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#Plus I have speakers that are ages old

zoekrystall · 3 months

Text

Everyone be proud of me I finally started to download music again (used mostly yt-dlp which omg ily)

All it took was me randomly fixating for days on my pc aesthetic (made personal use firefox skins too for hours) and wanting to use the skins sjsksk. Smth I never cared enough abt. The skins are so pretty I wish kid me knew abt them,,, reg how I thought I was the only one that cared abt phantom thief jeanne (as a kid prob way more than sailor moon but both good) was I suprised by the amount of skins.

This one is also really nice I maybe should rewatch slayers

Anyways back to mp3 metatag hell (I still have my whole spotify stuff to download which is. So much more. I fear). It is like 0:50 I will prob pass out soon but until then.

I primarily thought abt it too bc I loved to put music on in the bg on discord calls w my ex bff but I used spotify which hates this so I went hm when downloaded it doesn't need the internet and it won't suddenly stop too. I wanna push my music in calls w friends again (on that note listen to groundbreaking, sockittome, and bahjat 🫵). The ones I bought on bandcamp did I luckily not forget to check first will prob throw what I can once possible at the ones that I want to support.

Will only upgrade my phone this year bc this small storage sucks I only thought oh fine I got a big sd card but capitalism said ha no fuck slots. By the amount of music and what I use it for do I gen think min ~500 max 1tb (find it a bit wild that's a thing for phones but I'm not complaining) and then only again once it's unsalvageable. I think that will make me happy for a lifetime bc it's always just the storage for me. Music + pics (which I use for edits) and the main storage eater and I yknow want to download games too or in the future mangas/eps to get edit material there. Oh and pdfs to read n books n such esp ones to quickly show in convos which can become a huge pile too. I will delete eps but I obv first need enough to download them. First and foremost I want to start taking my as of rn ~20gb music library (incoming like ~1400 songs from spotify excluded) everywhere w me w no worries however and ik this will become much bigger in the years since I constantly search for new ones (spotify likes in the 10000 for example. need to clean my playlists for storage like yearly). Reg my pc I will invest in those external storage things I got a 1tb one from my dad ages ago and ik they're cheap. Anyways people weren't kidding downloading stuff is kinda addicting like even if taken down I still have that damn. Like obv ik since forever but omg why the fuck did I stop w that. Will prob only download video stuff I watch w friends but still. I need to start ripping the dvds I got. Oh it feels good to be back.

Tldr I want big ass phone storage so gotta upgrade but I got my reasons (plus reg if cheaper w plan refurbished depends on monthly price). My current got 128gb ftr which is horrendous and makes me want to explode since I got it multiple times. Also feels good to be back to download not just stream stuff.

#a wild lux appears #Ik how to make screenshots on pc but why do that when I use my phone for tumblr posts #I am fine w mp3 I literally cannot tell the difference nor care reg higher formats #I literally downloaded old ass nightcore and yk how the quality is there for the right vibe I Do Not Care #Plus I have speakers that are ages old

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justmystyles · 9 months

Note

hi! your angst is so so good! could you please write something angsty around the Selena Gomez song “Lose You to Love Me” kind of about a girl learning to love herself after a toxic love with Harry and then them reuniting after growing up years later, please?

Lose You to Love Me

read my other work here

pairing: Harry Styles x plus size reader

word count: 4.2k

summary: a run-in with your childhood sweetheart brings up old memories, and lingering feelings.

a/n: my friend, you have no idea what you've done sending this ask in. technically you do, because I posted about it after i received it. but this song popped into my head a little over a week ago, and has been running up there on repeat. it's been making me think about my life and relationships, and being all reflective or whatever. i hate it. 😂

I have been thinking about this story pretty much non-stop since you sent the ask, and was so exited to finally get it written. i hope it's what you were looking for, and that you enjoy reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it.

also, a note about the story, the italicized parts are flashbacks.

i know we’re on all on edge after last night, so why not throw some angst in there to make it worse!

tags: @allthelovehes @ameerakane20 @ash-craze @bethanysnow @blue-ballad @blueraspberryreader @brightlightsinlife @creativelyeva @cute-as-ducks420 @deannaard @fanficismydrug @gem1712 @golden-hoax @gothmingguk @groovychaosavenue @hillzrry @iceebabies @indierockgirrl @jerseygirlinca @jng4kook @jooniesbabie @kaverichauhan @lexiecamposv @mrs-anna-styles211994 @n0vaj3an @potterheadandsherlocked @rach2699 @ravenclawdirectioner @stylesfeverr @superchrystaldrug @tenaciousperfectionunknown @tiaamberxx @thechaoticjoy @theekyliepage @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @youknowwhaaat

As you moved through the streets of London, you were so focused on making it to your destination that you weren’t paying attention to the faces passing you by.

But he was, and he recognized yours immediately.

“Y/N?”

You froze in place, causing the person walking behind you to crash into you. You apologized and stepped off to the side, looking in the direction of the voice. “Harry,” you breathed out.

Before you could fully process what was happening, Harry had rushed up to you, pulling you into his arms. You closed your eyes, even after all this time he still gave the best hugs. Your mind flashed with memories of all the times you found yourself in his arms. Good and bad.

“I can’t believe it’s you!” He spoke against your neck before pulling back, taking your hands in his as he looked you up and down. “You look amazing. All grown up.”

“Yeah, you too.” You took him in, he had definitely filled out since the last time you saw him. Of course you knew that, no matter how hard you tried to get away from him, you never could get that clean break you so desired. That’s what happens when your ex is one of the biggest stars in the world.

“Gosh, it’s been ages.” He muses.

You purse your lips and nod. “Eleven years.” You feel a knot in your stomach, thinking back to the last time you two spoke.

“Harry, it’s just not fair to me.” You move the speaker away from your mouth, hoping he doesn’t hear your breath hitch.

“And you think you’re being fair to me? This is my dream, Y/N, and I can’t even enjoy it because I’ve got you making me feel bad, or like I’m doing something wrong every time I talk to you!”

“Yeah, well you were my dream.” Your voice is quiet, defeated. “But I guess it’s time for me to wake up.”

Harry is silent on the other end of the phone for a moment. “What,” he lets out a deep breath. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

You wipe your eyes, sniffling softly. “It means I can’t do this anymore. You’re living your life, you’re finding your way in the world. I need to go off and do the same. Alone.”

Harry gives you a sad smile. “I tried to reach out a few times, I didn’t like how we left things.”

“I know, me either.” You agreed. “But I needed to just sever the tie. It would have been too hard otherwise.”

“I’m sorry,” you look at him curiously. “For how I handled things, for how it ended…”

You held your hand up to stop him. “We were just kids, you were eighteen and an international pop star, you handled things as best you could.”

He smiled gratefully at you. “Do you, uh… do you have some time? Maybe we could grab a coffee and catch up?”

Your mind is begging you to say no, but your mouth doesn’t listen, agreeing immediately. “But I’ll pass on the coffee.’

“Still?” He smirks, remembering how much you hated coffee. “Some things never change.”

****

The two of you order drinks, and get settled at a quiet corner table in a small coffee shop, the conversation starts off simple enough, you catch each other up on your families, you tell him about your career, and how you had relocated to London three years ago for a big promotion. He shares a couple of stories of some of his more memorable moments over the years.

Even after a decade apart, you still managed to fall into conversation with ease. From the moment you had met when you were kids, there was this instant comfort between the two of you. It was no surprise to anyone when you started dating at fifteen. You were inseparable, going everywhere together. You were there at his XFactor audition, you supported him every step of the way. It was when things really started taking off for him that everything changed.

“Hi angel,” Harry’s voice was low and raspy, that’s when you realized you forgot to take the time change into consideration before you called.

“Oh my gosh H, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you up, I–”

You’re cut off by his laughter. “It’s alright, I like when you wake me up. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Mum is taking me dress shopping for formal today, I just wanted to see if you had any ideas what you’d be wearing. We could coordinate!” There was a long silence as you waited for him to respond. “Harry?” You asked. Maybe he had fallen back to sleep.

“Yeah, I’m here. Sorry.” You could hear him shifting on the other end of the phone. “I have some bad news actually.” He sighed before continuing. “They booked us a bunch of shows in the US, I’m not going to be able to come home for the dance.”

“Oh,” you did your best to mask the disappointment. It was just a dance, Harry was doing amazing things, and you needed to be supportive of that.

“Angel, I’m so sorry, I really tried…”

“No, don’t worry. It’s fine, really.” You assured him while also trying to assure yourself.

You heard a knocking on the other side of the phone, and muffled voices. “Fuck, I’ve gotta go Y/N. I’m so sorry, I love you. You know that, right?”

“Yeah, I know H. I love you too.”

“Okay, we’ll talk soon. I promise.” The call disconnects before you can respond.

That was the beginning of the end for your young love. You had put on a happy face for everyone, especially Harry, but your family and friends were able to see right through it. He probably would have too had he actually been there.

You ended up going to your formal with your friends, but as they danced and laughed, you sat on the sidelines, staring at your phone waiting for a call or a text from Harry. And that’s what your life became from there on.

When Harry would come home, things would be better, but still not what it was. Because he’d be gone for such long stretches, his time was spread so thin when he was home. He would want to spend time with everyone, which didn’t leave enough time for the two of you. You would tag along as much as you could, but your one on one time was lacking. It got to a point where you couldn’t even go out on dates, constantly being bombarded by people asking for pictures or autographs.

That’s when you decided to spend your time behind closed doors. Harry said it was so he could focus on you, but part of you wondered if it was so that he could keep you secret. You knew that there were girls all over the world that wanted to be with him, his team knew that was part of the marketability of him, of the whole group. The second the two of you stopped hanging out publicly, the insecurities started creeping in. From then on, every time you saw a picture of him with another girl, you wondered who she was, why it was okay for him to be seen with her and not you.

As the two of you continued to talk, you glanced down at your watch. “Oh shit,” you interrupt him. “I’m so sorry Harry, I actually have to go. I have a meeting I need to get to.” You stand from your seat and collect your things. Harry stands with you.

“Yeah, of course.” You could have sworn there was a hint of disappointment in his tone. “Hey, you should come to the show tonight. If you’re free I mean.”

You look up at him with wide eyes. “Are you sure?”

“Of course, it’s Wembley. How many times did we talk about this?”

“A lot,” you smile wistfully, remembering those conversations. Whenever he was feeling discouraged about his journey, you would always be right there to pick him up, assuring him it was going to work out. That he’d be onstage at the famed stadium, and you’d be right there cheering him on.

“It would mean a lot to me to have you there. Full circle and all that.” He said with a smile. “Besides, the whole family is going to be there. I’m sure mum and Gem would love to see you.”

It would be nice to see his family again. You had been all but officially adopted into the clan, spending holidays, dinners, birthdays with them. You were at Harry’s house just as much as you were at your own, possibly more. Sure, you had mourned the loss of your relationship with Harry, but it also broke you that you lost that second family.

“Yeah, sure. I’ll be there.” You agree.

“Amazing.” He pulled you in for a tight hug. “I’ll see you tonight. Just check in at the box office when you get there, I’ll take care of everything.”

****

You made it to your meeting on time, but you were anything but present. Your mind kept going back to Harry, how great he looked, how happy he was to see you. And then the memories started flooding back.

“Y/N?” Your mother’s voice and gentle knock on the door call your attention away from your phone.

“Yeah?”

She sticks her head into your room. “We’re leaving in five minutes, are you ready?”

“Ready?” You suddenly remember that your parents were supposed to be taking you and your sister out to dinner. “Oh, I uh… no. I think I’m going to pass if that’s okay?”

“But honey, we’re going to your favorite restaurant.” You could see the concern spread across her face.

“I know, but Harry is supposed to call and check in. We haven’t had a proper phone date in weeks. I want to make sure I don’t miss him.”

“Y/N…” your mother says in a warning tone. After Harry missed out on formal, you had completely changed. You’d go to school, and then immediately come home waiting to hear from him. You would drop everything the second his name popped up on your phone screen.

“Mum, next time. I promise.”

Your mother lets out a sigh and nods, leaving you alone.

About an hour later, your phone pinged with a text from Harry.

Sorry love, can’t call tonight. Talk to you soon, promise. XO

****

After your meeting, you slipped out of the office. You knew you weren’t going to get anything done today. Besides, you needed to find something to wear tonight. You called Heather, your oldest and closest friends, asking her to meet you at one of your favorite shops.

You told her about your run-in with Harry, and his invitation to go to his show.

“You said no, right?”

“Yeah, I said no. That’s why we’re here, you’re helping me pick an outfit for a concert I’m not going to.” you rolled your eyes.

“Y/N, I say this as your friend, this is a terrible idea and you definitely shouldn’t go.” She says completely seriously. “Do you even remember what life was like for you back then?”

“Come on!” Heather grabbed your arm, trying to pull you out of the booth. “Come dance with us!”

You pull out of her grip, checking your phone for a notification. “I can’t H-”

“Harry’s going to call,” she finishes your sentence. “Y/N, you’re both my friends, but you’re my best friend, so I’m going to be real with you. Harry’s a wakner.”

“Hey,” you reply defensively. “He is not, he’s just really busy. He’s kind of a big deal, you know?”

“I do know. And I also know that while you’re sitting here staring at your phone, you’re missing out on life. But he’s out there living it. You deserve better than that.”

“Right, and in a couple of months I’ll be living that life with him.”

Heather’s brow furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“I’m not going to university.” You state plainly, her eyes go wide in shock. “Harry is going to get me a job on his team. It won’t be glamorous, and it probably won’t pay much, but we’ll be together and everything will be good again.”

“Have you told your parents about this plan?”

“I have, they aren’t happy about it, but I’m eighteen, so there isn’t really anything they can do about it.”

“And you really think this is the best idea?” She asks you.

“Yes,” you say, a little louder than intended but you needed to get your point across. “Harry and I are supposed to be together, and if this is how it needs to happen, this is how it’s going to happen.” You grab your purse and stand from your seat. “I’m going home, it’s too loud here for me to hear him anyway.”

After that, you stopped going out when your friends invited you. They didn’t understand your relationship, and they were always on your case about it. It was easier to just stay home and wait for Harry. Eventually, the invitations stopped coming. You were fine with that. It made it easier for you to focus on Harry, and be there when he had time for you.

As far as the job, that never happened. About a week after you graduated, you received a call from Harry. He told you that he fought for you, all the guys did, but his team said they weren’t able to make a spot for you.

You were devastated, but you did your best to hide it from him. That didn’t last very long, however, as that was the point where the cracks in your facade of ‘supportive girlfriend’ started coming through. You started seeing what everyone had been telling you, that Harry was out there conquering the world while you were putting your life on hold, spending your life by the phone waiting for a quick text or five minute phone call.

****

When you arrived at Wembley, you gave your name at the window and were immediately ushered to a backstage VIP area. You walked in and smiled to yourself at the turnout. You recognized almost everyone in the room. You stayed by the door, not wanting to interrupt when Gemma’s eyes traveled in your direction, She did a double take before smiling wide and running to you.

“Y/N, I can’t believe it!” She pulled you into a tight hug, which you quickly returned. “Harry told us he ran into you, and invited you to the show. But I wasn’t sure you’d actually come!”

You giggled at her excitement. “Of course I’m here, I told him I’d come.”

“I know, but you’re so nice, I figured you’d say that to his face and then just disappear.” You both laughed, before she took you by the hand, leading you into the group. “Come on, we have so much to catch up on!”

You went around the room, greeting those you had known a decade ago, and meeting the new members of Harry’s entourage. Everyone was so happy to see you, you were being pulled in a million different directions trying to catch up with everyone. They had told you that Harry was with them earlier, but had to leave to get ready. You were grateful for that. It would have been too much to be there with him, and his family.

**** When it was time to go out to the front of house, Gemma locked her arm in yours and you walked together. She stayed by your side the whole night. The two of you were always close, she had always treated you like you were sisters. Often joking that someday Harry would make it official. She made you promise not to leave without giving her your number, she said she wasn’t about to let another ten years go by without seeing you again.

The show was incredible. Harry was incredible. As you watched him up there, you felt your chest swell with pride. Despite what had transpired between the two of you, you couldn’t help but get emotional watching him live the dream that the two of you had spent so much time talking about. He had done it, but on a level that neither of you could have even imagined.

As you listened on, your mind wandered, thinking about the girls those songs were about. The girls that had come after you. You felt tears begin to pool in your eyes as you remembered the first one.

“Come on guys, put it away. Y/N is going to be here any minute.” You heard Heather plead. “This is her first time out since the breakup, she doesn’t need to see it.”

After the phone call where you ended your relationship, you were inconsolable. You cried nonstop, mourning your relationship, the future you were supposed to have, and all the time you wasted waiting for him. Your friends would come over often, but they would mostly just hold you and offer words of encouragement to you as you cried. Nobody was able to get through to you, they weren’t even sure how.

About two months after the breakup, you got this surge of determination. Harry had taken away enough of your life, you weren’t going to let him do it anymore. You texted Heather, and she agreed to gather all your friends for dinner.

You walked in and saw her trying to pull the phone out of her boyfriend’s hands. “What don’t I need to see?” You ask, everyone’s attention snapping to you.

“Nothing, don’t worry about it.” Heather assured you.

You nodded, leaning in to hug your friend, quickly diverting and grabbing the phone out of her hand. You looked down at the screen and saw a paparazzi shot of Harry walking hand in hand with Taylor Swift, it was an article about the budding relationship between the two singers.

“Oh,” you said, dropping the phone on the table. “I uh… I just remembered I’ve got to…” your brain was too cloudy to come up with an excuse, not that they would believe it anyway. You turned and rushed out of the restaurant. Heather hot on your heels.

“Y/N, wait!” She followed you as you ducked into a nearby alleyway, getting to you just in time to watch your back slide down the wall.

You wrapped your arms around your knees and began sobbing uncontrollably. Heather sat down next to you, wrapping her arm around your shoulder and pulling you into her.

“I… he… I…” You couldn’t form words, too upset to do anything but cry.

“I know babe, I know.” Heather said in a soft tone, rubbing your back comfortably. “I told you he was a wanker.”

You chuckled lightly, your breathing starting to return to normal. You looked up at your friend with tear stained cheeks, your breath hitching as you regained composure. “We just broke up. I’ve been locked in my room crying, and he’s been with her.”

“He’s a piece of shit. He doesn’t deserve you. You’re so much better than all of this.” She held your face in her hands and gave you a determined look. “You’re a fucking catch Y/N, he’s an idiot for not seeing that.” You nod, pretending you agree with her. “Let’s get you home. We’ll get a bunch of junk food and watch sad movies. Get all the tears out.”

“Hey Y/N, you alright?” Gemma pulls you from your thoughts.

You suddenly realize the house lights are up, and people are filing out of the stadium. “Oh yeah, sorry. It’s just crazy to think that he went from the weird boy with the dumb jokes to that,” you gesture toward the stage.

“Oh, he’s still the weird boy, he’s just telling his dumb jokes to a whole lot more people.” She joked, slinging her arm around your shoulder. “C’mon, let’s go backstage.”

“Oh, no no no, you go. I should…”

“Not a chance,” she interrupted you. “You’ve gotta come back and see him.” You narrow your eyes at her, wondering why it was so important that you see him, but she just smiles innocently and leads you back to the VIP room.

