?

I do!

1. Write something you're passionate about.

Now, I get that everyone constantly says that, and you'll think, "that tells me absolutely nothing" bc passion can only get you so far and usually fluctuates a lot. It's something I've started to realize happens to me. One day I wake up and have a new idea I love and think "wow this is gonna be a piece of cake to finish" despite me knowing it's going to entail a lot of planning and once I get the inital idea out of the way and get to that planning stage my attention for the project... dies.

What I mean with that is to write something you're passionate about is that you shouldn't write something into the project you feel like others will like. Or if it's a project with tropes in it, that you have to follow those to the T.

If an idea is boring, don't write it.

If you have a cool idea that might not fit the vibe entirely, write it down. Keep it in mind for later when it could fit the vibe better.

Incorporate as many things you love as you like and then worry about how the broader plot can shape around them.

2. Don't write in order of what's supposed to happen.

I know it'll make you feel better to feel like you have a clear point A to B but truth is, some parts are going to be extremely boring to write. You won't want to write all about the logistics of a scene happening right that moment or the spicy dialogue that carries the scene bc you're way more focused on another detail that drew you to write a particular scene.

In those cases, I usually just put whatever is supposed to happen in brackets [insert car chase here] and move on the bits I'm excited to get to. You might wake up a couple of days later thinking you want to revisit that car chase scene and write it all in one go now that you've stopped obsessing over a different scene you cared for before.

3. Make the experience more fun for yourself.

If you feel like you're burning out and losing steam from writing and planning the project, take a step back and do something else.

If I still feel like doing something with the project that isn't necessarily write it, I tend to end up making edits or a playlist or looking for inspiration pictures that might give me an idea of a new setting or what a character will look like. And that's what usually keeps my brain working and thinking about the plot.

As soon as another idea pops into my head bc of the space I took not writing the projects itself, I write it down and get reinspired to work on it.

4. Look for inspiration.

As mentioned in 3., I can't recommend enough to look for inspiration in pictures or boards on pinterest or a song or a quote you really love. Trust me, seeing a cool picture or reading a quote that immediately makes you think of a specific character makes you itch to get back to writing.

It also allows your writing to grow when you take the time to look for inspiration. Writing everything in one go might make you feel productive but the quality could potentially decline the longer you're at it and when you come back to it you'll ask yourself what the hell you were on writing some of the stuff. So taking that time, finding new locations/side characters/some dialogue snippets you could incorporate, will make you feel excited to actually see those ideas and inspirations become part of your project.

5. Take breaks.

This is another one of those things you always hear and think, "that's what leads me to abandon it in the first place??" and while I agree (been there) It's also important not to get burned out by the project.

The breaks shouldn't span entire weeks, of course, but don't beat yourself up when you can't get to the project for a couple of days bc of life happening or something else being more interesting.

Taking those breaks ensures you not only build anticipation, but it also let's the project breathe and allows you the space, to again, think of the broader plot or a specific scene that could be cool to incorporate.

6. Find someone to talk about the project with.

In our day and age, we're lucky to have such big writer communities. Chances are, someone out there will get aboslute brain rot from the project you're working on. Talking to people like that will not only allow you to have someone to bounce ideas off of, but it'll also keep you focused and in a way, hold you accountable to actually see it get to a point you can and want to share more.

Starting up a WIP blog, like the one I and many others have, or a writerblr blog will attract people to the idea and have them reach out to ask questions that again keep you thinking about fun parts of the project and develope the idea.

I have a friend I constantly talk to about every idea he and I get. Not all of them ever see the light of day, but we talk about them, send ideas we think could be cool, and write small snippets of scenes bc we are excited about the project. That not only gets you to a starting point, but also makes the planning way smoother and means you're getting instant feedback.

And that's what usually gets you to write more instead of watching your project collect dust in the drafts.

7. Write every single idea down.

This is also something everyone says, but it's true. Chances are, you forget the idea and kick yourself for it later or you think it won't be as good as you imagine it and then you have a missing scene you don't know what to do with where that idea could have fit.

Sometimes, usually just before bed for me, I get ideas, and since I have my phone close by, I just open the notes app, write down the snippet of a conversation I just thought of or a cool detail I'll add when I get back to the file and BOOM I have the next plot point figured out without actively forcing myself to sit in front of the computer and thinking "what is supposed to happen now??"

Even if the idea is silly or seems wack, I can't recommend writing it down enough. You'll thank yourself for it and in a way train yourself into passively thinking about what could happen next.

I have a dedicated page in my files just for random ideas I got in the middle of the night and while some will not make it into the draft itself, it's still fun to think about them or even write a short scene involving the idea just to see where it goes. Maybe it'll inspire you to take your project into a new exciting direction, too!

