#i think oranges are fun. what a fun fruit. i peel it and then its in segments already that i can eat

[nutzworth]

today during school at lunch a group of about 5 people continued their Orange Eating Contest where they try to eat AS MANY ORANGES AS POSSIBLE AND ALSO FAST. yesterday they also did this but today we had a rally so energy was high and especially for me and my school friend. we went in there and we started watching the Orange Eating Contest and it was crazy. essentially how the Contest worked was that everyone peeled an orange (they had piles of orange peels in front of them) and left it whole and someone counted down and then they stuffed the WHOLE ORANGE in their mouth and their mouths dripped with juice on their piles of peels and they chewed and chewed and chewed until someone either stood up or SLAMMED on the table and opened their mouth. finished. the winner.

it was really intense. and me and my school friend being the way we are were like "ok who do you think is gonna win next." and then we said "im putting my bet on that guy." and then we said "ill put a dollar on that guy." and then we got 1 dollar each. and put them on the table. and then money was involved. i put my bet on this guy stanley because he finished second the round before. the first place person didnt participate in this round. and someone else threw in two more dollars and then they did the contest and I LOOOOST. i lost my one dollar. my school friend won the bet and got $2 (the other $2 went to the guy who won). thats still a 1 dollar profit for them. anyway i dont know why i wanted to tell this story but i just ate an orange and i felt so carnivorous and i wanted to share it

[sappho-knight]

commentary

[useless-catalanfacts]

Something very strange happened, and I think we need to have a talk about the way some people who don't know about Catalan culture misrepresent the Tió (our pre-Christian Christmas present-bringer, a log who poops presents 🪵🎁).

I have a relative who is a teacher in an adult school, she teaches Catalan language (mostly to immigrants). Some days ago, they were doing an activity about Catalan holidays, and two of her students said that Tió should be banned and that it's the worst thing they have ever heard. My relative was very shocked and asked why they could say such a thing (imagine, it's like saying Santa Claus should be banned in the USA). Their reasoning was that they completely misunderstood everything about it. These people are native Spanish speakers and assumed that the Catalan word "tió" (meaning "log" 🪵) means the same as the Spanish word "tío" (meaning "uncle"), even though both words are pronounced differently. They believed that the Tió represents a man and that we tell children to beat people up, so much until they poop themselves, threatening them to give us things. They said it promotes violence to children and that it's disgusting. Nothing further from the truth.

This is not an isolated incident because a few days ago I saw a post on Tumblr repeating this same mistake. I texted the person who posted it saying that it's not called "Poop Uncle" but "Christmas Log" and they said that this was what they were taught by their teacher (this person is from a different continent), and haven't taken down the post. I have also seen comments on Instagram repeating the same and making fun of how gross and violent it is.

The real meaning of Tió

The Log is a way of symbolically passing down our relation with nature. This is how the tradition works:

In early December, we get a log and bring him home. We take care of him: we keep him in a warm place, with a blanket over him, and we feed him things like orange/clementine peels and walnut shells. On Christmas day, all the family comes together. Children get wooden sticks and go get ready in another room, meanwhile adults place presents under the Log's blanket. Children come back and hit the Log while singing a song. There are many local variants of the song but they all come down to asking the Log to poop us good food. When they have finished singing the song, the children remove the blanket and discover the presents that the Log has pooped. Years ago (now this is only done by some farmer families in rural areas, but back in the day this was generalized), the Log was burned in the house's fireplace and its ashes were spread on the fields, believed to act as a magical fertilizer.

Notice what this whole "ritual" has been about: we take care of nature, nature takes care of us, we are part of a whole and there's no real difference between "nature" and "us" because we all give life to each other. After the winter rest, we wake up nature (the Tió) so it will bring fruits and light again.

