#btw i too would love anyone who brought me breakfast | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

theknightmarket · 2 years ago

Note

This is like the most random concept to probably ever come to me so out of the blue, you don't have to do it if you don't want to, but also I feel like if anyone could make something interesting out of this it'd be you. (love your fics btw<3)

So like, Illinois, with his whole knock-off Indiana Jones bullshit, with an s/o who's similarly akin to James Bond...….yeah idk either, man- You can come up with whatever action movie plot, or maybe just some domestic fluff with comically abrupt fight scenes sprinkled in cus that's just how chaotic I imagine their life would be. It's entirely up to you. I am very tired rn.

“Berlin, 1996.”

In which Illinois and his partner – in more than one sense – relive their meeting.

TW: cursing, blood, drug use, general mature themes

Pages: 12 – Words: 5,000

[Requests: OPEN]

The distant sizzle of waffle batter on a pan was the first thing you recognised when you woke in your bed. The smell of coffee wafting from the same place was the second, and the third, while a strange sensation to anyone else, was comforting to you. Your dog lapping at your hand that dangled over the side of the bed had you shaking yourself from the fuzzy grip of sleep. It was going to be a long and laborious process considering the amount of work you’d had for the last week, but this was finally a day that you could spend doing whatever you wished – which, right now, looked a lot like following the sweet scent of breakfast into the kitchen.

Moriarty led the way, the beautiful puppy, although actually a six-year-old Belgian Malinois, whom you had adopted a few years back. He had never liked many of your friends, and you trusted his nose enough to follow his advice. Sure, it might have seemed weird to take social cues from a canine, but he hadn’t steered you wrong yet. Whether it was a Russian spy you’d accidentally offered coffee to, or the smuggler who moved in down the road, Moriarty told you when people were off, and that just happened to be most of those you came in contact with. You’d long since given up making connections when the tenth potential acquaintance had turned out to be the head of some mafia you’d never even heard of.

And then imagine your surprise when you finally brought home someone he liked.

And your further surprise when he stayed the night, and then the morning, and then a week, and then a month, a year, and so on, until you should have been asking him for rent. All the while, Moriarty hadn’t made a peep, leaving you to your devices with this new and, for lack of a better term, strange fellow.

“Morning, gorgeous!”

Speak of the devil and he may appear.

That ‘devil’, affectionate, of course, was none other than the infamous Illinois Jones. A man chased by many, found by few, and held onto by only the luckiest of the lot. You were one of these people, aware that you had him in the palm of your hand, and you thanked him routinely in the morning with a kiss on the cheek for staying.

The clock on the oven flashed a sharp 08:41, an unusual time for Illi to be awake at, but you weren’t complaining. Your job was stressful; you were sure that any doctor would tell you to quit immediately with how often your blood pressure spiked, so you treasured these couple of moments when you were given a break. Your partner had an on-and-off relationship with missions, the things he preferred to call adventures, but he had a likewise relationship with the agency itself. He had a habit of running off to foreign lands without permission, looking for trouble and finding it, too. You wouldn’t mind it, had it not been for your unfortunate love of the man that drew you after him, like a dog on a leash. In the meantime, a good rest was well deserved, now that you were back in the comfort of your own home after an unexpected visit to Guyana.

Plus, he looked damn good in boxers and an apron.

You lazily wrapped your arms around his waist, unintentionally distracting him from the food he was preparing, and muttered into his neck, “G’morning.”

“If you want breakfast, you’re gonna have to let me cook, babe,” he laughed, though that didn’t stop him from leaning back into you.

Your only response was a muffled groan. It wasn’t your fault that you were so touchy-feely today. Work took up most of the daylight, and upkeep stole the rest away. The only time you really got together was in the late hours of the night when twilight would draw a sheet of privacy over the two of you and leave you alone. The stars would dance together, fireflies entertained themselves and you could just be together. Forgive yourself if you wanted to savor the minutes.

Alas, you couldn’t stay at Illinois’ side forever. You’d have to come out of hiding eventually, and now was as good a time as any, so you drowsily shuffled towards the front door. The rusted latches groaned with a mere press of your hand, swinging open with an inching pace. Immediately, a gust of dry air trampled past your face, and the faint smell of dust had you sighing more than breathing. It was a classic Louisiana morning, something you haven’t experienced in a long time – not for a lack of breaks. No, although your recent schedule has been clogged, this quant place was a safe house paid for by the agency, meaning it wasn’t only yours to begin with. It was difficult to get used to using the same amenities that a stranger had just a few days ago, in a room that had a tagline of ‘safe’, but you got over it. It just meant that sanitizing every surface was the chore of the first day.

Illinois didn’t have those reservations; the second that he stepped out of the truck, he declared it home, and went on the search for a good cave. He only agreed to come over camping in the wilderness because of the free food. Or, at least, that’s what he said. There was a small part of you that was sure it was because he didn’t want to be alone, you having no chance to agree on tents – and there was a big part of him that knew you were right.

You laughed to yourself, pulling a porch chair into the orange sunlight. Being a safe house, it was surrounded by the thickest stretch of trees in the state and, even further, lakes and rivers that made it looked untouched by human hands. The second day had been spent exploring nature together. Illinois tugged you by your hand through bushes, over boulders, underneath a couple fallen trees, all the way to the perimeter of the land. From atop a small cliff, you could see the start of urbanization, but it was sheltered by a haze of smog and lights. The city stayed alight until well into midnight and beyond, like a dying campfire, only to be fed at the crack of dawn.

A similar flicker of a flame shot into the air in front of you.

The metal of your lighter was calming, the grooves of the ingrained letters basing you in the present. ‘Berlin, 1996’ was written in small italic near the lever, making it unlikely for you to ever resist the temptation of running your fingers over the markings. It made you smile and, from time to time, had the added benefit of you putting the lighter back in your pocket. This was not one of those times, but a grin did spread over your lips, nonetheless.

The flicker met the end of a cigarette, which you promptly pulled towards your mouth when it took the flame. Illinois didn’t like the fact that you smoked, he always said how he wanted to be fit in his 90s, but you weren’t cheering for him when he jumped 20 feet down for the fun of it either. The compromise you came to was that both of you would continue to indulge the devils on your shoulders and could laugh at the other’s funeral if they died first.

In all honesty, it was not a situation that you liked to be in. The constant, looming cloud of loss scared you more than any danger the agency put you in ever could. Nights spent waiting for Illinois to come home, the fear that time would go by, and the sun would rise and set again, and the door wouldn’t open… it was damn-near paralyzing. The only thing that kept you going, ironically enough, was that same man. At least, if you went on the same jobs that he did, you could keep an eye on him. You would know what kind of danger he was in, and you had the chance to stop it. The question was: would you be fast enough?

You took another drag of your cigarette.

“You shouldn’t smoke, y’know.” The porch crackled as Illinois stepped onto the wooden planks. “It’s not good for you.”

“I hadn’t noticed.”

A light-hearted chuckle brushed against your ear, accompanied by the click of his boots and humming of cicadas. The deep sound stopped when he swung another chair next to yours. As he came into view, you saw he had replaced his apron with a simple, loose shirt that fell from him like a woman who had fainted in distress. To catch Illinois in a shirt that actually fit him would be to kill the king – impossible and, according to him, a crime punishable by death.

“You know,” he spoke up, “you don’t look like the rumors.”

Your head unconsciously twisted to the side, so that you could see Illinois only slightly better. His own gaze was fixated in the distant spread of trees. Questions as to what he was starting at batted against you, but you settled on making a curious noise, instead.

“When we first met, I thought you’d lied to me. I’d heard all these stories about a suave, collected, expert of a heartbreaker, and then…”

“They were proved incorrect?”

He took in a steady breath. “No. They were proved, uh, very correct. Actually, after hearing about you, I kinda,” he coughed, as though that would transfer his thoughts directly to you and take away the need to say the words, “made some assumptions that were not as correct.”

Illinois prided himself on being right most of the time – and expressed himself as being right all of the time. However, this was one of the only things that he would admit he was wrong about, this being you. The image he had conjured of you was snide and snobby, only in it for themself and with the biggest case of holier-than-thou syndrome he’d ever thought of. Those stories of you driving fancy cars had pushed him into a corner, trapped by a cage of disgust and partial envy. Then, the rumors of how many people you had seduced worked their magic, followed by a notorious habit of smoking and drinking, which designated you, though he perished the thought now, a scumbag.

But when he’d actually met you…

“And I’m, uh, glad they weren’t.”

He swung an arm around your chair, drew rough fingers across your collarbone and directed your jaw into facing him. The light breeze shifted your hair like a lover’s touch, and the yellow sun decorated you like a bespoke artwork. Something he’d steal from a museum if he had to, but, no, he had you sitting right in front of him, with the quirk of an eyebrow and a small smile on your lips. He was lucky, he knew that, and he thanked his lucky stars every time he woke up next to you in sparkling mornings, every time your hands brushed when he pulled you up from a ledge, every time your eyes met from across a ballroom.

The first time that happened was still something he treasured more than any bespoke jewel or painting.

“Let’s get this business started.”

The night was young, the guests were pleasantly tipsy, and you were perched at one of the centre tables, next to three attractive models and the focus of your attention.

At this moment, you and your company were in the Berlin Operetta House, a classic establishment with smoke and liquor running through its veins. You had joined in – for lack of anything better to do while biding your time – and had been seated with these four the last two hours. The women you had no information on, except for what you had observed in the time given, most of which boiled down to being pretty faces for the big guy sitting across from you.

Earnest Whimson, dramatic irony demanding repentance of his parents as he was anything but earnest. He’d made his living on buying and selling anything he could get him tobacco-stained hands on, be it stolen goods, illegal drugs, or people themselves. It was a desolate trade, rotten but protected by the wallets of the people at the top. In those cases, there was only one person the authorities would routinely turn to.

You.

The authorities, the uncorrupted minorities, would plead with your agency for help, and you were the first person on the list. Call it luck or honed skill, you didn’t care. What you did care about was getting the job done in a quick and efficient manner. These places weren’t good to stay in for more than a day, lest you want to gain a certain reputation in all of the sectors. Thus, speed was top billing this night. That, and types like Whimson made it hard to keep your cover with the way he was talking.

Luckily for you, nine o’clock was rearing its head, the lights were dimming and only a few people were left still chatting over their expensive dining. All eyes were directed towards the stage with fervor, those who didn’t know what was happening watching in piqued interest and those who did waiting with bated breath for the real show to begin.

You did know what was happening, you were indeed waiting, but your breaths were slow and steady, like a smooth rock in a brook. The plan was simple; starting at nine, you’d watch Whimson, make friendly banter with him while he bid on whatever items caught his eye. When he inevitably would call out a ludicrous amount of money for a bejeweled crown or statue and the night comes to a close, you’d excuse yourself and make your way to where that thing was located, wait for Whimson, and kindly dispatch the man before anyone could catch wind of what happened. The money he had taken out the few hours before would go to any witnesses, and you’d get back home in time for a smoke and martini.

Simple.

Except your life had to be hard, didn’t it? You couldn’t just have a plan and stick to it, without something going wrong. Why? You didn’t know. If it had to do with karma or just bad luck, you didn’t know. A pity, really, when it would have made it so much easier to fix it if you did. It almost made you laugh, the thought of what a normal, easy mission was like.

And the things that went wrong never stayed the same. In one instance, you’d find your getaway driver with a bullet through his skull – in another, your target was informed of your mission and managed to get away – sometimes, it was just raining.

Right now, the thing that went wrong was something that had never happened before.

That thing being the infamous Illinois Jones.

Not even half an hour into the auction, and yet this man, adorned in an open, off-white shirt and multiple belts, was leaping onto the wooden slats. Your jaw would have been on the ground had it not been for the table, if not for his bravado, then for his stupidity. The artifact Whimson had bid on – go figure, a bejeweled crown – slotted nicely into his hand as he snatched it from its marble pedestal, shocking the woman presenting it into stumbling back. A wink was sent her way, she ran off, and Illinois turned to the audience.

You listened as he spoke. You sat quietly, pretending that you were shocked, when, in reality, you were seething. The boiling of your blood was louder than the whispering of the bidders, and you found yourself restraining the urge to run up there and slap him for ruining your mission. Questions preoccupied your mind while he lectured the guests about the importance of culture and integrity. Why him - why now?! He wasn’t even a part of the agency, he shouldn’t have known about this bid, and yet there he was, like a smug reaper coming to steal your soul into hell. Did he even know you were there? Did it matter to him?

You only noticed Illinois had stopped talking when he swiveled on the heel of his boot, presumably struck a pose, and then stalked off the stage. Everyone was in such a shock that they didn’t stop him, at least, not at first. After a few seconds had passed for people to gain their composures, that was the cue for havoc to befall the room. Illinois had single-handedly converted an organization of logical, fat cats into a daycare for screaming toddlers; suited men pushed themselves away from tables and darted down the hallways, bodyguards unequipped their guns and set about searching for the adventurer, while some of the wives, understandably, stayed to sip on white wine. You would very much join them if it weren’t for Whimson leaning over to his personal bouncer to whisper in his ear.

“Get the street rat.”

You sighed and took a final swig of your drink. Illinois was a menace, sure, but you weren’t willing to let him die for his ignorance. The agency may have applauded you as you returned, but you had maintained something of a moral compass during your work, so you liked to think you wouldn’t let him die like this. As you said, the man was infamous, and infamous people would not find their ends at the hands of a capitalist bastard’s lapdogs.

The clink of your glass against the wooden table did not draw Whimson’s attention, but, if it had, he might have been able to avoid the bullet that wedged itself into his skull. You had aimed for his temple, and you were a brilliant shot. The smoke of your pistol camouflaged itself into the ceiling’s belt of fog. Cigarettes, similar to the one you now pulled out from a pocket to light. This job was not only stressful, it was stress. No mission could be easy, no day could go according to plan, and no panicked mob of refined guests could leave the building in an orderly fashion. People swarmed to the exits at the sound of the gunshot, tripping over one another and abandoning their guests to, presumably, your slaughter.

You took a drag of your cigarette, pressed it between your lips, and gathered the suit jacket that had been on the back of your chair. Movements slow and deliberate, it was a wonder how the guard dogs Whimson had sent to Illinois hadn’t turned around yet to catch you. Good for you, but stupid on their part. Nevertheless, you were out of the manic tide of bidders before they could even realise their owner was slumped against the mahogany, brain matter splayed on his dress shirt.

The sound of clicking dress shoes amidst the cacophony of panic sent leftover guests into hiding, with the thought that anyone that calm in the sea of chaos was in control of the situation, and that anyone who wouldn’t do anything to stop it was not to be messed with. This gave you the perfect path towards your new target. Calling out Illinois’ name was unnecessary, given you could already hear distant shots echoing down the hallways.

And when you came to the end, asking where those gunshots were meant to hit was also unnecessary.

The wall behind Illinois was pepped with holes, like a coral beach, while Whimson’s bodyguards looked relatively unharmed. From your position, it looked like Illinois was doing everything he could to dodge the bullets, and nothing to actually fight back. Putting your cigarette out on a recently polished cabinet, you delved into the fray.

The first man down was yours, with an ornamental vase smashed against his skull, the kind of ones only used for grasping at when someone’s strangling you, but they still worked well to knock him out. Next down was his friend, who charged at you with intent to kill, but a shard of the broken porcelain stuck in his throat sent him to the ground. Blood trickled from the cut like a damaged water fountain, but none of the others paid him mind. Really, how would they ever survive without comradery?

You didn’t know, because they wouldn’t; Illinois, in tandem with your bloodier style, brought a table leg down onto another of the staff, the frail wood cracking the second it touched his head. The man whirled around with fury in his eyes, but those soon rolled back with the force of a punch to his face. You watched on, subtly impressed, though now was no time to ogle. Instead, you could do so after these people had been dispatched.

Strikes to the lower abdomens, blunt-force trauma to their foreheads, and what you hoped were lethal cracks of bone kept everyone wanting to live away from the corridor. You brought one dress shoe down on a woman’s fingers, sighed at the pitiful crunch that was muffled by her scream, and then stood up to assess the situation. One, two, three- four, two were on top of each other, and the one that Illinois was currently bashing against the wall. That made five at the scene.

Six, if you were to include the one that popped a bullet past your thigh. Lousy shot, they barely grazed the clothing, though it was a shame; that outfit had been one of your favorites.

Swiping a hand to your gun, you whirled around to see a particularly bulky bastard rounding the corner you’d come from. Illinois jumped to your side to look at the arrivals and took notice of your weapon in quick fashion. If only he had more trouble with brutalizing that last one, you might have hit the bullseye.

But a pressure on your wrist distracted you enough to miss. With your target swiveling to look at the newly cracked mirror and one end of the corridor swarmed by suited staff members, your night was only getting worse, and you lamented as such while Illinois dragged you down to the only available exit.

Your job required a lot of running – more than the average desk job did, at least – and that was why your legs were able to work on autopilot despite the adrenaline working through your veins that pressured you to be aware of every little thing that crossed your mind. The shattered glass from dropped plates, the swinging of doors as the last party members escaped, the texture of Illinois’ hand that had steadily moved to wrap around your own fingers. He was decorated with callouses and rough patches, war wounds sustained in the battlefield of caves and climbing. They told a story, one that you could have read had you enough time, but, for now, you had to be satisfied with knowing his present – told to you, not by his skin, but by you also experiencing it at his side.

That involved the darting through doors, ducking under pipes, skirting around the staff members who hadn’t gotten the memo. You didn’t even have the chance to ask where Illinois was bringing you, too focused on not slamming straight into a wall. The steady sounds of boots marching behind you, of which you counted six or seven, propelled you forward, like striking a match against a line of gas. You barely felt conscious throughout the run; the rattle of Illinois’ pickup truck went over your head, and the jingle of a bar’s bell hardly registered until you were seated in one of the old bar seats where you came to, a drink in your hand and Illinois staring right at you. Well, not just staring right at you, but also spilling every bad pick-up line in his book.

“I was wondering if you had an extra heart, because mine was just stolen.”

You had half a mind to put your martini down and walk out the door.

“I’m really glad I bought life insurance, because when I saw you, my heart stopped.”

Did he have life insurance?

“You must be a bank loan, because you’ve got my int—”

“Why do you even want that thing, anyway?” you interrupted, vaguely gesturing to the crown peeking out of his satchel with your non-drink hand.

“So, now you’re interested?” he chuckled, but only stopped long enough to order a whiskey before he commented, “The crown of Dos Partom, an old relic from the Mesopotamian era. No idea how it ended up in a bidding war, but, really, it belongs in a museum—” he shot a glance to the side, acting as though he hadn’t been watching you for the past ten minutes, “—that, and the company isn’t bad.”

So, he was the cocky type? You could’ve guessed that from the million stories about his personality, but it was a wonder to see it in action. Sure, you had a habit of using your charisma to get into places you shouldn’t have been, but this? What was he hoping to achieve? You’d already saved his ass from Whimson’s lackeys, and yet there he was, perched on the bar stool next to you, continuing his verbal assault of shoddy lines. Your eyes rolling and your annoyance growing, you twisted in your seat and removed a cigarette from your belt’s pocket. Normally, on mission days, you had five or six, a large step down from when you had days off, and yet this day was taking its toll on your stash.

“You shouldn’t smoke, y’know.”

And so, too, was Illinois taking his toll on your patience.

“It’s not good for you.” Regardless, you continued your strut to the backgarden of the bar. Lucky for you, despite the lateness, the weather had taken pity on you. A gentle breeze carved through the foliage and guided the smoke of your cigarette into the moonlit sky. The growl of cars and humming of lights brought you to lean against the white brick wall and take in the scenery. When you got a moment to yourself, appreciating where you were was the best you could do – because, who knows, you could be dead tomorrow.

You took another drag, and then placed it on your bottom lip as you retrieved your phone. It was just a burner that you took on missions, but it had all the essentials, including the number of your assigned agency representative. The handlers, you called them. You didn’t know the name of yours, but you trusted them with everything about yourself; where you were, who you were with, what you were doing down to the shift of a foot. Right now, you were entrusting them with the simple name of your mission and the promise of it having been finished at your normal quality.

“Berlin, 1996,” you muttered as you typed the letters.

“Keeping a diary there, sweetheart?”

Could you catch a break? Apparently not, you assumed, as the sight of Illinois wrapped around the corner. His hat was off, held in one hand, and both your drinks in the other. You met his eyes, he stared back, and then you removed your glass.

“Thank you.”

“No problem.”

“What do you want?”

Illinois pretended to be shocked, reeling back and pressing his hat to his chest. “Me? Want something? From you?” he gasped, a smirk overthrowing his lips only when you didn’t react. “Not at all.”

“Don’t play dumb, Jones,” you warned.

“I appreciate that you think I play dumb.”

That teasing smile, the glistening eyes, you had to look away before you did anything drastic. Whether that was punching him or kissing him, you didn’t know, but you knew that looked off into the well-trimmed hedges halted the urge. “I know you’re not just a pretty face, what do you want?”

“And I’m pretty?” Another chuckle. “You don’t need to say all that to get me interested.”

“Just—” you took a breath in, “—tell me what you want from me, and then we can part ways. Easy.”

“And what if I don’t want it to be easy?”

Someone inside the bar shouted that it was last call, but neither of you moved to grab your final drinks. Neither of you moved, at all. You stayed still, Illinois stayed still, and the only sound between you was the buzz of moths at the dangling light just a few inches away. Illinois was… he was something else, that was for sure. Either he was going to kill himself, or you were going to kill him yourself. No matter what, you wanted to be there for it.

Reaching out, you pulled a thumb along his jawline and took a sip of your martini out of the other hand. Illinois was too stunned to speak, leaving you the chance to remove your hand, snatch his hat and shove it onto his head in one, fast motion. He made some sort of sound, one that you didn’t catch as you waltzed back into the bar.

Illinois, standing in the porchlight, laughed to himself and followed you inside – and then, in another year, five months and two days, he’d be doing the exact same thing, except, this time, with a golden band around both of your fingers.

[As a Brit myself, and having seen neither James Bond nor Indiana Jones, this was a treat for me! Thank you for requesting! Also, as some of you may have noticed, I have currently closed my requests because exam season is coming up, but I should be back around the end of June. Thank you for sticking with me, and, again, thank you for requesting!]

#markiplier #illinois x reader #illinois #markiplier egos x reader #markiplier egos #fanficiton #theknightmarket #x reader #request #reader insert #oneshot #Indiana jones #James bond

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bandit-12 · 2 years ago

Text

WHA Epilouge

The next day, at breakfast So, your saying that if Mr Aizawa erased your quirk, Pino wouldn't disappear”Asui asked Rody as they sat with him Its true, she’s and Emitter like Dark Shadow, but since she’s has her own separate body, she won’t go away even when Im asleep”Rody explained All that would happen is that my abilities to feel Rody emotions would disappear and wouldn't be able to track him”Pino answered Well you still made huge difference in the end, you cute little World hero”Tokage said while tickling Pino Ashido soon came by the table Hey Rody, how you feeling this morning”Ashido asked Im good”Rody said blankly You wanna try my omelet, I made it myself”Ashido offered No, im good with my cereal”Rody said before taking a bite But its really good, Im sure you’d love it”Ashido persisted I don’t want it”Rody refused again, getting irritated Come one just one bi..”Ashido was cut off DAMN IT ASHIDO, HE SAID NO, SO JUST DROP IT, WILL YOU”Todoroki snapped, surprising everyone I was jus…”Ashido was cut off HE just wants to enjoy his breakfast, and here you are showing up with an omelet he doesn't want, just leave him alone”Todoroki demanded I was trying to do something nice, to make up”Ashido argued I think you’ve done enough since yesterday, go away before end up in jail”Todoroki yelled This broke Ashido’s heart, to hear someone she called friend lash out at her Fine, see If I help you out in the future”Ashido yelled as she dropped the Omelette and ran away crying All the students looked in shock (expect Bakugo who didn't care), then turned to Todoroki, not with Anger, but with confusion Shoto, why did you say that”Yaoyorozu asked confused Because she never listens, Rody said no multiple times, and yet she kept on persisting, I didn't want Rody to get mad and start another fight, so I decided to put an end to it myself”Todoroki explained By snapping at her and making her cry, that's a little harsh man”Kirishima claimed Although I do get Todoroki’s concerns, Ashido was the one who brought back the fight yesterday after Uraraka’s upburst, its only natural Todoroki be protective over Body after what happened”Tokoyami stated I get that, but he didn't have to be so harsh, Midoriya wouldn't have handled it like that”Ojiro argued He would’ve tried to ask Mina to stop in calm fashion”Hado claimed He wouldn't like what you did Todoroki, even If it was for Rody��Amajiki added That's why we're not gonna tell him”Todoroki said What”They others said confused He’s done so much for everyone so far, and has been dealing with lot of new adversities, between, the frame up, and his possible battle against Shigaraki, last night, was possibly a lot strainful, having Rody berated and almost killed, and Uraraka and other losing their licenses, so I'm not gonna create more stress for him”Todoroki explained It that why you keeping an eye on me today”Rody asked If Midoriya sees you in trouble, he’ll try to resolve it, creating more of a burden then he already has, so to make sure nothing else happens, I’ll make sure no one cause you any problems”Todorki explained I can understand what Todoroki is saying, I don’t want Midoriya to undergo anymore stress, he been through too much, and last night was last thing he needed, so let not bother him with this”Iida suggested I agree, we’ll resolve this ourselves”Yaoyorozu added with others agreeing Good, that's all i wanted”Todoroki said before eating his cereal But still, I think maybe you were a little harsh on Mina, I get your trying to look out for me, but it was just an omelet, don’t ruin your friendship for me or Deku’s sake, make up with her”Rody said It was a bti mean”Pino added Okay, your right, I should’nt have overreacted like that, Ill apologize to her later”Todoroki promised Don’t, she deserved it”Bakugo argued only to glared at Mind your own business”Jiro yelled Btw, where is Midoriya”Kirishima asked He went to see All Might about something important, but has anyone seen Uraraka anywhere”Iida asked She said she wanted to be alone today, she seemed really sad”Hado said Well id be sad too If I had to take on Rabbit Hero Mirko to my licence back”Utsushimi claimed I don’t think its that, I think She still feel guilty about, the you know what that happened last night”Togata said Im feel bad for them too, but she blew her chance to stop,and know they have to face the consequences”Amajiki said Yeah, but after she saw what happened to Rody,and when he almost died for, it adds to guilt of what she said and almost did to him”Iida said (Sigh) Why did i have to make that threat”Rody asked ashamed Rody, its not your fault, you were angry and they were not helping, sure it was wrong, but there are other ways we handle things without violence, Urarala knows that know,and she and the others must remember that when they face Mirko”Todoroki assured Well for their sake, they better get their heads out of the cloud and focus on what needs to be done, were gonna need their help with the upcoming battle”Yaoyorozu said Later in the hall What do you mean you don’t wanna hang out with me”Yoarashi asked Shindo and his classmates Like I said, I don’t wanna hang out with Bully like you, not after what you did to Rody last night”Shindo said annoyed But I apologized, and repented, isn't that enough”Yaorashi argued No, because it was even lower then when you gave up UA because Todoroki was Rude to you, or when you two started fighting and almost got me killed and yet Deku still saved me even though he didn't need to, you remember that”Shindo yelled

yeah”Yoarashi said sadly We were all enemies in the first round, yet he still saved me in the second, because he knew we need to work together and have each others back to stop Gang Orca and save the people, it was no different then what he did for Rody, even if he did get shot”Shindo recalled You should’ve been protecting Rody last night, not attacking him”Nakagame claimed Sheesh, it wasn't enough you had to wait 3 months to get certified, know you got get it back in a week because your immaturity”Makabe said I know, Shishikura feels the same way too, thats why he’s busy training right know, in order to beat Mirko”Yoarashi explained Then you do the same, otherwise, that Rabbits gonna kill you”Shindo said annoyed as they left You wanna live the life of hero, then learn to grow up”Nakagame added I messed up again”Yaorashi said sadly as he left In a Library Come on Shoji, Train with me, I need help if im gonna take on Mirko”Hagakure begged This is your mess, Mr Aizawa told us not to help you, so im sorry but your on your own”Shoji apologize while flipping through a Manga That not fair”Hagakure yelled Be Quiet, were in a Library”Intelli scolded If anything, you didn't have to attack Rody last night, you got yourself into this mess, so you’ll need to get yourself out, don’t always rely on other to clean up your mistake’s”Shoji said Oh, Why did I have to take revenge for”Hagakure thought sadly In the Gym Come one, I only see you doing 700 push ups, you need to do 1400 if you ever gonna catch Mirko, know go before i make you go it again”Tiger ordered as Kaminari, Sero, Mineta,Tetsutetsu,Monoma, and Pony were doing push ups My chest burns, please can’t we wait til we get back to UA”Monoma begged No, because we get back to Japan, you 6 plus the other 5, will be going straight to our campgrounds, thier you’ll spend a whole trying to cath the rabbits, remember whats at stake, you lose, everyone is let down, Know move it”Tiger yelled Thats the last time, I ever stand up for Midoriya”Mineta said in pain Jerk”Sero and Kaminari said annoyed Thats not what I meant”Mineta yelled Well this is the last time i ever threaten someone like Rody, god, now i know how Bakugo feels”Tetsutetsu cried out Some Vacation this turned out to be”Pony cried Less talking, more pushing”Tiger yelled On the Deck And then Todoroki got mad and said mean things”Ashido told Uraraka while wiping her tears Wow, I didn't Think Todoroki could be so harsh towards, then again, he was defending Rody so, what could you expect”Uraraka claimed I know, but i didn't do anything wrong, all I was trying to do is give him a nice breakfast, and then Todoroki snapped”Ashido explained That maybe true, however, try looking at it by Rody’s position, he was probably still feeling resentful by your actions, and the omelet, while a nice gesture was just not gonna make up for what you did”Best Jeanist said while fishing I guess, and he did refuse at first”Ashido explained And what did you do after that”Uraraka asked I kept trying to get him to take it, and he started to get irritated as refused I thinks the problem, despite being a nice gesture, you were being a little insensitive too, you didn't respect his denial, and you persistence was getting under his skin, Shoto sense the Tension, and came to Rody’s defence in order to prevent a worse case scenario”Jeanist claimed