****

You and Gemma get comfortable on a couch in the back corner of the room, so lost in conversation that you don’t even notice when all eyes in the room land on the door, cheering Harry as he enters. He walks through, offering hugs and handshakes, thanking people for coming and graciously receiving compliments on his performance.

Once he’s made his way to the back, he stops, silently observing you and his sister gossiping and giggling just like you always had.

“You’d better not be talking about me, or I’m telling mum.” His voice pulls you from your conversation, and you both turn to look at him.

Gemma grins and jumps from her seat. “You were outstanding.” She pulled him into a hug, saying something to him in a hushed tone.

He smiled gratefully at her as she sat back down, Harry turned to you with a curious expression. “Well? What did you think?”

“H,” his nickname fell so easily from your lips, as if you had never been apart. You stood up, looking at him with so much awe that he was taken aback. “You did it. I’m so,” you sigh with a shrug. “It was incredible.”

He smiled, dimples on full display. “Thank you, angel. You have no idea what that means to me.” He steps in front of you, pulling you into a firm embrace. You were so lost in the moment that it didn’t even register that he had called you by his pet name for you.

Gemma stood behind you, making sure to get Harry’s attention, she winked at him with a smirk before matriculating back into the crowd, allowing you two a moment.

When you finally separated, Harry looked down at you, his gaze so intense that you felt your cheeks heating up. “I should probably go,” you finally speak up.

“No, wait.” He says in a panicked tone. “Can I talk to you alone for a minute?”

You furrow your brow, not expecting that. He’s in a room full of the most important people in his life, and he wants to be alone with you? “Yeah, sure.”

He leads you out of the VIP area and down the hall to his dressing room. He opens the door, signaling for you to enter. He follows behind you, closing the door once you both cross the threshold.

You both stand there awkwardly for a few moments before Harry finally breaks the silence. “I’m really glad you came tonight.”

“Me too, thank you for inviting me.” You smile, trying to hide your nerves.

“I, uh…” he takes a breath, running his hand through his hair. “I miss you.”

You look up at him in confusion. “Harry, it’s been eleven years.”

“And I’ve missed you the entire time.” He took a couple of cautious steps towards you. “I was so stupid back then, so stupid. I know I wasn’t fair to you.”

“I told you, it’s fine, you were a kid. You did the best you could.” You assured him.

“I think running into you today was fate.” He ignores your words and keeps going. “We’ve both grown up, I’ve grown up. I see what’s important in life now.”

“Harry…”

“There were so many times I wanted to call you. So many things that happened that I wanted to celebrate with you, but I couldn’t. Every sold out show, every award, all of it, you were the first person I wanted to tell.”

You were speechless. You were listening to his words, watching the vulnerability in his face, all of it completely overwhelming you. Out of everything that could have come from your run in with Harry, this was probably the last thing you would have expected.

“I don’t… what?” Was all you managed to choke out.

“Listen, I’m not saying we jump right back in and pick up where we left off,” your eyes went wide at his words. “I broke your trust, that’s something I need to earn back. But I’d like to try, if you’d let me.”

“Try…”

He reached out, taking your hand and sighing in relief when you didn’t pull away. “I want to show you that I can be what you need, what you deserve.”

“What are you asking?” You ask, searching his face as if it held the answers.

“I just want to be in your life again, be your friend. I want to get to know you now, I want you to get to know me now, and see where things go from there.”

You stood in silence, looking into Harry’s eyes, butterflies filling your stomach at the way he’s looking at you. You nod your head slowly. “Okay,” you respond, barely above a whisper.

“Yeah?” He asks hopefully, you nod with a smile and he wraps his arms around you, pulling you into his chest. “Thank you thank you thank you. I promise I’m not going to mess this up.” You chuckle against his chest. “What’s so funny?”

“Heather is going to kill me.”

A bark of laughter escapes him. “I’ll protect you,” he places a kiss on the top of your head. “I’m not going to lose you again.”

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles x plus size reader #harry styles headcanon #harry styles angst #harry's house #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fan fiction #harry edward styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles blurb #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fic

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lopposting · 6 months

Text

On the "original" korean script

its pretty certain that LoP has been a smash hit, i really hope they go back and do a korean dub

I REALLY WANT TO SHARE THIS. i fell down the translation rabbit hole after looking for a specific translated version of pinocchio

so, Carlo is way franker in the original korean version.

taking this really important line in the game. In english, the line was translated to

"I don't care if an old man like that kicks the bucket!"

I feel like it's way harsher in the korean version. in korean it was

"그깟 늙은이, 죽어도 상관 안 해"

which to me is more like "That old geezer, he can die for all I care." (literal translation would be like.. "That oldie, don't care even if he dies") In korean it's not so much a one to one translation as it is different conjugations and grammar depending on respect and the speaker. he doesn't literally call him an "old shit" but "그깟 늙은이" is let's say, carlo being very flippant

(if there are any korean speakers, yall are probably better than me, if you can refute or confirm this plz lmk)!!

ALSO: I went and I checked the Riddler's phone calls and they do also rhyme in korean!!? imagine adapting all that!! That is such the translation feat!!

more translation notes:

Geppetto: In my own way, I grew to love you. After all, you're the puppet that would bring my son back to life.

The line in korean strikes me as more tragic.

"하지만 알아 다오, 나는 너도 사랑했단다. 내 아들 카를로를 되살려줄 인형으로"

eng (interpretation mine +google translate):

"But know this, I loved you too. You're the doll that would bring my son Carlo back to life."

(or save my son Carlo) confirming that geppetto did love Pino. just not enough.

그래도 부모는 자식을 기다려 주게 마련이지. 너같이 매를들어야 할 말썽꾸러기라도 말이다.

"Still, parents are bound to wait for their children. Even if it’s a troublemaker like you who deserves a beating."

in the english version, it was:

"Still, a father always looks after his children. Even naughty ones like you who deserve to be punished."

I think the english localization team took their own interpretation to adapt the story which is really cool to see. Like Geppetto keeps calling us his "good boy", there's no real equivalent to that in korean perhaps, but it's infantilizing and uncomfortable to an english audience (Pino may be young, but he's still a far cry from what we would call a "child"). plus there's that added BioShock inference for good measure

네 자유는 널 위한 게 아니다, 인형! Your freedom is not for you, puppet! (no mention of carlo)

in the english release, it was

Your freedom is not for you, but for Carlo!

interestingly, there is no mention of carlo in the korean version at some points where the english version mentions him, and sometimes Carlo is mentioned in the korean lines when the english version omits this. [edit note: it may have been because of test players comprehension of who exactly carlo was at this point in this story]

also, there is no difference between "doll" and "puppet" in korean as it is in english (as far as I know), and they use the word 인형 in the game where it was translated to "puppet" (when it would be generally translated to "doll"). In english, a "doll" indicates a toy generally for young children, while a puppet denotes a figure or figurine that is manipulated by a puppeteer. I really like that, it makes the setting even more story-book like

another note, carlo calling geppetto "old-ass" suggests that geppetto had him in his old age. In english "old man" is often an affectionate term for your father, so there's a difference there. in korean, i think carlo is simply insulting him LOL

[last of all, this is all just assuming that the script was originally in korean to begin with. ]

#lies of p #liesofp #lop #spoilers #lies of p spoilers #korean #theory #“but know this I loved you too” is destroying me #pinocchio #lies of p carlo

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gaytamorfosi · 5 months

Text

You can stay with Me

🇬🇧 ("Puoi stare con me" Versione Inglese)

Massimo was drinking his coffee standing in the middle of the living room, staring at the objects he had just purchased to decorate his small apartment in the center of Milan. That little house had cost a fortune, but at least now he lived near the bank where he worked. The decorator had done an excellent job, the apartment looked like it came from a photo in a furniture catalogue, plus Massimo's refined style and obsession with cleanliness meant that the apartment always remained perfect, like new. Massimo's life was divided between work and that small empty apartment. Even if the space available was very little, Massimo would have shared it very willingly, he had been dreaming of a relationship for some time, but at the dawn of 45 the poor employee had stopped fantasizing, also because his relationships (in the rare cases in which started) did not last more than a few dates. Massimo had some relatives (whom he rarely heard from) and a small group of friends, who very rarely was joined by anyone else.

That Friday evening Massimo's small group of friends had invited him out for a pizza, but it had been a hard day and Massimo didn't want to go out with the usual people to hear the usual conversations, much less in front of a slice of fat and greasy pizza. Massimo often fasted; he had a complicated relationship with food. His physique was frail and thin, sometimes people looked at him and wondered how such a lean body could support that big head full of black hair. Massimo shaved and waxed: the streets of Milan were full of young, handsome, thin boys who seemed to be blessed by nature. Massimo had chased that ideal of beauty for years, but at his age he looked almost grotesque filing and limiting his small body. Massimo used to be chubby as a teen and was terrified of becoming like that again, his body would have gained mass without too much effort if he hadn't placed all those limitations on himself. His body was like an oak tree that had been given the treatment of a bonsai, cutting off all the branches and not giving it the chance to grow.

At one in the morning a notification interrupted the music, which Massimo had been keeping in the background for hours with his Bluetooth speaker. In the "friends" WhatsApp group Paride had written: "Guys, I missed the last train, I think I have to see if there’s a replacement bus or if I can call a taxi". Paride didn't always go out with Massimo and his friends, because he lived in the province and had to take the train to reach the center of Milan. He was 28 years old, not too tall, a little chubby but with a nice face. He was polite and kind, Massimo liked him a lot but knew he had no chance with him, because Paride had been having a relationship with another boy for some years, a practically perfect relationship, if marriage between two men in Italy had been legal those two certainly would have been married.

Massimo was sorry to have missed an outing in which Paride was also there, but perhaps luck that evening had given him the very rare chance to spend some time alone with him. "If you want you can sleep here with me" Massimo wrote in the group chat, blushing. Paride and Massimo, even though they had known each other for years, had never spent time together alone, Paride's boyfriend or some other friend was always present. In addition to this, Massimo was very shy and rarely entered into his friends' conversations, so when they were in a group, Paride barely looked at him.

"OMG! Thank you very much Massimo, I'm on my way"

After 25 minutes, which seemed like an eternity to Massimo, Paride rang the doorbell and Massimo opened the door. Upon entering, Paride took off his shoes, he had already been to Massimo's house and knew well that that was the rule in his house, because Massimo hated dirt. For Paride, entering Massimo's house was always a bit like entering a sanctuary, he was terrified of breaking or dirtying something, even just breathing made him feel out of place. After some lukewarm pleasantries, Massimo invited Paride to sit on the sofa, the conversation ended immediately and an awkward silence filled the air.

"Do you want something to drink or eat?"

"Just a glass of water, thanks, the pizza made me thirsty"

Paride drank slowly, trying to fill that silence that seemed suspended in time. "Should I sleep here?" Paride said pointing to an inflatable mattress properly prepared with sheets, pillows and blankets. He was usually self-confident when he chatted with friends, but now he almost seemed embarrassed. Instead of his eyes, Paride stared at his friend's slender feet, embraced by two white and red socks made of thin fabric. Paride had a weakness for men's feet, it wasn't really a fetish, but there was a sort of attraction. Taking his gaze away from the socks and placing it at random on the turned off television he thought: "I wonder if this thing of making guests take off their shoes is an excuse to see them barefoot", then he forced himself to think of something else. "If you prefer, I'll leave the bedroom to you, I've already changed the sheets" said Massimo. The image of Paride in his bed was exciting to Massimo, even though he knew full well that he wouldn’t dare to join him.

-No, this mattress will be fine, I don't want to be too intrusive.

-Are you sure?

-Yes, you are already giving me such a great gift by letting me stay here.

Massimo in his bed struggled to fall asleep, he couldn't remember the last time a boy had stayed with him to sleep; Paride had not stopped by to spend the night with him, yet Massimo was thrilled that he was there, in his house. Around three in the morning Massimo woke up with a start: Paride was getting into his bed. "What happens?" Massimo asked, "Sorry, I didn't want to wake you, I think the air mattress has a hole. Does it bother you if I sleep here?" Paride replied.

-Don't worry, come, I'll make room for you.

-Thank you, sorry again, I ended up being even more intrusive than I thought.

-No, I should be sorry, I didn't imagine that the mattress was punctured.

Paride climbed into bed trembling, his skin was frozen because the floor in the living room was very cold, he crouched down where Massimo's body had warmed the sheets. Massimo's heart pounded like a bass drum in his frail chest, that made even more terrified at the idea that Paride might hear him. Massimo didn't even have time to ask himself why the boy hadn't chosen to move onto the sofa, his blood slowly leaving the brain to fill a pulsating erection, which was very difficult to hide when sharing the bed with another person.

Paride pretended to have already fallen asleep, but the fact of sharing the bed with a man who was not his boyfriend did not leave him indifferent either. The image of Massimo's thin feet continually recurred in his head: they were so perfect, they seemed to have come out of a drawing. Minutes passed, in the room there was a silence that seemed almost tangible, alive, as if the silence was a third person, who had to take up his space and forcefully demonstrate his presence. "I wish there wasn't this embarrassment, I wish our relationship was different" they both thought.

It is in the most unthinkable moments that the most incredible things happen.

While Massimo was trying to turn around to hide his erection, his foot brushed against Paride's, who tried impulsively to push him away, but by moving his leg he accidentally slipped it between Massimo's, realizing that the owner of the house was quite excited. “Sorry,” they chorused. "I tried to hold back but I can't do anything about it" added Massimo after a few seconds. "I take it as a compliment," Paride said, barely holding back a laugh. "Who would have thought that you were so well packed" said Paride, "Such a small body combined with such a large and intrusive penis, your proportions should be corrected". Where had such an absurd statement come from? But at that moment Paride couldn't let those words fall back into silence again, the embarrassment would return and it would be much more unbearable than before, so he decided to continue talking: "Actually you are already quite tall, it makes sense that your penis is larger than the average one." Massimo wanted to sink into that bed, shame was devouring him, he didn't notice that his member had started to grow more than it did with a normal erection, it seemed to obey Paride' fantasy like a well-disciplined soldier. "You should be the type of person who eats a lot and works to put on muscle mass, because that thing on such a skinny body is jarring." Massimo's body swelled; Gallons of warm, blood coursed along the fibers of his pulsating muscles, which multiplied in size by the second. Massimo looked like a different person, he no longer looked like a dehydrated twig, but was much more like the oak tree that genetics would have allowed him to become, if only he hadn't skipped meals and joined the gym. "Your personality should also be changed, you should be a little bolder, determined, demanding and ambitious."

A sudden desire for revenge ignited within Massimo, who had the courage to reply: "You talk too much, you're not perfect either, start with losing a few kilos". Paride' body began to do the opposite of Massimo' and as all the excess weight vanished, the skin on his body became toned and firm. Paride seemed more and more like one of those kids so envied by Massimo. "You speak without thinking, you sound like a kid between 19 and 20." Paride quickly rejuvenated, forgetting the relationship he had had for 6 years. "You've become too confident, I don't accept comments like that from just any friend, you can only allow yourself to say things like that if you're my boyfriend."

Paride turned on the light on the bedside table, but neither of them was surprised to see the other totally transformed. "What were we talking about?" Paride asked. Massimo had the impression of having argued, but he absolutely didn't remember what he had said, then he lowered his eyes and saw the throbbing erection which, despite everything, was still there, more present than ever. "Now I understand why you woke me up" said Paride, putting his hand in Massimo's underwear.

The next morning Paride woke up and saw his boyfriend, Massimo, getting dressed.

-Are you going to work today too?

-Living as a couple in the center of Milan isn't cheap, you know, that's why I have to go.

-Can't you stay here with me in bed for a while? Today is Saturday...

-I already told my boss that I would work on an unfinished job.

-You're really sexy in a suit and tie, you know?

Paride reached out towards the belt that Massimo had just fastened and began to unfasten it, then buried his face in his package. "Aren't you satisfied with what we did last night?", Massimo said as he got excited again. "You seem to still be hungry too" Paride replied with a mischievous smile.

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𝘓𝘦 𝘪𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘪 𝘪𝘯 𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘰 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪 𝘥𝘢𝘭 𝘸𝘦𝘣 𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘻𝘪𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘭'𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘻𝘢 𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘭𝘦. 𝘚𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘪 𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘥𝘪𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘢 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘻𝘢 𝘥𝘪 𝘲𝘶𝘢𝘭𝘤𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘶𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘪 𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘥𝘪 𝘵𝘶𝘢 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘵à, 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘢𝘮𝘪 𝘱𝘦𝘳 𝘳𝘪𝘮𝘶𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘰. 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘻𝘪𝘦.

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𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘣 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘭 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦. 𝘐𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘣𝘦𝘭��𝘦𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘵𝘺, 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘤𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘪𝘵. 𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶.

#male transformation #male tf #male body swap #gay body swap #gaytamorfosi #gay transformation #gay tf

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mizldrizl · 1 year

Text

I've never read English fanfictions of K-Dramas before, but recently I watched Beyond Evil and it made me go digging AO3 right away. After reading several works, I wanted to write down a few thoughts and some information on names/titles as a native Korean speaker.

It sounds extremely weird when Joo Won calls Dong Sik "Dong Sik" or "Lee Dong Sik" in normal circumstances. In Korea, it is a taboo to call someone older than you by just their name. Whenever this happens in a fic, I can't help to think like, "Joo Won, are you trying to get punched by Dong Sik?! Why are you being so rude all of a sudden??" Of course, we saw that Joo Won calls Dong Sik "Lee Dong Sik" a couple of times in the show, but it was only when he was infuriated or really frustrated by Dong Sik.

Similarly, Yu Yeon would never call Dong Sik "Dong Sik." Maybe "Lee Dong Sik" if she is really mad, but I don't think she is someone who would ever act like that towards her older brother. She'll always call him "oppa (오빠)."

Whenever Dong Sik calls Joo Won "Joo Won" in a fic, my brain automatically translates it to "Joo Won-ah (주원아)" because that's just how you normally call someone younger than you by their name in Korean. In other words, Dong Sik wouldn't literally call Joo Won "Joo Won (주원)"; it'll always be "Joo Won-ah (주원아)." Basically, the rule is that you put "ah (아)" or "ya (야)" at the end of a name depending what it ends with; if a name ends with a consonant, you add "ah (아)," and if a vowel, "ya (야)." Therefore:

Joo Won (주원) -> Joo Won-ah (주원아)

Jae Yi (재이) -> Jae Yi-ya (재이야)

Ji Hoon (지훈) -> Ji Hoon-ah (지훈아)

Ji Hwa (지화) -> Ji Hwa-ya (지화야)

Yu Yeon (유연) -> Yu Yeon-ah (유연아)

You can't use a name + "ah (아)" or "ya (야)" as a subject or object in a sentence, as this convention only happens when you call someone. Because of this, the following sentence sounds awkward:

Dong Sik said, "My Joo Won-ah is such a handsome man."

Strictly speaking, "친구 (friends)" are people who have a bond and are the same age in Korea. That's why we can say Dong Sik, Jung Je and Ji Hwa are friends. Then what about others? At school or work, we can use "선배 (sunbae)" and "후배 (hoobae)." If you're familiar with Japanese terms "senpai" and "kouhai," they are exactly the same meaning. "Sunbae" is someone who is older than you and/or started school/career earlier than you. To your "sunbae," you're their "hoobae." In the show, Sang Yeop, Dong Sik's old partner, calls Dong Sik "sunbae."