We take a log from the forest and bring it home. We do this for the Winter Solstice because it's the time of the return of light and the rebirth of nature after the winter sleep, and wood symbolizes the most important things for human life: food, warmth and light. It's difficult for us to imagine nowadays because we are used to electricity, but for our ancestors who only had oil lamps, fire and candles, darkness was almost absolute for many hours in winter, and that's why the Winter Solstice was very important because it meant that light is coming back. We want something from the Log, his fire will allow us to cook, it will give us light, and keep us warm. So we offer him the same: we feed him (notice what we feed it, too: a kind of compost, which is complimentary to human food), we keep him warm, and we love him. Then, we hit him with sticks (mimicking the motion of cutting down a tree) and ask him to give us food, and he does. Then, our ancestors used to burn him for warmth and light, and then take him back to plants spreading his ashes so it will give life to the fields. Which in turn will give us food again, which we will poop and it will fertilize plants again. And it's a cycle that never ends, we're all part of a whole.

We give to the forests, the forests can grow with the remains that all living creatures leave on its ground: leafs, excrements, the remains of parts of our food like nuts and fruit peels. These things give life to the forest. And the forest gives life to us: gives us fruits and wood (=light and warmth). We take these things, and in return we give to forests once again.

Nowadays, the part about warmth and light is often lost to kids, but the part about food is still obvious, even if subconsciously. This is why the Log is not the horrible barbaric tradition that the "haha poop and violence" crowd would make you believe.

And don't get me wrong, it can still be funny! We're the first ones to make jokes about it. And you can, too! But don't spread false ideas: the Spanish word "uncle" appears nowhere near this tradition because it doesn't have anything to do with uncles nor with Spanish-speaking cultures. It's called the Christmas Log (Tió de Nadal, Soca de Nadal, Tronca de Nadal, Tizón de Nadal, etc depending on the area, all meaning "Christmas Log") and it's celebrated by the Catalan people and a part of the Occitan and Pyrenean Aragonese people. The word "poop" (as an imperative verb, as in "please poop for us") appears in the song, but not in the name.

I know that, now that misinformation has gone viral, a post won't stop it. But I hope at least people with a genuine interest can learn some more. By all means, keep laughing! Make all the memes you want! But knowing the whole story will give you understanding. And, please, don't argue in favour of banning our cultural practises, we've had enough of that for centuries.

[steviewashere]

Orange Slice for All My Lovin'

Rating: General CW: None apply for this one! Tags: Established Relationship, Domestic Fluff, Future Fic, Sharing Food, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Peeling Oranges, Tooth Rotting Fluff

For the @steddielovemonth prompt: "Love is sharing food."

💕—————💕

Eddie hated peeling his oranges. Didn’t like jabbing his thumbs into the peel. Or the juice that sprayed out. Because then he was sticky. And he didn’t do sticky as a texture—not on his skin. It was gross to him. Usually, he’d have Uncle Wayne peel his oranges for him. But, he doesn’t live in Indiana anymore, doesn’t live with Uncle Wayne.

He lives with Steve Harrington in Chicago, Illinois. In a little apartment with two windows that don’t open fully, a fridge door that has to be shut with their hips, and the air conditioner that always gave out mid-way through July. But it was theirs and it was snug and they loved being away from the past that haunted them.

The fun thing about Steve, his wonderful and beautiful Steve, is that he absolutely adores oranges. Always has one for his work lunch. Eats one with his breakfast. Has an orange ready for his study sessions and an hour before he sleeps. He’s very intricate in the way he peels his oranges. And, the thing Eddie never thought to do, he uses a little pocket knife.

That’s something Eddie likes watching. Steve will grab fruit from their fruit bowl on the counter. He’ll hold it out in front of him. And lift the pocket knife to its skin, slicing it away from his body. Sometimes, depending on the fruit, he’ll eat the slices off the blade of the knife. It made Eddie think about somebody rugged like Indiana Jones. And, he won’t deny it, Harrison Ford had been one of his first celebrity crushes. So that says something, he’s sure.

But that’s not the point. Eddie hates peeling his oranges. Steve loves doing so.