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dendrograna · 3 years ago

Text

Respite Hereafter Pt. III

I've finally decided on a name for this series !! I'll update the other parts with the new title now hehe

Btw I plan on making this a pretty damn long series, focusing on each nation at a time. You arrived in Mondstadt, so the first chunk of the series takes place in Mondstadt. I'm gonna try to give each character at least a mention before going to the next nation so you don't end up travelling all over the place. Liyue and Inazuma will get some love soon tho <3

Pt. I

Pt. II

Pt. III

tw // panic attacks, past violence, trauma, paranoia, fire/burns, eye damage

Your acolytes were not the only ones who were horribly traumatized. You yourself had endured months of torture, living in abandoned camps, starving and freezing during the nights, being hunted down like an animal by the very ones you held dear. The disgusted, hate-filled looks they hurled at you seared into your memory, as well as into your dreams.

You regularly woke up from horrible nightmares screaming, and while your maids tried to help you, you very rarely let them get very close to you when you got like this. Paranoia often took hold of you during the nights, terrified they would try to hurt you again, that this had all been some sort of trick and they were just waiting to pull the rug out from under you. When morning came you always realized how silly it was, that your maids were so traumatized themselves they could never even think of hurting you, yet it never stopped you from doing the exact same thing the following night. The darkness brought out your most horrifying, albeit irrational, thoughts and fears.

Your maids were concerned for you, though. Your acolytes began to notice the dark circles under your eyes and the drowsy way you stumbled into things sometimes, but you always brushed them off. You were okay, and even if you weren't, telling them as much would only worry them.

Your maids did something that pleasantly surprised you after a few weeks of sleep deprivation, though. Three of them came to you while you ate your breakfast one morning, bowed in greeting, and timidly asked if they might suggest something to help you sleep.

"Perhaps having someone else you trust in the palace might help you sleep better," they said. "You've grown pretty close to a few of the Knights, Your Divinity. Would you like us to request that one of them spend a few nights here to help calm your anxiety?"

You yawned, considering the idea for a moment. "Like a slumber party," you said with a giggle. "I'd hate to put this on anyone else..."

"You need your rest, Your Grace!" one of them said suddenly before covering their mouth. "Ah... I apologize for my sudden outburst, please forgive me..."

You chuckled tiredly, smiling at them. That was a good sign, they'd started feeling more comfortable with you. "No, you're right. I think this is starting to affect my cognition. Plus, I don't think I have anything urgent that needs to be done today... You know what, slumber party it is. What abouttt... Kaeya, Albedo, and Amber?"

"Would you three please ask them for me? I don't think I'll be able to get all the way there and back with how exhausted I am," you said. They all bowed with a little "yes, Your Holiness," before they left you to finish your breakfast.

---

You spent the morning getting through a little bit of the day's work: signing your approval for new trade routes, working on some paperwork, and drafting the plans for a new festival you'd proposed to be sent to Jean. You still had a lot to do, but you decided it could wait until you were in a better state of mind.

Your guests arrived a little after six, meeting you in the foyer as all your guests did. They also kneeled and bowed in greeting as a lot of your guests did, too. You chuckled as you approached them, pulling them all up to their feet. "You guys don't have to do that anymore, remember?" you teased them, smiling. While it was true you'd gotten to know them each pretty well, this was the first time you were seeing them outside of their work with the Knights.

Albedo cleared his throat, handing you a rather large portfolio bag he had over his shoulder. "I believe it is customary for guests of the Divine One to bring them an offering, yes Your grace?" he said.

When you opened his portfolio bag, you found a delicately painted portrait of you inside, glancing over your shoulder with your hair ruffled in the wind and a bright smile on your face. The landscape of Mondstadt in the distance behind you was silhouetted against a brilliant rising sun. You covered your mouth as you admired the beautiful picture, gasping. "I've been working on it for quite some time, so I made sure to have it completed for you, Your Holiness."

Kaeya and Amber both nodded, offering you the gifts they'd brought. Kaeya, of course, brought some expensive dandelion wine, and Amber had a replica Baron Bunny for you.

"Don't worry, this one won't explode," she said with a big smile. "I thought maybe he could help you sleep a little better, Your Grace."

You couldn't help the smile that crept onto your face, or the tears stinging your eyes. You carefully sat their gifts down on a nearby table, pulling them all into a big hug. "Thank you guys, these are all so nice! I'll find somewhere to hang the painting and get a corkscrew for the wine. Why don't you meet me in the dining room? Our dinner should be done soon."

One of your maids assisted you in placing Albedo's painting in a frame and hanging it on the wall and another took Amber's plushie to your bedroom for you. When you met your guests in the dining room and took your seat at the end of the table, they greeted you with a small bow.

A maid brought out your food on a tray, placing each plate in front of you and your guests with one in the middle to split. "Northern smoked chicken with Liyue-style golden shrimp balls, Your Grace. Allow me to pour your wine for you," they said.

The rest of your night with your guests went by fairly smoothly. After you finished eating, you requested that they play a few card games with you and you taught them how to play a few they'd never heard of. You improvised a few games of Uno where the kings were draw fours, the queens were draw twos, the jacks were reverses, and the jokers were skips, and they picked it up surprisingly quick. Amber in particular really liked it.

After that you gave them a tour of your palace, starting with the ground floor and working your way up. The ground floor was all your guests usually ever saw: the dining room, kitchen, living room, bathrooms, an indoor pool, and a library. On the second floor was your personal space, such as your master bedroom, bath, walk-in closet, office, balcony, and a few guest bedrooms. The third floor was for the maids with lots of bedrooms and an extra room for laundry and cleaning supplies. Finally, on the fourth floor was your throne room. Should anyone have requested to meet with your impostor, this was where they would meet them. You, however, rarely used it anymore.

They were in awe of just how huge the place was. Your impostor had been incredibly demanding, insisting on the most luxurious palace Teyvat could offer them. You decided to sit with them on the balcony on the second floor for a while to watch the sun set over Liyue's mountains in the distance, thanking them each for coming.

"It's an honor, Your Divinity," Amber said with a smile. "I just hope our company can help you get some rest tonight." Albedo and Kaeya voiced their agreement.

You yawned, leaning against the railing for a second. "This world is beautiful," you said, closing your eyes to relish in the calmness of the moment. "So many beautiful places and beautiful people."

Your words seemed to comfort the three a little bit. Your impostor would never have said something like that. They'd described Teyvat as a world full of disgusting animals, waiting to be put out of its misery. They regularly contemplated genocide, whether the people of Teyvat were deserving enough to walk the same planet they did. The impostor received so many offerings in large part because the people of Teyvat were terrified of what they might do if the gifts and worship ever stopped.

“It’s getting pretty late, Your Mercy,” Kaeya said, "would you like to head to bed soon?"

You stretched your arms above your head and yawned before nodding. "Yeah, I think so. You guys can take any of the extra bedrooms on this floor. I'm gonna turn in for the night."

After you said your goodnights to your guests, you headed to your luxurious bedroom. Pushed against one wall was your bed, translucent silk curtains framing the sides with an intricate gold-plated headboard. Floor-to-ceiling windows framed by thick gold curtains lined the side wall, and doors to your bathroom and walk-in closet laid opposite the windows. In the bathroom, a huge circular tub sat against some tall bay windows and some folding screens sat beside it. You made your way into your closet and picked out your pajamas made of silk, got changed, and finally crashed in your bed.

---

Fire. All you could see around you was fire.

Your feet ached and your lungs burned, partly from smoke inhalation and partly from screaming. Your once-beautiful luxurious palace was burning around you from every angle, the windows and doors boarded up. You were on the fourth floor, desperate to escape the fire now creeping up the stairs, staring out the large windows.

The ones you'd trusted the most stood around it, cheering as it burned with you still inside it. And there your impostor stood, a smug, satisfied look on their face. You couldn't recognize very much of what they were saying, but the words "blasphemy," "fake," and "sacrilege" reached your ears intact.

Your breathing quickened and your fists pounded against the stained glass windows, the sound of your own screams drowned out by the crackling fire that was coming closer and closer to you. Your stomach turned and it seemed like every fiber in your body was aching. It was all a trick. A cruel trick designed to make you suffer the most.

The last thing you saw was your impostor's sadistic, twisted grin before the smoke on the windows made it impossible to see out.

You screamed for help- for someone, anyone, to save you. Tears streamed down your face and you squeezed your eyes shut, flames licking your ankles as you pressed yourself closer into the corner. Your lungs burned, as did your legs, and each breath in felt like the fire itself had invaded your body. You screamed with all the air left in your lungs, praying that someone who cared might hear you. You heard the floor creak loudly, a quickly repeated knocking sound, and you knew this was it. If the flames and the smoke didn't kill you, the fall you were about to take would.

You were awoken by your own screaming, as well as the sound of a frantic knock at the door. You huddled into yourself on your bed, pressing your legs to your chest and sobbing. You were frustrated, upset, scared. Why did this have to keep happening to you?! The horrible things your own mind conjured up were far, far worse than anything you'd ever experienced.

Your head snapped up when the door swung open, your vision blurred by tears. "Your Holiness, are you alright?" a soothing voice said. You frantically shook your head, trying to back away from them. "No! No, no get away from me," you sobbed. The person obeyed, taking a small step backward. "I'm here to help you, Your Mercy, remember? What can I do for you?" they asked, their honey-like voice easing your paranoia just a bit. As the tears rolled down your face, your vision cleared slightly and you were able to process who you were talking to. Kaeya.

You took a deep, shaky breath, closing your eyes for a moment. It felt like your heart was being crushed, and you were gasping for air. You'd experienced this before, but never to this degree. "W-Water," you choked out. You didn't think you could manage by yourself though, so you quickly added, "the maids, have them get water. Stay, please."

He obeyed, peeking out the room and relaying the request to one of the maids running up the hall. He dragged a chair up next to your bed, sitting beside you. "What else can I do, Your Holiness? Is it okay if I touch you?" he asked, and you nodded. He grabbed your hands, his cool touch soothing you a little bit.

One of the maids came running with a glass of water, helping you take a drink. Kaeya assisted you in a few breathing exercises and techniques he'd learned over the years. When your breathing had finally evened out and the death grip on your heart finally released, you took a deep breath and pulled him into a tight hug.

"Thank you, Kaeya..." you said quietly. You glanced up and noticed everyone else was there too. "You all can go back to sleep. I'm sorry for waking you up like this," you said with a shy smile. They all offered you their own version of "it's okay, goodnight," before turning to the door and leaving. Kaeya stood up to leave too, but you grabbed his hand.

"Wait. What if... What if I have another one?" you said. His expression turned to one of pity and sadness, sitting back down in the seat. "Would you like me to sit with you for a while longer?" he offered.

"Sleep here," you said, pushing to the opposite side of the bed and pulling the blankets back. "If... You'd be comfortable with that, I mean."

His face flushed a darker shade. "Your Divinity... I could never," he gasped, averting his gaze. "To lay in the same bed with you would be... Sacrilegious, would it not?"

"Pleaseeee? Wouldn't it be even more sacrilegious to say no?" you said teasingly. "If you don't wanna sleep here I won't force you, but... I don't think it's sacrilegious at all."

Kaeya considered it for a moment before he sighed, pulling the blankets up and laying beside you. "If you insist, Your Holiness."

You grinned and hugged him tight, giggling. "Yay! Thank you, Kaeya," you said. He chuckled, and then it was silent in your room.

After a moment of silence, you spoke up. "Kaeya?" he hummed. "...Venti told me what happened. To your eye. I'm... so sorry. I just wanted to tell you that... I'm here for you if you ever wanna talk about it or need someone to listen," you said quietly.

Kaeya looked away. "Thank you, Your Grace," he said, barely above a whisper. You rested a hand against Kaeya's right cheek just below his eyepatch and he closed his eye, leaning into the affection. You leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss against his good eye.

A part of you wanted to be angry. A part of you wanted to rage and scream and be upset for what they did to him. Yet all being angry had managed to achieve so far was scaring your Venti. They were already dead, and being angry now would achieve nothing. You pulled him a bit closer to you, resting your chin on his shoulder. All you could do now was be there for him.

"Would you mind?" he asked, "If I wanted to talk about it, Your Holiness?" You nodded.

"...I was sent here to meet with them on behalf of the Knights. We'd been having problems with the Fatui and they sent me to urge Their Grace-" he cleared his throat, "I apologize. They sent me to urge the impostor to keep the Fatui out of Mondstadt's business."

"I looked up at them on your throne and we made eye contact. Immediately, they... they drew their sword and swung it at my face," he said quietly. "They said they were being merciful, that I deserved a far worse punishment for involving them in such trivial matters. The next time they saw me... they said I looked nice with an eyepatch."

Your stomach turned as he told you the story and you pulled him into a hug. "Oh Kaeya..." you said quietly. "I'm so sorry... I wish that... I could've stopped this sooner." It wasn't until now you noticed the deep scar running up his right cheek under his eyepatch. You traced the mark with a light touch. "You didn't deserve this at all, Kaeya. They were cruel and sadistic, and now you don't have to worry about them anymore. If I could take all of this away from you, I'd do it in a heartbeat," you said in his ear.

"You're far too kind, Your Divinity," he said, tears clinging to his eyelashes. "And far too forgiving. Have I not drawn my sword on you as well?" he whispered, remembering that he himself had tried to execute you under the impostor's orders. "Why are you... Allowing me this close to you?"

"Because I trust you," you said, running your fingers through his blue hair. "You'd been following that monster's orders your whole life, and you would've been killed yourself if you tried to protest. I'm just happy everything worked out the way it did, because that meant that nobody else got hurt. Please don't feel guilty, Kaeya, what happened to us is nobody's fault but that impostor's."

He smiled slightly, nuzzling closer to you. "Thank you, Your Grace," he said.

"Sweet dreams, Kaeya," you said, pressing one final kiss against his cheek. You had a feeling you weren't going to be having any more nightmares tonight.

"Goodnight, Your Grace."

---

@tanspostsblog @laurafaye13-blog @karmawonders @samsmidnightthonks @uchihaeirin

#sagau #genshin self aware #genshin cult au #impostor au #genshin impostor au #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #self aware genshin

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enchantestuff · 3 years ago

Text

promises - red bull Sebastian vettel

as I promised just complete fluff and no smut. our poor seb isn't appreciated enough so here is the four times Sebastian jokingly proposed to you and the one time he actually did

NOT MY GIF

warnings; none really, fluff (btw this made me realise how TERRIBLE I am at writing fluff sorry <3 )

2.1k words, she's long

Sebastian was nervous about getting a new engineer, he so badly wanted to win a championship with Redbull and Christian had confided in him, telling him that this engineer and their new competitive car, would help him live out his dream of being a Formula One champion.

It was nearing the start of the new season and Sebastian had still yet to meet the person that he would be talking to under his most stressful moments and who he had to have full faith in while driving his car. He had begun to think that maybe he never would meet his new engineer when he received a call from Christian, telling him that they both would take place in a race for the Redbull youtube channel, where Sebastain and his new engineer would race against Mark and his, the twist being that the engineers would be the ones driving, not the drivers themselves. Sebastian agreed knowing that it would be a great way to remove any awkwardness between the two of you.

Only a few days later Sebastian was standing on a random racetrack, talking to Mark when he noticed Mark's engineer walking towards them with a beautiful young lady by his side, who Sebastian assumed was his very own engineer. “Hi! It's so nice to meet you Sebastian! My name's Y/N,” you cheerfully greeted him as you shook his hand.

A smile immediately appeared on Sebastian's face at your warm nature and he knew you two would get along just fine. “Please, call me Seb, '' he grinned as he brought a kiss to your knuckles, “now, are you ready to beat these idiots” he joked as he cocked his head towards your opponents.

“Oh, we are going to make a great pair, Seb” you joked as you accepted a helmet off Christian and climbed into the car, getting comfortable inside of the driver's seat.

“Are you a good driver?” Sebastian asked as he secured himself in the passenger's side of the car.

“I don't think I can call myself a good driver with a future Formula One champion sitting right next to me” you smiled as you drove the car to the start line. Sebastian smiled before he braced himself as the flag spun, indicating the start of the race. His head knocked against the headrest as you sped through the track, blocking Mark's engineer as he tried to overtake you and weaving through deadly corners with minimal braking.

It was when the car drifted across the finish line that Seb turned towards you with a wide grin plastered on his face, his heart was thumping hard in his chest with adrenaline. “Please marry me” he joked and you laughed as you high fived him, pleased with your small victory.

* * *

The atmosphere around the paddock was tense, the drivers championship standings were close. Sebastian could almost taste the victory, but he still had a lot of work to do. He had what he would consider a terrible qualifying and had spent the whole night before the race brainstorming ideas on how to improve his time, however nothing seemed to be working.

Everyone was stressed in the Redbull motorhome the following day, which was never something you liked to see, but you understood it as you too had a sleepless night. You pulled Seb to the side the minute you saw him and told him of the new strategy you dreamt up late last night. He was hesitant since it hadn’t been approved by anyone, but he was willing to take the risk if it meant he would win.

“Are you sure?” he had asked you, looking intently into your eyes.

You shook your head. “No not really, but I know you and I know you're the only driver that could make it work” you confided. You both stared at each other in silence for a few moments before Seb pulled you in for a hug, he gently stroked your back as he squeezed you into him. You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding and hugged him back with just as much force.

“I trust you” he whispered into your ear and you felt a shiver run down your spine.

“Good luck” you spoke as you gave him a final squeeze and pulled away. You bit your nails out of anticipation and shot Seb an encouraging grin as he climbed into his car.

The race went much better than expected and although Christian was furious that you didn't run the plan through him first, he was satisfied that Seb was currently P1 with a final lap to go. Your nerves were at an all time high throughout the race and you could feel the grin creeping onto your face as the end got closer and closer.

It was when Sebastian crossed the checkered flag that you let out a relieved laugh. “P1 Seb! P1! '' you grinned as you spoke to him through his earpiece.

“Ahhhh thank you, Y/N! Will you and your strategy marry me please?” he laughed

“Congratulations,” you smiled “I’ll see you up on the podium”

You practically ran to the podium with the rest of the team, grinning up at Sebastian as he lifted the trophy into the air and you could almost swear he was grinning right back at you. You clapped and hollered at him and a blush crept up your cheeks when you saw him mouth a “Thank you” in your direction.

* * *

It was inevitable that you and Seb would become close, but you two had a very different relationship compared to the other drivers and their engineers. While the other pairs spent their time going over the car's performance and new strategies, you spent yours pressed up against the wall of your office while Sebastian kissed you with as much force as he could muster. Your most heated and intimate moments were just after a race when he was full of energy and you were full of pride.

Behind closed doors you and Sebastian could almost be compared to lovers, but out in the public eye you two kept things strictly professional, which is why you were full of shock the night that Sebastain had won his title.

The whole Redbull garage and the majority of the drivers went out to celebrate Sebastian as well as an amazing season. You had congratulated him at the start of the night, you shared a quick kiss when you were sure nobody was looking and he had bought you a drink. You hadn't seen him since, however and spent the last few hours talking to random drivers and team principals.

You almost jumped out of your skin when you felt two hands land firmly on your waist. You turned your head to see a tipsy Sebastian Vettel smiling at you with a mischievous glimmer in his eyes. “And there's the main man himself,” you giggled as you turned around to face him.

“I missed you,” he blurted out as his hands travelled dangerously low for a public event.

“Did you?” you asked “you're the one that disappeared for an hour” you continued as you tapped his chest.

“Kimi wanted to take shots,” he grinned as one hand moved to cup your bum.

“Sebastian!” you scolded as you swatted his hand away.

“What? It's not like i've never done that before”

“Well yeah, but-but not in public’ you whispered as you looked around, wondering if anyone had noticed the exchange between the two of you.

“I want you,” Sebastian declared, suddenly looking much more sober as he stared into your eyes.

“Let's take this conversation outside” replied as you took a step away from him. Sebastian sighed as he took your hand and led you out the doors, he didn’t care who saw as you both walked by, he didn’t care about anything anymore, he was sick of hiding his feelings for you from everyone. He wanted people to know you were his, he wanted to hold your hand in the paddocks and kiss you for good luck before a race.

Sebastain could feel his heart hammering in his chest as you paced back and forth in front of him, your hands rubbing your arms for warmth. He took a step towards you and grabbed your face with his hands. “Look at me. I want to make us official” you opened your mouth to speak but he cut you off “No listen to me. I need to say this. i don't want to sneakily glance at you during meetings anymore. I want to marry you one day. God! I want to marry you, Y/N! Is that not obvious?”

“Ok” you spoke, a blush rose to your cheeks and you cheekily grinned at him.

‘What?” Sebastian stuttered

“Let's make it official”.

* * *

You and Sebastian had been publicly dating for a little over a year and you were beyond happy. It was currently his birthday and you woke up early to make him breakfast. You both had celebrated the night before and you had to admit you were still sore but you wanted his day to be as special as him.

Sebastian tossed and turned in his sleep, frowning as he felt the cold sheets next to him instead of your warm body. His eyes fluttered open as his eyebrows furrowed. A smile soon made its way onto his face as he smelt the heavenly scent of breakfast. He turned to stand up but immediately sat back down at the sound of your voice. “No! Dont get up!” you pleaded and he laughed at the sight of you struggling to hold the breakfast tray in your hands.

“You shouldn't have, liebe” he muttered as he helped you place the breakfast tray on the bed.

“Maybe” you shrugged as you sat down next to him, “but I wanted to, now go on! Try it!” you encouraged as you practically shoved the plate into his face.

“Okay, okay” he laughed as he defensively put his hands up. You watched him as he put a fork full of food into his mouth, his eyes involuntarily shut as a quiet moan left his mouth. “Mmm marry me” he said once he swallowed the food.

“Is it okay?” you asked nervously as you played with your hands, it was your first time cooking for him and although it was just breakfast, you still wanted to make a good impression.

Sebastians head flipped in your direction, a shocked look plastered on his face. “It's better than okay, darling. Thank you. I love it. I love you”

Your heart fluttered once you heard those three words come out of his mouth. You grinned so hard that your cheeks began to hurt. “Oh god, please say something” he pleaded and he began to think that he spoke those words too soon.

“I love you, Sebastian” you spoke as you wrapped your arms around him and straddled his hips, placing kisses all over his face before finally collecting your lips.

* * *

It was yours and Sebastains anniversary but you both had decided that you wouldn't do anything special, you were just going to get takeout and watch a movie.

You pulled into the house with the food in your hands. You unlocked the door and called out to your boyfriend, “Honey, I’m home!” you joked, locking the doors behind you kicking your shoes off. You placed the food on the table next to the door and turned around, the sight in front of you shocking you as you let out a loud gasp.