However, if you become more intimate (not in a sexual way!) with someone, or if that someone is your family, other terms such as "형 (hyung)," "누나 (noona)," "오빠 (oppa)" and "언니 (unnie)" can be used as follows:

Younger male -> Older male = "형 (hyung)"

e.g. Ji Hoon -> Dong Sik

Younger male -> Older female = "누나 (noona)"

e.g. Ji Hoon -> Ji Hwa

Younger female -> Older male = "오빠 (oppa)"

e.g. Yu Yeon -> Dong Sik

Younger female -> older female = "언니 (unnie)"

e.g. Jae Yi -> Ji Hwa

Plus, you can add the person's name in front of each term. One thing to remember is that you should put "yi (이)" at the end of the name if it ends with a consonant. If it ends with a vowel, no extra syllable is necessary. For example:

Dong Sik (동식) -> Dong Sik-yi hyung (동식이 형)

Jae Yi (재이) -> Jae Yi noona (재이 누나)

Sometimes, you add "nim (님)" to "hyung (형)" and "noona (누나)" to be even more polite/show more respect. Therefore, "hyung (형)" becomes "hyung-nim (형님)," but for "noona (누나)," it becomes "noo-nim (누님)," not "noona-nim (누나님)." Once, Oh Sub refers to Nam Sang Bae "Sang Bae hyung-nim (상배 형님)" while talking to Jung Chul Moon after Nam Sang Bae was arrested. "Nim (님)" can be also added to a job title, so in the show we hear "소장님 (Substation Chief + nim)", "경사님 (Lieutenant + nim)," "경위님 (Inspector + nim)," etc. plenty times. Personally, it is funny to watch Dong Sik sometimes call Joo Won "한주원 경위 (Inspector Han Joo Won)" at the beginning and Joo Won sometimes call Dong Sik "이동식 경사 (Lieutenant Lee Dong Sik)" because technically you have to add "nim (님)" in those cases (you know, Joo Won being Dong Sik's superior officer at the time & Dong Sik being older than Joo Won and his "sunbae" in career), but they just want to show they don't like each other that much so bad!

Oh, and Dong Sik calls Joo Won "도련님 (young master)" from time to time, and it reminds me of Merlin calling Arthur "sire" sarcastically. Those young, elite, arrogant and (surprisingly) naive boys...

Anyway, now what I'm trying to figure out is--what would Dong Sik and Joo Won call each other once they start a romantic relationship? For Dong Sik, obviously it'd be either "주원아 (Joo Won/Joo Won-ah)" or "한주원 (Han Joo Won)." For Joo Won? As I've rambled long above, "동식아 (Dong Sik/Dong Sik-ah)" certainly is out of question. "동식 씨 (Dong Sik-ssi)" is slightly better, but it still sounds a little off to me. My personal picks are "이동식 씨 (Lee Dong Sik-ssi)" and "형 (hyung)." For the latter, I'd like to imagine that Joo Won asks Dong Sik if it's okay to call him that at some point. In bed, Joo Won might call Dong Sik "이동식 (Lee Dong Sik)" when he feels like to be a bit dominant or wants to tease/taunt Dong Sik, but not too often. (In one fic I've read, Joo Won says something like "Focus, Lee Dong Sik" while having sex with him and Dong Sik tries to be angry, saying "Yah--" but apparently he couldn't say much else after that. The fic is one of my favorites so far.)

Okay, that's all I guess. I've never written anything this long in English in my life, and honestly I'm a little nervous. Beyond Evil made me do this. I'm going to look for new fics now. (By the way, thank you for your amazing fics, Beyond Evil fic writers! Keep up the good work!)

#Beyond Evil #괴물 #fanfiction

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sunlightmurdock · 2 years

Text

Trouble in Paradise | 0.6 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Synopsis: After the most painful break-up of his life, Rooster is stationed in Hawaii for the next six months. Alone, away from home and hurting, he finds comfort in the arms of a stranger.

Warnings: no use of y/n, age gap (rooster is in his mid-30s, reader is in her early 20s), smut, oral (m receiving), mild public touching, angst

…

Rooster thinks he’s good at keeping secrets.

He is, really. He’s always been trustworthy, and he’s always had a lot of baggage that most people don’t want to hear about — he’s used to keeping certain things to himself. Overall, he’s a pretty private person. Plus, before this, he has never given anyone in his life reason not to believe that he isn’t being honest with them.

Like he likes to be in all walks of life, Jake considers himself to be two steps ahead of Rooster. He knows that something is up. Rooster is never going to give it up willingly, but Jake doesn’t mind digging until he figures it out.

It’s 9pm when Jake hears Rooster’s door close. He glances outside and notices the sun setting, then furrows his eyebrows. They have to be on base early tomorrow, 9 is kind of late to be just heading out. Not to mention, it’s about to storm. Thick grey clouds have been heading their way for the past four hours.

Jake pushes himself up and crosses the room, opening his door and poking his head out into the hallway. There he is; Rooster’s locking his room and digging into his pocket with his free hand.

“Where ya headed, Birdboy?”

Rooster jumps, turning his head toward the other pilot and letting out a soft sigh.

“Just out.” Bradley snips. Jake cocks an eyebrow at him, lips quirking in intrigue. “For a drive.” Bradley adds quickly.

Jake hums and taps his knuckles on the door frame, then glances around the empty hallway. “Mind if I join you? — I’m not busy.”

Bradley pulls his keys from his pockets and checks his watch. He’s in a hurry for someone just going for a casual drive.

“I kinda need to clear my head,” He turns quickly and starts walking away, “Maybe next time. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Jake’s brows scrunch as he watches Bradley speed away from him. He waits until Bradley has turned the corner before he shakes his head and closes his door.

Rooster feels pretty secure in his lie. It isn’t a complete lie, he does need to clear his head. Everything has been feeling kind of foggy since Jake got here three days ago.

He’s been throwing himself into fixing things with Amy. Looking at old photos, online wedding venue catalogues, texts from before.

He can’t stop thinking about you either way. But he’s sure it’s a phase. It’s a kind of need to get this out of his system, type thing. He isn’t the first guy in the Navy to fool around on a posting, and he isn’t going to be the last.

Once he’s home, things will go back to normal. He’ll marry her and his life will finally begin.

You’re polishing glasses, bobbing your head softly to the soft rock playing from the speakers. It’s a super quiet night, it’s a weekday and the storm has sent most people home early.

You’re surprised when the bell above the door rings, even more surprised when you turn and find him standing there. You wipe the smile quickly from your face as Abigail crosses in front of the bar, carrying cushions from the outdoor seating area inside to the back room.

Rooster waits for her to pass before he crosses to sit at the bar. He’s wearing a plain black t-shirt and jeans, along with the same sunglasses he was when you first met him.

You glance back over your shoulder, making sure she’s gone, then lean one elbow onto the bar and prop your chin on it, smiling at him, “Hey, Sailor.”

He shoots a look in the direction that she disappeared, then pushes up from the stool and presses his lips to yours, “Hi, pretty girl.”

Your tongue edges out to wet your lips as you watch him settle back into his seat. You compose yourself so that you aren’t a smiling, blushing mess when Abigail inevitably does come back, pushing away from the bar. You turn and grab a bottled beer from the fridge, twisting the cap off and setting it in front of him.

“How has work been this week?” You lean against the counter behind you. You haven’t seen him since Sunday morning, and it’s Wednesday now. You’ve been just as busy as he has so his absence hasn’t been too hard on you. But his presence does make you especially happy.

“It’s been alright,” He swipes his thumb through the condensation on the bottle, looking down at the bubbles rising to the top. He watches you turn back to polishing glasses as Abigail passes through again. “Just training exercises and stuff. They replaced that guy who got hurt last week, I’ve just been bringing the new guy up to speed.”

You watch his hands fiddle with the bottle. You stand and play one of your favourite games as of recent. Trying to figure him out. You like making guesses about who he is, who he was, before all of this.

Probably on the football team, probably had a couple of pretty girlfriends, a couple of hookups back in college but not enough to have people say that he slept around a lot. Probably Navy parents. Probably a dog person. Probably one of those guys that was super devoted to his sports teams.

“How about you? — What’s my girl been up to this week?” Rooster doesn’t even realise he’s talking to you the way he talks to her. Asking the exact same questions. You’re glad that he isn’t looking at you to see the way your eyes widen when he calls you his.

You swallow your nerves and think back to the hundreds of conversations you’ve had with Ella. You find that you don’t feel as nauseous this time, you don’t feel the same fear that you have other times.

“Just working.” You manage not to sound like a complete idiot. He looks up at you through the dark lenses of his sunglasses. You rest your palms on the countertop behind you and shrug your shoulders, “Missing you.”

Rooster smiles. You stifle the relieved sigh that your body conjures upon realising that you’ve said the right thing. He brings the bottle to his lips and takes a small sip. He straightens up as Abigail enters with another armful of seat cushions.

This time you see her look between the two of you. You smile innocently over at her and busily polish the glass in your hands. He’s the only one in the entire bar, it isn’t unusual that you’re making conversation with him.

“I missed you too.” He says quiet enough for her not to hear. You smile as you turn away from him to place the wine glass in your hands on the shelf. He leans forward slightly and rests his chin against his fist.

You catch sight of him in the mirror behind the bar. Your shirt has ridden up just slightly as you reach up to settle the glass into its spot. He makes no effort to hide the staring.

You turn quickly and grin at him. He smirks softly, caught, and by no means embarrassed about that. You hear the door to the back office close and sigh in relief that Abigail is going to be in there for a while.

“When do you get off?” Rooster taps his hands on the bar.

“Soon, hopefully.” You grin at him, leaning back against the counter, then take your lip between your teeth. Rooster chuckles against the rim of the bottle, looking up at you over the top of the sunglasses.

He takes another drink and checks his watch.

“You hungry?” He asks.

You scrunch your nose at him. “Are you asking me on a date?”

Rooster’s broad shoulders rise and fall in a nonchalant shrug, his lips quirking up into a smirk. He fiddles absentmindedly with the beer bottle, looking between it and you, “Come on, don’t tell me you’re not into me.”

You laugh, crossing your arms over your chest. He winks at you, then leans closer across the bar, “Just wanna take my favourite bartender out for some food after she’s worked so hard.”

You take a stride forward, leaning across the bar and pressing your lips to his. He slides a hand up into your hair, tugging you closer and slipping his tongue into your mouth. He groans softly against your lips, stroking his tongue against yours.

You pull back and smack his shoulder, checking around to make sure that Abigail hasn’t suddenly materialised out of nowhere. He grins at you. You smile softly, surprised but nonetheless excited by his boldness.

“Let me go speak to Abi, I’m supposed to be here until we close.” You decide. He nods, leaning back in his seat as he watches you walk away. You trail your fingers along the wall as you make your way to the office and knock on the door.

“Come in!”

You turn the door handle and step inside, freezing as you stare at Abigail’s computer monitor. It’s playing a live feed of all six security cameras, front and centre is the stream of the camera that sits above the bar.

You press your lips together. Abigail turns in her chair and raises her eyebrows at you.

“Abi, I can explain.” You can’t. You have no idea how to lie your way out of this one. She simply sighs and raises her eyebrows, pressing her palm to her forehead.

“You know that I don’t have the rules that I have to be a cockblock, don’t you?” You have a feeling it’s a rhetorical question. You shift awkwardly on the spot. “I have a lot of pretty, young girls working here. I see the way these guys look at you all, I’m trying to protect you.”

You put your hands behind your back and nod softly, feeling kind of like you’re about to be put on time out.

“You’re a big girl, you can screw whoever you want,” Abi shakes her head slightly as she leans back in her seat. “I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”

You offer her a smile.

“You don’t have to worry about me.” You confirm.

She shrugs her shoulders, “Heard it all before, honey. They’re all perfect in the beginning.” Abi sees the hurt flash across your face for a moment and considers that she may have overstepped. She reminds herself that she’s not your mother, nor do you want her to be. You’ve made this clear before.

“You can go with him if that’s what you were going to ask, I’m going to close up before the rain starts anyway.” Abigail decides. A silent apology for sticking her nose where it doesn’t belong. You smile softly and thank her, then turn away.

He stands up as you turn the corner, pulling his wallet from his pocket and sliding a ten across the counter toward you, “Free to go?”

You jerk your head toward the camera above the bar, not wanting to be so obvious as to turn and point at it. Rooster looks up, lips parting slightly as he looks back to you, “Did I get you in trouble?”

“No, just kinda got lectured,” You explain as you settle his tab and grab your jacket from under the bar, “Let’s go.”

He lets you walk ahead of him, tucking an arm around your waist and pressing his lips to the top of your head, “I’ll make it up to you.”

You close your eyes and lean into his touch for just a moment, then push the door open, “There’s this place that’s a short walk away that’s really good. That way we don’t have to take both cars.” You offer.

“If you say it’s good then I’m in.” He wraps his arms fully around you, pulling you in against you chest. You wrap your arms around his waist and squeeze, inhaling the soft scent of fading cologne. You push away from him and grab his hand, starting off in the direction of the restaurant. He slides his fingers between yours.

You take him to a diner with outdoor seating under a canopy, it’s only about a ten minute walk from the bar and you’ve been here many times with your co-workers.

He’s sitting with his arms folded on the table, already done with his food, watching as you’re finishing yours. You furrow your eyebrows at him as you pick at the fries in front of you, “Do I have something on my face?”

“Actually yeah,” He smiles fondly across the table at you. You turn your head for him, smiling back as he leans across the table and wipes his thumb across the corner of your mouth. Your eyes stare into his as he swipes it across your bottom lip. He swallows and shifts in his seat, retracting his hand, “Got it.”

“You’re blushing.” You tease him, breaking out into a grin that makes him turn a deeper shade of pink. He rolls his eyes playfully at you, wiping his hands off on his napkin. You take it one step further, kicking one shoe off under the table and resting your foot against his thigh, sliding it along the denim until it rests against his crotch. The table cloth covers you, you know it’s fine.

You love the pretty shade of pink he turns when he’s blushing.

“There are people around,” He whispers across the table, furrowing his eyebrows sternly at you. You smile sweetly back at him and rub your foot gently across the bulge in his jeans.

“You two make a beautiful couple.” Both of you look up at the same time, equally shocked to find that someone had snuck up on you. Rooster’s face softens as he realises it’s just a sweet old lady. She seems to be a tourist from the floral printed shirt and skirt she’s wearing. He finds it adorable, and smiles politely, opening his mouth to thank her.

“Oh, he’s not my boyfriend,” You explain, smiling at the old lady sweetly from your seat as you foot strokes over his crotch. He shifts closer to the table, afraid of being seen. “We’re just fucking.”

Rooster turns his head toward you, now a much deeper shake of pink. Closer to red now. His eyes are wide, shocked that you can say that and not be embarrassed in the slightest. You smile across at him.

“I’m so sorry.” He turns his head quickly toward the old woman, “She… she’s just kidding.”

“Oh, alright. Well, you kids have a good night.”

“We will.” You grin across the table at him, trying to hold back your laughter. Rooster waits for her to walk away, watching as she loops her arm through her husband’s and begins to whisper about what he just heard.

He curls his fingers around your ankle under the table, turning his attention back to you, eyes widening expectantly for you to explain yourself. You can’t help but laugh. He watches, brows furrowed as you double over with laughter.

“What was that?” He tries to stop himself from smiling, but your laughter has his lip twitching. He squeezes your ankle, leaning across the table toward you.

“You got me in trouble, I got you in trouble.” You tease him, wriggling your ankle out of his grasp and sliding it back into his shoe. He glances back over his shoulder, watching the scandalised old woman still gossiping to her husband.

He presses his tongue to the inside of his cheek and shakes his head slightly, lips quirked up into a soft smile. You’re still chuckling to yourself after he has settled the cheque and you’re walking back toward the car.

You squeeze your fingers against his and look across to the beach. It’s dark now and it’s for sure going to pour down any minute, but you just need a few more minutes outside. You were kind of hungover this morning, by the time you got up, it was time to go to work — the fresh air is really helping you out.

“Can we sit for a minute?” You tug him off toward the sand. He doesn’t put up a fight, letting you lead him down the steps. You shrug your jacket off and sit down on it, leaning back on your palms and looking up at the sky.

Rooster sits at your side, his sunglasses folded into the collar of his shirt as he joins you and looks up. He isn’t sure what you’re looking at. He just sees one huge mass of grey with the clouds overhead. But, he looks nonetheless. Silently hoping that maybe he’ll be enlightened. Maybe one day he’ll see things the way you do.

“Have you ever had a boyfriend?” He asks softly, still looking up at the endless grey overhead. You take a deep breath, inhaling salty ocean air and exhaling it again before shaking your head, still looking up,

“Like a serious boyfriend?”

Rooster turns his head to look at you, “Yeah.” He then follows your line of sight and squints. He wonders what it would be like to live a day as you. Minimal responsibilities, fun friends, young and free with no one who needs you to be someone you aren’t. He wonders then what he would be like now if he had met you when he was young and free. He begins to wonder if he’s ever been young and free.

Young certainly, but free? — He isn’t so sure.

“No, I guess not.” You shrug your shoulders, it clearly doesn’t mean much to you that you haven’t. “Not serious.”

He mulls over this information, “But you have had boyfriends?” You hum in confirmation, nodding your head slightly. There’s a soft breeze coming from the tide, a calming relief to the constant humidity of the past week. You close your eyes as you let it wash over you.

“What were they like?” He asks.

“Assholes.” You breathe, letting out a small laugh. You open your eyes and turn your head to find that he’s watching you with intrigue. “They we’re just boys. Shitheads.”

He furrows his eyebrows. It feels like he’s trying to look through you for a moment, like you’re a book and he’s finally gotten to the interesting part.

“Did they hurt you?” His voice is serious. Almost regretful, like he has done something to hurt you himself. You think nothing of it, deciding that he’s just being protective.

“Nothing I didn’t get over,” You answer, turning your chin toward the sky again. “How about you? — Any dramatic love stories on your end?”

“I was engaged before I came here.” Rooster doesn’t plan to say it. It just leaves his mouth before he’s even thought of it. You turn your head. Both of you look equally surprised at what he has just revealed. Engaged — you’re reminded of his age all of a sudden. That’s serious. Engaged is super serious.

Rooster watches your features register the shock of his revelation. He regrets it immediately. He knows that he can’t tell you more.

“What happened?” You ask, struggling to string together words further than that. He looks out over the water and wills himself to come clean.

“We were together for six years, engaged for almost a year. We broke up a week before I came.” He doesn’t look at you as he says it. You shuffle closer and loop your arm through his, resting your head against his shoulder. A week before. One week to get over six years with a person. You furrow your eyebrows as you look out over the water with him.

You can’t imagine how deep things would have gotten six years into a relationship. You haven’t even been in a relationship that has lasted a full year yet.

“She left. We fought a lot, towards the end.” He explained quietly, brushing his hand along the back of his neck and letting out a heavy breath. Rooster tries to figure out how to tell you that when he met you, it was over — and now it isn’t. He doesn’t want to tell you.

It’s beyond selfish. He wants it all to work out. To be here and live your no consequences, no long term plan with you. For a while. Then, when he’s ready, he wants her to be at home waiting for him to settle down.