They’re sitting at their dining table the next time either of them wants an orange. Steve’s got the newspaper folded over to the crossword puzzle, a mug of steaming coffee to the left, and his pocket knife and orange dutifully staring up at him from the table. Eddie simply has a plate of toast, a mug of coffee, and his orange. His stupid, vicious, sticky orange.

He watches Steve peel his. All intricate, delicate, and juice free. Eddie slumps in his chair, orange between his palms, thumb gliding over the textured skin. He wants his so bad. But he will not put himself through the torture of having sticky fingers. Not when he has other stuff to eat and things to do this morning. Yes, absolutely, he could wash his hands afterwards. But even when he does so, it’s like the sticky feeling resonates with him, it quite literally sticks to him.

He resigns himself to having a banana instead. Though, just as he’s passing by Steve to get to their kitchen, Steve’s palm shoots out and lands in the center of Eddie’s stomach. Effectively stopping him. He hums at the contact, orange in his grip, the citrus of Steve’s own filling his nose.

Steve’s hand travels south to Eddie’s fruit. He sets it in front of him, where he’s still leaning over the crossword puzzle, and gestures to Eddie for him to sit back down. So, Eddie sits down, intrigued. Until, wonderfully, Steve begins to peel Eddie’s orange, too.

Away from himself. The skin in long stripes. Barely any juice trickling down his fingertips. He reaches across the table for Eddie’s plate of toast, rearranging them, and setting the orange in the middle. And then he just slides it back over.

All without saying a single damn word. Eddie wonders how he just always knows.

“I don’t know how you do that,” he says in awe.

“Do what?” Steve murmurs, nose to his newspaper.

“Just peeling my orange. Like it’s no problem.”

Steve, the bastard, just shrugs. Nose down, glasses perched on his nose, tongue poking out between his lips, filling out the paper. Free hand gripped to his mug. Surrounded by stripes of orange peel. But noticeably, there are no slices of oranges.

Eddie picks his own up. Twisting it around in his hands.

Now, Eddie doesn’t like the juice dripping down his fingers. But Steve doesn’t like the white pulp. So, Eddie does the only logical thing. He gets up from the table, wanders into the kitchen, and sits back down with a fork in hand. And he peels as much pulp off as he feasibly can.

And when he’s done, he reaches across the table, unwrapping Steve’s hand from his mug, and plops down the pulp free slices in his hand. Half the orange in Steve’s beautiful palm.

Steve looks up to Eddie. His eyes wide and his mouth agape.

“Thank you for helping me, baby,” Eddie whispers.

The view from across the table could be compared to every painted sunset. Steve smiles softly, his eyes crinkling with it, smile lines deepening, his nose crinkling. He sets a slice of orange on his tongue. And he wiggles in place in his seat. He’s such a dork, Eddie can’t help himself from thinking.

“You’re cute, sweetheart,” Eddie mutters, going back to his food.

“Love you, too,” Steve whispers.

💕—————💕

[sweet7simple]

Dratchrod where they live on a planet after everything happens.

Its a nice cabin that fits them and then some.

Roddy plants a nice large garden away from the cabin not sure if the two like them but they’re so into it and they are so surprised that Rodimus loves flowers and knows how to plant and tend to them.

They get to see a side of Rodimus he doesn’t really like showing and they love it!

I’m thinking of him planting cyber fruits and vegetables that he makes fuel with and they come back home every cycle starving for his food. He’s a really good cook and they can’t get enough. He’ll do dishes from his culture and theres and its always good.

Idk i was supposed to make it so they gift him plants because they want to show they love him but then i got lost in the rambles and building the scenario lol

I hope this is okay if not i won’t leave an ask like this again.

@cozzzynook, you can ask me almost anything. Just so you know, though, I also got lost in the rambles really bad while writing this. As in, I wrote most of this response, then came all the way back to reread your prompt, and realized that I missed some of your main points. I hope you can forgive me and that this still pleases you.

This raises interesting questions because it implies that the Cybertronians have their own version of fruit and that they derive some nutritional value from them, or that they fulfill some dietary need. Or, like how humans enjoy high-fat, high-sugar foods, maybe cyber fruit is actually unhealthy for them in large quantities, but it just tastes so damn good that the fruit is addictive.