Sebastian was kneeling on the floor with a ring in his hand, rose petals littered around him. You couldn't focus on the gorgeous dinner he had laid out on the table or the sweet music playing on the radio, you could only look at his glossy eyes and nervous face.

“Y/N, darling, I love you. I think i've loved you since I first laid eyes on you on that racetrack.” he laughed and looked down at the floor before connecting his eyes with yours again,”You have been with me through my lowest lows and my highest highs and somehow still manage to look at me with a glimmer in your eyes. There's nothing I can’t do with you by my side. So i’m asking-no-i'm practically begging you to finally marry me, for real this time. Will you do me the honours and become my wife?”

You nodded at him with tears in your eyes as you took small steps towards him. “I want to hear you say it, liebe”

“Yes, Sebastian! Of course I’ll marry you”

#Sebastian Vettel imagine #f1 imagine #formula 1 imagine #Sebastian vettel #f1 #Sebastian Vettel imagines #formula 1 x reader

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pixla · 3 years ago

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Love letter

Tommy Slater x nb!reader

Summary: you find an anonymous love letter and assume it’s from Kurt

Word count: 1.4K

Warnings: confession, fluff, kissing, (light) drug use, very undedited (tell me if there’s anymore)

(Btw cindy and Tommy are not and have not dated in this au)

You look down at the cream envelope in your hands. You had found it tucked under your pillow after returning from the mess hall for dinner.

You smile giddily to yourself, tearing open the seal of the envelope carefully. Your mind flutters with the image of a familiar face as you read the words that were written about you.

Alice walked over to your bunk leaning over the piece of paper you held on your hands. She scoffed, sitting beside you, causing the bed to creak. “Is that a fucking love letter?! Who the fuck still writes love letters over the age of Twelve?!”

“Hey!” You ellbow her in the side to shut her up. “I actually find it quite sweet.”

“Shut up and read it all ready! I wanna know what this little stalker you have has to say about you.” Alice whined.

You began.

“I don’t really know how to start this letter but I really need to get this off my chest. Y/N, you are so fucking perfect. I remember the first time you introduced yourself to me. I think about the way you looked at me that day. The way your-“

“blah blah blah.” Alice interrupted. “This is surprisingly really fucking boring, just get to the good shit!”

You groaned. “If you feel the same way, you’ll know who this is from.”

“Ooooooo.” Alice whistled. “Wellllll, who do you think it is?!”

You stared at her with a particular look that set off a switch in her brain as it finally clicked. “KURT?! Shit! I mean it makes sense..”

“There’s nobody else it could be, right? I always catch him staring and he’ll take any opportunity to talk to me so I guess it has to be him.” You hypothesise.

“Well, what are you gonna do about it, you gonna try and get in his pants?” Alice half jokes, raising her eyebrow at you.

“I don’t know, I always thought he was kind of a dick but this letter, this letter is different.”

“Welp, whatever you think.” Alice said, shrugging her shoulders, not judging you at all.

—

You awoke to the feeling of someone’s hand on your shoulder, shaking you. You jump slightly only to realise it was Alice, of course it was Alice. “Wake up sleepy head, you’re gonna miss the most important meal of the day!” She said sarcastically.

Pulling your body from the bed, you sat there arching your back, cracking it as you yawned. “Fuck I feel like slept for the entire summer.”

“You practically did, I thought you were dead it was so hard to wake you up.”

You both chuckle as you quickly slip into a pair denim shorts, paring it with the white tank you were already wearing.

“Sooo.” Alice began as you both walked in the direction of the mess haul. “About this ‘Kurt’ guy.”

You sighed, rubbing your temples as you had completely forgotten about the whole secret admirer situation. “Idk, I guess I’ll just confront him?”

“What no way,” she snickered, “you’ve gotta be subtle. Flirt! Play with your hair like in the movies even!”

Walking into the haul, Arnie immediately walks up to the both of you, swinging his arm around Alice. “Soo, Y/N I’ve heard about this mystery lover boy of yours hmmm..”

You roll your eyes at Alice who’s wearing a guilty grin over the fact that she’s basically already told half of the camp.

“Y’know, I think it might be Gary.” Arnie says with zero sarcasm.

After grabbing breakfast, you follow Alice and Arnie over to a table situated on the right, in the back of the haul where Cindy Berman, Tommy Slater, Joan and Gary sit.

You sit yourself down next to Tommy smiling at him before dropping your food tray on the table next to his. He looks at you, “so um, Y/N, any uh le- I mean-“ He stumbles over his words slightly running his fingers through his hair.

You look over at Alice immediately. “Really, him too?”

She raises her hands. “Uh! No actually!”

You look at Tommy confused, about to question him before Arnie raises his hand in defeat. “No, um that was me actually.” You sigh, somehow not surprised. Everyone laughs including Joan despite her probably being too high to even know what was going on.

—

You sat on the edge of your bed contemplating to yourself. “Okay, fuck it! Tonight I’m gonna make my move on kurt.

“Got fucking finally.” Alice groans, jumping onto her bed, sighing.

“You know tonight at the bonfire, I’m just gonna go over to him and just tell him how I feel!” You say standing up in revelation.

“Well better get yourself all dolled up and pretty for little old kurt, the suns already starting to fall.” Alice smirks.

—

Strutting from your cabin, you feel like a whole new person, confident and ready to finally confront your feelings.

You look around as you near the bonfire, looking for kurt. You spot him in a large group of people, typical for someone as popular as him.

You walk in Kurt’s direction, looking at him as he laughs and jokes with his circle of friends as he takes sips from the coke can he’s holding. “Hey kurt.” He turns to you. “Oh hey Y/N…um what you up to?” He laughs awkwardly. You brush a loose strand of hair from your face. “So I got your letter… I thought what you wrote was super, like super sweet and I think I feel the same way.”

He laughs confused looking back at his friends, signalling to them that he’ll only be a second. “yeah I don’t know about any letter.” Your face drops as he looks at you as though you're insane. “But like if you're looking to y’know I could probably free up my schedule I don’t know, um maybe tomorrow?”

Your face drops. “Yeah…nevermind...” You U turn in the opposite direction as Kurt shrugs your strange behaviour off, redirecting his attention back to his friends.

You walk back to Alice and your group of friends with fear shining bright in your eyes. You grap Alice’s shoulder pulling her out of her conversation with Arnie and Joan.

“Yo what’s wrong?!” She questions as you pull her away. “Wrong. Fucking. Guy.”

“Wait so it’s not Kurt? Then who the fuck is it?” She asks just as confused as you.

You ponder for a second and then it hits you. Tommy. Fucking. Slater. “Where’s Tommy?” You ask Alice hastily, grabbing her shoulder again.

“Um I don’t know, he said he was going to the outhouse, why do you need to know anyways?!” Alice stood there stunned as you ran off before you answer any of her questions.

How could you possibly be so stupid. It was always him. It was so obvious. Out of anyone it was always him who would come to your aid, to help you when you got stuck with cleaning the mess haul or outhouse. Or when you seemed down, he would always be the first after Alice to ask what was wrong.

Running as fast as you could, you prayed that he’d forgive you. Your mind was occupied when you failed to notice a pothole that hooked your foot causing you to tumble to the ground. “Fuck!” You look down at your now muddied hands.

“Hey are you okay?” You look up.

“Tommy?”

He smiles, holding a hand out to you, helping lift your weight. “I’m so, so sorry Tommy. I should’ve known it was you but I was too stupid to realise.” You begged, praying he wouldn’t hate you.

“Hey, hey don’t say that about yourself. This was all my fault, I shouldn’t of left you that cryptic note like I pussy, I should’ve just told you.” He looked at you. “I hope you can forgive me.”

You reached your hand up, grabbing the collar of his shirt, pulling him in. Breaking the distance, you brought your lips together in a kiss. “I really like you Tommy.” You say softly between kisses. He snakes his arm around you waist pulling you in closer, “you are so perfect.”

#tommy slater x reader #tommy slater #fear street 1666 #fear street 1978 #fear street 1994 #fear street #fear street x reader #simon kalivoda x reader #simon kalivoda

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pistachoz · 4 years ago

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Hi! can I have a The Man Who Fell to Earth Headcannon , and your just best friends with him and you teach him about birthdays?

Btw I love your blogs aesthetic!!!

A/N: aaaah sorry for taking so long in answering! this was going to be a short headcanon but i got a bit carried away hehe. Also, thank you sm 🥺 🥺 It took me a while to make it all matching and aesthetic. Anyway, i hope you like it!

BEING THOMAS JEROME BEST FRIEND AND TEACHING HIM ABOUT BIRTHDAYS

You met Thomas while working as a maid in the first hotel he stayed in when he arrived on earth.

The first time you saw him, with his black sunglasses and sharp black suit all you could think of was that he was as lost as a fish out of the sea because how the fuck did someone like him ended up in a hellhole like this?? The hotel didn’t even give you spare soaps! The man looked like he could afford a whole ass hotel floor but well you weren’t one to judge because of appearances.

So, you were the first to go straight to him and help him with his bags (even if he insisted he didn’t need help, you were paid to do that anyway). You tried to break the ice through the whole journey but he would simply stare deadpan so you took it as a “shut-up-im-tired-please”, however, when you stopped talking, he said he liked the random-weird facts you sputter about. So, you got to the conclusion that he was simply dry as fuck.

The first days knowing him was… well, something else. He wouldn’t crack a smile for any of your jokes (and you considered yourself hilarious, welp there goes your dream of being a stand-up comedian) and was always immersed in his world but something about him made you keep coming back to his room and spending at least 5 minutes with him. You felt as if there was just something he was hiding and curiosity always got the best of you so you set your mind to figuring what was it.

It took him a while to open up, but when he came clean about his provenance and why he had come to earth, you swore to yourself you would do anything in your power to help him out. This man -well, alien- was just looking for a way to save his planet. It also warmed your heart that he trusted you enough to tell you that.

“You are the only person I trust here”

“Are you serious? Aww, stop it E.T. you are making me blush!”

”E— Who?”

“Oh boy, you really gonna need some classes in pop culture”

After you knew, this was what was bothering him, things got so much easier in your friendship, now you knew you were actually funny and the problem was him!

He said he knew about your planet and the most relevant things about it because of T.V. FUCKING T.V. So, you made it your personal goal to teach him all you could teach about earth's popular traditions and must-do’s (man had never eaten cotton candy before!!11¿!).

Trying to teach him about the daily, normal things humans do like running errands or going sightseeing for the simple reason of watching a pretty landscape made him so confused, and for you, it was like taking care of a 5-year-old.

He would ask about everything and when I say everything I MEAN IT. That man had no boundaries when it came to satisfying his curiosity; he would pick up everything that appeared interesting or intriguing, no matter where you were which sometimes was a pain in the ass because he really needed to stop grabbing things randomly from stores, you are banned from at least 4 near your house because of a 'steal attempt'.

"What's this?"

"Don't touch it! It's a tampon, where do you even find it? Stop grabbing things from the street!"

Yeah, sometimes it was like watching a kid trying not to get himself killed.

One day you were laying on the couch, teaching him the wonders of Jimi Hendrix when something you hadn't thought before crossed your mind.

"I never asked but when is your birthday?"

"My what?"

"Your birthday, it’s, well- when you celebrate the anniversary of the day you were born, people usually make parties or they treat it as an occasion for being self-indulgent. It’s a big thing here on earth."

"I don't think anyone on my planet has ever done anything remotely like that."

"Really? No birthdays? Well, you are here so we have to do something, with balloons and gifts. You know, compensating the ones you haven’t celebrated."

You decide to not make something too big because you didn’t want to overwhelm him. So, you plan to make a picnic and then spend the day sightseeing. At night you were going to make a small gathering with a couple of your closest friends, you knew a party wasn’t really his scene but you thought presenting him people you really cared about would acclimate him more on earth.

When you asked him when was the day he was born, he answered that the date could not be calculated in the human calendar bc a ‘year’ represented a different amount of time than 365 days; so you stated the day he came to earth as his official birthday.

When the day came you were excited as a child with a lollipop, he just followed you around and marveled at what you showed him.

For the picnic, you made him pancakes which you had realized was one of his favorite earth meals (he literally make it his 24/7 meal after the first time he tried it, he didn’t eat anything else in a week 😭). Then, you went sightseeing the places you noticed he had liked more.

You hadn’t told him about the plans for the night because you had wanted it to be a surprise, so when you told him that it was time to go back home (yes, you were roomies), he didn’t have a clue ab what was going to happen. When you entered your place, the whole living room was decorated with balloons and the whole atmosphere looked v aesthetically pleasant (your friends helped you decorate while you were gone), on the table was the birthday cake you had prepared for him in the morning with frost saying “HAPPY BIRTHDAY SPACEMAN XXXX YEARS” (bc u weren’t sure how old he actually was and by the floor a couple of presents.

He was shocked. He had never celebrated anything like this before, the “holidays” he had on his planet were more formal and not personal and intimate like this. He had a hard time trying to figure his emotions but overall felt so content of having met a human like you.

“What are you waiting for, cut the cake alien boy”

And then you proceeded to smash your part of the cake into his face.

“What? It’s tradition” And then he went and did the same, and for the first time you saw him smile for more than a couple of minutes. (he was so happy and smiley 🥺 🥺)

You spent the whole night between laughs, drinks, and karaoke.

After, the whole trying-to-launch-a-spaceship-full-of-water-to-space and the government locking him up thing, you went to visit him. They wouldn’t let you see him but you eventually did and helped him escape.

Your birthday was close but it was the last thing in your mind, too tired and consumed with worrying about thomas safety, so it was definitely a surprise when you woke up and the breakfast was already done, a big cake (made by himself “I even made the cake look” he had said) with frosting saying “HAPPY BIRTHDAY Y/N” on top. It brought tears to your eyes and you gave him the biggest hug you could muster.

For the first time in a long while, you spent the day carefree, enjoying the presents and surprises thomas had made for you.

#thomas jerome newton #thomas jerome x reader #thomas jerome newton x reader #david bowie #david bowie x reader #thomas jerome newton fluff #platonic but it can also be read as a romantic i think?#thomas jerome headcanon #thomas jerome x platonic reader #headcanon

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laraplisetski · 4 years ago

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Dating Akira Kunimi

A/n: Hello, hello! Sorry for the slow updates, I havent been feeling great about myself but I’ll try to update more often. I hope you enjoy this. Sorry for any mistakes if I've made any:) Also for some reason I keep hearing Unravel in my head and I just- Edit: I just looked and I have 127 followers rn stan nct 127

List of people left from the dating headcanons series.

Kentarō Kyōtani #16

Words: 1200+

Tags: @imthatchishiyasimp, @kekozume

He looks so pretty here.

Okay so you two met when you went to collect some information about the team to send to volleyball monthly since you were in the student council.

When you entered and went to the coach to ask him about the things you needed Yahaba tried doing the ball thing on you but he accidentally hit it too hard.

When you saw the ball coming you dodged it.

Unfortunately Kunimi was standing behind you so it hit him instead.

Since you felt bad you offered to get him some ice cream.

He agreed because you looked nice and you weren't one of Oikawa's fangirls.

(good job Yahaba you just got Kunimi a date)

So you two went out to get ice cream and in the middle of the ‘date’ Kunimi realized that he was developing a minor crush on you because he just expected you to buy him ice cream and call it a day.

But instead you're actually interested in the conversation and being very nice.

After the ‘date’, when you two saw each other in the hallways you would always wave to each other and smile at each other and you developed a sort of friendship.

Everyone knew that you two were crushing on each other and your friends and the volleyball team sorta forced you to confess to Kunimi.

And so you did *rather hesitantly*.

And Kunimi accepted so you guys started dating!! Yay!

Okay so at the beginning of the relationship he's sort of closed off.

Like from closed off i mean quite and it frustrated you quite a lot cause things were barely different than before.

Because aren't all couples supposed to be cute with each other.

(reminder you both are first years so you guys have no or very less experience with relationships)

So this led to you talking to him about this issue and Kunimi was relieved because he didn't want to make you uncomfortable and you were like :O

So after this Kunimi started to gradually open up more and all was good yet once again.

Also Kunimi would try to be sweeter around you and not try to piss you off like he does to other people.

If you guys would have a fight anyways and he knew he was wrong, he would definitely apologize as soon as he can.

But if you were wrong ohoho

Suffer

But like even if you apologize to him later he’ll like keep it in the back of his mind and every time he wants something he would be like-

‘Remember that time when…’

‘What do you want Kunimi?’ *sighs*

Okay on to cuddling.

This boy loves to cuddle but he's too shy to admit it.

Like he gets all pouty when he wants cuddles and you don't cuddle with him.

That's understandable but like HE DOESN'T ASK FOR THEM.

He just expects you to know somehow and he doesn't even leave any hints.

Like what do you want me to do Kunimi.

Okay but when you two do cuddle hes just like the softest most shyest person.

Personally I think Kunimi would like to be a small spoon, just like

A blanket is wrapped around you two as you two sit in front of the tv. It buzzes in the background but you don't pay any mind to it, you only focus on Kunimi. He melts into your touch and you slowly lull him to sleep. You set your head on top of his and bask in the smell of his sweet peony scented shampoo.

But like I mean you get my point.

Then one time you came over to his house and halfway through your hangout you got his hoodie from his closet and he was so confused like why???

And he asked you, it went like this,

‘Oi, why did you take out my hoodie?’

‘Just because’

‘Welp that's creepy’

‘Shut up Kunimi!’

Generally he was very annoyed at first and thought it was borderline creepy cause you don't just take other people's clothes.

But later on he got used to it and if he sees you in school without your jacket he always leaves a spare hoodie in your locker.

Also when you come over to his house now there's a clean hoodie randomly lying on his bed.

I wonder who that might be.

Also when Kunimi takes you to his volleyball practice as well he makes sure to give you his jacket just to piss off Kindaichi that he got a s/o before him.

When he first took you to practice the team literally swarmed you and they were throwing questions from left and right until Iwaizumi gave them all a slap on the back of their heads.

After that they didn't really swarm you but got to know you normally by talking.

Kunimi also tried his damn hardest to keep you away from Oikawa cause Kunimi knows that Oikawa’s an idiot (the Oikawa slander though) but somehow you two became friends???

He still doesn't understand how it happened.

One day he made lunch for you and brought it to school, since you guys meet up in the morning outside the gym, the team saw him giving homemade lunch to you and they teased him ever since.

But other than that Kunimi’s surprisingly into slightly domestic stuff.

Like he wakes up to make breakfast for you sometimes (a skill most likely taught by his sister)

And he just likes to play his ‘calm music’ Spotify playlist and just hum along to it while making you pancakes (which are fucking delicious btw)

And one day you just walk up behind him and give him a bake hug and say,

‘Didn't know you could make pancakes….

Can you make like three more, I'm very hungry’

And Kunimi just sighs violently and in his mind he's like ____ such a dumbass.

But yk he loves you obviously or he wouldn't make these three extra pancakes for you.

Sometimes when he sees you being a dumbass he's like why do i like them again?

But then he sees your eyes shining when you play around with the rest of your friends and he sees the love and loyalty you have for them and you look over and he sees your pupils dilate and he sees your smile, the one you give him, the one that's reserved for him and he knows the answer to his question.

Even though he likes you (its loveee~)

He still makes fun of you… jokingly.

For example if you try to do a receive and it fails and the ball hits your face instead or something hell snicker at you before trying to help you up.

You beat him up later for laughing at you dont worry.

Bonus point- Kunimi and you don't go out on dates very often so on anniversaries Kunimi plans a date according to your interests.

Like if you're into Attack on Titan hobo eren hot he’ll take you to a theme park based on Attack on Titan.

(I'm so sorry if anyone doesn't like Aot I just used it as an example)

#haikyuu kunimi #hq kunimi #kunimi akira #kunimi #kunimi x reader #kunimi prompts #kunimi headcanons #kunimi dating hcs #x reader #xreader #x gender neutral reader #haikyuu!!#haikyū!!#Haikyuu #haikyu x reader #haikyuu prompts #haikyuu headcanons #anyways #bye😃

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redgillan · 5 years ago

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Under Pastel Skies - 3

Sugar daddy!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Modern!AU Bucky doesn’t need anyone, especially not a sugar baby. He isn’t that desperate… but she smiles so sweetly and she’s endearingly awkward, and he’s so lonely. She’s an artist, a painter, the type of person who always puts others before herself. Throwing caution to the wind Bucky offers her a place to live, a place where she can finally paint whatever her heart desires. He doesn’t need much in return; a friend, a muse.

Word Count: 2,587

Warnings: none

A/N: I wanted to give Reader a family and this is the easiest way to do it. Btw Peggy’s husband isn’t Steve, I have other plans for him ;) Enjoy!

Wannabe sugar daddies don’t interact, idc if you have money, eat it and leave me be.

The rest of the week went by, and you kept hoping Bucky would come back. You hadn’t seen him since he’d left 300 dollars under his napkin after visiting you at work. You had tucked the bills into your bra, knowing they would be safe there, and walked home at the end of your shift.

Now it was Thursday afternoon and you were craving a day off.

Natasha’s apartment was spacious and the oversized glass window bathed the living room in natural sunlight. The apartment was a gift from Sam. Obviously.

You dropped your purse on the sofa –your bed- and laid out the bills on the coffee table. It was made of marble and brass, another gift from Sam.

You didn’t know what to do with the money, so you took it wherever you went, to keep it safe. You wanted to return it to Bucky. It was too much and you weren’t used to random acts of kindness.

You sunk into the cushion and blew out a sigh as you stared at the money. The persistent vibration of your phone against your thigh pulled you out of your thoughts. Half expecting it to be Natasha, you answered without looking at the caller ID.

The operator told you that Scott Lang was calling from Saint Quentin State Prison, and asked if you would accept the charges. You agreed. You always agreed.

“Splotchy, I need your help.”

Closing your eyes, you let your head fall back against the cushion. “I told you to stop calling me that, Scott.”

It was a silly nickname.

As a child, your mother dubbed you splotchy because of the colourful doodles you painted on the living room walls, and your siblings, who were roughly a few years older than you, had loved using that nickname. Especially since they knew you disliked it.

Their support and endless enthusiasm played a big part in your artistic journey, nurturing that spark into a flame. What started out as a childlike fascination with colours and shapes became your whole life. No one was surprised when you decided to pursue a degree in fine arts.

After the death of her husband, Peggy Carter adopted five children; a little boy from San Francisco, a little girl from Wakanda, twins from Sokovia and a little girl whose birth parents were still in high school. You were the last one, the only one she adopted as a baby.

“Is it offensive to call an artist splotchy?”

“It’s irrelevant. I haven’t painted in months,” you replied. “And we’re not kids anymore, you can use my name.”

“I’ve been calling you Splotchy for so long, I forgot your actual name.”

“You’re so funny,” you deadpanned. “What do you need, Scott?”

Scott’s tone changed suddenly, his voice grew agitated. “I need you to call Maggie. She isn’t picking up when I call her.”

“Scott,” you sighed.

“I haven’t talked to Cassie since her birthday,” he cut you off, pleading. “Please, I just want to talk to my little girl.”

Maggie was Scott’s ex-wife. Six months after his incarceration, she had filed for divorce. Natasha thought it was a real dick move but you didn’t blame Maggie. She was alone, her husband was in jail ��for basically being a dumbass although the official charge was embezzlement and destruction of property- and she had a kid to raise.

Maggie wasn’t a saint but she was a good mother, and Cassie was a smart and healthy kid. Now you knew what to do with Bucky’s money.

“I’ll call her,” you said. “Listen, I’m going to put 50 bucks on your book. Buy yourself a bar of soap, I can smell you from here.” Scott interrupted you with a monotone ‘har har’. You chuckled. “I’ll buy Cassie a Christmas gift on your behalf, all right? I think she wanted a bike.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you,” he chanted over the phone, his voice muffled as if he was holding the receiver too close to his mouth. “Are you sure you can afford it? I know it isn’t easy for you. Between living in New York and paying for mom’s nursing home, you don’t have to-”

“It’s fine,” you said, cutting off the conversation. “I’m not alone, Okoye helps.”

“And Wanda?”

“She sends postcards from time to time.”

The line went quiet for a moment. “I want to get out of here so bad,” Scott groaned. “Everything’s gone to shit since I went to jail.”

“Everything’s gone to shit since Pietro died, Scott.” You both remained silent, remembering your late brother. Just thinking about him made your eyes start to prickle with tears, so you cleared your throat and ended the call. “I’ll talk to Maggie. You’ll be out soon, just... stay out of trouble. Love you.”

You left your phone on the table and kicked off your shoes before you lay down on the sofa for a well-deserved nap. In your dreams your brothers weren’t either dead or in prison, your mother hadn’t been diagnosed with Alzheimer, and you weren’t a burden to your friend.

If you were lucky enough, you wouldn’t even dream at all.

The next day, Bucky arrived at the hotel at six thirty and you playfully glared at him from across the lounge. He wasn’t stupid, he knew why you were glaring at him. At least he had the decency to look a little sheepish.

“Just so you know, you bought yourself about 30 breakfasts,” you told him, referring to the far-too-generous tip he had left the other day.

“A man’s gotta eat,” he replied with a boyish cockiness that made him look stupidly attractive. You were too flustered to find a good comeback.

You brought him his cup of coffee and let him enjoy his breakfast while you attended to your other clients. It was an unusually busy day, the room was packed with families who were getting ready to explore Manhattan. You didn’t have time to chat with Bucky and he didn’t stay long. You saw him flinch a couple of times; the muscles in his shoulders pulled tight and his eyes darting left and right.

He left another ridiculously generous tip, along with a handwritten note. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day x.

Bucky came back the following week, and even though it was a quiet morning, you made sure to find him a table in a secluded spot. He didn’t notice when you slipped the 300 dollars into the pocket of his coat. You could be pretty sneaky, too.

“Mmmh,” he said, wiping his mouth with a napkin, “I looked at your Instagram.”

“Oh,” you glanced at your shoes, embarrassed. “Wait, you’re on Instagram? I have a hard time imagining you scrolling through your feed.”

He laughed a little. “I’ll admit I’m not as tech savvy as you youngsters, but I’m not a fossil. I use it to look at the pictures my sister post of my niblings.”

“Cute,” you grinned.