8. Don't obsess over word counts/progress made.

It's a recent shift I've noticed, where people obsessively focus on how long a scene/chapter is. Like one being 5k long means it's somehow better than a scene that's only a couple hundred words long, but concise and has the kind of structure that keeps you engaged.

If you feel like a scene is done and you're happy with it, even if it's short, leave it. Maybe you'll come back to it and add more, but maybe you'll realize it's perfect the way it is and doesn't need unnecessary details added.

9. Don't get lost in the details.

This is something I've neen prone to do. Obsessing over a single detail or scene to the point that working on it becomes exhausting because I couldn't move on.

It's what kills your drive to write on the project fairly quickly and relates to the point I made to just put whatever is supposed to happen in brackets to revisit later.

The details are usually what make the story feel personalized, but it's also so easy to get lost in them. Writing the broader scene down and revisiting it sometime later to add those details is going to keep you writing and engaged with what you want to make the project into.

10. It's YOUR project, don't forget that.

Sometimes I've started things I thought were fics or stories I'd love to explore only to realize I'm not the best writer for those or that the writing part just isn't as fun as I hoped it could be.

You need to be aware of when to cut your losses. If the project starts to feel more like a drag than what you initially started with, scrap it OR, and this is something I've started to seriously do, is to rewrite/re-plot it from the beginning.

It is time-consuming, but you'll feel better for it in the long run if you take the bits you like and forget the ones you don't and build the project anew. It's tedious but really rewarding once you manage to get to the parts that were there before discouraging you from finishing the project in the first place. And the most important thing is that you're happy with your project.

♡

Of course, what works for me might not work for others, but those are some of the broader things I can recommend you try :) I hope I was able to help a little!

[hiskillingjar]

Hey! I hope you're having a nice day. I'm the anon that asked about the inside names a while ago, I really appreciate you getting out of your way to answer me! <3. I was thinking, could you please write Ren x Strade where Ren gets jealous of one of the new victims and Strade "consoles" him by letting him watch TV with him in the sofa and *maybe* having some fun only the two of them? I firmly believe that Strade canonically did those kind of things (even if we didn't see it) to keep Ren closer and not make him want to escape. You're free to decline the request btw, no pressure intended! Hope you have a great day (:

huh…the poison really DOES drip through (that's a succession reference because i enjoy quality television)

1700+ words, she/her for a fem mc

Ren had grown accustomed to his new routine in Strade’s domain, for lack of a better word.

In the mornings (or early afternoons), he’d wake up, make breakfast, clean up after himself, then maybe, occupy his time with a new show or his filtered internet access. Mid-day, he’d eat lunch, take a nap, and, of course, try not to get himself killed (an important task!) In the evenings, if he made it that long, he’d make dinner, clean up, and maybe have a bath to balm his new wounds, before going to bed.

Then the cycle would start all over again, day after day.

It was easy, despite the danger, and it was stable, and though he was smart enough to know that this wasn't what a life should be, living like a captive animal, too scared to make even one mistake lest he be punished for it, there was a certain comfort to knowing exactly what he was going to do, every day for the rest of his life.

Hence, his irritation when a new pet had come in and fucked all that up.

And hence why now he was cleaning up after a dinner he hadn't even made (or enjoyed enough to warrant his exchange of chores. She was a vegetarian, for god's sake.)

He seethed silently to himself, dragging the metal scouring sponge up and down a greasy frying pan, sticky with brown sauce and burnt tofu, turning the dishwater a muddy brown colour.

This was just about the chores, he told himself, this was about the disruption to his routine throwing him out of wack and disorientating him, it was just that.

His anger surely had nothing to do with the beaming smile Strade gave her when she presented dinner, reminding the young man of a husband and a new (inexperienced) wife, or the way he pet her hair all the while as he ate, or even the way he complimented the meal, commenting that she should make dinner more often, because "Ren's got a routine about his cooking" and he’d grown bored of it.

It was nothing to do with that, surely.

No way. 

“God, I can see that scowl from the other room.”

Ren let out a surprised yip when he heard Strade’s voice, dropping the pan in the soapy water and soaking the front of his tank top.

He always had a way of sneaking up on him.

“S-Strade,” Ren replied, looking over his shoulder to the older man, who was idling in the doorway of the kitchen, picking his teeth. “Sorry, I, um…I’m just doing the dishes.”

“I can see that,” Strade replied as if it was obvious (and it was) before he crossed the threshold of the kitchen and paced towards the younger man. "You're looking pretty dour, Ren. Why the long face, hm?" He then asked, raising a brow and leaning against the kitchen island, his hip slightly cocked.