He grits his teeth as he thinks of how furious his mother would be about what he’s doing. She raised him better than this.

“What did you guys fight about?” You ask softly, stroking your fingers along the inside of his forearm. You press your lips to his shoulder over the fabric of his shirt.

“Me. Being an asshole.” He breathes out, brushing his palm over his forehead. He shakes his head slightly. You press your lips to his bicep, then his shoulder again. He turns his head to look as you rest your chin against his arm.

Doe-eyed and smiling sweetly at him, you raise your hand and brush his curls back off of his forehead. “Had you ever considered being less of an asshole to her?” You tease him.

He laughs. Really laughs. Eyes crinkling kind of laugh. You smile against his arm.

“No, I hadn’t thought of that.” He answers playfully, nudging forward and kissing your forehead. He brings a hand up to rest against the nape of your neck, stroking softly over the top of your hair.

You hum against his arm. He lets a few moments of quiet pass, but he’s focusing so hard that you can practically hear him thinking. His knees are bent and his elbows are resting on top of them. You push his knees down so that his legs are outstretched and slide across into his lap, grabbing his face in your hands and kissing him.

“What was that for?” He asks, grazing his fingertips along your jaw, sliding them around to curl against the back of your neck.

You smile at him, “You seem sad when you talk about her. Just want to cheer you up.” You already have. He would be so happy. But things like this don’t last.

This isn’t his future. This isn’t his plan. Amy is his plan, Amy is what makes sense and she’s who he is supposed to be with. She’s who he’s going to be with.

Then you kiss him delicately again. He squeezes the nape of your neck and slips his tongue into your mouth. You hum contentedly against his tongue, sliding your arms around his broad shoulders.

You don’t need to know what comes next. You know he’s leaving and that’s all you need to know. He can make you happy for the time that he’s here. It’s not selfish if he’s making you happy too.

You feel a drop of rain on your shoulder first, then pull back and look up. His hands find your hips as he looks up with you, feeling warm droplets of rain hitting his cheek.

“Shit, come on.” He stands and plants you on your feet, grabbing your jacket from the ground. You intertwine your fingers with his, stopping him from heading back to the main road.

You look off to your left, then back at him.

“What?” He furrows his eyebrows slightly as more rain hits the exposed parts of his skin. You tug him toward you and head left. He follows uncertainly. “Where are we going?”

He squints at the boardwalk you’re headed for. It extends out over the water, it’s closed because of the weather, yet here you are dragging him under its shelter.

“What are we doing?” He asks as you press his back to one of the support beams. Small drops of rain make it through the gaps in the wood above your heads, but as it begins to pour across the rest of the beach, you’re both pretty dry under there.

“Living a little.” You answer, kissing him hard. Rooster’s eyes widen as you pull at his belt. He looks around hurriedly. “Calm down, everyone’s going home, we’re fine.”

“Seriously? Here?” He breathes out, brows scrunching. You tug his belt out of the loop, unbuckling it and popping open the button at the top of his jeans.

“Please?” You tease him, kissing his lips before you slide to your knees in front of him. Rooster shivers, sliding his hand up into your hair as he looks around him again. The beach is deserted because of the storm. He knows how busy this week at work is going to be, he’s not going to be able to see you again until at least the weekend. Maybe a stronger man would’ve stopped you. He leans his head back against the wooden beam as you press your mouth over his boxers.

“Shit.” He breathes out, curling his fingers in your hair. You hum amusedly, trailing your tongue along the outline of his cock, nuzzling your mouth against him until his white boxers are spit soaked and almost see through.

You look up at him through your lashes as you pull his waistband down, smirking. He groans. He shifts on his feet, planting them in the sand to keep his balance, curling his fingers tighter against your roots as you stick out your tongue and trail it along the vein on the underside of his cock.

You brace one hand against his thigh, wrapping your lips around him fully, flicking your tongue against the tip. He groans out again and again, head lulled back against the beam, brows furrowed in pleasure as your mouth works around him.

He tilts your chin and dares to look down at you. His cock twitches in your mouth. He just knows he’s going to be seeing this face in his dreams for the rest of his life. He strokes a thumb over your cheek, surprised by how much it turns him on to realise that he can feel himself through your cheek.

“You’re so fucking pretty.” He murmurs, stroking his thumb over your cheek again, keeping his index finger under your chin to make sure he can see that pretty face the whole time. Doe-eyed and eager to please, working your mouth around him. Rooster grits his teeth to shut himself up.

He lets out a strangled, almost whimper as he slides his hand around to the base of your skull and pushes his hips forwards slightly. You hum, sliding your hand from his thigh to his hip and pressing your nails into his skin. The noise he makes when nose brushes his pelvis sends electricity through you, spurring you on.

“S-Shit… I’m so close.” He manages out, pressing his fingers hard into the nape of your neck. Your lip quirks slightly as you look up at him, mascara smudged under your eyes slightly.

You happily take all of it into your mouth, swallowing and fixing his boxers and jeans. You kiss his cheek as you pull up his zipper and begin to buckle his belt,

“Feel better?” You ask chirpily, making him let out a breathy chuckle.

He rests his forehead against yours as he guides you in for a kiss. He nods against you. He has so much to say but he can’t think of a single word. You buckle his belt and fix his shirt, which was pushed slightly up his stomach to be out of your way.

You kiss him once more, “Alright. Let’s go before the lightning starts.�� Rooster breathes out hard as your hand slides into his and squeezes.

Hangman is still up when he hears Rooster’s door close again. He has been reading for a good while now, and watching the storm roll through the base. He grabs his watch from the bedside table and checks then time. Then, he pushes himself up onto his elbows and looks outside at the thunderous rainstorm.

He furrows his eyebrows slightly. There’s no way Rooster was out for four hours driving around in that. So, where was he?

…

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#bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw smut #rooster x you #miles teller #rooster bradshaw imagine #top gun smut #trouble in paradise

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mangoguy · 2 months

Text

CBF! König x GN! Reader (Prologue)

Warnings: reader has a dad (they are adopted), no pronouns but 'you', König has a name.

You have moved into a new neighborhood, although you're not thrilled your dad mentions it could be fun.

I'm reposting this again because I changed his name, plus I wasn't entirely sure where I was going with this... but with some brain power, I got to thinking this was based on a game called Our Life, which is super great and a very sweet story, but personally I don't think König would be a very good friend once he gets to his teen years. This story, while it will have sweet moments, is going to sprinkle in some toxic/unhealthy friendship.

Comments/Reblogs are greatly appreciated!

Age: 12

Memory One

“New area, new kid”

“But Dad, I don't want to move! Aren't we perfectly fine staying here?” You exclaimed, stomping your foot and crossing your arms. Your 12-year-old brain thought it was the best argument. Your dad just looked at your pouty face and sighed.

“Not my choice bud, they're relocating me. Besides- moving isn't that bad, think of all the new friends you'll make!” He remained positive, for your sake. He wasn't particularly happy about this move either but this was an opportunity he couldn't pass up.

So that's how you found yourself on the first day of summer break, miles away from where you grew up. Your dad was driving in unknown territory. You looked at the card your classmates gave you on the last day… along with a small book your teacher gave to you as a housewarming gift. You frowned and sunk lower into your seat, watching the rooftops of houses pass by. You could see your dad peek at you through the rearview mirror.

“Are you doing okay back there?” He asked.

“...No… I want to go back,” you lamented.

“I know… here, why don't we play your favourite song?” he beamed at you, fiddling with the radio before you heard your favourite song come out of the speakers. You had to admit it was making you feel better. You grumpily swayed your head to the music and your dad chuckled.

“Well, we're here,” you heard your dad announce. He got out of the car before looking up at the new house, putting his hands on his hips in the weird pose he did when he was admiring something. You huffed and got out yourself, quickly scanning over your new house. It honestly looked like something from a fairytale, vines decorated the front. There was also a small balcony with a window above it… that seemed to be the entrance to it.

Alright, maybe you were a bit impressed. You held your book and card close as you followed your dad towards the front door. He fished out his keys, unlocked the door and pulled it open for the two of you to see inside.

To say it was dusty was an understatement. You walked in first and observed your new surroundings. There was some furniture that was covered in plastic and the stairs looked creaky. Your dad sighed behind you.

“Well, let's get work, kiddo.”

It was a long week of unpacking, cleaning, and finding the nearest store for supplies. The majority of the unpacking was easy- since your dad just ended up doing all of it. You got to decorate your new room which was fun (you ended up claiming the room with the small balcony). Currently, you were outside, your dad urged you to explore the neighbourhood just as long as you didn’t go to the next street. You looked over to your left when you passed your front gate to see your street was right by a forest… all your street was surrounded by woods, besides the part that led to the other block. You decided to head in, walking the little gravel path that was made. It was cloudy today so most people were inside. It was fine with you, you haven’t been able to meet the neighbours. You remember your dad mentioning they seemed nice from the small interaction he’s had with them.

You stopped in your tracks when you spotted something colourful off the trail you were on. Growing a bit curious you went to investigate, it wasn’t hard to see that it was a playground. You were caught off guard by a boy playing by himself. He was around your height, maybe a bit taller, chubby, and had brown hair. He was moving around the play structure rapidly, waving a large stick around like it was a sword. He shouted around giving commands to his ‘soldiers’ and claiming they needed to save the princess from the clutches of the evil wizard. Who the evil wizard was… you didn’t know, but it looked like fun. You stepped closer to the playground and that’s when he finally noticed you. He tensed, turning to face you, he looked like a deer in the headlights.

“Hello, sorry- I didn’t mean to scare you,” You spoke, trying to make yourself seem less threatening. It didn’t seem to work though, he looked like he was going to bolt at any moment. You could see him biting the inside of his cheek, it was awkward but you waited for him to say something.

A minute passed, then two… before he finally spoke.

“It’s… fine I was just about to… leave…” He spoke, he sounded anxious. You frowned, that was not what you were expecting. You should be the one leaving, not him, but he seemed hellbent on leaving this situation. You watched as he started making his way towards the gravel path and walking towards the neighbourhood you resided in. Did he live near you?

“Wait!” You called out to him.

He continued walking and picked up speed when you called out for him. You didn’t follow him since you didn’t want to spook him more. You watched him disappear down the path, you decided to wait a few minutes before heading home yourself.

Knock!

“This is the third visitor we’ve gotten today…” Dad mumbled as he got up from his desk. He said he was working on some papers, though he kept getting interrupted by neighbours who wanted to introduce themselves. You’ve gotten two casseroles already and it looks like you’ll be adding a third. You walked with your dad to the door, he opened it to see a whole family of five on your little porch. You immediately noticed that the husband looked like he didn’t want to be here. The wife was holding a container full of what looked like dessert. Their kids were standing behind them, and from the looks of it they had two boys and one girl..

“Hello! I hope we aren’t interrupting anything, but we thought it was finally time to introduce ourselves, I’m Lina and this is my husband Albert and behind us are our kids… get up here you three,” she motioned her kids towards the front. You instantly recognized the boy from the park whom you scared off three days ago. His eyes widened slightly spotting you and he shifted on his feet.

“This is Andreas, Marie, and Alexander,” She went down from oldest to youngest. Marie waved at you and smiled, saying a quick ‘nice to meet you.’

“It’s nice to meet you all, I'm Andrew,” Your dad shook hands with the parents before introducing you.

“My kid just recently turned 12, they’ll be going to the nearby school,” Dad said. Lina perked up at that.

“That’s wonderful! Alexander here recently turned 12 and goes to that school, maybe they could walk together?” Lina offered. Alexander seemed to deflate at that and Andreas snickered.

“But anyway, before I forget, I brought you an apple strudel! I hope you like them,” she handed off the dessert to your dad who took it with a quick ‘thank you.’

It seems like forever before Dad’s and Lina’s conversation ends and your dad finally closes the door. He looked over at you and gave you a small smile.

“Thought that conversation was never going to end…” He mumbled.

“It’s not like you were helping,” you mumbled, taking the apple strudel from him and resuming your movie.

Words: 1247

Chapter One

#call of duty #cod mw2 #modern warfare 2 #könig call of duty #könig cod #könig mw2 #cod x reader #cod x you #guy.writes #konig cod #konig x reader #konig mw2 #cbf!König

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awooghan · 1 year

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24 to 25 ✧.* y.ji (part one)

➳ PAIRING: jeongin x fem!reader

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

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

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

➳ SUMMARY: “stay for christmas?” was a phrase jeongin first uttered to you when you were both ten years old, but neither of you had any idea the bond those three little words would hold as the years go by. (inspired by “24 to 25” by stray kids)

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

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

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

[part one] | part two

network tags: @straykidsland

9 years old. (prologue)

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why did you even have to move?

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

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

And there he was.

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

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

Here goes nothing, you guess.

“Um… hi.”

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

Gulping, you continue. “I’m Y/N.”

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

“Huh?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Want to be friends?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Can I sit up there with you too?”

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

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

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

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

“Is that…”

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

“Snow…” is all you manage to mumble.

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

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

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

That is, until now.

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

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

10 years old.

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

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

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

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

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

You can’t take it anymore.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Finally. It’s snowing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Race ya!”

“Hey!”

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And frankly, neither will you.

11 years old.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Laughter? That’s it?

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

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

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

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

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

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

Snow.

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

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

“Shut up,” he whines.

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

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

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

“Wanna make a snowman?” you suggest.

Jeongin shrugs.

“Suit yourself.”

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

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

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

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

“Y/NNN,” Jeongin whines.

“And it was kinda funny—”

“Y/N!”

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

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

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

“Oh, it’s on!”

12 years old.

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

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

“‘Sup, babies.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You blink a few times. “Huh? Yeah?”

“What are your plans for Christmas?”

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

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

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

“On—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“‘Cause it’s funny!” you shout back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh no, no, no. Not that direction.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?”

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

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

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

“That’s not a word.”

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

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

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

13 years old.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Can you hear yourself when you speak?"

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

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

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

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

“I know,” you huff.

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

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

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

You suck in a deep breath. Here goes nothing.

“Hey.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I…” miss you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I just want my best friend back.”

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

“I know you do.”

14 years old.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Um… is this seat taken?”

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

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

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

“Go for it.” You gesture to the seat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

“ME!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The boy scoffs. “Oh, really?”

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

“Stay for Christmas?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Fine, then stay.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

15 years old.

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

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

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

“You’re doing that again?”

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

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

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

“I do not!” you scoff defensively.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Next: enter separately.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So? Let them.”

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

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

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

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

“I thought you did…”

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

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

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

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

“Um…”

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

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

“Oh my god, Y/N.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ahh, sorry!” you exclaim.

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

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

“Yeah, I’m okay.”

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

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

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

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

“Really?” you question.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You hum, looking over at him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

16 years old.

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

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

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

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

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

“Mom!” you gasp in surprise.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“...A marshmallow?”

Jisung nods again affirmingly. “A marshmallow.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Kinda seems like you do,” Jisung sings.

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

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

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

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

“You need to get your ego checked.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’ll admit it one day,” he jokes.

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

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

“Hi,” you smile.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding!”

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

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

You stay silent, maintaining your pointed stare.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You better be,” Jeongin grumbles.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What was what just now?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Spill.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s not that,” you respond quietly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“In your dreams, asshole.”

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Stay for Christmas?”

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

“Not a chance, now go home.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’d do it again in a heartbeat.

17 years old.

“Can I open my eyes now?” you whine.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you okay?”

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

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

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

“It’s just… I…”

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

“I know. It’s beautiful.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It's perfect.”

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

…

“Where were you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well?” your mother says expectantly.

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

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

“Of course you were.”

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

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

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

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

“Did he what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Of course it had to be that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jeongin had nothing to do with it.

18 years old.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Shut up, no I wasn't!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I told you, I’m not blushing!”

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

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

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

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

Jeongin hums, his gaze dropping to the floor.

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

“Did he actually say this or you making it up?”

“It’s more like reading between the lines, if you will,” you giggle.

“So he didn’t say shit, you’re just making it up as you go along.”

Jeongin crosses his arms over his chest as he stares at you, waiting for you to formulate your next response. But when the only one he gets is you playfully hitting his arm, he rolls his eyes for the nth time.

“Don’t we have to help set up the party or something? Or a movie to watch?”

“Right, yeah. We should do that.”

Jeongin laughs and as soon as he grabs your hand, flashbacks instantly flare up in your mind from the year before, of the Christmas lights he took you to see—of the way he seemed to shine under them all. You make sure to wish again that he won’t notice the new blush that presented itself as you thought of that time.

You keep quiet, not wanting to give yourself away as Jeongin gently pulls you out with him. You let your eyes gloss over his room once more. You’ve been in here a thousand times before and it seemed to grow with him over the years, and in a way, it grew with you, too. You remember the days when his bed was adorned with Toy Story bedsheets, Woody’s face front and center on his comforter (but you knew Rex was his favorite character). It had long since been traded in for sleek, black sheets—arguably more fitting for someone who is waiting for his first choice university, at the other side of the country, to respond with his admission decision.

And although you’ve been here a thousand times before, something new on his dresser catches your eye.

“Wait, is that…?”

Letting go of his hand, you make your way to the dresser, moving a crumpled up piece of paper out of the way to reveal a photo. It’s from when you were both ten years old; nearly a year after you had first met on the monkey bars, about two weeks before that classroom Christmas party. Mrs. Yang had taken Jeongin to a lights festival one December weekend, like the one you went to last year, and she happened to invite you and your parents along. You and Jeongin stood together in the center of the picture, and a giant Christmas tree towered behind your small frames. The mirthful glow of the tree enveloped the two of you as you posed for the photo, jolly smiles plastered on both of your faces.

Gasping in surprise, your lips part slightly as you take the photo in your hands. “No way…” you murmur softly, and you look up at Jeongin as he makes his way to you. “How… how did you find this?”

Jeongin peers over your shoulder. He gently holds the frame in one hand, his fingers brushing against yours as he smiles fondly. “My mom stumbled across it a couple months ago. She was digging through old photo albums and found this tucked in the back of one of them.” His thumb grazes over the glass. “She framed it and gave it to me, I guess she knew how important it was.”

You blink several times, hoping he doesn't catch the way your eyes briefly well with tears as you take in the details of the picture. You remember that night vividly and all the memories from it seem to come flooding back all at once.

It was your first ever Christmas lights festival, and it was nothing short of magical. The vibrant holiday lights glistened all around you, rivaling the sparkles in your wide eyes. The bells in the soft Christmas music gently tinkled in your ears, as if Santa himself was reminding you he would be on his way soon. The gooey, fresh-baked (and rather expensive) chocolate chip cookie you had split with Jeongin, paired with the rich (and also questionably pricey) hot chocolate you had begged your mom to buy along with it, brought even more warmth pooling in your belly as you leaped down the lit-up aisles with your best friend.

Looking back, perhaps that was what sparked your ongoing Christmas obsession. Sure, it didn’t snow that night, but seeing the bright bulbs all around you twinkling like stars in the sky captivated you wholly, wrapping little ten-year-old you in a warm, merry glow. It calmed the impatience for Christmas bubbling inside you by the day, but lit the fire inside you for the awaited day like never before. And best of all, your best friend was right by your side, being pulled into the evening’s embrace with you.

You notice one very important detail in the picture, though, that breaks your bubbling sentimentality, and instead makes you giggle.

“Oh my god, it’s the sweater.”