“Anyway,” he said, pushing a hand through his hair. “I love your work. It’s very unique; a cross between Impressionism and Post-impressionism. It’s realistic, and yet there’s something different...” his face scrunched up as he tried to look for the right word. “There’s something in your paintings, something that isn’t here in real life but perhaps should be. It’s hard to explain. It’s a feeling, a color, a pattern; it’s indiscernible but it’s there.” He looked up at you, his cheeks red with embarrassment. “I’m not making much sense, am I?”

You blinked, suddenly stunned that someone had such strong opinions about your work. There was nothing but sincerity in his ocean-blue eyes, and for a moment, you were at a loss for words.

“I, um-” you cleared your throat, “Thank you, I didn’t know that. I look up to Monet, obviously. His work is phenomenal, and I also have a soft spot for Van Gogh.” You ran a hand across your face. “Sorry, I’m a little emotional. The people who compliment my art are usually my siblings, and Nat.”

“And now me,” he said with a warm smile. “And soon a lot more people.”

Flustered, you bit your bottom lip. “That would be nice.”

Bucky nodded. He gathered his silverware and set them on his plate, trying to buy time. You watched him hesitate before he turned to you. “I noticed that your last post was from almost a year ago.”

“Yeah,” you said with a casual shrug. “I don’t really paint anymore. I’m too tired when I get home and supplies are expensive.”

“Of course,” he pursed his lips in thought. “Are you free this afternoon? I was wondering if we could meet for coffee.”

You tried not to show your surprise but his words made the sleeping butterflies in your stomach crack an eye open, their interest piqued.

Was he asking you out? He’d come to your workplace every week since your brief ‘date’. He always gave you more-than-generous tips, and he listened to you with a combination of close attention and warmth that made you weak at the knees.

He’d made it clear he wasn’t looking for anyone but maybe he had changed his mind. Agh, down girl! He just wanted a friend.

You looked into his beautiful eyes, seeing a myriad of expressions cross his face before he smiled at you.

“I ain’t gonna hurt you, angel.”

It was an honest lie, just hearing him call you angel felt like a punch to the stomach. The butterflies were dancing around, reborn, and chanting the word ‘date’.

“If you don’t like coffee, we can have tea, or ice cream,” he said, “anything as long as you can sit down with me.”

You snorted. “Okay.”

“Okay,” he repeated, smiling. “This is my number. Pick a place and I’ll meet you there.”

After breakfast, you closed the restaurant and started cleaning the Lounge. You brought everything back to the kitchen, stacked the dishes in the dishwasher and turned it on. Then you put away the unopened miniature jams, butter and whatnot, and gathered the remaining patisseries and fresh fruits in a basket that you would later bring to the reception.

You worked mechanically. It wasn’t exactly the most exciting job you’d ever had.

You couldn’t stop thinking about Bucky. It was easy to let your mind wander into the cosy and dangerous territory of this being a real date.

You decided to go to the Australian coffee shop near Natasha’s apartment. It was popular but not as crowded as Starbucks, which suited you fine.

After your shift, you removed your uniform and changed into the spare set of clothes you kept in your locker for emergencies. Emergencies being an impromptu date or a night out with Nat. You dug around in your purse for your lipstick; the nice one, the Carter Red as your mother called it.

You dabbed the lipstick on your lips, staining them. You only wore it on special occasions, and you weren’t sure Bucky deserved your full red pout.

You walked to the café with a little pep in your step and a confident smile on your face. The freezing temperature didn’t matter, you were too giddy to care. It was a date, it had to be, why else would he ask you to meet for coffee?

You smiled when you saw him through the coffee shop window. He was chatting with the waiter as the latter set two mugs on the table.

“Hi again!” You shrugged out of your jacket and took a seat.

“I hope you like hot chocolate. Carl, here, says it’s their best seller,” Bucky said, smiling kindly at the waiter.

“Enjoy, and if you need anything else don’t hesitate to call me.”

You carefully wrapped your cold hands around your mug while you watched Carl walk away. A moment of silence rose between you. Bucky watched you with an unreadable expression, making you fidget in your seat.

“I’m glad you came,” he finally said.

“Me too. I’m a little surprised you asked.”

He looked down at his mug and smiled; it didn’t reach his eyes. “I have something to ask you.” He paused. “The night we met, you said you agreed to see me because being in a... financial relationship felt like the only solution to your problems.”

Your smile faltered but he didn’t seem to notice. Oh. The butterflies in your stomach fell so suddenly that it felt like carrying a ball of lead. They went back into hibernation.

“If I had been a decent person and, I don’t know, bought you a drink, talked to you,” he paused, meeting your eyes. “Would you have been interested in this type of relationship? With me, I mean.”

You swallowed hard. “You want to be my sugar daddy.”

It wasn’t a question but a statement. You were slowly realizing that you had been wrong about his intentions. This wasn’t a date, it was a business afternoon tea.

He winced. “Do we really have to call it that? I was thinking mentorship. I can provide financial help, and in exchange you could be my friend.”

“I can be your friend for free,” you said, your throat tightening.

He shrugged, a small smile on his lips. “This way we’ll both get something out of it.”

You looked down at your hands, still wrapped around the mug, and pursed your lips in thought. You felt a sharp tingling sensation in your nose, a sign that you were about to cry. You closed your eyes and clenched your jaw, fighting against the flood that was coming.

You pushed all the emotion down and forced a smile to your face. “Do you mind if I use the restroom? I just took the subway, I’d like to wash my hands.”

Bucky watched you, momentarily stunned by your request. “Of course, take your time,” he quickly recovered.

“Thanks,” you croaked, pushing your chair back.

You picked up your bag and walked to the restroom, your legs feeling like cotton wool. You didn’t need to use the restroom, you had walked to the café, but you needed a moment alone to collect yourself.

A woman came out of the restroom, holding the door open for you. You picked up the pace and thanked her before closing the door behind you. You looked pretty sickly under the artificial light of the restroom. Your eyes were glassy with tears and your red lips were taunting you.

“Got your hopes up, uh?” You watched your lips move. A little humourless chuckle escaped you and you shook your head at your own idiocy.

You aggressively wiped the lipstick off your mouth with the back of your hand and sighed deeply as you looked at your reflection in the mirror. Now you felt like an idiot.

It wasn’t Bucky’s fault. He had been nothing but nice and kind, and perhaps you had mistaken his kindness for flirting. A naïve mistake. You had always been a little clueless when it came to men.

You ran your index fingers under your eyes to get rid of the makeup that had gathered there. It wasn’t the end of the world, you barely knew him anyway. It didn’t hurt any less, though.

Maybe it was time for you to do something out of character, to experience life no matter how crazy it seemed. You were dreading this conversation with Bucky, but you couldn’t hide in the restroom forever. With another sigh, you pushed yourself away from the sink and walked out of the restroom.

Part 4

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #marvel #marvel fanfiction #marvel imagines #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel imagine #bucky barns imagine #redgillan #redgillanwrites

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sevsnapeposts · 3 years ago

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Snapetober Day 3: Pumpkin carving.

hello everyone. this took more than it should've, honestly, but here it is. i feel like a made a mistake somewhere on the translation but oh well. Sev POV btw. feel free to read it over in ao3 if you'd like, and also if you'd be kind enough, go give me some kudos over there. thanks, hope you enjoy~.

Day 3 - Pumpkin craving.

Severus had an incredible ability to carve pumpkins. Where it came from, he had no idea, but he was capable of making all kinds of faces and figures, from a classic malevolent pumpkin to minimal landscapes and human faces. The most impressive thing is that he did it without the use of a wand: Armed with a good knife and an occasional extra object, he carved the pumpkin in the most traditional way possible.

He knew of the existence of his gift since he was a child. He was 8, on the first Halloween for which his mother had gotten some money to decorate his room, in an attempt to give him some happiness. The woman had done this after they passed one of the most beautiful houses on the street, which had a lot of little lights and scary decorations, and she noticed the glint of longing in her little son's eyes.

So, Eileen had managed to get some pumpkins at the fruit stand a few blocks away. There were three of them, a bit ugly and old, as well as small, but that would be more than enough for her and her child.

Severus clearly remembered the expression of his mother, who had marveled when he, using the razor with great care, had perfectly copied the face of the largest pumpkin in that house. Eileen's face had lit up like never before, the usual melancholy and weariness of her fading completely. She had laughed, and hugged him, and she let him carve the other two pumpkins, keeping a close eye to avoid any accidents, even though Severus was more than capable of doing it without a hitch.

The little pumpkins didn’t make it to Halloween though, because three days later (and two days before that date), Tobias found them and smashed them in half, shouting in his drunkenness that in his house no one was going to celebrate those stupid festivities, nor have decorations, nor spend money or time on them.

Severus had cried himself to sleep.

When he met Lily, however, he again had the opportunity to demonstrate his art. Lily took all of the pumpkins to her house, and they all adorned the Evans' yard even after Halloween, only being removed when Christmas got close enough. She had been fascinated, and during her years at Hogwarts, when the time came, she would always get one or two for him to carve out some pretty ornaments and then take them to her bedroom. Even after the end of their friendship, as a kind of apology, tribute, or torture (he didn't know which of the three, honestly), Severus would make pumpkins with flowers and leave them lying around, never close enough to any of them.

After Lily's death, Severus hadn't carved one again.

At least until that day. October had just begun, and he was stuck in Malfoy Manor keeping Lucius company, who since the divorce complained that the mansion was "too big and empty." Severus thought he well deserved it, but he still appreciated him too much to refuse an explicit invitation to stay with him for that month, as a more than special guest.

Of course, Prue was there too. Severus couldn't understand how she had gotten through things so easily, how she was able to sit at the same table as the man who had caused her so much fear and so many nightmares; but if she was comfortable enough with him to agree to stay at his house, then he had no say in it.

In any case, Lucius hadn’t invited them just because he could: He also knew that this was the now young woman's favorite month, and therefore, he couldn’t give her a better gift than to let her spend all those dates without lifting a finger, with elves attending all her wishes and without any responsibility beyond taking one side or the other between the "very mature" arguments the two men had all the time.

Prue always sided with Severus, unless Lucius bribed her with chocolates.

Be that as it may, at the time, the trio were in the back garden of the mansion, where a heap of pumpkins of all sorts of sizes and shapes were being arranged by a couple of elves.

"Overdone as always", Severus said, sighing through his nose and rolling his eyes in mock annoyance. Lucius smiled at him, pleased as always to show off his ability to do whatever he pleased.

"I thought you might need a few to practice first", the blond replied.

"There are more than fifty", commented Prue, who was standing between them, holding hands with Severus.

Happens that, during breakfast, Lucius had brought up Severus' old custom with pumpkins. Prue proved she was very interested in it, as she had never imagined that he would have any artistic ability, and she had asked him to see some of his work. He was saying that it was not a big deal, and that he hadn’t touched a pumpkin for more than 19 years, and that there wasn’t even one there, when Lucius called his elves and sent them to buy "a few", declaring that he wouldn’t escape giving them a show and, incidentally, decorating the mansion.

Lucius was undoubtedly still fulfilling Prue's whims.

"Well, I suppose we can sit here whilst you slaughter a few vegetables”, purred the master of the manor. Just after he pronounced those words, one of the elves snapped its fingers, three chairs and two tall benches appearing near the trio. Lucius invited Prue to sit down while he handed Severus the "pumpkin killing tools," as the youngest of the three had called them. In return, he asked for his wand. “To avoid cheating. You always said it was manual”.

"And it is", Severus replied with annoyance, though he still held out his wand, which Lucius tucked into his coat. Then he went to sit in the chair next to Prue, who was watching them intently with those pretty eyes. Severus noticed that she was smiling slightly at him, and returned the gesture.

"I think an average pumpkin would be a good start", Lucius commented, crossing one leg over the other. Prue nodded, and the blond drew his own wand, pointing at a medium pumpkin, which floated up to the trio, hovering in the air in front of him. He used a simple incantation to empty the inside of the fruit, and Severus took it at last.

He would be lying if he said he wasn't a little nervous, but he still got to work on it.

Half an hour later, the first pumpkin was ready. It had a normal face, not very elaborate, and it smiled wickedly. Lucius scored it with a "not bad at all," as he stared at the fruit, head laying on Prue's shoulder (who had only stiffened a bit). Then they both asked him to do another.

And so, by the end of the day, almost all of the pumpkins had been carved. Severus had done most of them, his designs the prettiest and most striking for obvious reasons. He had even made a special one for his two companions: For Lucius, a pumpkin with a snake that wrapped itself around it and finally looked straight ahead with its fangs poking out; and for Prue, a pumpkin-cat of Lucifer.

The rest had been done mainly by Prue, who was encouraged to try after the fifth one. She had just carved funny and cute faces, although one of the pumpkins had been hidden away from everyone and she didn’t let them see it. Lucius scoffed saying that she sure had fucked it up and she didn't want to be humiliated, to which Prue threw an unused pumpkin at his head, making Severus laugh.

The blond ended up using the one that had been thrown at him to carve it himself, although halfway there he got despaired and used his wand to finish it. Severus called him a sore, dirty cheater.

In any case, by the time they went to bed a long time later, after having dinner and entertaining Prue with ghost stories, the entire mansion was already illuminated with the dim light emerging from within the pumpkins. Severus was proud of his creations, and terribly flattered that something he had made was displayed like a trophy for all to see.

His feeling of happiness increased much more when, coming out of the bathroom after taking a shower, he found the sweet scene that was seeing Prue asleep in the bed they shared, covered up to her nose and with her beautiful face totally relaxed, as it was only when she had a day that she had fully enjoyed. Next to her, leaning against the pillow that belonged to the man, was the pumpkin that she hadn’t let anyone see. Severus took it delicately and turned it, finding a carving of a cauldron from which a heart was emerging. Looking between the openings, he noticed that there was a piece of parchment inside of it, which he pulled out with the help of his long fingers.

"Thank you for teaching me how to carve pumpkins. I made this with you in mind. I love you."

That night, for the first time in over 30 years, Severus Snape slept not only with decorations in his room, but with a smile that persisted until dawn.

#snapetober #snapedom #snapetober 2021 #severus snape #severus x oc #snape x oc #pro snape #lucius malfoy #oc #original character #harry potter original character #harry potter fanfiction #fanfic

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wonderlustlucas · 5 years ago

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four - hwang hyunjin

⇢ prompt They say good things come in fours. Who? Couldn’t tell you, but they especially do during Christmas. Maybe that’s just Saint Nick. ⇢ pairing hyunjin x female reader ⇢ word count 11.7k ⇢ genre fluff ⇢ warnings swearing. mentions of alcohol & s e x. teenagerz being teenagerz. insane amount of fluff & stupidity. kind of ends w a smutty cliffhanger. ⇢ summary After suppressing how you felt about Hyunjin back in high school, you thought you were done going back on your feelings. Turns out, a little time apart, the spirit of Christmas, and an accidental nap is the perfect cocktail for falling in love with your best friend.—friends to lovers!au ⇢ a/n hello & merry christmas! here is a gift for you all on this very merry day. also, thank you for 1,000 followers! that in itself is one of the best presents i could ask for. thank you for all your kindness & support on my blog & for following me in the first place! it truly means so much to me. i hope you enjoy reading! ♥︎

big tiddy jinny🍯🧸🌟🖇[now] Sorry! I just woke up

big tiddy jinny🍯🧸🌟🖇[now] Whats wrong fool

big tiddy jinny🍯🧸🌟🖇[now] Did u rlly think 12 texts were gonna wake me up?🤦🏻‍♂️ godt damn u on some WACK shit

You roll your eyes in time with each consecutive text that Hyunjin sends, waiting for the lock screen of your phone to blacken after reading them. He’s about as useless as pedals on a wheelchair, you think, ignoring the texts and forcing the device into the snug back pocket of your jeans before transferring the last two excessively packed grocery bags into the trunk of your car with an exhausted huff. Christ, if the bagging lady put one more item in those bags, she would be the one to blame for six cans of soup rolling about the parking lot.

The license plate rattles when you slam the trunk lid closed before hurrying around to the driver’s side and anxiously hopping inside to start blasting the heat. It is obnoxiously chilly for the first of September. Well, not really. Your body is just beginning to get used to the ungodly wrath of summer’s sweltering heat leaving you in a constant state of sweat and nausea for the past three months. Not that you’re complaining, of course. You nearly did somersaults of joy when the morning news reported a temperature of sixty-one degrees with some wind gusts and welcomed the beginning signs of autumn with open arms.

You would never admit to Mom who told yo uon the way out to change out of a tank top or at least wear a jacket, but yes— you are, in fact, cold. But now you have godsent warmth blowing from the vents and the seat warmer on its highest setting beginning to thaw away the goosebumps painted on your skin. Giving your arms one last rub, you lean up enough to retrieve your phone and open the conversation with Hyunjin.

[2:37 PM] YN: please. smell my balls

[2:37 PM] YN: nothings wrong btw. i was GOING to ask if u wanted any specific snacks for tn buttttt someone didn’t answer

[2:37 PM] YN: and excuse u i called too. i may be an idiot but im not stupid

[2:38 PM] YN: ik u would never hear a text when ur having wet dreams of yeji

You stop there with a smug smirk when the three dots on his side appear, knowing you’ve hit his funny bone with this one.

[2:38 PM] big tiddy jinny🍯🧸🌟🖇: Bruh

[2:38 PM] big tiddy jinny🍯🧸🌟🖇 :I’ve literally never have had a wet dream ab Yeji pls stop

You cannot fight your shit-eating grin, thumbs circling over the keyboard in thought as he apparently deletes whatever other text he was going to send when the three dots disappear.

[2:38 PM] YN: mmhmmmm

[2:38 PM] YN: because last time you slept over you weren’t whimpering her name in ur sleep

[2:38 PM] YN: sureeeee

You decide to end your teasing there and continue once you’re home. It is starting to get late, after all, and Mom will begin to worry that the creepy employee always in aisle sixteen has abducted you. Plus, you’re cruel and like to watch Hyunjin suffer. Switching the ringer off, you throw your phone into the cupholder and drastically lower the heat and turn off the seat warmer. It’s starting to feel like a sauna in here, and not in a fun way. Can’t understand how anyone enjoys hanging out in a sauna to begin with anyway, but to each their own, you guess.

In the five-minute drive it takes until you are pulling into the driveway, Hyunjin calls three times. He is incredibly peeved at your lack of a response to his distressed texts and still wound up from your text about Yeji. As if! You’re already a clown not realizing his ever-growing affections for you, but to think he had a crush on Yeji? You’re the whole damn circus!

By the time he calls a fifth time, now sat up on his elbow in bed and strumming an annoyed beat of his fingers at his thigh because he really just wants to yell at you for being the most annoying person alive (and maybe to hear your voice, too), you have brought in the last of the bags and look to Mom who has started to put the groceries away and expects you to half-heartedly do the same.

“It’s Hyunjin. He’s having an existential crisis because I haven’t answered his texts,” you explain to her, unenthusiastically holding your phone as it vibrates against your palm. Half of you wants her to ask to finish putting everything away first just so you can torture him even longer. Alas, such extravagant wishes are denied, because when it comes to Hyunjin, your parents would undoubtedly throw you under the bus just to keep that boy happy. And so, just like any other time, Mom’s undying love for Hyunjin has her dismissing you from the kitchen with a hearty laugh.

“Jesus Christ! What?” You hiss, halfway up the stairs when you tap to answer his call on the last ring.

“Wow! Look who finally decided to answer!” Hyunjin shouts back, the swoosh of his sheets once he finally falls back against his pillow again rustling all too loudly through the phone. “I was driving,” you spit, marching into your bedroom and collapsing against your bed, the same rustle of your blankets sounding loudly into his ear. “There’s a thing called the speaker, ___. Ever heard of it?” He retorts, evidently shutting you up and he knows he won this round if your silence is anything to go by.

“Whatever,” you groan, using all your toe strength to kick the sneakers off your feet by their soles, “what was so important that you couldn’t wait and had to call me five billion times?”

“I had a question. And you hurt my feelings.” Well, shit. You can practically hear and see his pout through the phone and your heart positively swells in your chest at how undeniably, unjustifiably cute he is. You sigh.

“I’m sorry for making fun of you about Yeji. I’m going to do it again but next time I promise I won’t pull the wet dream card,” you apologize frankly; because, in all honesty, it would be worse to say you are not going to do it again when you most certainly will. Bullying Hyunjin is fun, what can you say?

Hyunjin heaves an exasperated breath from his lungs because he knows there is no point in arguing with quite possibly the most sarcastic human he knows and that’s the best form of an apology he’s going to get. Whatever. He’ll make sure to wipe his morning snot and droll on your shirt in the morning. “Anyway,” he grumbles, in the background you hear Kkami bark from a few rooms over, “I was going to ask if you wanted to come over my place instead? I know your parents probably want to see me and stuff but mine are out of town for the night so we can sleep in my bed until like three without Mom waking us up to force feed breakfast.” You roll your eyes. Of course your parents want to see him.

“Plus, Mom just put that grey comforter I know you really like on my bed so we can cuddle all night and watch stuff on YouTube,” he quickly adds as a convincing afterthought. He’s really got his sales pitch going on this one. Truth is, you have only slept in his bed with that stupidly soft blanket twice last winter break, but it’s still sweet that he remembers how much you loved it (aka how quickly you fell asleep and how grumpy you were being woken up because it’s just that darn cozy). Either way, you would never pass up an opportunity to snuggle up with Hyunjin in the comfort of his own bed with his citrusy, floral scent on the pillows luring you to sleep.

“My Mom is going to be heartbroken, Hyunjin,” you tease, “but who cares. You had me sold at sleeping until three. Do you still want me to bring the snacks I got?”

“Oh, thank God. I love your Mom’s cooking but I haven’t left bed all day and I really want to keep it that way. And yes, please. I’ve been eating dry cereal for the past two hours.”

“Hyunjin, have you brushed your teeth yet?”

“No. Didn’t you just hear me? I said I’ve been in bed all day. Eating cereal. When would I have brushed my teeth?”

“You’ve officially taken breakfast in bed to a whole new level, Jin. I’ll see you in a few hours. Oh, and please, you have no concept of personal space so make sure you brush your teeth before I come over.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Love ya, bye,” Hyunjin promptly hangs up, probably eager to get back to binging whatever drama he’s watching before you lecture him about his hygiene again. Not that it matters, anyway; chances are, it went in one ear and right out the other and you’re going to drag him out of bed later to brush his teeth.

Damn. You didn’t even get the chance to say love you back. Not that it matters.

It doesn’t, you quickly shut down the pesky thought that keeps you up at night and force it back into the storage part of your brain labeled ‘Deal with Later,’ because, really, you’ll have to think about that later. It’s not that you don’t want to think about it yet… you just don’t have the time to stop and really figure out what your feelings toward Hyunjin actually are. Yeah. That’s it.

And now isn’t the time, you tell yourself, scooting up the mattress in order to bury your face in the pillows to suffocate the pounding throb in your head. Hyunjin is nothing special.

Well, no. That’s a lie. Everything about Hyunjin is special. Anyone with eyes, ears, even a nose can sense that. You had quickly found out just how wonderful he is when you met him freshman year of high school. At the time, he was everyone’s sweetheart by the first day, but it just so happened his eyes were all on you.

He was obviously adorable, and every class you had together he always made a point to talk to you and returned your sarcasm with an impressive level of expertise. So, when it came to him asking you to the first homecoming, the answer was yes without a second thought. But during the last slow dance of the night, with his hands gently holding your waist, he at last listened to his conscience and revealed that as much as he liked you, he truly did not want to date in high school. Or right then, at least. And honestly, you were glad; Hyunjin was quite possibly your favorite person you had met thus far, and you would have rather kept him as a friend than commit to a relationship the second month of school and risk losing him later down the road.

And boy, keep him as a friend you did. As it turned out, Hyunjin grew to be your truest, best friend in high school. Sure, you each had your own friend groups, but the two of you were the iconic pair everybody knew. But strictly platonic, despite the rumors and wishes that went around for the next four years. You like to think that neither of you ever developed feelings past what everyone feels toward their best friend— an innocent, wholesome sort of love.

But when had things changed? Hormones, as always, were definitely a big part of it. Hyunjin was always a cutie, but it wasn’t until he grew into his own skin and developed a newfound confidence did you start to see him differently. Until everyone saw him differently. Neither of you missed the way people stared him down, pupils dilating every time he ran his fingers through the black tufts of his hair, hearts aching for some sort of interaction. Or when you started attending parties, groups of girls would fling themselves at him in a blundering disarray, most of which he would turn down with a gentle dismissal that flew over their heads, too drunk to actually care.

But then there were times his dick made the decision for him, desperation and deprivation weighing in on him and you’d watch with a tight jaw as he’d leave the room with the pretty girl of the night skipping after him. You never realized it was only on those nights did you wind up in the back seat of Han Jisung’s car.

But even after the physical attraction sizzled out over time, things were not the same. Hyunjin wasn’t your hidden little treasure anymore. All eyes were set on him and it took more than a glass of water to swallow your jealousy. But why? Why were you so resentful all of a sudden?

It’s hard to share Hwang Hyunjin, you decided. Once established that you were his main hoe and he was yours, it became a significant burden watching others try and get in between. Not that they did it with a malicious attempt to separate you, but it still hurt. You’re selfish, and you admit it— Hyunjin, quite frankly, is the love of your life. Romantic or not, nothing could change your feelings toward him. It goes beyond his unfathomable beauty and spunky personality. Everything about him from his nose to his hands, to his distaste for onions and the way his face scrunches up when he lets out that giggle of his and even to the way he prefers to sleep against the wall but will force you to when you’re over so he can “protect you in case there’s a monster” all mount into this big, giant section of your heart set aside for Hyunjin.

So despite your efforts to ignore the pang of jealousy each time he would find a potential someone or the joy whenever he’d find his way back because “they kept wanting to hang out in the morning even though I said I don’t wake up before noon,” this Hyunjin-shaped hole in your heart seems to only grow the longer you ignore it. Kind of like every medical condition out there: the longer you ignore it, the worse it gets. So, basically Hyunjin is your heart disease.

Yikes. Sounds a lot worse when you try putting it into words.

Well, he won’t be your heart defect for long if he keeps ruining those pearly whites of his by only brushing once just before bed, you chuckle to yourself, rolling to your side at the sudden lack of oxygen between your face and the pillow. There’s a fleeting moment without thought when you unconsciously reach for your phone to check for any notifications before the fattest revelation of them all falls from the ceiling and smacks you right upside the face.