"It's…it’s nothing," Ren murmured softly, his gaze going back and switching between his shaking hands, bunched up in the front of his murky grey tank top, and the dirty dishwater where the pan was still waiting to be cleaned.

"It's not nothing, otherwise you wouldn't be in such a mood," Strade retorted with a huffed chuckle. "Come on, tell me what's on your mind. I can’t deal with you acting bitchy for the rest of the evening."

"I just..." Ren sighed, forcing himself to relax. He had a tendency to be on edge around Strade, though. 

“Just?” Strade drawled out. “Don’t lie to me, Ren. You know how bad you are at it.”

"I…” Ren’s voice was barely a whisper as he glanced off to the side, his face heating up and feeling hot. “I miss you, I suppose."

"You…miss me?" Strade sounded genuinely surprised as he took a step closer, encroaching on the younger man’s space, as he so often did. "Well, that’s pretty silly. We live in the same house, buddy. I see you every day."

"You know what I mean," Ren replied quietly, biting his lip, his sharp, little fangs hooking over his lips and marking them with stark indentations, about to bleed. "It’s like….since you picked up the new girl, it's just been...different, ya know. Like, with everything and not just…mm, between us."

Strade was quiet for a good while, his golden eyes drifting upwards with thought, before he let out a good-humoured chuckle (low and pleasant and rumbling), shaking his head fondly as he stepped even closer to the young man and slid his big palm along the exposed skin of his back. 

"Are you jealous, Ren?" Strade murmured, his voice low and almost teasing.

"Of course, I'm fucking jealous," Ren replied openly (he was never good at lying anyway), his voice an irritated rasp as his extremities bristled with nervous (quietly delighted) energy at being touched so intimately. "I’m all alone and you've got a new...thing to play with. She's even doing all my chores, like...like you're husband and wife or something"

"Mm," Strade hummed with subdued amusement, resting his stubbly chin on Ren's shoulder and rubbing at the space where his skin and tail met. It was incredibly sensitive. "See, I always thought you didn't like my games...you fought back hard enough that I thought that way, anyway..."

"I-I don't," Ren said, his fingers curling into tight fists, trying to ignore the little jolts of pleasure that shot through his back as Strade pressed his thumb against the nub of flesh at the base of his tail. "But I, ah...i-it was worth it when you were nice to me, you know. Now, you just...ignore me. I hate it."

"Hmph," Strade huffed out a chuckle, so effortlessly charming, so easily likeable, no wonder he had no trouble picking up new prey. "Come now, there's no reason to be jealous. You know you're my first, don't you, fuchs?"

Ren said nothing but shivered as he felt Strade lean in even closer, felt his hot breath on his skin, the warmth and lowness of his accent when he said his pet name for the younger man enough to make every part of his body throb with desperate, needing want. 

He was a sucker, that was for damn sure. 

"You'll always be my first. Having someone new here doesn't get rid of that." Strade's hand ran further down, stroking over his tail before landing on his backside, giving it a firm grope. "There really is no reason at all to be jealous of someone new...though I have to admit, it's incredibly cute."

"Strade-" Ren whimpered, shaking hands gripping the edge of the marble counter (expensive, bespoke, how much blood had been spilt for him to afford this kitchen, this house, this life?)

"If I were a worse person, I'd use that to my advantage, you know." He continued, his fingers greedily palming Ren's ass before slipping beneath his shorts and reaching to the front. cupping and squeezing his slowly hardening cock as he pressed his cheek to Ren's, stubble-dotted skin against his, smooth and youthful and ripe for the taking. "Take this opportunity to see you really rip into my new pet, tear her apart, just for you to prove how loyal you are to me."

Ren bit his lip hard enough that he felt the slow trickle of blood bead down his chin, but the pain didn't deter him from shifting his hips forward and seeking more of Strade's warm grip.

"But, well..." The older man mused. "I'm pretty bad, but I'm not that bad."

"Mm," Ren moaned, bringing his fist to his lips to keep himself quiet (and to wipe away the blood) as Strade worked his cock to full hardness, his knot swelling with blood. "You're awful..."

"Ah, I don't think you mind," He quipped with another low chuckle, pressing his lips to Ren's cheek and squeezing him a little tighter. "Otherwise you wouldn't be jealous."

"Ngh-" Ren's hands went down to Strade's, his weak grip pulling at his wrist and his hips shifting forward even more, desperate for any degree of attention that the older man would give him, no matter the cost.