The fact that the picture was taken at night and the lights added a yellow glare to the photo made it difficult to spot. But one could take a closer look and see that, indeed, Jeongin was sporting that obnoxious purple sweater under his puffy blue coat.

Jeongin lets his hand drop, leaving the frame in yours as he frowns in offense. “Heyyy, it was comfy!”

You stifle another laugh. “Doesn’t change the fact that it was ugly as hell.”

He sneers at you, “Oh please, like you didn’t wear hideous clothes when you were ten!”

You shrug as you pull the frame up to eye level and continue to giggle. “Maybe, but nothing will beat that sweater.”

You lunge out of the way as Jeongin tries to wrap his arms around you and grab the photo from your grasp. However, a giggle escapes your lips as Jeongin’s fingers graze your side, which causes you to jump away from him.

A knowing smirk appears on his face. Your eyes widen.

“Don’t you even think about it.”

Jeongin doesn’t listen to you though, and his hands are already at your sides. Your grip on the photo tightens in an attempt to not drop it as your eyes prickle with tears. Jeongin’s fingers run up and down your sides as he tickles you, and causes a mix of gasps and laughter to escape your throat.

“Jeongin!” You continue to laugh as you try to step away from him.

Jeongin thinks quicker. Instead of torturing you more, though, you’re surprised that he chooses to pull you closer to him instead, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“I got you now!” His giggle rings in your ears as he wiggles you like a rag doll. You halfheartedly try to push him away, protesting in between your own giggles.

“Stop itttt, you asshole!”

He seems to listen to you this time, too, and lets you go. However, an evil grin lingers on his face.

You inch back cautiously, keeping a careful watch for his next move. He responds by slowly leaning closer, his smile stretching wider and wider. You slowly move your hands up to your sides to protect yourself from another tickle ambush, a nervous giggle slipping out.

He seems to inch closer and closer to you, and he stops right before your noses can touch, a shit-eating grin on his face. Then he mumbles, flashing his eyebrows:

“Stay for Christmas?”

You groan exasperatedly and lightly push the cheeky boy away from you.

“Oh my god, Jeongin!”

Jeongin breaks out into shy giggles as he steps closer to you, poking you playfully. You have to bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from doing the same whilst you try and swat his hands away.

“Come baaaack!” He chuckles after a moment, stepping close enough to wrap his arms around you again.

“Get me out!” You cry out as you try to break free. Your giggly demeanor completely breaks, however, when Jeongin just hugs you closer to him, taking you by surprise one more time.

“No,” you feel him hum through your shoulder, tucking his head in it when you try to step away. “Don’t move.”

You fight and lose to the smile that appears on your face as you wrap your own arms around his shoulders.

You can’t explain how in moments like this, he easily causes your heart to race by doing the littlest things. It makes you wonder if he can feel your heartbeat right now as you’re pressed up against him. If he can, he doesn’t say anything.

“Ahem.”

A familiar voice breaks the silence hanging around you two. You both break away from the hug, keeping your gaze cast downwards as you turn to face Jisung. He had swung the door open at some point and was now leaning coolly against the doorframe as he watches you two.

Seeing you both cower under his gaze seems to amuse him greatly, and a smirk makes its way onto his face. “What was that?” he says, failing to hide the chuckle threatening to spill out.

You stuff your hands in your pockets as you sputter. “It– it’s not what it– we were just–“

“We were just reminiscing, Jisung,” Jeongin grumbles from beside you, his arms crossed over his chest. His cheeks seem to burn red as Jisung grins wider.

You simply nod along with Jeongin. “Yeah, reminiscing. What he said,” you murmur.

“Oh, you keep telling yourself that, baby.” He chuckles, running a hand through his hair, which he had seemed to let grow out during his time away.

He lets out a satisfied sigh before he continues. “Ahh, I knew this would happen! It was snowing by the time I got here, so I figured you two were up here together,” he wiggles his eyebrows for emphasis, “alone. And you called me crazy!”

You want to roll your eyes at his antics, but you can only chuckle fondly. Sure, it seems like the now-college boy still believes in magic snow, but you have to admit: you did miss hearing him gush about it all the time.

“Yeah, yeah,” you say, “why’d you come up here anyway?” You seize the opportunity to wiggle your eyebrows back at him. “Did you miss us?”

It’s now Jisung’s turn to roll his eyes at you. “Mrs. Yang was looking for you two so she sent me up here,” he says, dodging your question.'' You know the party started already, right?”

Your eyes widen, and you and Jeongin flush in embarrassment again.

“Oh, right,” Jeongin mumbles, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly as he exits the room. “The party.”

You place the framed photo of you two on the foot of Jeongin’s bed before following him out. Jisung holds the door open for you two, his smirk getting cockier by the minute.

The older boy pokes both your and Jeongin’s cheeks as you step out of Jeongin’s room. “For the record, I did miss you two.”

You snort, reaching a hand up to ruffle his hair before the three of you make your way downstairs. “I know.”

19 years old.

“You’re cheating!”

Hyunjin’s voice nearly makes your ears ring. He really has no need to be speaking so loud, as you’re literally right next to him.

You grip your controller tighter as he tries to swipe it from you with his hand, and you lean away from him.

“Am not!” You yell back, your eyes focused on the tiny Nintendo Switch screen. “You just suck at this game.”

At the same time as Hyunjin gasps, Felix and Seungmin burst into laughter at your response from the other end of Jisung’s bed. At the corner of your eye, you notice Felix fall to the ground amidst his fit of giggles.

“Just get better, Jinnie,” you quip, a confident smirk tugging at your lips.

Even with Hyunjin trying to swat you like a bug, you still manage to keep your eyes locked on the game. Your chosen character, Toad, remained in first place, and after getting a green shell from a lucky box, you send it backwards, causing Hyunjin’s Princess Daisy to spin out.

He gets passed by multiple NPCs, landing him in 10th place with one lap to go. The way he grumbles and glares at the screen only increases yours and the other two boys’ laughter.

You’ve successfully maintained your first place title as you raced around Moo Moo Meadows. That is, until halfway through the last lap, when a voice pulls your attention from the game.

“Why are only two of you playing?” Jeongin says, entering the room with a bowl of popcorn in his hands. At the sound of his voice, you shoot up out of your seat and look at him with a smile.

“Jisung only has two controllers and Felix was dumb and forgot his,” Seungmin snorts, which causes the blonde boy to pout.

“Hey!”

Hyunjin goes silent, his own eyes narrowed on his half of the screen as he slowly creeps up the positions.

“About time you showed up,” you giggle, “thought you weren’t going to come.”

Jeongin laughs, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry, had a few things to do first, but I’m here now.”

Gasps erupt from Seungmin and Felix, and Hyunjin cries in triumph as he throws his hands and the controller into the air. Your head snaps to the game and your mouth falls open as you find Princess Daisy listed as first place, dancing in her car as she continued around the track—whereas Toad, in your distracted state, had been passed by all of the NPCs and was in dead last, “DNF” flashing on your half of the screen and on your 12th place ranking in the middle.

“You cheated!” You gasp at Hyunjin, throwing yourself back down onto the couch as you mash the ’A’ button.

“Just get better Y/Nie,” Hyunjin remarks as he grins mockingly, using your own words against you.

“You guys did this on purpose,” you huff, glaring at the boy who just ruined your five-game-win streak. “Rematch, now.”

“But it was meant to be our go next!” Felix cries, his pout exaggerated.

“Maybe Hyunjin shouldn’t have cheated!”

“Maybe you should have stayed focused!” Hyunjin fights back.

“Where's Jisung?” Jeongin asks out of the blue, and you motion to the door without saying a word. Jeongin snorts, nodding his head. “Thanks.”

He leaves the four of you in the tiny dorm room to join Jisung wherever he was outside—you assumed the convenience store by the dorm lobby. Your attention gets caught once again when your phone lights up, a message notification greeting you on your lockscreen.

baby: outside :)

you: be right there :)

You chuck the controller to Felix, and he jumps in surprise. “You can play now, I need to go get someone,” you state simply, but the grin on your face seems to give you away.

A single “huh?” escapes Felix’s mouth as the other two boys watch you with curious eyes. Not letting their gaze disturb you, you head to Jisung’s front door.

You open it swiftly to be met with your fairly new boyfriend, Heeseung. you met him after starting college this past semester through a mutual friend, and have been dating for around two months now. you don’t remember what drew you to him in the first place, but one thing is clear—he’s so damn cute.

Your cheeks heat up quickly at the sight of him. His fluffy brown hair was hidden underneath a hat and the bits of his fringe that did stick out fell against his forehead.

“Hey.” you smile, taking a step towards him.

“Hi,” he responds, wrapping his arms around your waist which you reciprocate. “Sorry I’m late.”

“All good,” you hum into his shoulder. “All the boys are here. I’d say they’re not crazy, but I’d be lying.”

You feel Heeseung’s chuckle vibrate through you. “It's fine, you’ve met my friends, how much worse can they be?”

Pulling away slightly so you could look at him, you push your lips into a thin line and feign a concerned look.

“Eh, they’re something, alright,” you drop the fake look, chuckling.

“They finally have those snacks downstairs~!”

Jisung swings the door open, prompting you to turn around. He’s beaming and there’s a bounce in his step as a bag of chips sways in his hand, but it all dissipates into an inquisitive, perhaps even nosy, stance once he sees the boy whose arms are wrapped around you.

“Who's this?” The chestnut-haired boy tilts his head, his eyebrows drawn together.

You can’t help the smile that adorns your face. “Jisung, this is Heeseung, my boyfriend.”

You gesture one hand towards Heeseung himself, and you grin wider as he pulls you closer, nuzzling your nose against his shoulder. When you settle your head against his chest, you look back at Jisung and his jaw is practically on the floor.

“Boyfriend?!”

Oh boy.

Heeseung chuckles again, shyly this time. He glances down at you, unsure of what to say, and you take that as your cue to do most of the talking.

“Yeah?” you affirm with a nod, but your statement sounds more like a question. “Is… is that bad?”

Jisung, still in a shocked state, opens and closes his mouth like a fish. He brings a hand to the back of his neck, rubbing it nervously. “Oh, no, of course not! I’m happy that you’re happy, it’s just…”

Heeseung cocks an eyebrow at the older boy. “It’s just…?” He repeats, trailing off at the end like Jisung did.

You want so desperately to pretend you don’t know what Jisung meant by that last bit, but the fact that you catch three heads peeking from around Jisung’s bed only seems to prove your suspicions correct. Looks like Seungmin wasn’t exaggerating when he mentioned that “Jisung has told us so much about you!” when you met him and the others an hour ago. From the way Jisung glances fervently between you and the door, though, it’s safe to assume the majority of what he said involved Jeongin in some context.

Maybe you should’ve told them ahead of time the “plus one” you were bringing to the Christmas hangout was, in fact, your boyfriend. In hindsight, it was foolish of you to assume they’d get the memo from the mere mention of “plus one.” And by someone, you meant Jisung—the main man on the “Y/Ninnie train”, as he liked to call it.

Funny enough, you were just following his advice from that winter formal back in high school: date and move on. Sure, it was three years too late, and there wasn’t anything in particular that you needed to move on from, but advice is advice.

Still, you send the flustered boy a stern glare. You were not getting Heeseung involved in his shenanigans if it’s the last thing you do.

But you notice Jeongin stumble in the room, bag of gummy bears in hand, and Jisung’s eyes grow wide. Your voice nearly strangles, but you quickly snap out of it before Heeseung can notice.

“And this is Jeongin,” you gesture to the hooded boy, “my best friend.”

You don’t notice the way Jeongin’s smile falls slightly as his eyes land on you, though your eyes trail after him as he wordlessly shuffles past you two and plops on Jisung’s bed.

Jisung seems to recompose himself, and he steps closer to you and Heeseung, holding out a hand. “Heh, I’m sorry about that,” he laughs nervously, but Heeseung smiles curtly and shakes his hand. “Make yourself at home, we’re happy to have you here.”

“No worries, man.”

Jisung leaves you two alone, but you don’t miss the look he gives Jeongin. It’s full of concern, and you can’t pinpoint why.

Blinking, you shake off the sinking feeling in your chest, and take Heeseung’s hand as you two move to a spot on the floor by Seungmin’s feet, as the bed was all occupied.

Heeseung snakes his arm around your shoulders as you both focus on the tiny console screen. Felix and Hyunjin were on their last lap of Cheep Cheep Beach, neck-in-neck with each other, and you both chuckle at the boys’ chaotic screams as they pass each other back and forth.

You notice throughout the evening that Jeongin will occasionally meet your gaze when you glance his way. Each time, he opens his mouth to speak and there’s this look pooling in his eyes—some mix of longing but urgency that you can’t sense the reason behind. Regardless, your chest tightens at the sight.

You observe Jeongin whisper something to Jisung, ignoring and trying to filter out the screams of the other three boys as they argue over who gets to be Yoshi, but it’s no use.

“Are you okay?” Heeseung asks softly, the hand around your shoulders gently rubbing your arm.

You gulp but nod, not taking your eyes off of Jeongin but leaning into Heeseung’s side. “Yeah.”

An hour or so passes, and it seems like the awkward glances have only increased in frequency—not just from Jeongin, but between the other boys, too. It eats at you inside not knowing why. All you have gathered so far is that it definitely involves you and Jeongin.

“Hey, Heeseung, is it?'' Felix suddenly pipes up. Both you and Heeseung look up to his spot in the middle of Jisung’s bed, his legs criss-cross applesauce.

“What’s up?” Heeseung responds.

Felix smiles and hands Heeseung his Switch controller. “Wanna play a round? You haven’t had a turn yet.”

A smile of Heeseung’s own forms on his face as he takes the controller in his hands, slowly moving his arm from your shoulders as he hops on the bed. “Oh, bet!”

You’re happy to watch your boyfriend get along with Jisung’s friends as if they were your own—in a way, they kind of are. But one look at Jeongin and all that comes crashing down, seeing the longing look in his eyes.

You still don’t know what’s wrong. Is it because of Heeseung? Does he have some unspoken beef with him? If so, why were all his gazes targeted at you and not him?

Jeongin looks back at Jisung hopelessly, and you attempt to eavesdrop as they whisper amongst themselves. Again, the other boys in the room are too loud for you to get anything useful.

That is, until you glance back at the screen as Seungmin and Heeseung go head-to-head on Rainbow Road, and Jisung scolds Jeongin out of the blue—probably louder than he intended to.

“You need to tell Y/N. Now.”

Your head snaps their direction. Your gaze lands on Jisung for speaking so loud, but slowly shifts to Jeongin. The other boys seem to fall silent, too.

“Tell me what?”

You’re already driving yourself crazy trying to figure it out. All you want is an answer.

Jeongin sighs and sits next to you on the floor. You carefully follow his movements with your eyes. He clasps his hands together, resting them on top of his knee. He opens his mouth to speak, and you nod expectantly.

And… nothing.

After a minute of strangled silence, Jeongin sighs in defeat and drags his feet as he shuffles back to Jisung. The older boy gives him a look you can’t quite read and quietly scolds him some more. The other boys just exchange glances with each other and continue to play Mario Kart quietly, making for the worst awkward silence of your life. So much for your first college hangout.

At least you’re able to pick up some information now. You can barely hear Jisung and Jeongin’s hushed whispers even though the room is largely silent, but you do hear the word “college” over and over.

You guess it makes sense. After months of patiently waiting during your senior year of high school, you remembered Jeongin’s dispirited form when he found out he had been waitlisted for his top choice school. Following that, he’s been going to the state university in your city with you, but he mentioned something offhand about re-applying for the spring semester. Maybe he’s stressed about that, but it seems like Jisung has it covered for now.

Still, they both look over at you with those concerned, longing stares, and it’s not hard to miss.

Even after you get another turn on the Switch, you’re still left with an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of your stomach by the end of the night. Yes, you won another cup and got your sweet, sweet revenge on Hyunjin for earlier, but it does nothing to tell you why Jeongin hasn’t spoken a word to you all night. Well, he tried to, but look how well that went.

It seemed like everyone around you knew except, well, you. You hate that feeling, but at least, whatever it was, Heeseung wasn’t involved. He doesn’t need to be thrown in whatever drama had concocted under your nose, especially not during his first time meeting them all.

By the time the boys start heading out, with Jeongin being the first to go, you’re practically squirming in your spot. You can’t take this anymore.

You give Heeseung a goodbye peck as he slips his coat on and leaves the dorm. “Thanks for inviting me, I had a great time.”

You smile. “I’m glad. I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

Heeseung nods, leaning down to kiss your cheek once more before exiting the dorm. That left just you and Jisung, and you turn towards the wide-eyed boy the second the door clicks shut.

“Okay, what is going on?” You don’t mean to snap, but your pent-up emotions get the better of you as you storm toward Jisung. “You and Jeongin have been acting weird all night. Actually, all of you have! What the hell, Jisung!”

“Y/N—” Jisung tries to speak, but you cut him off quickly.

“Was it Heeseung? He didn’t even do anything wrong, he was the quietest one here besides Jeongin!”

“Y/N—”

“And you think I’m not gonna notice you and my best friend staring at me like you two just did?” You stop to take a breath, and you feel heat rush to your ears the more you think about this. “How do you think Heeseung felt?! Is this some kind of sick joke?”

“Y/N, listen.”

Jisung’s soft voice makes you step back. It’s the same tone he gave you in the school parking lot when you were sixteen.

“Jeongin got into the school he wanted for spring semester. He’s been trying to tell you for weeks, he— he just didn’t know how. He leaves tomorrow morning.”

You freeze, and your heart sinks to your stomach. It’s like everything around you comes to a stand-still and the world goes deathly silent. All your attempts to speak go unheard as all you do is open and close your mouth, unable to formulate a sentence, let alone a single thought.

A long list of questions fly through your mind at rapid speed. Why didn’t he say something? Why didn’t you push him to say something? Why did he not want to tell you when Heeseung was there? Why couldn’t you have just stayed with him instead?

“What?”

You feel Jisung gently place a hand on your shoulder as he frowns. He pulls you in close and wraps his arms around your shoulders. That's when you notice tiny dots dampening his shirt and you finally realize you’re crying.

[go to part two HERE]

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ihavemanyhusbands · 1 year

Text

Honey Bun (18+ Series)

(Aaron Hotchner x Stripper!Reader)

Part 1 // MINORS DNI

This first part is dedicated to @ssahotstuff for inspiring me <3 and to @hausofwhores who I first talked to about my idea hehe <3 <3

WC: 2.1k Words

Song Inspo: Gold Satin Dreamer - Nicole Dollanganger

Series Warnings: Eventual smut, bit of an age gap (placing reader at around 25-26), cursing, alcohol consumption, formalized sex work (Stripper/Pole Dancer), occasional angst, drama, and that's all I can think of rn but lmk if I missed anything!

A/N: Short and sweet intro! Things are gonna get very uhhh interesting from here on out ;) Enjoy some flirty Hotch, let me know your thoughts on this first part! I'm super excited to be writing this!!!! :)

------------------------------------------------------

“Need a little sugar in your life, gentlemen? Well, get ready to make it rain on our sweetest girl, Honey Bun! Just remember, you may feast your eyes, but no touching!”

—————

Thursdays weren’t always so busy. Sure, there were a couple of party animals who liked to start the weekend early, but rarely at such capacity.