Shit. Looks like you’ve gone right ahead and totally dissected each and every fiber of your feelings for Hyunjin.

Blinking up at the ceiling, the weight of your emotions isn’t as heavy as you expected them to be. Instead, it’s more of a breath of fresh air, as if you have finally accepted the way things fell instead of ignoring them. Your feelings for Hyunjin have always been there. It just took a little effort to get them out.

Nevertheless, it is going to be difficult hanging out with him in a few hours with your exposed emotions still needing to be processed. Especially when he will pull you to his side and keep you nestled there the entire night. Rubbing your temples, you realize it will take some serious self-control to put everything on the back burner and just enjoy the time spent with Hyunjin.

Sighing, you check the time on your phone again. 3:21 and a text from Hyunjin asking if you could bring green tea.

“Mom!” You yell, defeated. “You were right!”

You used to think Hyunjin lived far away. Truthfully, he’s only fifteen minutes away if you go ten over the speed limit. But the only way to get to his house entails driving through the chaos of the mall and town center, which adds an extra ten minutes sitting through traffic no matter the time of day.

Now, Hyunjin’s college campus is two hours away. Well, technically five from you, since you’re almost three hours away in the opposite direction. So you’re lucky if you get to see him once a month with how hectic school becomes and how difficult it is trying to plan to come home the same weekend. Fortunately, it has worked out this semester. And while you should spend this time with your families, they know how much you crave one another’s company as the weeks drag on. The twenty-two minutes it takes getting to each other’s homes is totally worth it.

You expect Hyunjin to tell you to use the key hidden underneath the resin meditating frog statue in the front garden to unlock the front door when you text him you have arrived, but to your utmost surprise, he’s there, awake, to open the door for you.

“Stinky!” You yell, dropping your things on the floor to burry yourself in his embrace, standing on your tippy toes to wrap your arms around his neck in order to really get the full experience of hugging your favorite giant. “Poopy!” He shouts in return, long arms winding tightly around your waist and even going so far as to lift you up a few inches. God. Hate when he does that.

“Why are you up? I thought I’d have to let myself in with you sleeping all your problems away,” you ask, smiling gratefully when he bends down to pick up your bag. “I realized Kkami hadn’t been out all day, so I came down to let him out and find actual food,” Hyunjin explains as he makes way into the kitchen, opening the back door to let said dog back inside. “Aw, poor thing,” you pout, squatting to scratch at Kkami’s neck when he zooms faster than the speed of light to you, “does that mean you brushed your teeth?”

“I did, actually,” Hyunjin snorts right back, scrunching his nose at you before turning away to open the fridge. Sitting on the floor with Kkami in your lap, you take the opportunity to finally get a good look at Hyunjin now that he’s distracted. And of course, he looks good. Really good. Last time you saw him he still was a brunette, a look he rocked during the spring and summer months. This is the first time you’ve seen the freshly dyed black hair in person. Even though he always looks handsome, something about Hyunjin with black hair completely changes his aura. Brings back memories of how badly you wanted him in high school. You shiver at the thought.

And, to top it all off, how he manages to stay in such disgustingly good shape despite his atrocious eating habits never ceases to amaze you. Like, come on. The boy eats worse than a raccoon seven days out of the week, lives off boba, works out maybe five times a month, dances in his free time and still keeps his body in tiptop shape. God, you hate him. His pediatrician probably hates him, too. You even go as far as to sniff the fries in your dining hall and you gain five pounds.

Even now, he looks unnecessarily regal in the baggy material of his sweatpants and flannel. And the warmth of his kitchen’s ambient lighting does nothing to suppress the heavy thumping of your heart. So casual is his dress, yet how immaculate he looks rummaging the cabinets for a snack.

“Are you hungry?” He asks, the familiar softness of his voice shaking you from your daze as he closes the refrigerator door after his unsuccessful search. Here’s the thing: you really aren’t hungry, but Hyunjin clearly is, so if you say no then all he will be thinking about is food until you decide that you are hungry. “Yeah,” is what you say, nudging Kkami off your crossed legs to stand, “I brought green tea and a few snacks, but we could order Chinese food or something. The place near Dunkin’ and the gas station makes bubble tea now, too.”

Hyunjin’s brows shoot up, flashing his boxy smile. “Is it good?”

“I mean, I’ve only had their pork dumplings and mango tea before, and it was pretty good. I don’t know about their noodles or anything, though,” you shrug, moving to stand beside him at the kitchen island. Distracted by Kkami trying to jump onto the sofa in the living room, you don’t look to Hyunjin until the poor dog is successful in doing so. Startled to find him already gazing down at you, your heart truly is not prepared for him to go right ahead and wrap his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder. Totally not freaking out or trying to overthink his need to constantly cling, you justify his actions by quickly recalling the time he said, “My head is too godtdamn big for my godtdamn body.” More like his head is too heavy because instead of a brain it’s just a chunk of cement up there. He just needs to rest his head sometimes.

Yeah.

“Mm, I don’t know,” Hyunjin hums, swaying your body with his to an unheard tune. By now, any coherent thought has dissipated into thin air and all you can do is melt against him. “Why?” You manage.

“’Cus if we order anything that means I’ll have to get up and get it.”

“Oh my God, Hyunjin, really?” You laugh. Your hands naturally glide to where his are linked at your stomach, pressing to interlock your fingers overtop his. “If that’s the only reason for your uncertainty than I could always come get it, idiot.”

“No! It’s okay,” Hyunjin says, jumping back before you can even process it, “I’m not that hungry anyway.”

“Ohhh ‘kay,” you laugh breathlessly, whiplashed by the whole thing. Good thing you aren’t hungry, because when was the last time Hyunjin turned down food? Blinking at him precariously, he doesn’t seem to notice until one too many seconds of silence pass by.

“C’mon,” he demands excitedly, jumping back into reality, “my roommate told me to watch this anime called Soul Eater but I wanted to watch it with you.” Once again, before anything can even register past every single That Was Cute™ alarm ringing in your brain, Hyunjin is grabbing your bag and reaching for your hand, leading you out of the kitchen and upstairs.

You and Hyunjin binge aforementioned anime until he falls asleep first around 2 AM, only stopping to order food an hour in (he’s an indecisive man indeed), to get up to retrieve it, and to actually eat while catching up. For most of the night, you are able to forget the way his heartbeat against your back mirrored your own in the kitchen. But then, a little while after you fall asleep yourself, Hyunjin unconsciously shifts closer and you spend another hour blinking at his relaxed hand twitching against your abdomen, trying to keep the hurricane inside your heart at bay.

You can’t make it home October. Hyunjin texted you to let you know he was going to be the third weekend in, and you tried desperately to manage your time in order to make it work. But one group project in chem lead to another paper in psych and before you knew it, your roommate was listening to you sob over a boy and curse out your classes.

September left you emotionally wrecked, to be totally honest. You hate Hyunjin and you hate the way he makes you feel and you especially hate how realizing you have a crush on him makes you unsure if everything he does is his way of hinting he feels the same or if he’s always been this touchy and you are just now recognizing it. So, missing a month of seeing your favorite human being essentially means missing another day of trying to decipher which actions of his go in the Friend list, and which go in the Questionable list. And that, my friend, is unacceptable.

You absolutely cannot not go home this month. November is the calm before the storm (the storm being exams looming the second week of December), and while it would be beneficial maybe staying on campus to continue preparing, you tell yourself going home will be just as helpful. Mental breaks, and stuff. Totally not just to see Hyunjin.

Either way, Hyunjin asks you if you would join him on the seventeenth to go to his second cousin’s christening and you absolutely cannot say no when you know how bored Hyunjin gets at family events when they aren’t for him. And so, fast forward to the third Sunday of November and you are ready to pass out ten minutes after entering the church.

“I’m so happy for you two! I always knew you would last into college,” one of Hyunjin’s aunts exclaims, pinching your cheeks but the only pinch you feel is that of your heart.

Clearly she is misinformed, or just prone to jumping to conclusions but yet again, you can’t really blame her with how couple-y you and Hyunjin are. Past the single tunnel vision of your gaze, you watch her smile falter when Hyunjin goes rigid beside you and oh my God this is the most embarrassing moment of my life, his whole family thinks we’re dating and here we are still stuck in each other’s friendz—

“I’m glad you think so, imo,” Hyunjin suddenly picks up, sneaking an arm around to rest his hand on your hip, tugging you close, “I don’t know what I’ll do if she ever decides to leave me.”

It’s nice to think that he means it, to imagine that you are here not as a tag-along but to join him in a family ceremony because you are part of the family. The thought turns your blood to sugar and everything surrounding you falls apart; you listen to the rest of their conversation without processing it, the precise detailing in the marble pillars blurs into a mass of white, and you still feel his strong hold on the curve of your waist yet you are lost in the swam of possibilities.

How lovely it would be to live up to her assumption. To ‘last into college’ as a couple, not as best friends. To be able to call him yours even when you’re not together, to come home and kiss his lips, to sleep in his bed and it mean more than the laziness of blowing up the air mattress. At some point, he leads you into the third pew to sit beside his parents, and when you greet them with a hug all you can think about is them viewing you as more than their son’s friend.

God, you hate it.

You’re not as religious as Hyunjin and his family. But for the first time in years, you find yourself looking to the crucifix during the service and praying to whoever is up there to give you some strength and patience, because Lord do you need it.

Hyunjin is a funny guy.

Or so he thinks.

It’s not that he isn’t funny. It’s just— compared to your friends Minho or Changbin, he isn’t at the top of the list. When you think of Hyunjin, the first words that pop up are soft, loud, and dramatic.

It’s not that he isn’t funny. He’s just weird.

Insanely, ridiculously weird. For example, the time he called Jeongin a vitamin. Or the time he slapped half a bottle of sunscreen on his face. Or his random bouts of dancing at inappropriate moments. Just to name a few.

After the Baptism, Hyunjin acted like nothing happened. Didn’t even bring it up. Not even a joke. After the ceremony, you joined his family for a luncheon, which just involved the two of you being weird and making peculiar dancing videos on SnapChat with the swirly filter and complaining about school for a few hours until he drove you home. Obviously you stopped for food again on the way.

But that was it. Things went on as normal, and you returned to campus later that night and forced the whole experience to the back of your brain. It was officially grind season, and grind season meant studying for exams. No parties. No boys. And certainly no Hyunjin.

You both were home for winter break in the blink of an eye. And in normal Hyunjin style, he sort of vanished for the first week. Probably catching up on his strict sleeping schedule, you presumed, and accepted the fact that it was going to be a few days before you saw or even heard from him. The only anticipation you felt was wanting to give him his Christmas gift.

After what seems like an eternity away from Hyunjin, you get out of the shower on this fine Saturday before Christmas to find a slew of texts from him.

[5:52 PM] big tiddy jinny🍯🧸🌟🖇: Aloha mamacita

[5:52 PM] big tiddy jinny🍯🧸🌟🖇: How do u feel about getting froyo tn

[5:52 PM] big tiddy jinny🍯🧸🌟🖇: We can get fat and then u can sleepover aaaand

[5:52 PM] big tiddy jinny🍯🧸🌟🖇: We can stare at the wall for a few hours

[5:52 PM] big tiddy jinny🍯🧸🌟🖇: And

[5:53 PM] big tiddy jinny🍯🧸🌟🖇: *cough*

[5:53 PM] big tiddy jinny🍯🧸🌟🖇: Exchange Jesus gifts

See? Weird. Who wants froyo when it’s thirty degrees out?

[5:53 PM] YN: “aloha mamacita”

[5:53 PM] YN: uHmmmMMM

[5:53 PM] YN: im down mr president

[5:54 PM] YN: why do u want ice cream in winter tho. don’t u want like

[5:54 PM] YN: hot chocolate or seomthing

Obviously not. Two hours later, Hyunjin arrives to pick you up for froyo despite all your efforts in convincing him maybe you could take the train to the city and watch a light show, or simply drive around and swoon over the rich people houses and their Christmas decorations. He didn’t budge. This leads you to your second question of the day: why is it that when you threw on sweats for the occasion you called yourself a hag, but upon entering Hyunjin’s car you make a mental note of how hot he looks when he’s wearing the same exact thing? You groan at the thought. It’s because it’s Hyunjin, of course.

“Bonjour, mademoiselle,” he greets, flicking your forehead once you settle into the seat of his Subaru WRX because he’s a hotshot and likes to flex that he can drive a manual. Not really— the car is absolute garbage by now, having been his Dad’s old car (his Dad likes to flex too, apparently). However, Hyunjin takes care of it enough for it to seem five years old instead of ten, and, either way, watching him work the stick shift is unexplainably hot.

You swat his hand away. “Drive, bitch,” you huff, twisting to buckle yourself in. Once he’s reversed out of your driveway, you glance back to find him fighting against a devilish smirk.

“So,” you start once he has navigated out of your neighborhood. His brow twitches up. “Are you taking Hawaiian and French at school? You’ve been throwing quite a lot of languages at me recently.” Hyunjin shoots you an unamused look. You return it with a wrinkle of your nose.

“Anyway,” he ignores your teasing, pausing to switch gears for whatever reason so he can make it through a yellow light, “how did your exams go?”

“Well, you know…” You trail off, looking to your window. It feels a lot later than eight o’clock. With it getting dark so early in the evening nowadays, it feels as if nighttime is always following you.

“You know… what?” Hyunjin interrupts your daze, concern laced in his voice. “They were fine. I passed everything, I’m just worried about my major,” you explain sadly, barely glancing at him before you are turning back to the window to stare at the moon. Must be nice being a moon. Just get to hang out in the sky watching everyone and being watched.

“I mean, if you want to switch, now’s the time. Better do it now before the second semester,” Hyunjin advises, wise as always. Not really, but he’s right. “What are you thinking of going into?”

Yikes. He’s going to kill you.

“Nursing,” you blurt.

“Oh my Lanta, ___, are you serious?” He groans, stopping at a convenient red light presenting the perfect opportunity for him to smack his forehead on the wheel. Dramatic. “How are you gonna manage that? You’ll practically be two years behind everyone else!”

“I know,” you sigh, throwing your head back on the headrest, “that’s the problem. Bio just isn’t doing it for me. I don’t think I can spend the rest of my life in a lab watching mitosis. I need something more rewarding, so theoretically nursing is a perfect start. I don’t know, though.”

“Why don’t you switch to interior design or something? We could get our own HGTV show, ___,” he says, but you don’t meet his gaze when he glances over because beneath his words, you can sense some serious hopefulness. Interior design would be cool, but you’ve never considered that as a career choice. You once helped your parents pick out everything when they redid a bathroom at home and that turned out great, but as a major?

“I don’t know, man. I’ll have to talk to my counselor about it, I guess,” you shrug, pulling the hood of your sweatshirt over your head and tightening the drawstrings until the material covers your eyes, “why can’t you audition to be a K-pop star or something? I could be your manager. Heck, even your makeup artist. I’ve done your makeup before, remember?”

Hyunjin laughs, loud, and the sound sinks deep into your heart and makes you feel warm all over. Stress? Gone.

For the next few minutes or so, the ride is comfortably quiet. At some point, he turns on the radio and Mariah Carey’s “All I Want For Christmas Is You” floods your brain and reminds you to look forward to exchanging Christmas gifts later. God, you hope he likes it. You really went out on the sentimental gifts this year.

Hood shielding your vision, you jump when his large hand suddenly comes to grab the top of your head, squeezing hard and you imagine he’s trying to press some hopefulness into your brain. “Hand on the penis stick, Hwang,” you bark, blindly reaching for his own head across the way and pulling his ear when you do so. Good Lord, you hope no one can see into the car because… what.

Hyunjin lets out a giggle this time, reaching to pull you into a headlock and even though he’s got your head shoved up against his sturdy chest and goes on to give you a noogie, you’re stuck being all high and loopy on the sound of his happiness. And hey, it’s nice to know you’re the cause of it.

“We’re literally parked, idiot. If you had your hood down you would’ve realized,” Hyunjin snickers, releasing you after watching you struggle for a few seconds. Jerking away from him, you swiftly pull back your hood. “Oh,” you laugh, reading the flashy Yogo Factory sign above the building in front of you, “you could’ve just told me instead of watching me bask in misery.”

Hyunjin suitably ignores your moaning and groaning by getting out of the car and standing in front of the car, illuminated by the headlights. Why? Why must he look so scrumptious in his black hoodie and grey sweatpants and four-year-old white Nike sneakers? He has no gosh darn right!

After fixing the mess he made of your hair, you at last join him outside the car, shooting him another glare and moving ahead of him to open the shop’s door without waiting for him. “From now on, we have to start texting each other what we’re wearing before we go out, ‘cus this looks a little ri-donk-ulous,” Hyunjin whispers in your ear as you make your way to the cup selection, trying to ignore all the stares you— no, he is getting along the way.

“What do you mean?” You ask, plucking two medium sized cups up before turning to look at him. Then you look down at yourself. Oh. Looks like you’re both wearing the hoodie from junior spirit week. “Nice.” Just Couple Things™!

Back to Hyunjin being weird— why did he drag you all the way out here just to get a cup of chocolate frozen yogurt and maybe half a scoop of peanut butter chips?

Meanwhile, he watches in absolute disgust as you blow through your own dessert. Vanilla yogurt with probably every topping offered because you physically cannot make a decision, especially when they have chunks of cookie dough up there.

“So,” Hyunjin starts, trying not to look you in the eye considering you look like a goblin shoveling globs of diabetes down your throat, “have you talked to Jisung recently?”

You choke on a Fruity Pebble at his inquiry, prompting him to reach across the table and slap your back a few times until your esophagus is cleared. “Ugh,” clearing your throat one last time, you take a few sips of water while shooting him a glare. Jisung? Really? “How dense are you?” You hiss unintentionally.

Hyunjin raises his hands in defense. “Just a question.”

Yeah, just a question. Dumbass. “I mean,” you laugh awkwardly, “not really. We have a streak on Snap and sometimes we’ll talk occasionally but I don’t text him every day or anything. How about you?”

He shrugs, concentrating instead on stirring his yogurt into a goopy mess. “Eh. We still use our group chat a lot but that’s it. He’s too busy making music in Malaysia.”

You chuckle at this, picking out the boba from your own cup and leaving the rest now that it has started to look like something sold at the Chum Bucket. “That sucks,” you offer, not the best at giving him consolidation, you opt for linking your feet around his own in some weird act of intimacy, “isn’t he coming home for the holidays, though? I’m sure you can all have a reunion soon.”

“Yeah, he is,” Hyunjin hums, suddenly too focused on trying to escape your trap under the table. Annoyed Hyunjin is cute. “Stoooop,” he whines, kicking at your shins before breaking into boisterous laughter at your relentlessness, “I will not hesitate to throw this cup at your face.”

“Yeah, right,” you scoff, “I’d like to see you try.”

At this, Hyunjin drops his stupidly long arms beneath the table and easily captures your foot by the ankle, pulling hard enough for you to slip down your side of the booth. “Hyunjin!” You shriek, panicking slightly at your sweaty hand’s insecure grip against the leather. You’re going to fall. You’re going to fall flat on your ass underneath a table at a frozen yogurt place because the boy you like pulled your foot too hard. Fantastic. Ignoring you, he starts to wiggle your shoe off your foot no matter how hard you try to squirm out of his relentless grip. “Stop trying to eat my toes in the middle of Yogo!”

Finally, he releases your foot, letting it fall limp against his thigh.

“God,” you huff, breathless as you squirm back up your seat, cheeks burning ferociously, “you are such an ass.”

Behind the playful smirk he fails to hide, something darker glints in Hyunjin’s eyes and it makes your heart skip a beat. Then, “We should go.” The suggestion makes the heat of your blush scorch even hotter down your neck and you instinctively turn away, only to find the customers on the other side of the shop watching you with just as perturbed looks. Fantastic, part two.

“Okie,” you squeak out, blinking after him in complete and total bewilderment as to what just happened when he gets up to throw his trash away. Whatever. Following after him, you too toss your cup out before quickly finding your hand engulfed by his larger one as he leads you back outside, the sudden sharpness of the cold air bringing tears to your eyes. You desperately want to ask him what that was about, or why he’s acting so sneaky, but you stay silent, too afraid your voice will come out shaky and vulnerable. Instead, you let him tug you into his side and try to keep up with him no matter how badly your knees threaten to buckle with each glance you sneak up at him.

It’s silent when you enter the car, watching warily as he reverses out of the parking spot and maneuvers through the lot. Your heart rate seemingly cannot slow itself down, adrenaline taking the place of oxygen the longer you stare at him, at the concentrated scrunch to his face, at the cute tip of his button nose and at the swell of his lips and you distantly wonder what would happen if you pulled him into a kiss at the next red light.

In the midst of your daydream Hyunjin clears his throat, bringing you back to reality and you realize with a startle that he has caught you. Jesus Christ! What has gotten into you? You mentally smack yourself upside the head, instantly turning away from his cocky little gaze and staring straight ahead in search of something else to focus on. “___,” he sing-songs, slow and sensual and entirely demolishing the walls you have built around yourself. It is at this red light you wish to simply open the door and run.

“Yes?” You manage, wincing at how small your voice sounds and while looking out his window instead of into his eyes, you notice him grip the steering wheel hard enough to turn his knuckles white. The tension is insurmountable, weighing in heavily on your chest and you desperately wish to arrive home, even though that means having to survive the next twelve hours with him. Anything is better than the small confines of his car.

“What do you want to do when we get home?” He asks, cool as a cucumber. You pale. It is a dangerous question and you do not know if he realizes that. “Um,” you cough, scooting to sit up straight, “whatever you want.” You whisper the last part, genuinely petrified because you have absolutely no idea if your brain is twisting everything to make it seem like Hyunjin is flirting or if things are totally normal. No idea.

“Hm,” he offers, tilting his head in thought, “we shall see.”

Yeah. We shall.

The rest of the ride is quiet, comfortably or uncomfortably you cannot say because you are too busy trying to calm the Spongebob burning office scene occurring inside your own head, hopelessly telling yourself that everything is fine, Hyunjin’s fine, you’re fine. Just pretend like nothing happened, you tell yourself when Hyunjin pulls into his driveway with practiced ease. “Ugh,” he groans after retrieving your bag from the back seat, and you watch with a raised brow as he skips up to his porch, yelling, “I have to pee!”

“Begone with you, piss boy,” you tease, holding the screen door open for him as he struggles to unlock the storm door and pulling on one of his hoodie’s drawstrings just to annoy him. “Stop,” he growls, low and playful but nevertheless sending a swarm of butterflies to your tummy. You ignore him. Finally unlocking the door, Hyunjin shoves the keys into his pocket and seizes your wrist, yanking your arm down with enough force to nearly topple you into him. “Why are you being so annoying tonight?” He frowns at you, nose and brows scrunched in irritation and it is only because of his proximity do you finally soften up.

“Sorry,” you pout back, bringing your other hand up to boop his nose, “I just missed ya.”

“Ew,” he snorts, stepping past the threshold and kicking off his shoes. You follow suit, closing the door behind you and clicking the lock into place as Kkami comes sprinting over. “B-R-B,” Hyunjin announces, presumably bouncing away to the bathroom.

“Oh, boy,” you huff, squatting to pick up the fluffy little dog and hugging him close to your chest, “your dad is making my life very difficult.” Pressing a quick kiss to the top of his head, you put Kkami back down and grab your bag before heading upstairs, knowing Hyunjin is going to take his grand old time and probably take a shit while he’s at it. Plus, you’re impatient and dying to take your bra off.

Aside from what light his Gudetama nightlight offers, Hyunjin’s room is ultimately left dark. Here’s the thing: he used to have a lamp on his dresser, but then he took it with him to college and only brings it home for summer because he’s lazy and sleeps the majority of the time he’s home, anyway. Instead, he put up his little remote-controlled Christmas tree in addition to the lava lamp he has beside his bed. Perfect. For Hyunjin, at least.

Switching both of these on, their subtle glow offers just enough to keep you from banging your toe against something. It’s happened one too many times. Hyunjin’s room isn’t messy— he really isn’t a messy person to begin with, but he will reorganize the furniture in his room fifty times a year and you never know where the crooked leg to his bedside table will be to ambush your pinky toe.

Setting your bag onto his bed, you excitedly fumble past all your layers and unclasp your bra, maneuvering out of it with a delighted exhale just as Hyunjin begins his ascent up the stairs, steps creaking loudly under his heavy trudging. “I’m an idiot,” he grumbles, leaning against the doorframe to catch his breath.

You don’t bother to look at him, opting to quickly retort instead, “We been knew.”

“Ugh,” Hyunjin groans, exasperated, and you finally turn to him after successfully jamming aforementioned undergarment into your bag, “anyways. I don’t know why I didn’t just come up here, because I have to wash my face anyway and you do too and now we’re both going to have to share a sink.”

“Aw,” you coo, tone dripping with sarcasm as you pat his arm, “poor baby has to share the bathroom.”

“I’m actually going to strangle you,” he sighs, nevertheless following after you into the bathroom.

“Kinky.”

Hyunjin glares, unamused as he opens a drawer for his pink bow hairband and your striped pink and blue one that he bought for you, but keeps here for sleepovers. Yeah. He throws it to your face. “Sorry,” you offer, pulling the soft headband up to hold your hair back, “I’ll try to stop. I’m just so used to annoying you.”

“Clearly,” he scoffs, flashing his stupidly cute teasing smile and in your head, you imagine raising a white flag in surrender— he’s got you, he’s won, it’s over. Time to call it quits and head home. Evidently shut up (for now), you offer him a roll of your eyes before turning on the sink to wet your hands before pumping out some of his scrumptious watermelon face wash. Maybe if you scrub hard enough, you’ll manage to rinse away all the overwhelming thoughts of the night, too.

Barefaced Hyunjin is immaculate. Well, Hyunjin is immaculate twenty-four hours out of the day, but barefaced, freshly washed, hair messy, ready for bed Hyunjin is immaculate, and you are one of the few people lucky enough to see this eighth wonder of the world as often as you do.

Now, maybe it has something to do with the unexpected ambiance the light from his laptop, Christmas lights, and lava lamp have created together that makes him look so unfairly beautiful at this given moment. Or, you’re just insanely pussywhipped and looking for an excuse. You try not to think about it.

“Why are you so squirmy tonight?” He asks, frustrated enough to interrupt Kermit singing ‘Shawty I don’t mind’ playing from his laptop. “I’m not,” you defend, a weak argument indeed, given that you have just finished adjusting your position beside him for the umpteenth time.