"You're my boy, Ren," Strade reminded him, his lips trailing down his trembling jaw, in a gesture as close to a kiss that someone like Strade could manage. "My number one. I'll never be able to replace that. You do know that, don’t you?"

"Mmhmm, yeah," Ren stammered, his voice weak and quiet and so utterly submissive that it made his legs (and cock) twitch. "I'm...mm, I'm your boy..."

"Yeah, you are," Strade growled indulgently, pushing his own hips forward and letting Ren feel the growing hardness of his cock through his khakis. "I hope you don't forget that, fuchs...I'd hate to have to remind you."

"Mm...n-no, sir," Ren replied quickly with a jerked nod of his head. "I won't forget, promise."

"Good boy," Strade praised, pressing a kiss to the crown of his head (right next to his twitching ear) and prying himself away, idly groping his cock as he did so but looking as casual and easy and so fucking untouchable, like he always did. "Hey, how about we have a night together, just us two?"

"H-Huh?" Ren looked towards the older man with a confused look (apparently unaware or uncaring just how much his cock was tenting his loose shorts).

"Yeah, I've got one of those, ah…those nature shows you like recorded." He beamed, just as he had with the girl when she'd made dinner, and it was enough to make Ren’s heart hurt. "How about it? Boy's night?"

Ren didn't care about nature shows. 

But Strade did, and it was one of the few things they actually did together, before the girl had interrupted their peace. 

So, Ren smiled back, his tail wagging and his ears perked up high on his head.

"Y-Yeah! That sounds...really great." He nodded eagerly. "Um, let me just finish the dishes and then we can...yeah, watch it."

"Wunderschon," Strade laughed handsomely and crossed his thick arms over his chest. "That’s great, I'll get it queued up.” He turned to leave the kitchen. “But don't take long, buddy, or I'll start without you."

"Sure, won't take long." Ren smiled to himself again, turning back to the dishes.

"Oh, and Ren?"

"Hm?"

"You really should warm up to our new guest already, hm? I never said I minded sharing her with you...and she's a better fuck than you probably give her credit for~"

[motherstone]

Kazu Kibuishi nearly died while making ‘Amulet.’ Two decades later, he’s completed it. – Orange County Register (ocregister.com)

A passage from the article:

But in the decade since his recovery, Kibuishi says he still feels the effects.

“It changed my life, for sure. That’s part of the reason why I can’t write as fast as I used to. I can definitely draw just as quickly; that’s just motor skill. But writing is really what takes the most time,” he says, adding his memory has been affected – sometimes he’d finish a page only to realize he’d already drawn it before. “There are certain obstacles and hurdles I have to get over. I don’t want to use it as an excuse but … I have set a standard with my former self that is very hard for this brain to match.”

Kibuishi’s memory came up when I mention an earlier meeting we’d had. Years ago, not long after he’d recovered, I’d reached out to tell him how much my family enjoyed his books and Kibuishi had invited us to visit his Bolt City Productions studio in Alhambra. While a memorable event for us, Kibuishi says he can’t remember much from that period.

“That time in my life, I just have to accept that I was a bit of an amnesiac. There’s like a crater in my memory,” he says. “I don’t know if I’ll ever fully recover from it, but I manage well, I think, despite all of that.”

That explains why Amulet turned out the way it did. I deeply regret the harsher points of my criticisms, but my points about flaws of the series still stand.

On one thing, I presumed that his injury may have played a factor, something that severe especially in the brain is not something you would 100% recover from. On the other hand, I thought it is pretty wrong to speculate or assume further about Kazu’s medical history because that’s ultimately his business to divulge or not.

So I assumed it was arrogance. I assumed that since he’s secured a good number of loyal readers, he’s just putting whatever because a.) he’s done with Amulet, and b.) people would read his books either way, so why bother with quality? Which is not only extremely bad faith of me, but also deeply insulting to Kazu as an artist. To which I am regretful, and I do apologize. He really just can’t remember. The Amulet we started with isn’t the Amulet we ended with.

That also explains his process. He’s made around 1000 draft pages for book 9, then pick and discard what he wanted to keep and honestly, I’m pretty sure someone with a direction for their story wouldn’t have such ramblings that would take 1000 pages (I myself who also draws a lot wouldn’t make that high of a number), the process overall was just yonkers. But for someone with a spotty memory… That’s probably the best method he could come up with.

But in all honesty, reading this article gave me an overwhelming sense of peace. I could live with Kazu’s reasons if it was because he’s done with Amulet, or if it was because of executive meddling, or if it was for medical reasons. Mostly because these are all problems that can be fixed. A better project, a better employer, a better work schedule, better accommodations. I still think the writing is awful and declined badly, but I’m more relieved that it isn’t because Kazu no longer cares or values his work. Ultimately, he genuinely did the best he could.