If energon was the life blood of Cybertron, then it's possible that what we are going to call "fruit" for simplicity's sake were actually these units of cells that filled up with energon, or an energon derivative, or maybe the cells filled up with some other fluid as a chemical reaction with acid rain, or so on. No matter what, when we say "fruit", I am imagining a variety of capsules that, if cracked open, have a network of cells that are filled with some sort of fuel that Cybertronians can eat. When I say "cells", it might be easier to just imagine a bee's honeycomb. A honeycomb is actually just a collection of hexagonal cells that are used to store eggs and honey. For the outer shell of these fruits, we're not talking about banana peels and coconut husks and apple skins - we're talking about thin, bendable sheets of metal that unfurl as the fruit fills with whatever fluid the fruit is designed to let in. Or we're talking about different kinds of elastic or hard plastics. The thinner the outer shell, the more likely you are to determine the readiness of the fruit by the change in color. The harder (less transparent) the outer shell, the more likely you are to determine the readiness of the fruit by how heavy it is.

I am making this all up as I go and there is every possibility that there already exist Cybertronian fruit and I just don't know about it. In which case, I am a fool, but I am a fool having fun.

Let's keep in mind that, when the energon stops flowing through Cybertron, most of this fruit dies. The circuit trees rust and the web groves rot. The fruit that might survive this hellscape are the fruits that depend on either rust or acid rain to grow - and that's if there are places where acid rain is still falling. Chances are, though, even these fruits don't last much longer.

These fruits also wouldn't replace the importance of energon in a bot's diet - they would just work alongside that staple fuel, or be considered unnecessary, but highly desirable snacks. Humans enjoy eating bananas and apples and oranges and peaches, but fruits don't replace our other dietary needs and too much fruit can actually have too much sugar for you.

This is all background for the ask, but the first question I had when I saw your prompt was, "how do I make a Cybertronian eat fruit if they're giant robots?" The answer is to make is to define what a fruit would be on Cybertron.

Before I get to the prompt, I want to talk about our mangosteen.

I have never tasted this fruit, I have no idea what special tricks there are to eating this fruit, but this is more or less what I think some Cybertronian fruit would look like based off the thick shell and the seeds - except I imagine that the shell is a type of plastic that starts out as a very dense marble and then is pushed outward as the cells become engorged. The seeds of this mangosteen would be fully engorged cells. Maybe the walls of the cells are only permeable to energon, or maybe they're made of up some chemical that reacts to acid rain and what filters through is some kind of coolant that is beneficial to bots, or maybe these fruits are solar powered and there's some self-replicating circuitry inside that expands as it builds and they're affectionately called "bytes" (like "bites", hah, see?) and they're crunchy.

Sorry, I got too involved in the pseudo-science of it.

So the thing is, on the Lost Light, there's a vertical farm, which just means that there's this indoor space where food is being grown on shelves. This vertical farm lets the Lost Light develop dietary supplements and additives that go through what we might think of as a "growth phase" and require care to reach their final phase. The care for any two fruits might be different. The frigus have their own artificial environment that lets them filter through acid rain and engorge their cells with coolant (I'm calling this "frigus" as that's the Latin word for "cold"). The circuit trees with their bytes don't require much more than a slow and steady trickle of energon to fuel their self-replicating nanotechnology. The supposed easiest fruit to grow, the fusa has a plastic outer shell with soft plastic needles extending out of it. It stores energon in a plate at its base and that energon is drawn up into the cells through filters when the fusa is dry. When the cells are full, they actually pop through a pore in the fusa and stick out like dark pink orbs. The energon is so concentrated and sweet from the filtration system that they're considered delicacies. The problme is, the fusa is very slow to fill their cells. If you try to drown them in energon, the cells swell up too fast and rip. If you're not trying to grow them for fruit, though, they're very easy. They can go long periods of time without fuel and can get solar power to work their filtration system from almost any source of light.