“I mean, four female Ghostbusters? The feminists are taking over! I’m an ad—”

“___, you’ve touched my dick like four times. Don’t try and tell me you’re not squirmy. What’s wrong?” Hyunjin interrupts a second Vine, and even goes on to talk over ‘I have the power of God and anime on my side!’ like a lunatic. Oh Christ, you have? Surely you would have noticed. “Sorry,” you mumble, embarrassed as you bury your face into the curve of his pectoral and instinctively move your leg settled between his away, “I’m just hot, to be honest.” Technically, it is not a lie. Hyunjin’s family definitely keeps their thermostat at a higher temperature than yours and you always manage to sweat your ass off every time you come over. This time, however, you are certain it has more to do with the assault your heart is facing rather than your sweat glands.

At the sound of his tap against the spacebar to pause the video, you wordlessly and reluctantly sit up from your comfortable spot beside him in order to rid yourself of your heavy sweatshirt. Now, here lies the problem. Sweatshirt: off. Nipples: out. Realistically, Hyunjin has seen your boobs a number of times over the past few years, and even if he hadn’t, he probably wouldn’t even bat an eye. But right now, your heart is on the line, you’re embarrassed and you’re trying to play it extremely safe.

You toss the hoodie to the floor and nestle right back where you were anyway, slinging your right arm over his torso and ignoring his sharp intake of breath when you snuggle closer. “Better?” He asks, voice strained and it literally makes you nauseous. “Yep.”

He resumes the video. You had started early in the night watching Pom Poko, which unsurprisingly ended with the two of you crying at the bittersweet ending, then moved to TikTok compilations on YouTube to cheer up before moving on from them and onto the classic Vine compilations. You paid good attention for the most part, chuckling along with him to ‘What up, I’m Jared, I’m nineteen and I never fucking learned how to read,’ ‘Bruh chill, I don’t know why you in a big time rush,’ and all the other absolute comedic masterpieces. But after the fourth or fifth video of the same six second clips with an occasional rare one, you began to grow bored and decided to do what you do best: admire Hyunjin.

Sure, ‘Come get yo juice!’ followed by the loud smash of the oven made you smile, but you found the flashing lights casting shadows beneath Hyunjin’s eyes and lips much more fascinating. Of course, this is not the first time you have been held so close to him. But it is, however, all too easy to get lost in the sight of him and you’ve noticed recently that you are in desperate need of a map. Whether it’s due to your time away from him or simply an appreciation for untouched beauty you do not know.

Even now, your gaze flickers to his laptop once you hear ‘Get to Del Taco,’ but having already watched it five thousand times you tilt your head upward to catch Hyunjin’s silent giggle at ‘free-sha-voca-do.’ It’s a vicious cycle, really, going back and forth between wanting to simply enjoy the night and realizing enjoying the night lies totally in Hyunjin’s presence. And so, you continue to fall into this trap each time until you pay no mind to the videos at all, basking in the brilliance of Hyunjin’s joyous smile and the warmth his happiness makes you feel. It is this thought that slowly tugs you to sleep, a fight to keep your heavy eyelids open lost until finally, you give in to the comfort and allow yourself to drift off to the sound of ‘Step the fuck up, Kyle.’

You think you are dreaming.

You think.

“___,” the softness of Hyunjin’s voice at the crown of your head eases you from the clutches of sleep and you stretch your locked limbs before curling further into his side. “We didn’t open presents.” Even though you can’t see him, you can hear his pout, and you realize you must be awake to hear the disappointed words caught sluggishly between his lips so vividly. You hum, hesitant to open your eyes because you really want to go back to sleep. Just for a little while. And so, you ask, “What time is it?”

“Just past two,” he whispers.

You hum again, trying to formulate a sensible sentence in the parts of your brain still asleep, “We can… wake up at four. And open gifts. Okay?”

“Okay, weirdo,” Hyunjin chuckles to himself, sliding lower down the mattress after shutting his laptop.

You think you are dreaming.

You think.

You can’t remember ever falling asleep facing each other. But yet again, your brain is clouded beyond capability and now, you know for certain you are dreaming. Hyunjin never faces you.

Blinking slowly, it takes a few seconds for your eyes to adjust to the impenetrable darkness and you struggle to make out the features of Hyunjin’s face. You know you are dreaming, and so you tug him closer, throwing a leg over his thigh and an arm over his waist. Even in your sleep, you feel the sadness pricking at your heart, for even it knows this is only what dreams are made of. You like to make the best of it.

“You know I love you, Jinnie, right?” Your voice comes out funny, drawn out and mumbled like your tongue is numb and you fight the urge to feel for yourself.

“Of course I do. I love you too.” His reply surprises you. You thought he was asleep and, either way, hearing such fond words from him puts your heart at ease. He must be misunderstood.

“No. I mean like… I like you, love you. Like I want to kiss you… kiss you good morning and before bed love you. Send you hearts and take stupid couple pics and… go on dumb dates love you. You know?” Your words feel garbled and incomprehensible the longer you go on, trying to express how you feel when nothing is real proving to be increasingly difficult. God, if only you could do it when things are real.

You start to feel yourself slipping as he mutters a reply, mind in free fall and fuck, fuck, fuck, he’s whispering and you can’t hear him but you are too tired and helpless to wake yourself up to hear it. No, too lost in the next dream to go back. You can’t tell what is real and what isn’t. Christ, were you awake? You can’t tell. All you know is that you are warm, so, so warm and letting sleep take over you once more is the best answer to all your questions.

Hyunjin always says he hates waking people up. Because he’s normally the one needing to be awoken, whenever the roles are swapped he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do.

This time, however, he takes it upon himself to repeatedly smack your face with his pillow. Not a fun experience when it’s coming from someone who fails to recognize his own strength. “Jesus, fuck! Okay!” You hiss, the cloud of sleep abruptly ripped away from you with the slap of his pillow against your skin. Arms raised defensively in front of you, you catch his next swing and tear the pillow out of his grasp to shield yourself all before you have even opened your eyes. When you do so, with the blatant intention just to find where he is and hurl the pillow at him, you are met with the harsh light from his ceiling fan and have to squint past the stinging white light to see his shit-eating grin.

“Was that necessary?” You groan, undeniably annoyed and wanting to glare at him more but needing to rub the ache out of your eyes. “Yes,” is all he says, reaching for your bag and catapulting it to you. He is incredibly lucky you are quick enough to catch it before it thumps against your head. What has gotten into him? Did he eat an entire bag of Pixy Stix while you were asleep? You watch, still dazed from sleep and reeling from the whole pillow smacking attack, as he flings open his closet door and turns back around with two neatly wrapped boxes. You squint to make out the dancing Santa T-rex wrapping paper.

“Oh,” you chirp, understanding, and you unzip your bag to retrieve the large box taking up the majority of space, “thanks for waking me up. I’m surprised you remembered. Did you stay up?”

A rosy blush burns its way across his cheekbones. Odd. “I, um— yeah. No, actually,” he stutters, really odd, given he was bouncing off the walls not even thirty seconds ago, “I set an alarm. You made me sleepy.” Hyunjin sits beside you once you have scooted over, leaning against the wall and crossing his long ass legs. He keeps his eyes trained on the boxes in his hands. “Oh,” you hum, looking to your own gift and suddenly wishing for the mattress to swallow you up, “sorry. I haven’t gotten as much sleep as you on break so far.”

“I don’t think anyone ever has,” he jokes and you finally look to him, sharing a cheeky smile before he gets all shy again, tongue darting out to wet his lips, “um, Merry Christmas, ___.”

It’s a simple phrase, but it makes your heart swell. “Merry Christmas to you too, Hyunjin.” Leaning over, you wrap your arms around his shoulders in an awkward side hug, but still end up feeling all drunk and loopy on love when he eagerly returns the gesture, arms curling around you.

“Okay,” you huff, sitting back, “me first.” You dramatically hold your gift out to him, jittery and nervous all over. Buying for Hyunjin is always hard. He’s just so easy to please, but when you want to do more than just please him it’s a constant battle trying to decide how far out you are going to go for him each year.

You watch impatiently as he tears the wrapping paper open first, and then finally lifts the flaps of the box up. “Aw,” he whimpers, pulling out the quokka plushie and attached certificate, “you adopted a quokka for me?”

You grin when he hugs the soft stuffed animal to his chest, the weight on your shoulders partly lifted from his positive reaction. He reaches back into the box, brow scrunched in thought as he regards the framed picture. “The First Day…?” Hyunjin asks, perplexed as he reads the title above the constellation poster. You scoot closer, leaning over to look it over once more. “This was the constellation of stars on our first day of freshman year. The day we first met.”

“Oh,” Hyunjin sniffs, “that’s really awesome, ___. Thank you. This is coming with me to school.” At this, he hugs you again, probably to hide the tears you know are threatening to spill because Hyunjin is Baby and cries every year. “Anything for my favorite fake Aussie,” you smile, leaning your head on his shoulder as he reads through the quokka adoption letter.

“Okay! Your turn!” He exclaims, setting his gifts back into the box and passing you the smaller one of his. He catches your curious glance to the second one he keeps by his side. “We have to open this one together.”

“Christ, okay. Looks like I’m gonna be crying tonight, too,” you sigh sadly. “Ooh,” jumping ahead of yourself, you wiggle your eyebrows at the white box before you, “Hyunjin if you bought me a Fitbit… I swear to God. How many times have I said I am not working out with you?” However, once you finish tearing open the wrapping paper you find it is not, in fact, a Fitbit.

“It’s not a Fitbit, idiot,” Hyunjin scoffs a second too late, waiting for you to slip the lid off the box. “They’re bond touch bracelets.”

“Explain,” you murmur, enamored but confused at the two little house arrest looking bracelets.

“So basically, we each wear one,” Hyunjin starts, taking one of the bracelets out and a burst of color blooms across its small screen at the motion, “and if you touch it, mine vibrates and I ‘feel’ your touch.” As he explains, he buckles it around your wrist, twisting it so it lies correctly. You silently take the second one and help it on him, brain too caught up to actually say anything.

“Try it,” Hyunjin whispers, suppressing his excitement.

You gingerly bring a finger to the little screen, tapping it once, twice. Nothing happens. Frowning, you try again, tapping and holding, then a second time, and finally— a strip of pink light appears and the bracelet gently vibrates as you tap and hold a random pattern. In response, the bracelet on Hyunjin’s wrist lights up blue, buzzing in the same pattern.

“Oh, Hyunjin,” you sniffle, fighting back your own tears because you refuse to let yourself ugly cry in front of him, “this is amazing. Now I can annoy you year-round. Thank you so, so much. I love you so much.” He hums, pulling you close when you turn to give him a proper hug. To your utmost surprise, however, instead of letting go he curls one fist into your side and helps swing your legs over to straddle his lap. “Oh.”

“___,” Hyunjin sighs thoughtfully, fingers playing with the sleeves of your tee, “I love you, too.”

You nearly spit up your coffee. If you were drinking coffee. Instead, you’re left with a dry mouth and a slack jaw at his words. Huh?

Glancing to the constellation picture peeking out of his box, and then to the matching bracelets you both wear, you find your mind reeling trying to make sense of it all. Yeah, you say the forbidden L-word to each another all the time, but most certainly not with you on his on lap and his lips mere centimeters away. The answer is so obviously clear as day you have trouble believing it.

“Fuck,” you laugh all of a sudden, as soon as the realization hits you, “I wasn’t dreaming, was I?”

Hyunjin lets out a joyous giggle, hands linking behind your back. Unable to hide his smile any longer, he clarifies, “You were not, madam. We literally just finished talking about when we were going to open gifts and then I got ready to sleep. Two seconds later you dumped your heart out to me, but when I answered, you were asleep.”

“Bruh,” you wince, hiding your face with your hands, “I am so sorry you had to deal with that.”

“No, don’t be,” Hyunjin comforts, reaching to tug your hands away. Your gut does somersaults when he intertwines his fingers with yours. “I was actually, uh, planning on doing some sort of confession to you anyway, but then you went right ahead and did it for me. So thanks for that.”

“Wow,” you chuckle, trying to wrap your mind around it all, “does that mean you, ahem, perhaps like me too?”

“No, I just got us really couple-y long distance relationship bracelets, pulled you onto my lap, and kissed you because I just want to be friends.”

“You didn’t kiss m—”

The sly little fucker interrupts your retort by quickly dipping down to press a fat smooch to your lips, missing miserably and you don’t know if he did it on purpose but you quickly fix the problem, releasing his hands to cradle his jaw and tilt his head the right angle. Finally, finally you kiss him, breathing in the smell of him like some sort of aromatherapy and whimpering into his mouth when his tongue swipes against your own. It is like nothing you have ever experienced, the taste and feel of him making you tremble and igniting a burst of electricity through your veins. You could kiss him forever, you think, sucking on his plump bottom lip greedily until he finally pulls back, desperate for air or trying to reel himself in you can’t say.

“You have to open your other gift,” Hyunjin reminds, chest heaving, and your gaze follows his long fingers as they comb his hair away from his forehead. Automatically, as if kissing Hyunjin once grants you some kind of free pass to do the same, you brush a few stray strands away from his face before leaning back to admire him. “Stoooop. You can’t do that and not expect me to kiss you again. Open. Your. Gift.” Hyunjin whines, squishing your cheeks and turning your head away.

“Okay, don’t blame this on me,” you huff, reaching for the second box before jabbing a finger into his chest, “you, sir, need to stop being so beautiful for like, two seconds.”

He scoffs, helping you rip off the wrapping paper, “You’re the beautiful one here.”

“Ew,” you wrinkle your nose, most certainly not used to Hyunjin dishing out such compliments, “this is too Hallmark Christmas movie for me. Let me open my gift in peace, ugly.” This box, unlike the bracelets’, is simple cardboard and when you lift open the lid, a brown leather book looks back at you. “You remember Up?” He asks.

On the leather, it reads Our Adventure Book in mismatched colors. “Yeah,” you whisper, flipping open the cover to find two baby pictures glued on the paper, one of Hyunjin, and one of you. At the top, it’s labeled ‘Before Shit Went Down.’ You laugh.

On the next page, there are random photographs from middle school, and then finally each other’s eighth grade graduation portraits. Then, written at the top is ‘Here It Begins,’ followed by a selfie he randomly took with you a few weeks into school freshman year, and then some from homecoming. Silently flipping through the rest of the book, your tears flow freely now, touched beyond comparison at all the photographs and all the memories accompanying them. Some are from large events like prom, others from random moments you don’t even remember, but each and every one comes together to form a special mold fitting perfectly into that Hyunjin-shaped hole in your heart.

The last picture is from the christening last month. Of course, it isn’t one of the nicer photos his mom took of the two of you, but a SnapChat selfie with the flaming sunglasses filter. He’s mid-laugh and you’re pressing a kiss to his cheek. Funny thing is, you don’t even remember taking it.

The page next to it is blank, aside from what’s written at the top of the page. “Togetha Foreva,” you read aloud, voice choked up and God, you cannot fathom how gross you look right now. “What the fuck, man!” You sob, punching Hyunjin’s shoulder before wiping your nose and cheeks with the back of your hands. “I didn’t sign up for this cock and ball torture.”

Hyunjin laughs loudly at this, pulling you into a hug and giving you a few seconds to recover. “Hyunjin, this is like… seriously the best thing anyone has ever done for me, holy shit. God, you Pinterest son of a bitch, this is such a good idea,” you groan, flipping back through the pages and getting teary-eyed all over again, “I can’t express how much this means to me, Jinnie. Thank you, really.”

Flashing that toothy grin of his, Hyunjin tugs you to lie back down with him and tilts your head up to press a much more accurate kiss to your lips. “I meant what I said before, ___,” he murmurs, “I don’t know what to do without you, and I know we only get to see each other once a month but I can’t keep living as just friends. You’re so much more than that. And I hope all the pictures we add from now on will show this new chapter of our lives. If not, well, then I guess I’ll just burn the book.”

“Are you asking me to be Kkami’s official poop-picker-upper?”

“Yes. Wait— what? No!”

You break into a fit of laughter, only to be interrupted with him pinching your side and causing you to let out a yelp. “Hey!” You bark, jumping closer to him and away from his hand until, finally, you give in to your self-indulgence and go right on ahead in swinging a leg over his hips and pinning him beneath you.

“You ruined my serious love speech, ___,” Hyunjin pouts, face scrunched up at you.

“I’m sorry, baby, go on.”

You pause, blinking slowly at him. He blinks back, the silence in the air weighing in heavily as both of your two brain cells bounce around trying to figure out what did you just call him?

“Never mind,” Hyunjin says, voice a low rumble of thunder as he reaches for your hips and easily flips positions, “I think you’re on the same boat.”

You laugh, tilting your head back and eyeing him indignantly. Fuck, he looks unfairly delectable hovering above you.

“Okay, how many more times do I have to tell you I love you for you to formally ask me to be your girlfriend, stupid?” You scowl, bringing your hands to cradle his neck, thumbs brushing delicately against his jaw.

“Call me baby again and we’ll see about making that happen.”

You raise a brow, tugging his face closer by the chain of his necklace. “You’re lucky it’s Christmas, baby.”

1K notes · View notes

wychive · 4 years ago

Text

𝙪𝙣𝙨𝙥𝙤𝙠𝙚𝙣 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙𝙨

summary // you found your pile of ‘letters’ to hyunjin that contain thoughts that have never been said and decided to write to him one last time.

pairing(s) // hyunjin x gn!reader, hyunjin x oc, slight minho x reader

genre(s) // angst, letter fic

warning(s) // mentions of food, themes of being forgotten, vulgar wording, humiliation, overthinking

word count // 2.0k

author's note // happy birthday @noya-sannnn !! im sorry this was so late hhh you know how i am irl,, but i hope you enjoy this! i love you so much, jane <3 i apologize for the many grammar mistakes gn. i recommend listening to iu’s ending scene while reading this! btw y/n/n means your nickname.

[10/01/14, 3:55am]

dear jinnie,

hi there! it's y/n <3 i hope you're doing okay - i mean of course you are pfft anyways, just writing this short letter (more like paragraph) sort of as a venting mechanism? for things i cant tell you about lol im not so sure how you would call it, since you're so much better at words than i am. basically were like:

hyunjin: ow a brain freeze!

me: haha brain go brrrr

anyways haha yea <3 it's 4am so like,, ill see you at school!

signed,

your loser,

y/n/n

[15/02/14, 12:34am]

yo heartthrob!

im back with this kinda stuff haha it's been a whole? week? since ive written one of these so like yes..hi! i just wanted to say thanks, for today. you really know how to cheer me up huh? you really outdid yourself by setting up that little picnic for us. congrats on making the strawberry cake so perfectly <3 this day will always stay as a core memory in the back of my brain. you're too caring sometimes,,, istg you'll pay for this [maybe hugs?] >:)

signed,

your partner in crime,

y/n/n

[30/02/15, 01:29am]

jinnie-senpai~~

LMAO you hate me calling you that, doesn't change a thing though. hehe,, nways i hope you enjoyed your birthday present :) i got you that really cool skateboard that you wanted. i worked my ass off for that in my mother's garden so like,, you gotta thank me for that a thousand times :D nah jk, its a sincere gift, from me to you. i rarely do this for ANYONE so consider yourself lucky to have a best friend like me -3- also, seungmin is like….kinda the cutest person ever. introduce me to him pls, thank!

signed,

<your bestest friend3,

y/n

(p.s. you're kinda cute too,,,, ig,,, still stinkee tho)

[13/04/15, 9:04pm]

hey 'baby' (HAHAHA ihy for this)

i hope your day was okay! i didn't see much of you today (which was sort of a bummer but wtv) so like…. uh yea. you told me you were doing okay over text, which kinda surprised me because like?? we always video call lol this is kinda the first time,, but its okay, i trust you! (i really hope youre doing alright tho, i'll beat anyone up if they make you sad >:( ) you also called me 'sweetheart' today which was like…. omg wtf haha????????? that was so weird to me for some reason… a good kind of weird :D we haven't done those kinds of nicknames in a while so…. happy to know that they're back in session <3 i talked to the new girl today, she's really cool! like she knows the bean song on tiktok so like its a total win heh, ill introduce you to her tomorrow! you'll love her a lot

signed,

your 'lover',

y/n/n

[08/06/16, 10:23pm]

hey howl (hehe go back to that movie night we had)

this spring break sucks so much,, esp because youre not here (you still couldve brought me along :'[ ) but wtv i hope youre enjoying yourself. ive been hanging out with yeonnie lately and i found out she likes conan grey too like pls i love her sm. can we adopt her?? please???? she told me you guys have been video calling too and that makes me so happy!! you two are getting along so well aaa my precious babies </3

what if you developed a crush on her? haha…..jk unless?? (no jk dont shes all mine, stay away >:) ) anyways, i hope the three of us hang out soon. maybe go to that ice cream parlour where they serve the best cookies and cream?

signed,

your daisy,

y/n/n

[19/07/15, 01:23am]

peepee poopoo hello

heyheyhey!! (heh, haikyuu thingz) i hope youre doing okay! i mean sure you are, with everything going so well. also i feel like you're not telling me something. maybe it's just me? is it? i hope it is because you tell me everything,, we've been talking less these days but its okay! i know how busy you are, especially with your dad always bugging you,,

also, i think yeonbin likes you :0,, she keeps talking about you whenever we hang out. don't get me wrong, its not bad that she likes you but...something doesn't feel right. i feel like i'm being the third wheeler here and like ugh idk. haha laughs yea i think its just me.. im sorry, i didnt mean to do you like this,, anyways, ill see you soon + her too ofc- yall are inseparable lmao

signed,

your moonlight,

y/n/n

[23/07/15, 01:56am]

greetings, kind sir

lol more like mean sir but like aight KSKSK,, anyways,, how have you been? we haven't really talked in a while,, our convos are always so short with it being one-sided :/ i wish you were online more. yeonnie is ignoring me,, do you know why? i think you do,,, but when i asked you just said you didnt know. did i do something wrong? pls tell me..

she blocked my contact the other day and she won't even smile at me when i pass her in the hallways. its,, sad and stressful especially because she was the only one that would genuinely talk to me. i hate to say this,, but i miss you. us, hanging out like the best trio we are, yknow? but i dont think you miss me the same way. sorry, im getting out of hand. i know im just overreacting. im just gonna sleep ig,, good night! sweet dreams,,

signed,

your pink lemonade,

y/n/n

[25/07/15, 03:25am]

hi there

i heard you and her got together?? congrats, jinnie! im so proud of you,, especially because you never had even considered getting a girlfriend a few months earlier lmaO you really woo the ladies huh? anyways,, i hope you've been well since we last talked,, how many days has it been?? i would say nearly a week or so but honestly it feels like a hundred years,, considering you and i used to talk every day. but you have her now to keep you company.

keep this a secret but can you possibly tell me why it hurts when i see her? or when i mention her or even think of her?? is it because she's connected to you? but.. you're my best friend, so why? is it because i miss you? is it because im alone now? is it because you left me with a simple 'i have to go now,, bye y/n/n.'? im not sure either. im being silly, i apologize. ill figure it out sooner or later. sweet dreams, jinnie

signed,

your asswipe,

y/n

[25/07/15, 04:30am]

jinnie

it's because i love you.

signed,

your butterfly,

y/n

[??/08/??, 05:??am]

you

i miss your lame jokes. i miss your smile. i miss your laughs. i miss your funny faces. i miss the way your eyes twinkle. i miss th way you would make me happy just by doing the bare minimum. i miss the disaster you made when cooking breakfast. i miss the night when you snuck me out just to go to that pretty lantern event. i miss when you would call out my name everytime we met. i miss when we would share earbuds in train rides. dont you get it, hyunjin? i miss you.

[??/??/15, ??:??am]

asshole.

please tell me that isn't true, please. you're too kind to do these kinds of things, right? + i was your best friend,, then, why, why did you hurt me like this. i didnt do anything wrong.. you couldve just told me you didnt like me,,, why did she have to tell me? out of all people.

youre so pathetic for this,, i thought you were brave, bold - but youre just a fucking coward. i loved you, i really did. and i realised too late… im sorry. she,, i shouldn't have talked to her in the first place, right? i bet you knew she humiliated me, in front of everyone. of course you did, you were the only one that knew. you told her. fuck, i hate you so much (yet why do i long for you on a night like this?). you know how much that'll affect me and yet, there you are, laughing about it with her.

signed,

fuck off,

you know who i am.

[31/08/15, 03:41am]

ah, jinnie

please tell me this is just a nightmare. please, please. stop just reading my texts, please answer them. jinnie. i miss you so much. i dont care bout her, please just let me be in your arms. i dont care if you love me back, please just talk to me at least. tell me what i did wrong,, jinnie,, please,,, clear these tear stains on my cheek with kisses.

signed,

your fuck-up,

y/n

[15/09/15, 04:59am]

jinnie

why do i keep crying because of you? its been a few weeks since everything has happened. please, nothing has changed. i still love you the same even with all the hatred i have pent up in this stupid brain of mine. i wish i could just walk back in time, to where it all began.

when i first met you in third grade and you pushed me while playing soccer or maybe when we took those ridiculous prom pictures, remember those? i hope you still have them,, because i do too. i hope the pictures of us on your wall still hang there,, it'll remind you of the happy times. hm,, maybe you don't need them.

you already have millions of pictures with you and her,, i bet you printed some and replaced those with ours right? sly dog.

signed,

friend,

y/n/n

[04/02/16, 12:57am]

hey

i went to the park today and saw both of you being happy. it's nice to see your smile again. im sorry i didnt go up to you,, i just thought it would be awkward. when i heard that adorable laugh of yours, it made me realise that i lost something special. but it's okay isnt it? as your happiness matters more than mine.

signed,

y/n

[06/01/20, 08:00pm]

dear hyunjin,

im doing fine here. how about you? gosh,, how long has it been? years? since we last talked to each other. i havent heard from you since. i would just like to say i still think of you sometimes, when watering the plants or dancing while making pancakes. sometimes i think you're here with me too, just being the pals we were.

sometimes i'd see you out, just reading a book in the park or buying pasta sauce at the grocery store. it's nice to see you having a stable life. im not sure if you're still with her or not, but its good to know that you still have that large friend group. also! you're never gonna guess who im dating--

it's minho! do you remember him? the one that i used to hate,, uh yeah. he asked me out the other day- you may wonder how tf,,, i too do not know how tf but he gives the best hugs ever. he gave me the love i wanted from you. he stitched my heart back together after it broke,, i love him so much, jinnie..

it's snowing,, do you remember when we would skate on the frozen lake in front of your house? are your parents well? i wonder if your mother still has those earrings i bought for her birthday. i never told you this but your laugh and hers sound so similar.

i would just like to say thank you, for everything. you were a big part of my life, up until now. when we see each other after this, we would just be strangers. maybe flash a little smile or give a little wave whenever we greet each other but nothing more. some memories of us would flow in every now and then but it'll just be a short teaser. well, i'll be going now. smile for me, okay?

signed,

the one that loved you the most,

y/n.

taglist // @/noya-sannnn, @crvgio , @neo-shitty

reply to be in my gen taglist!