[shalomniscient]

haha thank u for ur thoughts on kjsr ask! there's like no fics or in game content for her so i have been starving sm. i love her so much, wish more people got into her character. being a picky reader AND a kjsr fan is torture, since it's hard (for me personally) to find fics that fit the way i have analyzed her. they always write her off as cold when i feel like she justs awkward cause of her lack in experience in socializing.

for college au, your analysis was on spot. thats like how i exactly imagined a college student kjsr to act. i wonder how she'd handle having a complete opposite of her as an s/o? like she's always organized, she probably has the habit of keeping her stuff in their usual positions as she sits by her chair for lectures. being raised by a military family and even attending a military school, would def make her unable to do things out of order. so having an s/o whose actions are always spontaneous and last minute would def place her in an uncomfortable spot. since imo i think of her as someone who hates unusual things, she wants everything in order. so if she met R whose constantly changing things and is the complete opposite of order, i wonder how would she even warm up to that person.

she def be irritated at first meeting with them, and maybe even R would also be annoyed with how she has a stick up her ass 😭

their slowburn would be so slow, ough i love ksr, she makes me ill ❤️

having an extremely disorganized partner would be roughhhhh for her i won’t lie. sara is about efficiency and quality—she’d absolutely loathe pushing things to deadlines and last minute work. and having a messy workspace… it’d give her a headache. also she’s definitely a clutter hater. everything in her room and on her desk has a practical purpose. if it doesn’t, it goes in the trash. as for spontaneity, i think sara would be able to adapt, but i think she would be really uncomfortable as you said. if it’s for the sake of like a project she would bite back her discomfort and press on, but if it’s like a casual thing i think she may just straight up decline. she acts this way because i believe she likes feeling prepared for things and knowing what she’s getting into. this doesn’t mean she’s against learning something completely new, but she just wants to know what she’s getting into yk? she’s very analytical. she likes plans and stuff because it gives her structure and purpose, which is very important to her because outside of that she doesn’t know what to do. she is so far behind in self-development that she clings to outside sources of structure (in canon, this is religion and the military).

so all that being said, having an s/o who abhors structure is going to be incredibly difficult for her. again, she’d be fine with trying new things, as long as her s/o tells her maybe a day in advance saying something like “hey, tomorrow we’ll do a surprise activity. bring x/wear x”. she still doesn’t know exactly what’s going to happen, but she knows there’s going to be a surprise, and she can physically and mentally prepare for it and that’s fine for her. if it’s true, pure, spontaneity she’d very much be thrown off her rhythm. it’s possible she’d even be a little irritated, since she could also have other things planned. all this being said, if there’s an emergency, she won’t crack under that pressure either. if anything, she works better, immediately forming a response plan in her head. am i making sense? i’m just rambling atp lmao i’m so sorry anon. tldr; my personal opinion is that sara would be very poorly compatible with a spontaneous person. she may not be able to even start being their friend to eventually become a romantic partner. ofc, this is my own take, so if u see that this can work, then indulge in it !!

[lizzy-theshyone]

Soft Moments

a/n: I know I said that I want to write some reader inserts but I couldn't keep it for this one. This is something more wholesome so please bare with me qwq

summary: If Lailah only listened and trusted him for keeping his promise. Luckily Bael did this time, otherwise she would have been in danger.

cw: Implied sexual content, mention of alcohol and drugs

Ship: (Implied Beelzebub x MC x Bael), Bael x MC

word count: 1607

“I’m almost done, Lailah… I promise. You can go ahead, I’ll catch up to you as soon as I am done with all the paperwork.”

An empty promise again. Lailah paces around in the bedroom she shares with her boyfriends. Even though it’s mostly her and Bael since Beelzebub never really is in Abyssos. Anger bubbles up inside of her as his words continue to echo in her head.

“He should just tell me if he doesn’t want to spend time with me…” she mutters to herself but then Lailah stops in her tracks as she looks out of the window, watching the illuminated city streets as an idea pops up in her mind.

“He’ll catch up… Then he should act on it…” the female whispers angrily, blinded by her emotions.

Without any other thought, she leaves the bedroom and heads for the front doors of the palace. He said he’ll catch up to her, right? So it wouldn’t be too bad if she goes ahead into the city, right? Oh, how wrong she is.

Roaming the back streets of the city, Lailah is incredibly blinded by her emotions so she doesn’t notice some Devils following her. As the Daughter of Solomon she is some kind of a celebrity in Hell, but being a celebrity loved by everyone still has its dangers.