At least you were glad that Josephine was working with you that night. She made busy nights at the Duchess Tavern much more bearable. When you first started working there, she immediately took you under her wing, teaching you all the ropes.

She had a certain matronly quality about her — probably attributed to the fact she was twenty years older than you — but she was a real tough cookie, too. On countless occasions, she’d helped you deal with rowdy customers and drunk assholes. She rarely ever needed help from the bouncers to break bar fights, she cursed like a sailor, and she also made the meanest Long Island Iced Tea you’d ever had.

You were certain that if it weren’t for her, you wouldn’t have lasted a week being a bartender.

“You’re lucky you’re off on weekends,” Josephine said as she poured a row of shots for a group of college-aged girls. “This here is light work compared to a Saturday night.”

“Well, it’s not like I’ll be getting a lot of rest…” you countered. “Dealing with the same sort of customers, too.”

“I don’t know, maybe I’m just getting too old for this shit,” she sighed heavily.

“Oh please, pigs will fly before the day good ole Josie O’Donnell actually retires.”

She laughed heartily, smacking your arm in a playful way. You couldn’t help but admire how hardworking she was. She’d been at this business for years, and it was certainly no easy place to be. She inspired you to stay driven, even when you felt at your lowest. She was the only one in this place you trusted with the knowledge of your other job. Not everyone was so understanding, and plus, it wasn’t really their business anyways.

Working two jobs was in no way easy, but it was definitely necessary. Especially considering you liked living a certain way. You barely had any free time to hang out with friends outside of work, much less meet people and go on dates. Though it’s not like you didn’t get hit on, at both of your jobs, but you just weren’t interested in any of them.

Rarely could anyone keep up with your schedule, especially considering your line of work. It was unsurprising, but you weren’t really phased by it anymore.You didn’t give yourself the time to feel lonely, and you had enough interactions during the day to compensate.

As the initial swell of patronage died down, you began wiping down the bar, absently humming to yourself. Def Leppard’s ‘Bringing on the Heartbreak’, one of your favorites, was playing on the speakers.

An older looking gentleman slid onto a barstool then. You offered him a drink menu, but he waved it off and ordered a scotch, neat. He pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a long sigh, and his shoulders slumped as he crossed his arms over the bar top.

“Long day?” You asked, pouring his drink.

“You could say so,” he nodded wearily. “You know, I’ve always wondered, are bartenders required to ask that whenever they see a haggard-looking patron?”

You chuckled, sliding it towards him. “Only if we think we can help.”

A ghost of a smile was on his lips at that. You studied him more closely, trying to be subtle – He was strikingly handsome, with dark hair and thick dark eyebrows. He had a strong nose and a sharp, clean shaven jaw. His eyes were a piercing dark brown, and they drew your attention the most.

He took a sip of scotch, and there was something analytical in his gaze as he took you in, as well.

“Well, I guess you could say I’m a little bit of a workaholic,” he said.

You nodded in understanding. “A common affliction these days.”

“You, too?” He raised an eyebrow, and you shrugged as if to say what can you do?

“No offense, but I can’t imagine you love spending more time here than you need to.”

You raised both eyebrows at this, only half amused. He was wearing a nicely tailored suit, had an expensive watch on his wrist, and wasn’t ordering cheap drinks. The Duchess didn’t really seem like a place he’d hang out at, and yet…

“Hmm, well, I suppose the same could be said about you,” you countered, nonchalant.

“Touché,” he acquiesced with the smallest chuckle. “But I don’t know, maybe I should give it a chance. It’s…”

“Charming?” You offered.

“Yes, exactly.”

You excused yourself momentarily to attend to another customer. He looked around, but was clearly uninterested in talking to anyone else.

Josephine caught your eye and gave you an impressed look. She wagged her eyebrows suggestively and mouthed ‘get it’.

You rolled your eyes playfully, shaking your head a little. He was certainly very good looking, and flirting was pretty fun, but you weren’t sure if it should go any further than that.

When you returned, you refilled his glass, since he’d already polished off the first one.

“So, what’s your name?” You asked. “Or is it more fun to keep it anonymous?”

“I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.”

You thought about it for a moment, but then you relented, telling him your name.

“Some call me Honey, though,” you added.

He extended his hand out to you. “I’m Aaron Hotchner. It’s nice to meet you, Honey.”

You shook his hand, his long fingers basically engulfing yours. Something stirred low in your belly at this, your mind going straight to the gutter. As if he could tell, a smirk tugged at his lips.

“Boy, do I feel lucky to be the one getting your attention tonight,” he said.

“Why do you say that?”

“Those guys over there have been ogling you for some time now. They’re almost panting and salivating like dogs.”

You glanced in the direction he gestured towards, momentarily meeting two hungry gazes. You shrugged it off, so used to that sort of lascivious attention that you didn’t notice it anymore.

“Well, you approached me the right way,” you said, busying yourself by wiping down some glasses. “Some think it’s flattering to be looked at like that, but it’s really not.”

“I’m sorry about that,” he sympathized. “I get what you mean.”

“Oh, it must be so hard being so attractive, hmm?” You teased jokingly.

“So you think I’m attractive?”

You gave him a look that said are you serious?

“I mean, I don’t want to stroke your ego but… Yes, you really are.”

Aaron’s smirk only grew, perhaps feeling more bold now that he was on his second drink.

“For the record, I think you are very beautiful, but I am a man who knows who to appreciate beauty without needing to take some of it for himself.”

You looked back up at him then, momentarily stunned. Then you chuckled in slight disbelief, but also totally enthralled. Just who was this man?

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d held a conversation — less so one so genuinely riveting — with a single patron for this long. At least at this job, and especially for free.

You were even beginning to consider giving him your number, should he ask for it. But that was yet to be seen.

“I’m serious,” he said.

“Oh, I believe you,” you smirked in return, not letting on if you meant it or not.

The two of you held each other’s gazes for a charged moment, trying to get a better read of each other in the low light. You saw both mirth and earnestness in his eyes — but no trace of anything that should raise any flags — and you found yourself getting just a little more comfortable.

It was easy to talk to him, but he was still very much a stranger. You didn’t want to let yourself get too excited, but that didn’t mean you wouldn’t continue testing the waters. After all, he’d been pretty well behaved so far, and you always liked to reward good behavior.

Once more you had to pull yourself away to attend to someone, but at least the place was getting emptier as it got later. You could feel his gaze trailing you this time, and you glanced over your shoulder to send a wink his way.

“Psst,” Josephine hissed in your direction. “Why don’t you take fifteen? I’ve got things handled here.”

You hesitated. “Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure,” she scoffed. “Go on now, have a little fun.”

You waved her off, but smiled appreciatively. On your way to the other side of the bar, you grabbed yourself a beer and then plopped down on the stool next to Aaron’s. He turned to face you, his knees barely grazing yours. The small contact was innocent enough, but you still felt the smallest tingle down your spine. You clinked your bottle against his glass in a little toast.

“You were right, you know?” He said, looking at the side of your face as you drank. “You really are helping me feel better.”

“Aw shucks, that means I’m good at my job,” you said teasingly, which made him playfully roll his eyes.

“Tell me more about you. Why is it that they call you Honey?” he asked.

“Aren’t I sweet?” You pouted, pretending to be hurt.

He chuckled. “I think you are. Is that the whole reason?”

You nodded, omitting the fact that it also happened to be your stage name – Honey Bun. Sticky sweet; All satin and glitter and softness. Of course, that wasn’t the same you that was sitting across from him now.

“I think you have a very pretty name, too,” he leaned against the bar, resting his temple on his fist. “Is it too forward of me to ask to call you by it? Unless you prefer…”

You waved him off. “How can I decline when you ask so nicely?”

The two of you lost track of time as you continued talking and joking and teasing each other. Laughter seemed to come so easily around him, and there were virtually no awkward pauses between the two of you. It was almost too good to be true.

You told Aaron about some of the wilder things you’d witnessed working at the Duchess, looping Josephine into the conversation at one point. You never even noticed she didn’t call you back from your break, too absorbed in letting loose for once. Even if it was only for a little while, and not entirely.

Much too soon, last call was announced, and you realized that it was nearly two AM. Most people had left, and someone was sweeping as the tables were being stacked.

“Oh, wow, closing time,” you remarked. “I guess time does fly when you’re having fun, huh?”

You got up from your seat to start helping out, giving him a small, almost sheepish grin. You’d had a really nice time, but he was still a customer and couldn’t stick around as you wrapped up for the night. You tried to think of the nicest way to kick him out… even if a teenie tiny part of you didn’t want him to leave.

Aaron looked around as if coming out of a daze. He glanced at his watch and stood, gathering his things. “So it seems.”

“The Duchess just has that effect on people. I should have warned you.”

“I have to say, I think this place is growing on me,” he admitted. “Would you mind if I visited more often?”

“It’s a free country, you can do whatever you want,” you smiled, and in your smile there was an invitation— or perhaps a dare?

And in his, you could see that he was ready to take it.

Still, to your surprise and slight chagrin, he did not ask for your contact information. Perhaps it was his way of continuing to be respectful. Or maybe, this encounter had merely been a reprieve from the day to day for both of you. Nothing more.

For a moment, you wondered if things would have gone down differently had you met in the Crimson Lounge instead of the Duchess. The thought made a small thrill dance in your chest, but you tried not to chase it further. Of course things would have gone down differently. You probably wouldn’t have talked nearly as much.

So you took what you could get, blowing a flirty kiss in his direction as he departed. It was better not to get attached, anyway.

#aaron hotchner #criminal minds fanfiction #Aaron Hotchner series #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner x stripper!reader #aaron hotchner angst #minors dni #ssa aaron hotchner

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ahgasegotarmy116 · 4 months

Note

does DIFH JK and oc's daughter argue with her dad a lot when she is older, if she finds out that the reason her relationships aren't working out isn't because of the boy not being interested in her but because her dad is paying them to go away with her? and how does oc feel about JK doing this?

DIFH JK and oc's daughter, slamming the door as she enters into JK's office, "dad, you promised to stop sabotaging my relationships by paying the boy that i'm interested in to leave me."

with JK simply replying, "well, you also promised that you'd not get mad if i did that because i didn't find him up to my standards and worthy of my baby girl. and he wasn't, so i made him disappear."

Let's see how they work this all out shall we?

p.s. not edited lol

~~~~~~

"Dad! Dad! Dad where are you?" my daughter yells through out the house.

"In here" I simply respond, not bothering to get up from my desk.

"Dad what the hell?" she says coming around the corner and into my office, slamming the door on her way in.

"Language" I warn her with a cocked brow. "Why are you doing this to me?" she wines as she slumps down into the armchair in front of my desk.

"You'll have to be a bit more specific darling" I say going back to reading through the various files I have piled up on my desk.

"Why do you keep messing with my love life?" she huffs.

"Love life? You're barely sixteen, you shouldn't be having a love life at your age. Plus that boy only had two things on his mind and he got one and left without the other" I admit without a care in the world.

"Did you pay him to break up with me?" she asks rising up to her feet, the anger bubbling to the surface in the form of her reddening face. "They were low life scum that were just looking for a quick fuck and some money to party with" I say getting to the point.

"Dad, don't you ever come near my friends or my school ever again" she says and goes to walk out the door. "I don't need to be there to pull the strings baby and you know that" I taunt and she groans as she walks out of my office, slamming the door behind her.

"I'm going to Mom's!" she yells.

"Drive safe and text me when you get there" I yell after her. The only response is in the form of the sound of the front door slamming behind her.

"Mom" my daughter groans as she walks in the house.

"Baby I wasn't expecting to see you here! What's wrong?" I ask studying her face and seeing that her cheeks are flushed and her eyes a bit red.

"Dad started paying the boys that I was going out with to break up with me" she says wrapping her arms around me and cuddling in close to my chest and I wrap my arms around her in turn.

"Oh sweetie I'm so sorry" I say smoothing down her hair and rubbing her back.

"Come here let's sit down and I'll call your father alright?" I say ushering us both to the couch. She nods her head and follows me and she throws herself onto the couch and throws a blanket over her.

"This probably won't change anything but I'll try honey okay?" I say pulling the blanket down so I can see her face and she nods her head and I give her a kiss on her forehead before calling.

"To what do I owe the pleasure in receiving a call from you angel?" I hear Jungkook's voice say coming through the speaker.

"You know exactly why I'm calling you Jungkook. How could you do such a thing to our daughter?" I ask sternly while running my fingers through my daughter's hair as a way to soothe her.

"She's far too young to be dating and all the boy's in her school are way too immature and below what her standards should be" he replies almost as if the topic bores him.

"How old were you when you started dating Jungkook?" I ask, hoping he will somehow put himself into her shoes.

"That is exactly why I know she shouldn't be dating is because of how I was when I was her age. She's too young and if they can be bribed to stay away from her then that's a clear sign as to the fact that they aren't worth her time nor attention" he explains and honestly I do agree with him but I want to still be on her side.

"She is the one who needs to learn how to figure that out on her own. She's sixteen, not six so you can let go of her hand now" I taunt and I can hear him take a calming breath, trying to keep himself in check.

"She's my daughter and I will do what I think is best for her" he says in a level tone.

"She's my daughter too and I think we should let her take care of herself. She's a good kid and she'll come to us if she's in trouble" I say and look over at her and see that she's starting to doze off.

"Let's see what happens when she shows up on one of our doorsteps with a positive pregnancy test in her hand and some lowlife in tow" he let's out without a care for her feelings but luckily the call wasn't on speaker.

"She's not that type of kid and you know that. Just leave her alone and leave the rest to me. It won't get to that point" I say in a hushed tone while I walk into the other room to hopefully keep the rest of this conversation to me.

"You're really trying to convince me that you can keep her in check when you couldn't even reject me all those years ago. I'll do what I think is best and you can do the same in return" his words hit me with a low blow and leave me clenching my fingers into a fist.

"You know she'll hate you if you keep doing this to her right?" I say shaking, trying to contain my anger as to not wake her.

"She'll grow out of it and she'll understand later. Until next time Angel" he replies and hangs up the phone without bothering to ask if I had anything left to say.

Taking a couple of deep breaths in and out I calm myself down enough to go back into the living room and I see her resting peacefully with her lips in a slight pout.

I wish she would stop growing because as much as I would hate to admit it, Jungkook is right. His methods are all off and he's being way too controlling but ultimately he's right.

I just wish that we could all come to an agreement so she wouldn't get hurt so much. I hear a chime come in on her cell phone and with the nosy person that I am I check to see who it is. She has the notifications locked but I can still see that the message is from my son so I in turn decided to text him off my phone instead to keep him from waking her.

'Can you pick me up from soccer practice? She was supposed to come get me half an hour ago :('

He's so adorable sometimes.

'Sure baby, be there in 10' I send and take one last look at her before I grab her phone again and flip the switch to put it on silent so she can get some sleep.

I grab my keys from off the hook and slip out as quietly as I make my way to go get him.

'I hope you slept well. I'm taking your brother to get a quick bite and I'll make sure to bring you something too. See you soon' I send her before I turn on the car and pull out of the driveway.

~~~~~

Wow I got a little carried away there...

Hope that answered your question! Thanks for the ask :) Send me a little emoji next time if you would like to show me it's you!

Taglist: @jkslipppiercing @trina864 @kaitieskidmore97 @goddesofimortality @coolbluedude @00frenchfries00 @bangtans-momma @coralmusicblaze @pastelpinkjoon @joonwater @marvelbun @j3nni-rs @evidive @beomieboi @forevrglow @jesssssmaybankk @teugiie @chaconnelatte @whoa-jo @snehal @xumyboo @mindurbuzznezz @diorh0seokie @hehurst23 @caro134340lina @ye0nvibezzn @olimpiiaa @hrtsj1m @junecat18 @ellesalazar @babycandy111 @felixz4life @lively-potter @esther-kpopstan @gyukookswhore @koohrs @skzthinker @vminkookgf @kookiescupcake0109 @itsyoooeui @iveivory

#difh #do it for him #jungkook fanfic #ask

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taeilssunflower · 2 years

Text

Why I’m okay with minors reading smut and why other writers should consider this too.

Assuming minor being someone under the international age of 18.

Preface: I respect everyone’s opinions. I am not telling anyone to do or believe in anything. This is just my opinion and me offering a different perspective on a controversial topic. I understand if you disagree with everything I say, but hey give it a chance :)

Every smut post I see “Minors do not interact” and I wonder if the writer is actually uncomfortable with minors reading their content or if they’re following along with everyone else. When I used to write I did put “minors dni” because it seemed like the right thing to do, but when I really thought about it, I disagreed.

EDIT BASED ON COMMENTS: I agree minors should not interact with writers for everyone’s sake. However they can read without interaction. Minors interacting with smut writers can lead to ethical problems, liability issues and online bullying. This post is more based on why I think minors can READ smut, and a lot of the time “minors dni” also means don’t read. Minors (and everyone rlly) should always practice caution and take note of the warnings on posts.

Though I am now an adult, I read smut as a minor, and I do not regret it for a second. Why? Because it was a safe space to help me explore sex and relationships without putting myself into real life situations.

We live in a society where women are not as able to explore their sexuality or talk about it with others compared to male counterparts — especially in more conservative countries. I live in a fairly liberal country, but I was too scared to watch porn - as a 14 year old I found it quite a lot and I didn’t like it. Porn is catered for men, even lesbian porn is made with men in mind. Focused on male pleasure and often degrading to women, porn isn’t the best for adolescent girls. Smut however is largely catered for a female “Y/N”. “Y/N” is often treated with respect and in most smut I read there is expressed consent and a focus on female pleasure, so I have no issues at all if that is what teenage girls are reading in smut. This teaches girls consent and want must be present in sexual situations and that their pleasure matters too; possibly reducing these girls to be coerced, used and hurt.

Being a teenager obviously means going through puberty, which includes feeling horny - a new feeling that comes with all the new hormones. It can be awkward to navigate at first, many teenagers feel ashamed when it’s just a natural feeling. When teenagers are horny they think about sex — a natural response. I think they should be able to explore these new feelings safely.

Furthermore, minors watching porn or reading sexual content is not regulated nor is it regulated in most western countries (I can’t speak for everywhere). You can’t stop anyone from consuming content if they want to, plus why would you want to force someone to stop when they have the right to? I would also like to make the point that many countries age of consent is 16. Obviously some are later, but does it make sense to have most English speakers (reading smut in english) come from a place where they can have sex at 16, but they’re not allowed to read smut at 16?

The only dangers I can scope of minors reading smut is them feeling uncomfortable, which could be due to some of the more extreme sexual preferences/activities included in some smut, but you live and you learn and they’ll stay away from such content in the future or until they’re mature enough to revisit it. The other danger is thinking that smut is what sex is like in real life, but we can’t sit here and act like every 13 year old boy hasn’t watched porn and grow to have similar expectations based on what pornography they’ve consumed.

By writing sexual content on a public platform, you know minors have the ability to come across it. Sure, older writers may feel uncomfortable having those 10+ years their junior reading their work, but genuinely what harm comes out of them reading fiction of “Y/N” and some random celebrity/character? I’d rather minors be able to explore safely than find themselves in uncomfortable or unsafe scenarios.

MAJOR EDIT! I made this post about the ethics of it all. PLEASE read this before you send any comments about safety, morals, unrealistic expectations, writer boundaries or comparisons with pornography. I will not reply to you if you clearly have not read my post. Also I would appreciate comments rather than anonymous asks.