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facepalming-since-chernobyl · 3 years ago

Note

If you ever want to write a full account of your hospital stay, I'm so here for it. I want it all: the farts, the grannies, the fighting over windows, the other weirdos, why you want to murder the doctor and how your fam will help you get away with it, the works. Start writing while I grab the popcorn! 🍿

Ok, don’t remember what I have said here already, so I’ll give a full story plus some flashbacks from my childhood.

-I got 4 grannies in my room, the average age: 65+

-granny number one: ultra Catholic, made a cross on my forehead (I was so shocked, I didn’t say a shit, aside of screaming in my head – woman?! Covid restrictions?! Keep your distance?!), a farmer woman (one day she just said that when she wants a chicken soup, she goes outside, catches the chicken, chops the head and make a soup – the faces of the other grannies - PRICELESS), praying in weird moments, instead of sweat pants, wearing dress shirts and dress pants (and you know, we were doing physical exercises there???), loving dirty jokes and making them A LOT,

-granny number two – tiny old sweet lady (she was like 80 something years old?), usually sitting in the corner or on the balcony and praying silently, she was like Catholic kamikaze, she sometimes was sitting on the balcony and praying for FIVE HOURS, oh, and once shitted her pants

-granny number three – ex school director, Miss Ooooow, Ooooow, came with 2 suitcases and occupied ½ of the wardrobe (for example, I managed to put all my things in my night stand), was very surprised I came with so little clothes and was washing them, was crying when she had to wash her hair because she always goes to hairdresser…

-granny number four – on a wheelchair, my best pal, making her own cigarettes at evenings on the canteen (a place where the meals were served, close to the balcony), as much done with the other ladies as I was,

-our room were filled with weird Turkish soap operas (the first time they turned the television on some Mahmud wanted to kill some Bahar and the dialogues were so cringy I had to check if it was a real show and surprisingly it was). Every day after I was evacuating my ass to the canteen or to the balcony where I was reading (I’ve finished 19 books and my ass still hurts because of the fucking hard chairs).

-if it was not a Turkish soap opera, it was Polish News on the public channel (Imagine FOX news), so every fucking day when it was played, the traitors of Polishness and Polish tradition and the only good ruling party like me, were gathering in the canteen. We were like a few folks (me, the granny number 4 and some dude doing crosswords and having super high blood pressure, mostly because all dudes from his room were watching the news and agreeing with everything what was said there)

-food, examples

-so I was not eating too much, so granny number one made a cross on my forehead and blessed me, so I would eat more and have a strength to give birth to children – I shit you not

-when I said I don’t want children – they almost had a collective heart attack. I decided to not reveal my other social, religion and political opinions, because I would be strangled to death in my sleep by a rosary one night

-one day I was stupid too much and didn’t leave the room while they were watching Polish Fox News and while half listening to the bullshit I probably made a fuck-my-life-face. When they ask what I was thinking about, my, a fucking idiot, said that about the vanity of life. They almost got another collective heart attack and almost ran to the nurses, no idea why but whatever

-Granny number 3, was afraid of other people snoring, because she had problems with sleep. In the end she was the one who snored the loudest

-there was an opening/closing the windows war. Granny 1 had sick lungs and asthma and whatever so was always closing the window because she was getting pneumonia and oh my god, while Granny 3 had problems with breathing, was suffocating and oh my God, so she was always opening the window. Granny number 3 was always opening the window while other already left for the meals, while Granny number 1 was always returning first and complaining SOMEONE was trying to kill her with the cold air and closing the windows. HILAROUS stuff

-on the end of the first week I ACCIDENTALLY broke a small window that was situated on the top, a window that supposedly was not meant to be open, so for the next 2 weeks we had a window opened ALL the time. Don’t ask why no one called some dudes to fix it, I have no idea, but thanks to it I survived the nights full of symphonies of farts

-that one day they gave us beans for the dinner and boy, you can only imagine

-one day we got a meat chops with a crispy batter. If you added the batter on the bottom to the batter on the top of the meat, they were thicker than meat itself

-all soups tasted the same. One day they gave us a soup and I was SURE it was a pickled cucumber soup and I was AMAZED that they managed to make it without cucumbers. Then I have learnt it was a sorrel soup *sad music in the background*

-the grannies loved to motherhen me for some reason. For example, I was sitting politely in the canteen, reading another fucking book, when one of them came and said I should not read so much, it’s unhealthy and they are worried about me. I was blinking for 30 seconds, wondering if laughing like a mad hyena would make them having another collective heart attack. In the end I just mhm-ed and continued reading.

-later I have learnt they were behaving like that, because they thought I was in middle school…

-basically, I was the youngest person on the ward and some nurses and other patients felt sorry for me because I didn’t have anyone in my age to talk… and I was like… why the fuck I should have been feeling sad? I could read and NOT TALK??? Also, or reading or murdering the grannies with a plastic spoon in their sleep, so thank you very much, leave my ass alone.

-on one dinner I basically ate pasta with pepper, because the spinach, guys, the spinach was awful and I’m not going to traumatize you with the pic

-I had a deal with the crosswords dude during breakfasts and suppers – was giving him ham and cold meat, he was giving me jam

-the Granny number one was SLEEP SINGING one night

-two days per every week some farmer was coming and selling his vegetables and fruits. Guys, all patients were buying food there, for sure I was weeping while buying plums, apples and tomatoes.

-Granny number three was super annoying and acting like a bitch aka typical ex school director, because when she wanted to watch something in TV at night, she always did even if the others were upset, but when she wanted to go to sleep at 9 she owww owwww owwwwed and was turning the lights off. So, sometimes I was returning at 9 to the room and it was dark. And there were no night bedside lamps, so it meant you needed to go to sleep too. At fucking 9.

-the face of one dude who was eating with us on one table was always priceless every time when he was opening the boxes. It was a personification of a man who was done, crying inside and knowing he can’t escape

-the most traumatizing experience after my hip surgery was PEEING. The nurse brought me a bed pan and I needed to pee while laying on my back and it was weirdly difficult, maybe because the nurse was standing over me, talking to another patient. Also, I can’t imagine taking a shit while laying, but whatever. On one moment after like a minute me trying hard, she put a hand on my stomach and said, oh so hard. My face was probably a mix between: ==’ and O.O. But in the end I succeeded, yay…

-another traumatizing experience is measuring the temperature every morning around 6. You know, you are sleeping, but suddenly feel some movement, so you open your eyes and a nurse, wearing a mask is aiming a thermometer that looks like a gun at your forehead. Amazing feeling

-I talked with some dude who had the same surgery aka hip removal, but he was not sleeping so he herd everything, and said how blood was gushing all over the place and the surgeons and the nurse was bringing the artificial hips three times, because the surgeons were not sure if they are the good ones. FUN

-btw, the first time when I saw a dead body was in a hospital. There was a ward where one room was for children, the rest was for adults after accidents etc. Sometimes someone died and they were usually putting the dead body to the bathroom on the corridor (no toilets at the rooms, it was one of the two bathrooms for whole ward). They usually put an “out of service” paper on the door, but sometimes they forgot about it. So, one night, me, sleepy and yawning went to the toilet, opened the door and hellooooooooooo the end of my innocence.

-the most stressful experience from my childhood hospital stayings was “did you defecate yesterday”? Because if you didn’t for a few days an enema was waiting

#not sg #my fam #shitposting #hospital stories

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cutaepatootie · 5 years ago

Text

Holidays of Bread and Wood

Pairing: Jungkook | Reader Genre: fantasy au | angst | fluff (the fluffiest thing I’ve probably ever written) | a bit of enemies to friends to lovers au bc I’m a sucker for it Word Count: 10k

A/N: fashionably late, as always... Ugh! So, here it is, finally, my gift for my lovely secret santa @softjeon !! I hope you like it as much as I liked speaking to you through my anon messages. I also hope we keep in contact and get to know each other properly after all this! Jungkook reminds me of soft, fluffy bread, and that’s why this idea came to my mind. I loved participating in this secret santa project, I think it was so cute! Thank you so much for giving me the opportunity to participate @btswriterscollective , the project was lovely. Now, for my lovely readers who I have abandoned a bit lately :( I hope you enjoy this too, it’s written from the bottom of my heart. Lots of love to everyone and hope you all have a New Year full of happines and health! HAPPY NEW YEAR BTW! I WISH YOU ALL A 2020 FULL OF HAPPINESS AND HEALTH ✨ ✨ ✨

Every December now smells like freshly baked bread and wood to you.

Its cold wind brings you memories of him every morning as you are kneading your mixture of water, flour and a pinch of nutmeg – the secret ingredient that makes your bread taste so special. It seeps through the open window of your small kitchen and shakes your entire body. It seeps under your flour-stained apron, getting through your clothes and reminding you of his soft touch. It sounds like forest and shines like snow under the sunlight. It fills your nostrils with familiar scents.

Every December now feels like distant memories of a man you once knew, who loved to carve his dreams in wood.

* * *

Every start is difficult.

A new place, a new home, new people to call neighbors, new routines, new experiences, new fears… But you are used to it by now.

Starting from zero is something familiar to you, it is part of you.

Your father was the son of a prestigious cook from the capital. Because of that, he always knew about flavors and scents. And because of that, he fell in love with your mother as soon as he tasted her bread. She was a woman who had grown in a small farm in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by golden wheat and dreams she couldn’t reach: opening a bakery in the capital. Bread was her everyday routine, her passion and her dreams, and that was the reason why her father put all his savings inside a sack and sent her to the capital to follow her dreams. Your parents met each other when they thought they had all their lives planned, putting each other’s worlds upside down. They decided the capital was too small for them, so they travelled the whole wide country instead. And, when they were old enough to feel as if they had achieved every goal they had in life, you appeared.

In the shape of a girl with big, dreamy eyes, with the strong determination of your father and the skilled hands of your mother.

As far as you can remember, you have always followed your parents all across the country. Every three years, you would all settle in a new town, filling it with the happiness that your parent’s goods brought them. Then, when those three years passed, you would say goodbye, pack your things, and find a new place to discover and call it home – or, at least for another three years. And, when your parents died, you kept doing just that, because it was all you knew.

Still, every start is difficult for you.

Leaving the place you called home for the last three years is difficult. Saying goodbye to the people you called neighbors and friends, is difficult. Breaking your routines is difficult. Leaving your experiences and fears behind is difficult.

And yet, you can’t live without all that because it still is everything you know.

You sigh as you place a jar full of flour on top of one of the cabinets. It is the last one, which means you’re fully settled in this new town now.

Whipping away the sweat that has gathered on your forehead with the back of your hand, you sit down and admire the place you will call home for the next three years.

The shop is smaller than the last one you had, but it is cozy and warm. You close your eyes and imagine it already filled with people, and bread, the scent it will have, the noise, the atmosphere. You can’t wait to hear the usual banter between the neighbors as they wait for the first row of bread to come out of the wood-fire oven. You can’t wait to see the smiles on children’s faces as you gift them a small bread each time they come to the shop after playing in the park.

It is all new, and it feels scary, but you’ve never been more excited. As if you hadn’t been doing the same thing for the past 30 years of your life.

The first two days are peaceful. Some neighbors visit the bakery, curious about the goods you sell. The day after, those same neighbors show up at the shop again, this time, accompanied by more people. They tell you they have never tasted a bread like yours.

After he first three weeks, you already have some regular customers. They all greet you by your name, waving their hands in the air as they exit your bakery with one of your baguettes under the arm.

Kids visit your shop too, under a long day of playing in the center of town. They show up with a red nose and cold cheeks, mouth hidden behind their thick scarfs.

“Hello Marcela,” you smile at a girl with golden locks. “What would you like to have today?”

You know Marcela’s favorite, your cinnamon bread rolls, but you ask her anyways.

“I’ll have a cinnamon bread roll,” she smiles, showing you that her front teeth are gone.

“Will you be able to eat them without all those teeth?”

She laughs. “I can chew well with my other teeth. Yesterday, I ate some nuts and nothing happened.”

You smile. “I can give you a glass of warm milk if you want. I know you can chew like a grown lady, but if you soak the cinnamon bread roll in milk, it will taste even more delicious and it won’t be so tedious chewing it.”

“Warm milk?” Marcela says, eyes lighting up.

“Yeah.”

The rest of the kids, Marcela’s friends, think your idea is wonderful, because they all order the same afterwards.

You can’t help but smile as you watch the kids sitting at your kitchen counter, eating his cinnamon bread rolls happily while a white moustache of milk adorns their faces.

Maybe that’s why you love your job after all, despite all the moving and goodbyes, because you’re able to put a smile on people’s faces with just some bread and some milk.

. . .

“Well, now I think everyone in this town has tried my bread,” you say on your fourth week at that small town. An entire month has passed since you first opened your bakery.

You keep sweeping the floor as you hear Lucrecia munch her brown sugar biscuits.

“Hmm,” she mumbles. “Not everyone.”

“Not everyone?” you ask yourself, halting to a stop and resting the broom against the wall next to you, “What do you mean? Yesterday, the Mayor and her husband came to have breakfast. She was the only person in this town who hadn’t tried my bread yet!”

“Well, unless you went to the mountains and found a man dressed in black and gave him your bread, not everyone in this town has tasted your bread,” Lucrecia shrugs.

You raise your brows. You thought you had given your bread to everyone in town for them to taste it, but maybe you were wrong and there was another neighbor who you had left forgotten. Now you feel terrible for the poor man.

“A man dressed in black in the mountains?” you ask.

“Yep,” Lucrecia nods after finishing her last brown sugar biscuit. “There is a man who has been living alone in the mountains for some years now but only a few people have seen him. I guess he prefers to be left alone, because every time someone went there and tried to be nice to him, he basically invited them to run away from his mountains. Everyone in here is scared of him.”

“Oh,” you mumble. “He never visits the town?”

“No,” she says, shaking her head. “Never, in the ten years he has been living in the mountains, has he visited the town. There are rumors that he’s a murderer running away from justice, others say he’s a wizard. Most of us think he’s just a bitter man who regret many things he did and now just wants to die alone.”

“He’s old?”

“I guess,” Lucrecia shrugs again. “No one has seen him well.”

“Hmm…” you mumbled, eyes lost in the street outside your shop. You have the habit to give every neighbor of the town you settle in a taste of your bread. Leaving that man behind would be breaking your habits.

The next morning, you find yourself packing your things to go visit that mysterious neighbor. Traditions are traditions, and what would you be without them? Your parents started them, and you are determined to follow them until the end of your days.

You woke up early to bake a round of nut bread. It is one of your favorite breads, so maybe the man will like it.

You put the pieces of the nut bread inside a cloth and tie it making a small bow. You keep it inside your basket and walk outside your shop. The sun is starting to rise and you can hear the roosters in the distance starting to wake up. Soon, the entire town will be awake and filled with people.

So, before anyone can see you, you lock the shop behind you, pick your horse from the stables and your small carriage, set everything ready for the journey, and walk away from the town.

The woods that surround the town are beautiful, even more covered in snow. Wind blows all around you, making whistling noises as it scurries in between the trees. It reminds you of how much you love your journeys, the solitude and quietness of it all.

You don’t know where you’re going, you just know what Lucrecia told you, that the man lives in the mountains behind the forest.

Will you find him? You don’t know.

Will you get lost while trying to do so? You hope not.

You don’t know how much time has passed when the stone path that led you here disappears and turns into one of dirt.

Your horse neighs, a thick puff of steam dispersing in the air as he does so. You haven’t noticed it, but the air around you has turned colder and the vegetation, thicker, making the sunrays disappear behind the foliage of the trees. A shiver runs down your spine and you hold your coat tighter to your body.

You can only hear the footsteps of your horse and the sounds of the wooden wheels of your carriage crashing against the dirt. Somewhere in the distance you hear birds and other animals – or at least, what you suppose are animals.

Thinking about a plan B in case some creature decides to attack you, you grab your sack of nut bread and start tracking your surroundings with your gaze. It’s then, when you realize there’s a hut hidden in between the trees.

“Looks like we found it, Twinkle,” you whisper to your horse, petting his neck.

You spur him towards the hut. Its roof is covered in snow, and all its windows are closed with thick wood shutters. Maybe this isn’t the man’s hut after all, or maybe he’s not home.

You make your horse stop, keep the sack of bread in your arms and hop off the carriage, feet landing soundless on the snow-covered grass.

“Wait for me in here, I’ll be back in a minute,” you say to your horse, petting him some more to calm him.

You knock on the front door of the hut, also made of a thick, dark wood. No one answers. You knock again.

After ten minutes, you give up, walking away from the door and deciding to take a walk around the hut. It’s bigger than it looks from far away, hidden behind the thick trunk of the trees.

Behind the hut, there’s some sort of shed. Thinking that maybe the man is working inside the shed and didn’t hear you arrive; you walk towards it. As you are about to knock on the door, you see it is already open.

Carefully, you fully open it until you can distinguish what’s inside the shed. Tons and tons of wood are stored in there. Piles of cut trunks in all sizes and shapes. It smells like pine and humidity.

“Hello?” you ask, voice echoing inside the shed.

Again, no one answers.

You know it’s not polite to enter someone’s house without their consent, but since the door is opened… You take some hesitant steps inside the hut, careful not to step on anything important.

“Hello?” you repeat. “I’m Y/N, the new baker of the town. I came here to introduce myself and give you some of my bread for you to taste it,” you say, but to no avail, because the place is empty.

The inside of the shed looks like a carpenter’s shop. There are shelves full of animals and different objects carved in wood. Wood shavings fill the floor you walk on, making soft noises as you step on them.

In the middle of the room, there is a worktable full of untouched pieces of wood. All sorts of carpentry tools are displayed around the room.

Maybe the man is a carpenter? That’s why he lives in the woods? Because he has easy access to trees and wood?

You walk closer to the shelves, appreciating the different shapes and creatures.

“What are you doing in my house?” a voice echoes around the shed all of the sudden, startling you and causing the sack of bread to slip from your hands.

You turn around quickly, coming up with different excuses for your rude behavior.

“H-hello,” you stutter, fear filling your whole body. “I’m Y/N, the new baker of the –“

“I didn’t ask who you are,” the man interrupts you, taking a step inside the shed, a step closer to you. “I asked what you were doing in my house.”

“I’m sorry, didn’t mean to come off as rude. I was just walking around the place, saw this shed and the door was open…”

“So, you see an open door and you walk inside the place, even if it’s the place of a stranger?”

“Oh, n-no, I… I just…” words die in your mouth and your cheeks turn red. You are sure the man hates you by now and think you’re completely stupid.

“You what?” he urges you.

You lift your gaze to stare at the man standing by the door of the shed and you frown. Well, man? He looks like he’s your age more or less. His voice isn’t thick and raspy at all as you had pictured it would be, he doesn’t have a thick beard covering his features and he definitely doesn’t look hermit-like or scary as Lucrecia told you. He looks younger than you had pictured him to be, and definitely more delicate and… Well, handsome. Such a contrast with his harsh words.

“Do you have difficulties answering questions?” he says, raising his voice a bit and starting to lose his patience.

“No, I’m sorry,” you say, shaking your head. “I’m Y/N the new baker in town. As a welcome gift I wanted to give you some of my bread.”

“I don’t like bread.”

“You haven’t tried mine.”

“I don’t want to try yours,” he answers, holding your gaze without even blinking once.

You narrow your eyes. Alright, you entered his house without his permission, but now he’s being plain rude towards you. You already apologized!

“Alright,” you nod your head, grabbing the sack that had fallen on the floor. It is full of small wood shavings. “I entered in here without your consent, and I am sorry for that. I came here with my best of intentions, didn’t mean to offend you. But you didn’t have to treat me so poorly. I’ll leave now, with my bread since you don’t wanna try it.”

“Alright.”

“Good,” you say, narrowing your eyes.

You wait for him to say something else, and when you see he isn’t going to do so, you stroll towards the door and walk past him. On the outside, you turn around and look at him once again. He’s staring back at you.

“Nice figurines, by the way. Such a shame you don’t wanna be nice to your neighbors, I’m sure they would buy all your work for a good price.”

“They’re not on sale.”

“Such a shame too. Goodbye.”

And with that, you nod once again and walk towards your carriage. You’re not someone who gets angry easily but the way he spoke to you and how he treated you… Maybe he’s not some old man, with thick beard and a scary face, but he’s just like Lucrecia told you he would be.

He’s still staring at you when you climb on top of your carriage and spur your horse, walking the same path of dirt you followed towards his hut.

. . .

“Don’t frustrate yourself sweetie,” Mrs. Gah says. She’s one of your everyday clients, a nice old woman who owns a flower shop not far from your bakery. She says the scent of your freshly baked bread makes her flower bloom happily. “It has always been like this since he first moved in here. We haven’t even seen him around town. We just know he lives here because some people cross him when they go to the woods to get wood.”

“I’m not frustrated, Mrs. Gah. “I honestly don’t care that he didn’t want to try my bread, what makes me angry is the way he treated me. I just wanted to say hi!”

“You know what?” she says. “His loss. He will regret not having tasted your bread, believe me. If he hadn’t rejected that bread, I wouldn’t be here eating the most delicious nut bread I’ve ever tried.”

You can’t help but smile at the old woman’s words. It’s not worth it being so down because some stranger was rude to you. His loss.

“Thank you, Mrs. Gah,” you laugh.

The neighbors of the small town soon make you forget about your encounter with that rude man. Christmas is just around the corner – tomorrow, actually – and you have lots of bread to prepare. These holidays, everyone wants to have some of your bread at their table.

You spend entire days locked in your kitchen, trying new recipes and trying to improve your usual ones.

To you, Christmas Holidays smell like freshly baked bread, opened windows from which the winter air seeps carrying scents of pines and snow. It has always been like that, ever since you have a memory to turn to.

“Oh, crap,” you protest as you get the bread out of your stone oven.

It is just as uncooked as it was when you got it into the oven.

You click your tongue and open the wooden door behind your big stone oven. You shake your head, reprimanding yourself for not having noticed it sooner, when you see you’ve run out of wood.

You go to the pantry where you keep all your ingredients and wood, only to realize that there isn’t any wood either. How come you didn’t think of having extra wood for the holidays?

It is 24 of December, six a.m. in the morning. Clients will start arriving soon and you don’t have any single piece of bread.

You would go to the usual place where you buy wood, the house of a farmer who collects loads of wood and then sells it to the neighbors, but this early you’re sure it is closed.

You will have to take care of the problem yourself.

Without thinking about the cold and how sleepy you still are to go into the woods for some wood, you grab your coat, some axe you had lying around there and start your way towards the woods

The axe is heavy and you haven’t picked wood since you were little and accompanied your father into the forest in summer.

You don’t plan on getting too deep into the forest, since you just need a few trunks for today, but you don’t know the paths around the forest too well and when you realize it, you’re lost.

You sigh loudly, a white puff of air leaving your lips.

“Calm down, Y/N, it’s still early and you can find your way out of here.”

You haven’t brought your horse either because of your plans of not going too deep into the forest. The thought doesn’t help yourself to calm down at all.

The only thing you can do now, given your circumstances is at least take advantage of the situation and pick as much wood as you can.

The few first blows with the axe are pathetic – and you try with a bush, not even a tree. Your hands and arms are strong from kneading the bread dough, but you don’t have the technique, nor the knowledge to pick wood properly.

After some minutes – maybe more – you finally gather a decent piece of wood.

Wiping away the sweat from your forehead, you stare proudly at the piece of wood lying on the ground. The first one, of many more you are going to need.

“You won’t even be able to light a small fire with that,” a voice says, echoing through the open space of the forest.

You let out a loud shriek, letting your axe fall on the ground.

You turn around, searching for the owner of that voice. When you focus your gaze in the place where the voice came from, you see the carpenter with his dark cloak and equally as dark clothes.

“Oh, Lord,” you say, bringing a hand to your chest. “You scared me! What’s wrong with you appearing in places all of the sudden?”

“The first time you were in my shed, and now you’re in my forest.”

“Excuse me? This is not your forest,” you laugh, turning around once again and picking your axe from where it fell on the ground. “This is the town’s forest.”

The man laughs sarcastically. “No, it isn’t,” he says. “You trespassed the limits of my property a few kilometers away.”

He points with his chin behind you.

“Well, if this is your property, you should have it delimited with a fence or something.”

He shrugs. “I don’t need to do that, no one goes that deep into the forest.”

You sigh. He’s kicking you out, again.

“Alright, you don’t need to say more. I’ll pick my things and leave your property. I got lost searching for the best wood.”

“What are you doing in here, chopping wood on your own?”

“Today’s Christmas Eve and people want to buy my bread for their family dinners, but I have no wood at home nor at the shop, so I can’t bake bread! Which means I’ll ruin their celebrations!”

“You think you will ruin their celebrations because they don’t have your bread? Is it that good?”

“You would know if you had tasted it when I offered you some,” you answer, arching a brow.

He sighs and takes off the hood of his coat, letting you see his face fully for the first time.

His features are round and soft, a big nose that sits well in the middle of his face, puffy cheeks, almond-shaped eyes, thin lips, dark hair, pale skin… He looks straight out of a fairy tale.

“Let me pick some wood for you,” he says, walking towards you.

You grab your axe with more strength and take a step back.

“No, I can do it myself.”

“Yeah, I can see,” he mocks, pointing at the small piece of wood lying on the floor next to all sort of branches.

“Why would you want to help me, anyways?” you frown.

“Because if I help you, you will get out of my forest sooner.”

You narrow your eyes, you knew he had second intentions, and that those second intentions had something to do with getting rid of you.

“Alright, but first, you teach me. That way I can do it myself the next time.”

“You don’t buy wood from that poor old farmer in town?”

“Yeah, but it’s too early, the man has to get his good sleep.”

The man scoffs and holds his right hand in front of you. You stare at it with a deeper frown in your face.