“Ah fuck… Where am I? I have been here before but can’t remember where to go now.” Lailah concludes. She stops abruptly and looks around. Abyssos is dangerous even without the angels attacking and she knows that, but her irrational thoughts got the best of her and now she regrets it.

“I hope he won’t be mad at me…” she murmurs nervously when she turns around in order to go back to the palace only to find herself cornered by the Devils that followed her.

“It’s a rare sight to see the Daughter of Solomon alone in the streets of Abyssos. Let us treat you to a drink.” One of the Devils says in a cheerful manner.

Well fuck.

“Would you like to try some high quality drugs as well?” Another one asks and holds a bag with some purple powder out to her.

Lailah tries to swallow that lump in her throat, that has built itself up due to the increasing anxiety. If stranger danger has a personification, it is Lailah.

With a nervous smile she shakes her head, frantic eyes look for an escape route. She knows those Devils wouldn’t want to hurt her, they are drawn to her because of her heritage. They won’t hurt her, right?

“That’s a very kind offer, but I’m afraid I have to decline. I have an urgent appointment.” Lailah claims with a shaky voice. Cold sweat runs down her neck. She shouldn’t have left the palace on her own. She should have waited in the bedroom for Bael, instead of running off alone into the streets of Abyssos, knowing that others would try to get to her, even though if they are nice.

“Are you sure you don’t have some spare time? Solomon always tried to make time for us.” A third one presses and gets a little closer to the female.

Solomon did, but Lailah is not Solomon himself. Her breath hitches in her throat, unable to speak up again she backs away slowly, her body shaking slightly, until she bumps into someone behind her. She turns her head and sighs in relief when she sees Bael standing right behind her, wrapping an arm around her waist.

“The Daughter of Solomon has an appointment with me, so please excuse us.” He tells those Devils while his arm tightens around her waist. The Devils look at each other in confusion and without any other words, the substitute King picks the female up bridal style and leaves the scene with her. His grip on her is tight as he carries her wordlessly back to the palace.

Lailah on the other side fidgets with her hands, unable to read her savior’s face. Is he mad? Is he relieved? He could be anything but happy with how her little stunt went.

“We talk about that at home, Lailah…” Bael announces with his voice being firm as he doesn’t even look at her, his eyes are focused on the busy streets of Abyssos.

He sounds disappointed but not mad, which is not so bad but not so good either. She imagined something better like cuddling or getting laid instead of getting scolded for her reckless behavior which is his right after all. Since she knows how dangerous Abyssos is, especially around this hour. The streets are packed with all kinds of people and not only the nice ones.

The dissonance of the city is far from enough to drown out the silent tension between Bael and Lailah. The dead air between them remains the whole way through the city and into the bedroom. The Devil places her carefully on the bed before he settles down next to her and pulls her close.

“I know you were mad at me for telling you I need to finish the paperwork, but I can’t have you to going out alone at this hour. I know others don’t want to potentially harm you but the city is dangerous… Lailah, you already have a damn target branded on your chest because of that bastard Seraph Gabriel… I can’t have you in any more danger than you already are…” Bael explains in a half lecturing way as he holds her close, his arms are wrapped around her waist and his head is resting on top of hers.

“I know… I’m sorry… I didn’t want to worry you because you have enough stuff to worry about. I was just… mad and felt a little bit neglected though I know you don’t neglect me in any possible way. “ The female whispers and snuggles up to her boyfriend for comfort. The comforting feeling of his arms wrapped around her makes her feel safe and sound. She closes her eyes and hums contentedly, breathing in his calming scent. A long period of soothing silence follows.

“I don’t know why but I really appreciate to have you all to myself once in a while… But I don’t want to come across as selfish. We are three people in this relationship after all…” Bael whispers into Lailah’s hair, breaking the silence, while he draws circles on her skin with his gloved fingers.

Lailah can’t help but chuckle about that, smiling to herself a little and opens her eyes again.

“Treat it like a reward for doing all the hard work that isn’t actually yours… You’re doing great, Bael… but you need to take more breaks, you workaholic idiot.” She states sternly reaching up to pinch his cheek, but giggles as he grabs her wrist and plants a soft kiss on it. This little gesture reminds her that he treats her like a princess whenever they get to spend time together.

“I know… I know, but I want to get the excessive amount of work finished… Though it becomes more instead of less…” Bael mutters and falls backwards into the pillows with his girlfriend and kisses her forehead briefly, earning himself a sweet giggle of her that makes him smile warmly at Lailah. He relaxes a little further and plays with a few of her purple strands of her silky hair, moving her bangs out of her face so he catches a good view on her mismatched colored eyes.