I am NOT condoning children consuming this content (aimed at mid-older teenagers so anyone younger gtfo😭) and writers boundaries should be respected. Thank you!!

#kpop smut #nct smut #stray kids smut #ateez smut #bts smut

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broomsick · 1 year

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How to worship Bragi

First things first,

A bit of history: who is Bragi?

Bragi is first and foremost the epitome of the Scandinavian Iron Age thyle. The thyle was a member of a king's court entrusted with lore keeping. As such, Bragi is a poet, a singer and an artist, which is why he's often referred to as the "skaldic God" of the Æsir. In fact, his name itself may be derived from the Old Norse word for "poetry", bragr. Regardless of sex, a person was called brag if they were considered very eloquent. He is thought to practice his art within Óðinn's fabled court of Valhalla, the hall of fallen warriors. Some sources even attest him to be a son of Óðinn, though he is also believed by some to have been a flesh and blood human being, elevated to the status of God after his death, or appointed as divine bard by the Allfather. No matter the case, his talent for singing and poetry writing are legendary. As a major symbol of this, runes are said to be carved on his tongue. Numerous skálds were named after him: Bragi Boddason, Bragi son of Hálfdan the Old, and Bragi Högnason, amongst others. The first of these is especially famous, and scholars are still puzzled as to which came first. The man, or the deity? There is a possibility that Bragi Boddason was named after the skaldic God, but who's to know if the human skáld was simply deified after his death? Some of Bragi's followers even suggest that the skáld was somehow blessed by Bragi, or that he was the God incarnate in some way. Now, there is no evidence of Bragi ever having been worshipped, but he does share quite a few traits with Óðinn (a talent for poetry, and famed wisdom, amongst others). Food for thought!

But more on the deity himself. Apart from being the bard of Óðinn, he is said to welcome any and all who enter Valhalla's gates. He is also especially well known for his wisdom. He isn't a warrior deity at all, but rather a diplomat, a guardian of peace. You could say his words and sharp tongue are his only weapons! Since he is viewed as a bard, many of his followers believe that he wanders not only the halls of the Æsir but also those of the Vanir, the Jötnar, and even of humans, to sing his songs and tell his stories. He has many gifts to offer those who work with him. He is a giver of inspiration, creativity wisdom, skill in art, eloquence, peace of mind...

Symbols

(These are mostly SPG and UPG, considering the number of myths he appears in is pretty limited!)

Runes! This one seems obvious. Runes are carved on his tongue as a symbol of his skill with words. They are an alphabet, often deemed spiritual in some way since they were used by galdr practitionners in incantations.

Music. He is very often portrayed playing an instrument such as the harp or the lyre, the two instruments he is primarily associated with. This particular symbol derives from his association with the skaldic arts and his role as bard.

Stories, legends, oral tradition, etc! Need I explain?

Any form of creative writing! After all, he is said to be a patron of poets and writers.

Fireplaces and hearths, since they are the perfect place to share stories and songs. Especially within a king's hall, sheltered from the harsh winter!

The concept of wisdom. This symbol is quite vague when you put it that way, but it truly is one of his most prominent traits. I believe that receiving advice and pondering it can help with connecting to Bragi.

Blue and gold often come up as the colors that he wears! This isn't widespread, but I'd consider it UPG. A few of his followers have mentioned this association before, and I share it as well! Plus, there's also the fact that his harp is said to be golden.

Kennings: First of Poets, long-bearded God, Skáld of skálds, Foremost/Most Excellent of skálds, Husband of Iðunn, White-bearded bard, Divine Poet of Ásgard, kin of Óðinn, Speaker of Peace, Maker of Poetry, Harpist of Heavenly Music, Lord of Eloquence, Bane of Boredom.

Devotionals

Learning song lyrics and singing songs to him.

Looking into Germanic or Scandinavian oral tradition and/or stories, as well as skaldic poetry.

Reciting poems or reading poetry. Basically, finding interest in poetry and truly appreciating it.

Dedicating pieces of creative writing to him. If you are uncomfortable with writing or don’t trust in your skill to write, it is perfectly fine to commission from more experienced writers! Whatever the case, you will end up with a beautifully written devotional to Bragi!

Listening to traditional Scandinavian music, traditional instruments being played.

Sharing art, spreading culture! Why not introduce a friend or a family member to a piece of music, a book, or a performance you enjoyed?

Learning, or practicing an instrument, no matter how simple.

Taking moments to solely listen to music, taking it in, and not doing anything meanwhile. Just appreciating it fully!

Exploring your creativity: pick up art, crafts, anything remotely creative that you’re interested in! If there’s an artistic activity you used to enjoy but that you haven’t practiced in a while, while not pick it back up in his honor?

Presenting to him books that you have enjoyed!

Attending cultural performances, such as concerts and plays.

Common offerings: music scores, mead, books, pieces of writing/poems, musical instruments, herb bennet, purslane, runes, especially the rune Ansuz.

Art: Via Ýdalir, "Bragi, the god of poetry"

#norse paganism #Bragi #polytheism #norse polytheism #spirituality #heathenry #deities #deity work #devotional #norse mythology #norse myth #paganism

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disco-elysium-via-polls · 1 month

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🎵Protorave

More tribalistic markings -- this post is covered in little humanoids.

A pole screwed into the ice keeps the tent erect.

Trash from some unending party.

PILE OF ETERNITE - A pane of eternite has been planted into the snow. Two poles are holding it up.

INTERFACING [Easy: Success] - *Barely* holding it up. It could fall over any minute... a stronger gust of wind might be enough.

"What is this?"

Push the eternite over.

[Leave it as is.]

KIM KITSURAGI - "It looks like a makeshift bridge." The lieutenant adjusts his collar against a cool breeze. "Could be convenient."

2. Push the eternite over.

PILE OF ETERNITE - The pane falls into the icy snow with a soft thunk.

That's going to save us like 10 seconds of walking, but sure.

This is someone's home away from home. Just like yours.

TENT FLAP - The tent is just tarpaulin fabric covering a pile of stuff. The flap is open. Inside, three young men -- all in forward-looking apparel reminiscent of the sticker on the padlock -- are listening to some new form of music. It's like nothing you've ever heard. One of them looks at you.

ANDRE - "C'mon! Get in and close the flap behind you! The warm stuff is getting out!"

AUTHORITY [Easy: Success] - It's safe to assume this is their leader. Or at least he thinks he is.

Squeeze in.

"No way." [Leave.]

ANDRE - "Sorry." He points his thumb at the lieutenant. "We barely have room for one."

KIM KITSURAGI - "You go ahead, I'm too old for this..."

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Easy: Success] - I'm actually not, he thinks. I just dislike delinquents.

KIM KITSURAGI - "I'm sure you will feel right at home. I'll keep watch." He gestures for you to squeeze in.

TENT FLAP - You leave the lieutenant outside and squeeze in.

Smells like sweat and laundry detergent. Plus a trace of ether.

A pile of nasal sprays. Brand name: "Nosaphed Ultra."

Canisters filled with what appears to be water. The label says "Distilled."

A speaker. The big kind they use for live music.

ANDRE - You see a youngish man bleaching the tips of his hair with a toothbrush. He puts the toothbrush down and extends his hand in greeting.

"Hello, I'm Andre. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Shake his hand.

Don't shake it.

ANDRE - His grip is strong, sweaty, and warm. He's trying to project and inspire confidence.

"This is my posse: Noid...."

NOID - The young man with earrings looks at you suspiciously.

ANDRE - "...and Egg Head."

EGG HEAD - "Egg!" The tape player high above his head continues to blast what is probably *anodic* music.

ANDRE - "Together with Acele Berger -- who's out there right now, doing some *seriously* progressive sonic experimentation -- we like to think of ourselves as 'music venue organizers.'"

"Wait, how many music venues have you organized?"

"Why are you here?"

ANDRE - "We have many in the pipeline, officer."

2. "Why are you here?"

ANDRE - "You see, we've been all over Jamrock North, prospecting for real estate to establish a new venue in..."

EGG HEAD - "Also for talent!"

ANDRE - "Yes, thank you, Egg Head. And, while there is no shortage of raw, unfettered talent spinning tapes in Jamrock, we've had rotten luck with the real estate part."

NOID - "Place is a shithole."

ANDRE - "I apologize for my friend Noid's potty-mouth. *I* realize this is not how you speak to a police officer. He has authority issues."

"There's no need. The place is pretty bad."

"Next time, watch yourself."

"Was there something you wanted? Your friend Acele said there was a problem with the church."

ANDRE - "Oh, so you've met her? Good, good." He nods.

EMPATHY [Formidable: Success] - He's not as glad as he would like you to think. There is concern in his voice.

ANDRE - "Yeah -- it's a matter of occupied ecclesiastical property. I bet you've noticed the derelict hive of *narcomania* on the coast?"

VOLITION [Easy: Success] - An attempt to pander to your perceived conservative sensibilities. No person his age would ever use a word like *narcomania* with a straight face. Don't fall for it!

"Enough histrionics. What are you talking about?"

ANDRE - "I'm talking about the church. And I'm not exaggerating! Even a place of spiritual refuge can become a magnet for all sorts of *dopeheads* and *burnouts* if left unattended..."

EGG HEAD - "Dopeheads!"

NOID - "Burnouts!" He angrily spits on a screw, then starts cleaning it.

ANDRE - "Well, I'm sad to say, that's exactly what happened. Sad because we were just about to put Martinaise on the map with one of the maddest dance clubs in Jamrock -- no, strike that -- in Revachol..."

EGG HEAD - "Strike that -- the world!"

ANDRE - "And sadder yet because the dopeheads and burnouts holed up in there are *the worst* kind."

COMPOSURE [Easy: Success] - He leans back a little, watching you with a steady, serious gaze, letting you imagine just how bad those 'dopeheads' and 'burnouts' really are.

RHETORIC [Easy: Success] - Good. This calls for an *opinion*. You're an expert in those.

"I won't stand for narcomaniacs of any kind. No *narcomaniacs* on my watch." (Shake your head gravely.)

"I feel like you may be laying this on a bit thick. What's really so bad about these 'dopeheads' and 'burnouts'?"

ANDRE - "They're *spooky*."

"What exactly do you mean by *spooky*?"

"'Spookiness' is not a matter for police investigation."

ANDRE - "I was hoping you would be the judge of that, officer. All I can say is, their spookiness is the kind that keeps us from restoring this church into a community centre. And a place of spiritual refuge."

NOID - "Also, they don't heat or clean the building. Shit's gonna collapse."

EGG HEAD - "People just wanna spin tapes without them spookin' it up! Place has bad sines! No one can dance like that."

ANDRE - "Thank you, Egg Head..."

"So you're gonna look into it, right?" He turns to you. "It *should* be a police matter -- getting them out. Whatever spooky stuff they're doing, I'm sure it's not what the Ecclesiastes meant their property for."

"I'll look into it. Tell me more." (Get the task.)

"I'll make up my mind later. I have questions for you first." (Not now.)

"The police have more important things to do right now, kid." (Not now.)

Good news, kid. You're talking to the *premiere* member of the Remote Viewers Division. Of course we're looking into the spooky church.

ANDRE - "Alright, man!" He claps his hands enthusiastically.

New task: Help ravers start a nightclub

EMPATHY [Trivial: Success] - Andre is obviously very happy you took him seriously. The whole tent is. The boys exchange giddy looks.

"Acele told me Noid put the padlock on the door. Why?"

"Who exactly are these people inside the church?"

"You mentioned some kind Ecclesiastes own the church. Who are these Ecclesiastes?"

"I wanted to ask you about this tent full of equipment."

"That's all for now." [Leave.]

ANDRE - "I did ask Noid to install a measure against more drifters wandering in. It's a temporary fix. Just something to contain the situation."

NOID - "I had to do it in a hurry. Not my best work... But it should hold for a while."

"I need the key."

"How long have those people been locked in there?"

"Right. Other questions." (Conclude.)

ANDRE - "Of course. Noid, give the officer the key."

NOID - "Alright." The speedfreak dips into his belt pack and produces a yellow key. He then makes a sudden, cool-infused move, tossing it in your general direction.

[Reaction Speed - Medium 10] Be the Cool Cop. Catch the key as it flies toward you!

Let it fall to the ground, then pick it up. Like a normal adult person.

REACTION SPEED [Medium: Failure] - It's as if time has frozen somehow. You think you can *sense* the key moving in the air. Yeah, this is gonna be *way* cool.

Don't ruin the cool by overdoing it. Raise your hand in front of your face with minimum effort.

REACTION SPEED - Blam! Straight in the eye. Straight in the old eye-orb. In *the lookin' ball*!

-1 Health

A stabbing pain. Tears stream uncontrollably from your right eye.

"Ouch! Goddamn asshole... what is WRONG with you?! Can't you see I'm in PAIN now?!"

NOID - "Man, I'm super sorry. That was totally my bad, I got overexcited. Threw them too hard. I'm sorry."

EMPATHY [Easy: Success] - He looks like he's genuinely sorry he didn't throw them better.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry…" (Bend your face in *mockery* of his useless contrition.) "You almost *eye-murdered* me -- a cop! That's use of LETHAL FORCE!"

NOID - "I really am sorry, man -- just take this, okay?" He pulls out some black paper from his belt-pack.

PERCEPTION (SIGHT) [Easy: Success] - Wow! Looks like there's quite a lot there...

#disco elysium #kim kitsuragi #harrier du bois #noid #andre #egg head

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levans44 · 1 year

Text

Damage Control - Chapter 1

She’s never going to a Stark party again.

9:54 pm, Yesterday

He had lured her in the same way he always does, with sparkly words and false promises of an “intimate gathering.”

“C’mon, it’ll be real small. Promise.” Tony Stark’s sly smirk crawled through the phone, soft jazz and the rustling of pre-party preparations filling the background. “Exclusive guest list, VVIPs only. You know me! Plus I think Brad Pitt’s coming. You like Brad Pitt right?”

From all of the commotion behind him, she could already visualize the state of his mansion - extravagant bottles of champagne lined up along sleek bar tops and 40ft limos pulled up on his shiny marble driveway, ready to greet a dazzling guest list that would put NYC’s 1 OAK to shame.

Yeah. Intimate gathering her ass.

She snorted, rolling her eyes “Tony, you and I both know that’s bullshit.”

“No, seriously! Apparently his kids love me and are dying to get a signed mask, I mean who wouldn’t-”

“-you know that’s not what I meant.”

“So you’ll come?” She opened her mouth to refuse, then closed it, hesitant to give him a straight answer. This bastard knew perfectly well what he was doing. He was waving the guaranteed sophistication of a signature Tony Stark party in front of her face, and no matter how much she told herself not to, she knew she’d end up chasing after it like a dog every time.

She let out an exasperated sigh, head hitting the back of the couch with a ‘thud’.

“I don’t know Tony, Anne’s been up my ass all week about finishing the Times Square write-up, which is your fault by the way.” She poked the air with an accusatory finger.

Working under SHIELD’s Damage Control division had its ups and downs, but it was no easy work having to cover for the Avengers and the wreckage they left after every battle. Just this past month, a battle on 45th street between the team and the Kree had only lasted 20 minutes, but had caused her weeks worth of paperwork and overtime. Handling a million lawsuits, mending financial deficits, and approving blueprints for reconstruction, she couldn’t remember the last time she went to bed before 3 am.

“Hey, Squidward attacked us first! Something about the Avengers being the first step toward world domination.”

“Well, you should have killed him and his friends when you had the chance, cause thanks to them, I now have a 30-page writeup to edit” she glanced down bitterly at the open computer in her lap, glaring at the document in scorn.

Tony chuckled through the speaker. “So come to the party, it’ll help take your mind off things.”

Despite her annoyance, she appreciated the familiar sincerity in his voice — Tony had always been somewhat like a father figure to her away from home.

Miles from her family living in a tiny New York studio, she met Tony her sophomore year of college working as a nervous intern for Stark Industries. A few summers later and she was promoted to the grand title of personal assistant, attending boozy galas and benefits alongside New York’s famed billionaire.

At the time, she wouldn’t have missed his parties for the world. It would have been weird if she had, considering how most people her age spent their Friday nights in lines for dingy clubs with overpriced drinks. Her Friday nights were spent on private flights to Amsterdam or Paris.

But alas, she slowly departed from the fleeting materialism of her youth, and took off in search of a job where she could step away from the spotlight for a while. She landed her current job at Damage Control under Anne Hoag, an old business partner of Tony’s, and had slowly lost memory of the glamorous Stark parties over the years. Now, the opportunity to revisit that time in her life had arrived at her doorstep, all wrapped up in a pretty package, daring her to refuse.

Tony’s smug voice interrupted her thoughts, sounding satisfied with her long pause. “Great, knew you’d say yes! 11 PM tonight, don’t let me down Manhattan.”

Before she could protest, Tony had signed off with a click. He left her with a surprise there, using that nickname; she couldn’t even remember the last time she had heard it. The origin story for that nickname was a long one, but it had essentially started when she accidentally fixed him a Manhattan instead of an Old Fashioned (but really, what was the difference?). As much as she had been annoyed with Tony for using it back then, she had secretly grown fond of it over the years. Hearing it now struck a nostalgic chord in her that made his offer a bit more tempting.

Shutting her laptop, she let it flop down on the couch next to her. She let out a small sigh, surveying her cold, empty apartment. Dishes piled up in the sink. A small pile of laundry she’s avoided folding for weeks. When was the last time she had dressed up for anything, let alone for a fancy party? Massaging her neck, she let out a low groan, feeling a dull ache throb in her shoulders as she dragged herself sluggishly to the shower. Maybe she did need a few hours to destress.

One night couldn’t hurt, right?

5:31 am, Today

Fuck, everything hurt.

Her head pounded behind her eyes, blinding light shining through the windows.

What time was it?

Ugh, whatever it was, it was way too early. Draping a heavy arm over her eyes, she desperately trying to shield the light from her eyes. Why was it so damn bright? Her tiny apartment barely got any natural sun.

She rolled over to the edge of the bed, squinting up to realize that her alarm clock wasn’t on her bedside table. Instead, it was replaced by a greek-looking marble statue and a plant instead. She didn’t own any fucking plants. Frowning, she smoothed down the front of her sheets, feeling the luxurious satin glide against her palm and realized she wasn’t in her bed. This wasn’t her room. Last night, she had left Tony’s party early with… fuck.

Her stomach gave a sudden jolt as she frantically turned to the space to her left. She let out a sigh of relief, finding it empty. She ran a slow finger over the neatly folded corners, not a single fold out of line, before she sat up in the bed, clutching the expensive sheet to her chest as she took in the unfamiliar room of the Avenger’s compound. She’s made some questionable decisions in the past, but this beat everything else by a mile. She dragged her hands down her face exasperatedly, letting out an internal groan. She was used to handling shitty situations: wrecked buildings, stranded helicarriers, and alien hostages.

But how on earth was she going to handle this?

She thought about leaving a note, but the idea of trying to find a pen and paper in this gigantic space intensified her headache. Maybe a voicemail but… she didn’t have his number. Great. Where was her damn phone anyway?

Another jolt of panic ran through her before she remembered that it was probably in her purse… which was somewhere downstairs. She hadn’t managed to keep track of it after, well, how quickly shit escalated last night.