“Give me your axe,” he ends up saying after a few seconds of silent confusion.

“Oh, yeah, right,” you nod, handing him your axe. “Be careful, it was my dad’s axe.”

He plays with the axe in his hands. “Well, I’ve seen worse axes I must admit.”

You roll your eyes and watch him walk towards the nearest three. It has some cuts where you’ve hit its truck with your axe. Seeing that, he raises his brows and stares at you.

“I’d love to see you baking bread, smarty-pants.”

In his lips, something similar to a smile appears.

“Your technique is not that bad, you’re pretty strong from how deep the cuts are, but you’re not hitting the trunk in the right angle. You can’t cut wood in a right angle; you have to do a 45 downwards angle like this…”

He throws his arms backwards and then, slams the axe in the trunk of the tree with all his strength. The movement is quick and sharp. He mimics that movement a couple more times until a good piece of wood detaches itself from the rest of the trunk.

You look at it with a satisfied expression on your face.

“I must admit it looks like a good piece of wood for my stone oven,” you say, nodding your head.

The man throws a proud smirk your way.

“Except others, I don’t mind appreciating other people’s work when it’s well done.”

The smirk disappears from his face and, instead, he rolls his eyes. Good, he was starting to get too cocky.

“Alright, your turn now,” he says, giving you the axe.

You grab it in your hands with strength.

“Focus on the trunk and don’t think about it too much, just hit it with the axe.”

You nod your head and mimic his previous movements, throwing your arms behind you.

“In this angle,” he says, grabbing your elbows and relocating your position. You tense up for a moment, his touch unexpected and somewhat warm.

He notices it and takes some steps back, his hands disappearing from your elbows.

“Alright, I’m ready,” you say, eyes focused on the tree trunk.

“Go ahead then, hit it.”

You nod and, with all the strength you can muster, you hit the trunk with force. Retreating the axe is hard, and you almost fall on your butt doing so, but you’re not one who gives up. So, you deliver another three blows to the trunk of the tree until a decent piece of wood falls from it.

“Not bad,” the man says from behind you.

“Not bad at all!” you say, satisfied with the result. “Now, I just need to fill this entire sack with pieces like this,” you say, pointing at the huge – and empty – sack behind you.

The sun seeps through the foliage of the tall pines and other threes when you fill the entire sack. You’re sweating, completely out of breath. The man looks like he isn’t doing any better than you.

You took turns to chop pieces of the trunk, and so, both of you are equally as exhausted.

“I’m gonna go home and grab a glass of water,” he announces as you close the sack with a bow.

“Okay, I’ll go home too. Oh, and thanks for the help.”

He shakes his head and stares at you in silence for a couple of seconds.

“Do you want to come to my house and drink some water too? You look tired,” he offers, startling you a bit.

“You’re being kind to me? I think that’s a bad sign, I should go home then.”

He rolls his eyes and grabs the sack of wood, starting to walk in the opposite direction from where you are facing.

“Don’t be silly, you need a glass of water. I’m not that evil to let you die of thirst in the forest.”

“Hmm… I don’t know if I should believe your words.”

You follow him through the path he himself had drawn towards his hut over the snow.

“What’s your name, by the way? You already know mine because I introduced myself.”

He stays quiet for some seconds, as if pondering if he should answer your question or not.

“Jungkook,” he ends up saying.

“Jungkook,” you nod. “Well, Jungkook, you were incredibly rude to me the first time we saw each other. You could have kicked me out of your house more nicely. But, today you have helped me a lot, so thank you for teaching me how to cut wood.”

He looks startled by your words, but hides the emotion from his face as soon as it arrives.

“D-don’t thank me,” he stutters. “It was pathetic seeing you cut those tiny pieces of wood.”

As his hut comes into view, you catch something you didn’t see the first time you went there. The front of the house is full of wooden tanks, most of them filled with grass and other vegetables that didn’t look too appetizing.

“What’s with all those tanks?” you ask, pointing at them with your head. “Do you have a deer as a pet or something?”

He looks at the tanks and remains quiet, leaving the sack full of wood on his doorstep.

“You have a deer as a pet?” you ask, this time serious.

“No,” he sighs. He opens the door of his hut and motions for you to walk inside. “Reindeers.”

“Reindeers?! I had heard about people who had pigs, even goats as pets but… Reindeers? Oh Lord.”

Jungkook shrugs and closes the door behind him. His house smells just like his shed did, of pine, wood and humidity. Somehow, the scent makes you feel comfortable and relax.

“You want some tea?” he asks from the kitchen.

“Oh, yeah, tea would be nice, thank you,” you answer, standing in the middle of the living room, not knowing what to do.

Every table, every piece of furniture is made of wood, and it looks like it has been made by him.

“Are you a carpenter?” you ask after some seconds.

Jungkook appears with two empty mugs and two plates. He places them on the coffee table by the sofa.

“More or less…” he hesitates. “I’ve never sold any of my pieces, but yeah, you could say I’m a carpenter.”

You nod your head and keep looking around you. The place looks cozy, the fireplace in front of the couch lit, the fire dancing happily.

“Impressive,” you murmur.

Suddenly, an idea pops in your mind.

When Jungkook comes back to the living room with a teapot and pours the tea inside each mug, you start talking.

“Hey, I want to offer you something.”

“More bread?” he asks, arching a brow.

You roll your eyes. “You wish, I’m never offering you my bread ever again,” you take a pause to drink from your mug. “I see you like reindeers, I don’t think you have them as pets because they’re wild animals and very stubborn ones, very difficult to tame. I don’t know why you want to feed them and make tanks for them, but if you keep giving them grass and old vegetables to eat, they’ll move to other mountain.”

Jungkook narrows his eyes. “What do you want with that?”

“What I’m telling you is that I know one things reindeers like, and it is bread.”

He frowns. “Bread? Why would you know that?”

“Because my grandfather was a farmer and my mother taught me everything she had learn from him about animals.”

“And why would reindeers like bread?”

“What? Why would humans like bread?” you mock him. “We both have taste buds, alright? They’re animals with good taste.”

Jungkook arches his brows.

“Where do you wanna go with that?”

“Okay, here comes the deal. I give you the old bread I haven’t sold during the week so you can give it to the reindeers, and you provide me with wood in exchange.”

“Didn’t you buy wood from that man in town?”

“Yeah, but I like how you cut the wood better, it will fit perfectly in my stone oven. What do you say? I think we both end up winning with that deal.”

“And how am I going to give you the wood?”

“The same way I’ll give you the bread. I have a horse and a carriage, I can bring bread every Sunday, and you can give me wood instead. My carriage is resistant, it will keep up with the weight and the journeys.”

Jungkook takes a sip from his mug, pondering over the idea you presented him.

You arch a brow, a bit impatient. It’s a good opportunity to obtain good quality wood – which is essential to make good bread – and to get to know him better. You’re not gonna lie, he intrigues you. You’re a really open person, so used to moving and knowing new people, that it’s part of your personality now. The fact that he’s so closed off and distant, makes you want to know everything about him and make him your friend.

“Are you even thinking about it?” you say after a couple of minutes.

“Alright, alright, it does seem like a good proposition. But, if the bread thing doesn’t work, we’ll stop.”

“It will work,” you nod, remembering your mother’s words. “If there is one animal who is good for transporting things during winter, it’s the reindeer. But they are really stubborn and difficult to train, so give them once piece of bread per day, and they’ll be all yours.”

“Another thing, I really appreciate my loneliness, so you’ll only stay here for as much as the exchange lasts every Sunday.”

“I’m okay with that, I have no time to waste either,” you shrug. It’s not the truth, though, you want to spend time with him and get to know him, but you’ll have to be slow, the same way you have to be slow gaining a reindeer confidence. Oh Lord, are you comparing Jungkook to a reindeer?

“Then, the deal is sealed,” Jungkook nods.

You nod and finish your tea in one gulp.

“I have to go now; clients will be waiting and I haven’t baked one single row of bread today. See you next Sunday, business partner.”

He remains serious as he watches you laugh at your own words.

You don’t think too much about it, you’ll end up warming his heart, just like a slice of freshly baked bread warms your body in the morning.

“Oh, I forgot,” you say before exiting the hut. “Merry Christmas Jungkook.”

. . .

On Christmas day, you watch the kids play with their new toys from the inside of your shop.

A hot chocolate in hand, you bask in the beauty of the morning. Sun shining, snow melting on the ground, birds chirping and flying around happily.

You’re happy. With your lifestyle, with what you do and what you will do in the future.

. . .

The next Sunday, you gather all your remaining bread from the week and put it in a big sack.

You prepare your carriage, your horse and start walking towards the woods. You hope you don’t get lost, but since snow has melted, the dirt path is clear.

Jungkook is already waiting for you when you arrive. He has a pile of wood by his side, more than you expected and more than you probably need for a week.

The exchange is simple, just like the following exchanges.

You give him the bread, and he gives you the wood. Polite words are exchanged, and you can see the boy starts looking more relaxed around you, but nothing else happens.

Life keeps going on, you keep waking up at 5 a.m. to make bread, open the shop and close it by the end of the day with a huge smile on your face.

Snow melts completely, trees grow green leaves once again, flowers bloom, green grass cover the paths that lead to Jungkook’s hut, and a reindeer or two start appearing by his hut, going to his hand-made tanks to eat your bread.

One Sunday morning you arrive to the hut with your carriage full of bread. It is Autumn and soon, it will be a year since you came to town.

Jungkook isn’t waiting for you like he usually is. Instead, he runs to you as soon as you appear, shouting something about reindeers and hurrying up.

“You need to hurry up!” he is beaming, you have never seen him looking so happy and thrilled.

“Alright, alright, calm down, you’re gonna frighten Twinkle,” you say, coming to a stop and hopping off your carriage.

“Come on, give me the bread, we have to fill the tanks quickly.”

“Why? What’s going on?”

“Reindeers! A lot of them! C’mon, grab a sack and give me the rest, we need to fill the tanks before they go away.”

You quickly grab one of the sacks and hand him the rest and follow him towards the clear in which he placed the tanks. At least ten reindeers are in there, sniffling inside the now empty tanks.

You open your mouth in surprise, you had never seen so many reindeers together.

“C’mon! Fill the tanks!” Jungkook tells you, already filling one himself.

When all the bread is poured inside the tanks, the both of you walk away from the clear to a place where you can still watch the reindeers eat without startling them or making them uncomfortable.

“They’re beautiful,” you gasp. You had seen a reindeer before, but never ten in the same place, and so big!

“Yeah, they are,” Jungkook says with a smile on his lips.

You decide to not say anything else, letting him bask in the happiness of the moment.

. . .

After that day, the reindeers go to that clear every single Sunday without fail, and you and Jungkook stay there to watch them eat.

You start closing the bakery on Sunday, deciding it’s not bad to take one day to rest.

You and Jungkook speak about the reindeers, putting a name to each one and deciding which trick you’re going to use to distinguish each one of them. Then, the conversation about the reindeers turn into conversations about your weeks, and the conversation about your weeks turn into conversations about your life.

You’re used to meeting new people every now and then, so it’s not difficult for you to open up to someone. When he asks about your life, you answer happily, telling him about all the towns you lived in, the adventures you lived and the people you’ve met.

After some weeks of exchanging facts about your life and anecdotes, you realize you’ve told Jungkook everything about yourself, but you still know few things about himself.

Turns out your second Christmas Day in town is Sunday, and as you do every Sunday, you visit Jungkook’s hut with your carriage full of sacks of bread.

As you’re watching the reindeers eat from their tanks, Jungkook hands you something.

It is a small rustic bread made of wood.

“Merry Christmas,” he says, smile small as he waits for your response.

You play with the small wooden bread in your hands, and then stare at him.

“I didn’t bring you anything,” you say, cheeks turning red in embarrassment.

Jungkook shrugs. “You didn’t need to. You’ve helped me a lot this past year, I know this might look like a stupidity,” he says, pointing at the clear with the reindeers in it. “But to me, it’s not. So, thank you.”

“Well, thank you, then,” you smile. “I’ll put it on one of the shelves at the shop.”

As soon as you arrive home, you get the wooden bread from your bag and place it on the shelve that decorates the entrance of the bakery. It is usually full of flowers and other plants, but now is filled with Jungkook’s wooden bread too.

. . .

The next Sunday, you show up at Jungkook’s house with the usual sack full of old bread and an extra sack – smaller – with some of the bread you baked on Saturday.

“What’s this?” he asks.

“I know you don’t want to taste my bread,” you say, quoting the words he told you the year before. “But I thought since you gave me one of your pieces of art, I would give you one of mine.”

“You call your bread art?”

“Of course,” you smile.

After pouring the bread into the tanks and greeting the reindeers, instead of staying there and watching them as you usually do, you go to Jungkook’s hut and sit at the table in his kitchen. You display the different varieties of bread in the middle of the table, as if it was a tasting.

“Alright,” you say. “You’ll try a piece of each one of them, and, in the end, you have to tell me which one is your favorite.”

He tries your bread, smelling each one of them and playing with the pieces you give him in his hands.

He closes his eyes, ignoring every sense that isn’t the taste.

In the end, his favorite one ends up being the nut bread, and you laugh, because you knew from the beginning that he was the nut bread type of person.

. . .

In the end, Jungkook warms up to you.

Well, he warms up to you, or he warms up to your bread, you still don’t know. The fact is that he looks more relaxed and friendly with you, and you finally get to know the man that hides behind the mysterious man who lives in the mountains and never visits the town.

Word spread around town that you and the man in the mountains are friends, and neighbors start looking at you with harder gazes. But you don’t mind, because the man who hides behind that mysterious man in the mountains is a kind man, boy at heart, whose eyes hide thousands of stars and dreams. Who laughs so brightly, it can melt snow. Who sings to the reindeers when he thinks you’re not paying attention. Who feels lonely and express himself through the things he carves into wood.

And somehow, you find yourself warming up to you during Spring, and Summer, and Autumn, and then Winter again.

He starts reminding you of bread, of wood, of pine and snow.

Sundays are a sacred day to you because it’s the day when you see him and get to know another tiny piece of him.

. . .

You spend your third Christmas day in town with Jungkook.

You smile as you remember how shy he looked when he asked you if you wanted to spend the day with him.

“Hmm… Do you any plans on Christmas Day?”

“Yeah, waking up at 5 a.m. making bread, selling it to the people in town, eating by myself and going to bed early. Truth is that I don’t do anything special on Christmas Day, what about you?”

“More or less the same. I carve something that has to do with Christmas – I know, pathetic – eat and then go to bed. Santa doesn’t visit me since I moved here.”

You laugh. “What are we? A pair of octogenarians? Mrs. Gah is almost ninety-years-old and her plans on Christmas Day are funnier than ours.”

“What if we spend it together this year? You know, we can eat at my hut, play some chess… I made a chess board and figurines last week.”

You find yourself answering him with the quickest “yes” you’ve ever given.

. . .

“Didn’t know you made wine,” you say, taking a sip from you glass.

He shrugs. “Some years I do, some I don’t. This year I found some grapes in the forest so I sued them to make wine.”

“It’s tasty,” you hum. “It’s been years since I last tried wine.”

A stomach full of good food, a glass of wine in your hands, two nice rounds of chess filled with laughter… What else could you ask for?

Maybe it’s the wine that pushes you to finally ask the question you’ve been answering yourself for weeks. Maybe it’s not. You end up asking it anyway.

“Why reindeers?”

“Hmm?” Jungkook asks, taking a sip from his own glass of wine.

“Why do you like feeding reindeers and not… Razorbacks, for example.”

You laugh at your words, but Jungkook turns serious. The cracks of the fire are the only sounds that fill the hut.

It looks like you’ve touched a delicate subject.

“If you don’t wanna tell me that’s right…”

Jungkook places his glass on wine on top of the table and focuses his gaze on the empty dishes on it.

“No, I wanna tell you,” he nods his head. “I want you to know.”

He stares at you and a wave of electricity shots through your body.

“I met Luna when I was six and she was four. She came new to the village I was from and we soon became good friends. It’s just like any other story, honestly, we grew up together, explored the world together, fell in love… Typical thing. The only thing that wasn’t common about us was her…” his gaze darkens, voice turns sad. “Luna was so special, so kind and wonderful, that the world had to compensate all that somehow. She was sick, ever since she was born, she was always sick. Every winter she would fall sick, lock herself at home and wouldn’t go out until the snow had melted and the trees had started to turn green again.”

He pauses. You let him have a moment of silence.

“It had been like that ever since she was a child, every year worse than the previous one. And still, the only thing she hated about falling sick every winter was missing the Christmas Holidays and the reindeers playing in the snow. She loved them. During the days when she was still not as sick, we would go to a lake in the outskirts of the village that was always full of reindeers in winter. We would watch them and try to pet them. We never got to pet them, though,” he lets out a small laugh.

“When we had enough money saved, and everything in our lives planned, we moved here. I had heard that there were loads of reindeers in this mountains, and bought this piece of land. I had always been good at making things with wood, so I made this cabin for the both of us. She loved it, I had never seen her look so happy.”

“It’s beautiful,” you murmur.

“Thank you,” he says, smiling softly at you. “We lived in here for some years, she still fell sick every winter, but at least, she could see the reindeers playing in the snow from her window.”

He makes another pause. This one is longer, feels thicker and heavier.

“One winter, she fell really sick, like really, really sick. It had been worse than I had ever seen. Fever, Vomits. Deliriums. I contacted a doctor, but he could do anything. Luna died before the snow melted that year.”

You bite your lower lip. You hadn’t thought about that story, you had always thought Jungkook simply liked reindeers. Just like he liked wood.

“Ever since then, I’ve stayed there because… I have nowhere else to go. I tried to feed the reindeers, make them as happy as they made her. But all I’ve done is lock myself away from the world, become bitter and carve everything she ever loved in pieces of wood.”

“Those wood figurines, are they all for her?”

He nods with his head. He leads you to his shed, lights a candle and shows you every little piece and figure he ever did. From a reindeer, to a moon, to an apple tree.

You see the longing in his eyes as he explains every little figure. How much he would have loved to gift them to his Luna.

“That’s why I feel so grateful for all the help you have given him. You have no idea how happy you’ve made me.”

You stare down at his lips for a moment. It would be so easy to reach out to him and discover how goof they would feel touching yours…

But no, it’s not the moment, nor the place. You’re not even sure if he’s fully ready to say goodbye to his Luna.

So, instead, you take a step back and shake your head with a smile on your face.

“Don’t thank me, I’ve always been happy to help you, and now, even more than I now it’s for a beautiful cause. I’m sure Luna loves what you’re doing for her wherever she is.”

You stare at him as he places the wooden figure of a reindeer back on the shelf.

You’re not sure if you will be able to smell wood every again without the image of Jungkook caressing his figures delicately coming to your mind.

. . .

And time keeps passing, but this time, it seems as if it passes slower.

You don’t know if it’s because you know that this is your last year in town and that, when winter arrives, you’ll be packing your things and finding new places to discover, new people to meet, new stories to tell… Or if it’s because you’ve found a place that feels like home.

Yeah, home, a permanent place. A safe place. A place to come back to. A place to grow old in.

For you, making bread had always been your home, that’s why you never cared too much about moving to a new place and all that. But now, making bread is not enough.

You find your home in the morning breeze that seeps through the window of your small kitchen as your kneading bread, the special scent of the town filling your nostrils. You find your home in the smiles of children like Marcela, in the conversations with people like Lucrecia. You find home in every Sunday, packing your things and putting them on your carriage. You find home in feeding the reindeers and then watching them eat happily.

You find your home in Jungkook.

You feel safe around him, you feel happy, comfortable.

Maybe that’s why time passes so slowly now. Because you feel safe, and happy, and comfortable, and every other good feeling.

But even if it passes slowly, it passes, and winter arrives.

You already told people in town that you would move when you arrived, so they all know it’s their last winter with you. But somehow, you never found the courage to tell Jungkook.

At first, you thought he wouldn’t care, on the contrary, if you went and never came back. Better for him.

Then, you just forgot about it, forgot about the fact that you would have to part soon and say goodbye.

And now… You just can’t find it in you to tell him you will leave and probably never come back.

But you know you must tell him, you can’t just disappear without saying goodbye. Not to him.

So, on your last Sunday with him, two weeks before Christmas Day and one before moving away, you tell him.

You go to his hut and there he is, smile wider, eyes brighter than ever before. Waiting for you.

You grab your sack full of old bread and Jungkook rushes to help you. The sack is heavy, but today your heart feels heavier.

You’ve fallen in love with Jungkook, just like you fell in love with bread the first time you saw your mother making it, kneading it with her bare hands.

You follow your routine, pouring the bread into the tanks, watching the reindeers eat. You try to keep up with the conversation, acting normal. But the truth is, that you can’t, that your mind is elsewhere.

“Are you alright?” Jungkook asks. “You’re too quiet.”

You bite your lower lip. He’s giving you an opportunity to tell him. You can’t miss it.

“I need to tell you something, Jungkook.”

He becomes serious immediately, eyes pierced on yours.

“Alright. Go ahead.”

You clear your throat and look away from him.

“I’m moving away.”

“What? Moving away? But you came here just… Three years ago.”

“I know,” you nod with your head. “But… I only stay three years in each place. I’m a nomad, just like my parents.”

You can feel Jungkook’s stare on you.

“I thought you just liked to visit places, not that you… Didn’t have a permanent home. And you’re telling me now? When are you going?”

You gulp. “Next week.”

You stare at him just in time to see the hurt in his eyes.

“Next week… You had three years to tell me and you’re telling me that you’re moving away next week now?”

You shake your head. “I’m sorry, I know this is not how it should have been done… But there’s no way back now.”

“No, there’s not.”

He takes some steps away from you, hurt written all over his features, making your stomach churn each time you stare at him.

“Please, forgive me Jungkook, I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“Well you did, making me trust you and open up to you just for you to throw it all away by disappearing?”

You gulped loudly.

“I wasn’t thinking about the future when I was getting to know you. All I was thinking about was how happy I was when I was with you.”

Jungkook keeps his eyes on yours for some seconds.

“If you’re so happy with me, stay here. Don’t go.”

Jungkook words feel heavy as he lets them go. They held more meaning than it seems. The both of you know it, but you’re not going to acknowledge, because that would mean letting go of the rest of the things you know.

“I can’t, Jungkook,” you shake your head. “This is who I am, this is what I am. Without this, what would I do? My parents did this, and I’ll do it for the rest of your life.”

“Then, you’re not that happy when you’re with me.”

You shake your head again. “You don’t understand… I’ve spent all my life going from one place to another, what will I do if I stay rooted in one? I don’t know how to live like that without feeling asphyxiated.”

“I do understand, Y/N,” Jungkook says. Sad eyes staring into yours. “You’re the kind of person who goes to places, turn them into theirs, fill them with memories of them. Make everything smell like them, taste like them… Make everyone fall in love with them. Just for them to disappear, leaving a huge void in the place they were. Luna was like that too.”

Your eyes fill with tears. You don’t remember the last time you cried – probably when your parents died – so used to laugh all the time and show others your brighter side.

“I-I…” you stutter.

No coherent words come to your mind. You’re left blank after Jungkook’s words. His words reminded you of your parents. The huge void they left in you when they died, the memories of them, the love you had for them… Are you the same?

“I wish you good luck, hope you finally find a place to call home someday.”

And with that, he turns around and starts walking towards his hut, facing his back to you the entire time.

You don’t run after him.

You don’t call his name.

You don’t tell him that, without him, you will never be able to find a place to call home.

You don’t look for him during the next week.

Instead, you start packing your things, saying goodbye to the neighbors. To Marcela, who cries and hugs you and whom you gift a box full of your cinnamon breads. To Lucrecia, and Mrs. Gah… Everything feels like all the other times you moved from a place you had used to call home for three years. You feel nostalgic and sad, but also excited for what’s about to come.

When you think about Jungkook, though, anything feels like the other times you moved to a different place.

You can’t leave the town without letting him know how important he’s to you. How much he feels like home. He is more than enough for you to stay, but you’re too coward to admit that to yourself – written in a letter feels less real. You tell him that he reminds you of all the good things you love in life, of bread and wood and Christmas Holidays.

You tell him that you love him.

You tell him that, maybe someday, you will see each other again.

You write all that in a letter and leave it stuck on his front door.

You never receive a response for that letter, though.

. . .

The day you leave, a row of neighbors wait for you in the center of town to tell you their final goodbye.

You thank everyone, a kind smile on your face. This time, the smile doesn’t reach your eyes.

It’s such a familiar scene to you that it’s part of your unusual routine by now.

You get on your carriage and check that all your belongings are packed in it. You’re doing just that, when the crowd separates, and a man dressed in all black clothes appear. He carries a heavy-looking sack with him.

The people gasp, and you let a soft: “Jungkook?” escape your lips.

He hops on the carriage, grabs your face wit both hands and presses his lips against yours. Your eyes widen, and the crowd lets out a loud gasp.

“W-what?” you stutter once you part the kiss.

“I haven’t been able to answer your letter, I’ve been busy packing my things.”

“Packing your things?” you ask. “What do you mean, Jungkook?”

“You told me I’m your home, the place you want to go back to every time. It wouldn’t make sense to stay in the hut when you’re my home too.”

Your eyes start filling with tears.

“I’ve lived in there for years, lonely, thinking I was doing it for Luna, when I was doing it for myself. Because I was scared of the outside world. Just the opposite of you. You love the outside world so much… I think it’s time to let myself see all that… By your side.”

Those tears that fill your eyes, begin rolling down your cheeks.

“Are you sure, Jungkook?”

“I’m more than sure.”

This time feels like all the other times you moved from a place you had used to call home for three years, except for the fact that you will be accompanied by someone who reminds you of holidays of bread and wood, reminds you of home.

* * *

Every December now smells like freshly baked bread and wood to you.

Every December now feels like distant memories of a man you once knew, who loved to carve his dreams in wood.

Every December now feels like a man you know. A man who loves hugging you tightly from behind every morning as he watches you knead the bread dough. A man who kisses you and it feels like fireworks are exploding inside your body. A man whose laugh sounds like happiness. A man whose eyes shine like a thousand starts locked inside a small jar.

Every December now feels like Jungkook and the wooden figurines he carves on the back of your bakery as you take care of the shop, like Christmas Holidays and the bread you make together before sitting at your small table and eating dinner together.

Every December now feels like Jungkook, feels like home. And you’re happy, because you know it’ll stay like that for a long time.

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