“You know how much I hate it when you do that…” Lailah complains and blushes as he does so, breaking eye contact with him but as soon as she feels his hand on her cheek, she looks at him again shyly. His soft smile sends a warm feeling to her stomach before she leans forward and steals herself a kiss from him.

“I just love looking at your eyes… I think they compliment each other… the dark blue that reminds me of the sea, the yellowish gold that almost matches my own eyes. I know you hate them for their mismatching color, so I have to love them and I am required to love them for you as well…” the Devil confesses with a loving smile on his face and leans in closer to her, his lips almost touching hers.

They keep looking at each other for a while, seemingly minutes, before Bael finally closes the distance between them and kisses her softly, his eyes closing slowly to let himself fall into the comfort of their tender moment. Lailah does the same, letting out a soft sigh and her hands are pressing against him to steady herself a little and to maintain this little moment between them as innocent and civil as possible.

“Only making out tonight? Nothing more?” Bael asks as he pulls away a little with a smirk on his face. His voice is husky and it appears like he is left breathlessly. He pulls her tight to his body by her waist before he takes the initiative to pin her down beneath him, causing her blush to grow bigger.

“As long as we don’t break the bed again, I- I don’t mind us getting at it…” Lailah stutters out while she stares up at him along with a certain sparkle in her eyes, her cheeks have a bright pink hue to them. A smug smile is tugging at the corners of her lips that are sealed with those of her boyfriend as soon as the sentence leaves her mouth, therefore they can finally indulge into their small moment of intimacy.

[awooghan]

24 to 25 ✧.* y.ji (part two)

❄ PAIRING: jeongin x fem!reader

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

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

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

❄ SUMMARY: “stay for christmas?” was a phrase jeongin first uttered to you when you were both ten years old, but you had no idea how much those three little words would mean to you as the years go by. (inspired by “24 to 25” by stray kids)

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

i’ll include more to the note when i'm not in such a rush to get this posted but tysm to everyone who helped me in writing it! @crispy-chan jas thank you for beta reading (i’m so sorry it was so long) your comments were really sweet and really reassured me that i was doing okay <3 thank u @pearleechai and @gloseoks for helping me out with that one part i got stuck on for like a week lmaooo. to parker specifically, ty for all ur help and encouragement in the couple chapters i asked for help on :D i’m sorry it meant u had some of the fic spoiled for u tho ;w; lastly, @svtbabies hopie u have been my lifesaver from start to finish w this fic. thank u so so much for planning w me and for the multiple times u saved me from a huge writer’s block. i wouldn’t have been able to complete this without you, so ty for everything <33 also ty for the banner lol

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

part one | [part two]

network tags: @straykidsland

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

20.

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

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

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

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

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

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

And look where that got you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

21.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Stay… over for Christmas?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, no, how did I find you?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I will." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

22.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“One word difference.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This is when you finally look up at him. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Or can he?

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

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

But it doesn’t feel right.

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

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

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

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

“But I’m not Jeongin.”

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

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

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

He’s just… Jeongin. 

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

Because is there really a Christmas without Stay for Christmas?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

wouldn’t miss it for the world.

23.

“Why so glum, chum?”

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

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

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

“You know why,” you grumble.

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

“Hmm, do I?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We?!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I… I don’t know, Jisung.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did you order takeout, Ji?”

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

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

He chuckles lightly. “One could say that.”

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

His small smile morphs into a Cheshire-like grin.

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

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

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

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

“…Jeongin?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“H-Hi.”

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

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

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

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

“Jeongin, come here, my honey sweet!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Felix, left hand, red.” 

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

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

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

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

“Hyunjin, left hand, yellow.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You missed this.

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

Until you notice Jeongin towering over you, smirking deviously.

“Did you miss me?”

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

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

It strikes him square in the face.

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

Oh no.

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

“Jeongin, stopppp~!” 

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

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

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

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

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

“You asshole!” You shriek in between giggles.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Stay for Christmas?” he whispers.

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

“Just come here.”

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

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

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

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

24...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jeonginnie?” you finally say after another moment.

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

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

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

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

“I… I got a job offer…”

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

“…but it’s two cities away.” 

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

“Oh…” 

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

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

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

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

Be strong, Y/N. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“YAHOOOO!!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe a Christmas miracle is possible.

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

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

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

“Stay for Christmas?” 

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

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

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

“Fine by me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s nothing.”

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

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

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

“Don’t,” you glower at him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then what else is there?!”

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

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

“Jeongin!” you whine.

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

“It was!”