Snatching up her dress from off of the floor, she hastily pulling it over her head and stumbled out of the wooden slide door. It revealed a long hallway, mostly empty save for a few giant, expensive-looking paintings. She clambered down the nearest staircase she could find, her heels sliding against the sleek glass and scraping the back of her feet.

The second floor of the Avenger’s Compound was a huge, not to mention bright, open lounge, equipped with a bar, pool table, a meeting room, and probably a million other facilities that she couldn’t afford to stay and gawk at right now.

Spotting the steps leading down to the first floor, her only way out of this mess, she started to scramble toward it.

“Going somewhere?”

A smug voice called from the kitchen countertop. She jumped, sleep suddenly cleared from her eyes, swiveling around to see Tony slumped over the countertop, cradling a glass of water in one hand and an aspirin in the other. What was he doing at the compound so early? She felt a flicker of pity at his bed head and dark circles, but then again she would’ve given anything to be getting over a hangover instead of being in her shoes right now.

On his smug, exhausted face was a shit-eating grin, stretching the dark lines beneath his eyes, eyes that told her that he remembered everything from last night. That he remembered… shit.

She let out a small gasp.

“Tony,” She jabbed an accusatory finger in his direction. “You cannot tell anybody.”

His grin widening, he shrugged, feigning innocence. “Tell what?”

Oh, he’s gonna play that game? With a hangover?

She groaned, dragging her hands down her face. “Where is he?” She asked quietly into her palm, praying that Tony would give her a straight answer.

“Who, loverboy? He wasn’t in bed with you?”

She jerked her hands away from her face in disbelief, raising her voice “Tony-”

“Relax, relax,” he chuckled, clearly enjoying her torment. “He’s probably out running his daily fucking marathon or something. Should be back soon.” A pause, before he added with a devilish smile.

“Guess you didn’t tire him out enough last night.”

“Tony, I swear to god.” She rolled her eyes and sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.

Ok. At least God gave her one thing. Seeing as he wasn’t here, if she leaves now she’ll be able to avoid one awkward conversation.

She sighed, running a hand through her no doubt messed hair as she tried to gather her thoughts. “Have you seen my purse?”

Twisting around in his stool, he lazily pointed to the couch, sat in the middle of an appallingly clean living room. Swiveling back around, he winced as if the movement made him dizzy.

Serves him right.

Snatching up her purse from its spot on the expensive leather futon, she made her way to the stairs and down to the first floor, away from what seemed to be the most humiliating moment of her life.

Tony’s mocking voice stopped her dead in her tracks.

“Where you headed?”

Her eyes fluttered closed, questioning why she hadn’t poisoned the man the countless times she had brewed him coffee or freshened his drink.

Taking a breath to compose herself, she turned around slowly, putting on the most neutral expression she could muster.

“I…” She stalled, trying to dig as far down her mental vat of ‘excuses to get out of shit’ as she could.

“I’ve got a client meeting.”

“Really? On a Sunday? Must be some damn important client.”’

Well, shit.

Tony must have sensed her desperation as he tsked, leaning forward on the table.

“Come on, I gotta tell him something, Manhattan”

“I…” She spent another moment trying to come up with a decent enough excuse, fumbling with the clasp on her purse, before giving up altogether, letting out an exasperated sigh.

“Just… just make something up for me, ok? I-I gotta go.”

“Go where?”

She whipped around, bug-eyed, stomach dropping through the floor at the man standing at the top of the stairwell. Biceps bulging through a ridiculously tight workout shirt, sweat glistening down his neck as he tilted his head back to take a swig of water, and god, did this man ever take a break?

She realized she had been ogling while he watched her expectantly, so oblivious to her horror.

He swallowed his water, neck flushed pink, before giving her a rather shy smile.

“Hi.”

She barely responded with a curt ‘hello,’ unable to meet his innocent eyes. This has got to be the world’s most pathetic walk of shame, she thought—she’d crawl into the nearest hole if she could.

The unbearable silence between them was suddenly broken by an overdramatic cough from behind her.

“Well, this has been delightful to watch, but this superstar’s got to catch up on his beauty sleep.” Tony slid off languidly off the stool, yawning dramatically as he stretched.

Oh, so now he wants to leave?

Glancing back in their direction, he winked, looking straight at her.

“Gosh, what a night, huh?”

She felt her face burn a deep crimson, and couldn’t even bear to check what hue of red Steve’s face was.

As Tony shuffled upstairs, she heard Steve clear his throat. Out of the corner of her eye, he started to take a hesitant step toward her, glancing down at his feet.

“So… about last night.”

Fuck.

She’s never going to a Stark party again.

Damage Control Masterlist

#mcu #mcu fic #mcu fandom #captain america #steve rogers #one night stand #fanfiction #romance #eventual smut #eventual fluff #enemies to lovers #enemies to friends to lovers #smut #angst #hurt/comfort #trauma #steve x reader

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iwishiwasaginger · 2 years

Text

So, I made my own Isekai/SAGAU Genshin fic. I hope you like it.

Warnings: language

Word count: almost 3.2k

I don't own Genshin, nor PlayStation, nor the SAGAU concept

Getting Isekai'd for Dummies

Chapter 1: Down the Rabbit Hole

Thunder and lightning crashed outside your window, the wind howling through the dead of night. It’s Friday morning, technically, and you were sent home early from work Thursday evening, due to the severe thunderstorms roving through your area, which had knocked out the power at your workplace. Miraculously though, your electric grid was a fighter, and has refused to go down so far, save for the flicker of the streetlights every now and then. Your face is illuminated by the flashes of lightning and the screen of your television, portraying the game booted up on your Playstation. The comforting timbre of your best friend, Deo’s, voice filtering through your phone’s speaker accompanies the cries of nature outside. You’ve known each other for around five years now and often chat and play video games together. Currently, you two are playing an open world rpg named ‘Genshin Impact’, developed by a company called ‘Mihoyo’. You found out about it around a year ago now, and had been hooked by the adventure it promised and the extensive lore. Deo doesn’t live too far away from you, and is, conveniently, on your same electric grid. You were chatting about how there was supposedly a full moon tonight, somewhere beyond the storm clouds.

“I don’t know, (Y/N), we should probably go to bed soon. We’re approaching the witching hour, and all things considered about tonight, I’m getting weird vibes. Once it hits three-something, I start seeing shit.” She always was the superstitious type. Sure, it was approaching three in the morning, and yes, it was now Friday the thirteenth, but you always considered it your lucky day, due to your rather bad luck. Plus, most of that stuff was probably made up in the old ages by hysterics and paranoiacs.

“Pssh, you’re probably just seeing stuff cause you’re sleep deprived. Cmon! This event is almost over and we gotta make sure we enjoy it to the max! I mean, like, theater mechanicus rerun, hello? The flower garden thing? Fucking dueling? Bro, there’s so much to do!” You desperately plead, trying to get her to give in just for tonight. You haven’t been able to play much due to work, and you want to catch up before the Irodori Festival ends. “Please? I’ll let you steal materials from my world for, like, two weeks!”

She grumbles and begrudgingly, with a sigh, she agrees. “But only because I have characters that you don’t, so I need different stuff, and I don’t want to seem like a douchebag to any randos.”

With a victory yelp and a little victory dance, you smile. “Thank you, thank you, thank you Deo! Neither of us have anything going on later, so we’ll be fine! Let’s go play some theater mechanicus!” You shift your fingers on the controller and make Ayato run towards Komokata to get ready to play.

Deo presumably does the same, as Zhongli comes bounding into the area soon after. When she’s selecting the stage for you both to challenge, that’s when it happens. Your Playstation makes a weird sound and the screen flashes for a moment, before the screen turns completely white, and sparks start flying from your console. With a surprised yelp, you drop the controller, turning into yourself in a defensive position. Soon after, the sparking stops, and you’re left with a fried console and a white screen.

“What the fuck just happened? Oh no! My Playstation! Damnit.” You huff out in despair, shocked by the turn of events. Your friend’s voice comes through your phone’s speakers once again.

“What happened? Are you ok? I heard you yelp. What’s going on?” Her concerned tone brings you back to Earth and you slump dejectedly in your chair. Just your luck, right?

“I think a bolt of lightning hit my house and caused a power surge; my console is totally fried, like, still smoking. And the tv is all jacked up too, it’s just a white screen. I hate this so much, dude.” You sigh and the frustration you feel almost brings you to tears. All your games, all your progress, all the money and time you spent, gone within seconds. “I don’t even know how I’m gonna explain this one to my dad. I’m so majorly boned.”

“Oh jeez, I can’t believe that. I’m sorry that happened. Guess that’s a sign that I should probably get off as well. No offense, but I don’t want to risk the same thing happening to me. I’m gonna unplug my stuff.” You can hear some shuffling come from over the phone, but you just stare at the white screen, grieving your loss.

The more you stare at the white screen, the less you perceive the other things around you. Deo says something, but it’s muffled; it kind of sounds like you're under water. The thunder doesn’t seem to shake your house anymore. Your vision tunnels, focused on just the white screen of despair. It almost seems to pull you in, until all you perceive is just white. A bland, emotionless, all-encompassing white, just as empty as your thoughts. It feels like an eternity is spent in this blank space, where neither time, nor matter, seem to reach. Your mind tries to make sense of this, but no thoughts linger, they’re all fleeting, never even making it to comprehension.

An amount of time passes, you don’t know how long, before you open your eyes to white, cloudy skies. You notice that it’s a little frigid, and you shiver. Your senses come back to you, one by one. Sight, then touch, your mouth feels dry, the smell of grass makes you want to sneeze, and you start to hear the wind blowing gently past. You blink, and take a moment to collect yourself, then you sit up with a groan, bringing your hands up to rub at your arms. Looking around, you see you’re on top of a hill, a couple sparse trees here and there, and there is a frost in the air and on the ground. Your brows furrow in confusion, and you wonder where you are, and how you got here. You stand up from the ground and turn around. Now, towering in front of you, is an icy mountain with clouds obscuring the top. Turning your head back in the other direction, you see what looks like a beacon of light in the distance. Looking down at yourself, you notice that you are in your pajamas, and with that, the memory of the events from earlier flashes through your mind’s eye. Now, you’re even more confused on where you are and how you ended up outside. You live in a city, nowhere close to a mountain.

Currently, you’re in the middle of the wilderness, and the only lead you have is a glowing light; things couldn’t get any better could they? Sighing, you head towards the beacon, hoping that getting away from the mountain will rid you of the chill in your bones. After a couple of minutes, not too long, you arrive at a small cliff and moan in frustration. There are rocks jutting out of the side that you could use to aid your descent, but you’re not particularly known for your grace. The sun starts to shine over the horizon and you note that the clouds blocking the sky are behind you, and the sky is a magnificent blue. From the top of this cliff, northeast of where you are standing, you can see windmills, but they seem pretty far away. The beacon is a bit closer, still north of you, and you decide to check that out first, then head to what seems to be civilization.

Gently, you lower yourself off the edge, and try to do your best to make footholds in the side of the cliff. You get a couple feet down, then your foot slips, and you fall towards the ground. Curiously though, it doesn’t hurt at all when you land, and you seem to have landed on the softest grass you’ve felt in your life. You get up and brush yourself off, relishing in the warmth that the sun brings as it rises in the sky. Shifting back towards the beacon, you jolt in shock, because, a couple yards in front of you, are creatures you’ve never seen before. Actually, you realize that you have seen these creatures somewhere before. They almost look like hilichurls. Well, that can’t be right, hilichurls are fictional beings. Then, this must be a dream, you surmise. Still, you’d rather not get decked by the mitachurl that also seems to be there, so you try to sneak off to your right, away from the creatures. It works, as none of them seem alerted to your presence. It’s a shame that you can’t have a hilichurl friend, they’re very cute, especially with the little dances they do.

Moving forward, you manage to stop yourself before you tumble off another cliff, only this one is bigger and you would most definitely die from that drop. The beacon, which you now guess to be a Statue of the Seven if you are in Teyvat in this weird dream, is on the other side of the valley in front of you, up another cliff, how fun. You see what looks to be Mondstadt in the distance and, if memory serves you correctly, you should be near Dawn Winery. A glance over to your left confirms this to be true, as you see the familiar rooftop poking out from just beyond the trees. Deciding that a little visit to your favorite wine tycoon can’t hurt, you trek over in that direction. You carefully climb down another small cliff, thankfully not falling this time around. It seems that Teyvat just wants you to fall to your death because there is yet another steep cliff. Saying a prayer to whomever is listening, you start to scale down the side of the cliff. This time, just as your foot slips, you seem to find another foothold, and you make it all the way down, unscathed. You thank the gods, and scour this next ledge, finding a chest. You approach cautiously, knowing that monsters could appear as soon as you get close, but nothing happens. You open the chest and find a Beginner’s Protector, a couple hundred Mora, and some weapon leveling material. Shrugging, you take the polearm and the Mora, thinking that it wouldn’t hurt to have them. Thankfully, there seem to be a couple drop-offs that you can simply hop down from, and you continue down.

With a couple more strides forward, you make it to the path trod into the ground, and you sigh in relief. Glancing left, there sits the winery, and you make your way towards it with a bound in your step. Along the way, a thought occurs to you: what if none of these people know who you are, as you aren’t a character in the game? You decide that it’d probably be best to act like some random NPC who got lost. Hopefully your pajamas don’t throw anyone off, cause you’re not quite sure what Mondstadtian pajamas look like. Your approach is now a bit more cautious. Coming around the side of the manor, you walk right past the workers; ignoring the way a couple of them notice your presence, you walk straight into the manor. You could probably count on either Adelinde, Elzer, or Diluc, if he’s there, to help you.

Adelinde turns to the door as it opens, confusion covering her features at your state of dress. Bashfully, you draw nearer to her, rubbing the side of your arm. She looks you up and down with a calculating gaze, and upon seeing your features clearly, a shine glints in her eyes for but a moment, before fading away.

“Hello, welcome to Dawn Winery. Is there something that I can help you with?” She looks off towards the corner for a moment, then settles her gaze back onto you.

“Yes, hi, um, sorry.” You clear your throat and straighten out a bit, “I was traveling and my map got blown away, you see, and upon resting by the water for the night, I had awoken, soaking wet, to find that the tide was coming in, and that my pack had gotten washed away. This is my first big adventure and I don’t really have the best of luck, obviously.” Trying your best to hold her gaze, you sweat nervously, hoping she doesn’t pick up on the fact that you are lying.

“Mmhm, and where do you hail from?” You can tell she’s a bit skeptical and, digging into your brain for your knowledge of the lore, you try to find a place that would be believable.

“Oh, uh, I’m from Fontaine.” You smile and nod, hoping she doesn’t ask you anymore questions. “Anyways, if you could just point me in the direction of Mondstadt, that’d be wonderful.”

She nods, and doesn’t seem entirely convinced, but gives you the directions nonetheless. “When you leave the manor, take the path that curves to the right of the Statue of the Seven. Then take the left path at the first fork, then right at the second, a left at the third, and another left over the bridge and into the city.”

You beam at her and nod fervently. “Yes, thank you so much, miss! Sorry for bothering you!” And with that you turn on your heel and head out the door, noticing Elzer give you a look as you pass by. Once out of the manor, you speed walk past the workers once more, and sigh in relief once off the winery grounds. You follow Adelinde’s instructions, being sure to stick to the path, lest you run into any monsters. You’d like to visit a Statue of the Seven, but you don’t feel like climbing anymore, so you plan on visiting the one by Vennessa’s tree in Windrise.

The sun seems to be at the highest point in the sky now, so you assume that it’s about midday. Despite the rays of the sun beating down upon you, you don’t feel too hot, thanks to the nice breeze blowing through the lands of Mond. You smile, enjoying the nice weather as you continue on your journey. The bridge into the city comes into view and you think you remember Windrise being somewhere down the path to your right. Turning down the right path, you pass by the lone adventurer stationed by a pot and she also gives you a weird stare, but, to be fair, you would too if someone was out adventuring in their pajamas. It only takes about five minutes before you see the grand tree a bit of a way into the distance.

Making your way down the path, a man starts to come into view, wearing the standard uniform for the Knights of Favonius. He’s rather tall and has short brown hair, paired with blue eyes. You intend to walk right past him, however he moves to stand in your path. His right arm crosses his chest, then juts out straight down, angled away from his body; the motion of the Knights’ salute. He calls out to you, “Halt! Welcome to Mondstadt, strange yet respectable wayfarer! Please state your identity and intended destination. The Knights of Favonius are here to ensure your safety."

You grimace slightly and shift awkwardly on your feet. “Yeah, uh, hello. I am (Y/N), and I was just headed for the Statue of the Seven over here. I’m, uh, I’m sightseeing I suppose.” The polearm in your hand hangs languidly in your grip, tip pointed towards the earth. You do your best to maintain eye contact, but you find yourself looking away every now and then because of the overall stilted encounter.

He nods and his eyes trail along your form, scrutinizing your state of dress. You cough lightly into your hand, and he straightens up, gaze returning to your eyes. “I see! I am Godwin, a Knight of Favonius. You are currently in the Windrise area of Mondstadt; if you take this path, heading northwest, you will reach the city, where you will be able to find food, lodging, and clothing, or uh, essential items for your travels. Just ask any knight stationed in the city, and they should be able to direct you to places of interest.”

You nod and force a smile. “Yes, thank you, Godwin. I’ll be sure to head there next. You, uh, you’ve been a great help. I’m gonna just get going; see you around, maybe, I think.” You trail off at the end and give him a small wave, stepping around him and heading towards the statue, moving straight through the grass to get there faster, not caring about the actual path. You can feel his gaze on you and you speed up your pace just a smidge to hurry away from him. In your peripheral, you can see what you think is a dendro slime bobbing around a seelie court, but you pay it no mind, as you don’t know if you’d be capable of fighting it. Your bare feet meet the trodden path again, and this time you follow it to the statue. Slowing your pace, you look upon the scenery in front of you with wonder. The wind gently blows past, dancing leaves around you, and light filters gracefully through the canopy of the majestic tree. The gold on the statue glimmers beautifully under the rays of sunlight that touch upon it. You sigh out in awe of the moment and, for a small moment in time, you find it hard to believe that you’re dreaming. Everything looks and feels so real: the cool stone underfoot, Vennessa’s tree, the breeze gracing your figure. Walking up the steps, you approach the statue, wondering if you’d gain the power of Anemo upon touching it. Taking a deep breath in, you gently reach out and place your hand upon the statue. The wind stills for a second, but, other than that, nothing magnificent happens. You suppose you feel more energized, but not at all more powerful. You sigh in disappointment and turn around, heading back in the direction of the city.

As you walk, your stomach lets out a loud growl, and you’re thankful that you swiped the Mora from that chest so that you can buy something to eat. You spot a sunsettia tree as you near the bridge and you smile at the prospect of food. Making your way over, you pick the lowest hanging one and bite into it, relishing the sweet taste. Chewing, your mind starts to drift as you think about everything you’ve felt and, now, tasted since waking up in what you first assumed was a dream. You decide to test if this really is a dream and bring your finger to the tip of your polearm. Holding your breath, you prick your finger and, in slight horror, realize that this is not a dream, due to the stinging pain.

#sagau #gender neutral #genshin fanfic #genshin x reader #my writing

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