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

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

“Shit up,” you continue to whine. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

click.

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

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

Jisung gasps, pointing at you with a glare. 

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

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

“Uh…” you gulp. “Why?” 

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

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

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

“Uh…” you repeat. 

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

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

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

Not stay for Christmas. Just stay.

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

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

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

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

It’s now or never, Y/N. 

“Sure,” you smile. “It’s fine.” 

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

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

Jisung just gives you a tilted smile mid-munch.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And now, here you are.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah…”

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

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

You both chuckle.

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

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

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

Then another beat of silence.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You let out a sigh. “I… I guess.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You sigh. “I… I guess.”

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

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

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

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

“But it— it’s more than that.” 

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

Here goes nothing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/N…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I love you, Jeongin,” you whisper.

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

“I love you, too, Y/N.” 

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

You’re home.

...to 25. (epilogue)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“This isn’t even a fancy emergency!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ultimate happiness. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“T-Thanks, Mom.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You did!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ohhh, look how cute!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Uh uh, I need more!”

“You don’t have enough yet?!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Aww, is someone blushing?” he coos.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Right, I forgot my—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jeongin huffs. “But it’s so cold.” 

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

A gust of cold air causes you to shiver and as a response, you pull your coat closer to you. This seems to make Jeongin chuckle fondly, and you feel his eyes linger on you for a second before he looks out at the horizon. The falling snowflakes glisten under the remnants of the sunlight, and the holiday lights emit a breathtaking glow. You’re both still not tall enough to see much above the houses in front of you, but that’s okay—you know what lies beyond it.

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

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

“What do you mean?” 

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

Y/N and Jeongin, 2010.

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

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

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

“What are you–” 

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

And forevermore.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But there’s one thing missing.

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

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

“Stay for Christmas?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[genericpuff]

ULO user here! I recently went back and found several old comments I'd made on LO while I was a huge fan of it in 2019.. so embarassing looking back lol. You mentioned that you used to send a bunch of "fangirl" messages back in the day- would love to see your old thoughts/opinions back when you loved LO to compare as a fun(if a bit melancholic) journey, if you'd be willing to share a few? Your thoughts/analysis are always amazing, but I'm super curious as to how you felt back before you realized what a shitshow it was

Haha yeah, I was a fangirl in the sense of like... always being on time for new updates, even if I was out doing other things, messaging my real life friend who got me into the comic to talk about it. Back then Saturday was the height of my week, sometimes the cliffhangers would get me so excited I'd spend the entire week thinking about what could happen next. I suppose I do still look forward to Saturdays now, but for much different reasons.

It's a lil' shameful looking back but I did used to be one of those "don't like it don't read it" dickheads LOL I also used to "not see the issue" with the age gap thing, not because I was okay with age gaps, but as someone who tends to write about immortal beings, I followed the same line of thinking that "they're gods, it shouldn't matter", until I realize just how silly it was that if that were the case, the comic wouldn't be constantly calling out the age difference and drawing Persephone to look as young as possible. I had to really sit on LO for a long time before I started seeing the issues with it. Ironically what opened my eyes to it was lurking in the #antiloreolympus hashtag every now and then, I'd be reading the opinions like "these opinions suck! they don't get it! they're just being nitpicky/mean/etc.!" and yet I duped myself by doing just that because it exposed me to other points of view which became more and more relevant as the comic declined in quality. I think it was around the trial arc that I started to notice the holes (one of the big tells for me that maaaybe LO didn't know what it was doing was when Persephone chose Hades to be her lawyer despite him being one of the judges and someone she was romantically involved with, like hello?) and then when the series returned from its mid-season hiatus and skipped right over Persephone's time in the Mortal Realm, that was when I realized the criticisms weren't coming from nowhere and I got off the high horse and started to read their points with more of an open mind.

Of course, I can safely say I wasn't as shitty as some of the stans can be, most of my opinions were just in the weekly discussion threads in the LO sub, but I was still giving my opinions on LO as if it was a Canvas comic, failing to recognize that 1.) just because webcomics are a budding industry doesn't mean they should be exempt from criticism, and 2.) LO isn't anywhere near the same level as Canvas, it's a #1 NYT best selling book with a creator who's won awards, so it absolutely should be subject to criticism and analyzing as LO is representing that same budding industry in a lot of ways.

I'm trying to find stuff from my pre-ULO days but unfortunately nothing from my main profile is loading past the last 9 months LMAO But if I do find any specific examples I'll definitely post them so we can roast past me together (*≧︶≦))(￣▽￣* )ゞI definitely remember back when ULO was created, it came at a perfect time I think LOL