Rodimus receives a fusa and lets it die because, what the frag is he supposed to do with it? Teach it tricks? "Now, fusa, sit! Good production plant!" He's not interested.

Not until Ratchet sees the dried out husk of the fusa, shakes his helm, and says, "I bet you couldn't keep a plant alive even if you wanted to."

And Rodimus is contrary, so he goes, "Oh, yeah? What are you willing to bet?"

And Ratchet says, "It's a bet you'll lose, you sure you want to take it?"

"Bring it!"

So Ratchet bets that if Rodimus can't keep his next fusa alive until it fruits that Rodimus has to take an emergency first aid class with him ("What does First Aid have to do with any of this?" "Hah hah, and that's why I want you to come to a class.")

Rodimus says that he can and, when he does, Ratchet has to do that thing he likes with his mouth and the spray paint and the interface aids (plural). Ratchet likes doing that anyway, but he pretends to grumble his way through the deal so that Rodimus feels like it's actually a fair bet and he doesn't win either way.

So Rodimus picks up another fusa! And it dies. The cells rip because he tries to fuel it too fast. So Rodimus goes to an emergency first aid class where Ratchet is his teacher and he makes the class unbearable for everyone (there are maybe six or seven other crew members there) by flirting outrageously with Ratchet.

"Hey, teacher, I think I needs a servos-on demonstration."

"For frag's sake, Rodimus."

Ratchet thinks that's the end of it, but now Rodimus is determined, okay? He doesn't like being wrong. He doesn't like being bad at something he actually wants to be good at. He doesn't like that he failed at something that he thought was going to be easy.

So he gets another fusa (he has to sign an agreement with dietary techs saying that he will reimburse them for the loss if it also dies and if he returns for any other production plants). The dietary techs are helpful enough to give him a datapad loaded with instructions on how to develop production plants and the instructions for the fusa are fairly short and easy to follow (Step one: Do not overfuel). Rodimus doesn't read it because that's a waste of his time, he'll just feel his way through the process, do what feels right.

He has to reimburse the dietary techs. It's a heft trade. He plops down with the datapad and groans and moans his way through the pages for the fusa and it takes him hours because he keeps letting himself get distracted. He hates reading, is the problem. Once he actually finishes reading about the fusa, he realizes he doesn't remember anything he read (a brain module is very good at saving memories, but he's so used to dumping his short-term memory whenever he's listening to lectures or reading that he did it again without even realizing it). He's furious and finds an instructional video instead. That helps.

He gets another fusa and tries again. It lives. It takes a long time, okay? It takes the Cybertronian equivalent of years, but it lives. And the day comes when he walks into the hab suite he shares with his mates and there's this tiny, dark pink bud shooting out of his fusa and he doesn't hesitate. He carries his fusa throughout the whole ship, showing off his accomplishment. He did it. He produced a fruit! He's practically giddy every cycle he watches the fruit grow rounder and rounder until it sags off the side of the production plant under its own weight. He plucks it off and punctures the thin, plastic capsule and the cells inside are so swollen and slippery in his servos. He shared the cells with his mates and it's. It's a moment for him.

It's a moment to watch Drift and Ratchet enjoy, even savor, something he nurtured for so long. They're overflowing with praise for him and what he's developed. Drift shutters his optics as he chews slowly, rocking back and forth on his pedes as he lets the thick, concentrated energon drain down his fuel intake.

"It's incredible, Roddy."

Ratchet tries to bite his in half and accidentally squirts it across his face and down his chest. He makes a sound of mourning at his own loss and hastily shoves the rest in his mouth as he tries to scrap up the sticky fuel and lick it off his digits.

Rodimus proceeds to help him clean up with his glossa.

It's great. It's incredible. Rodimus doesn't have to develop his fusa anymore - he's proven that he can do it. But he does because watching Drift and Ratchet enjoy his fruits is probably one of the most erotic and fulfilling things he's seen in a long time.

So while he's growing a fusa, he hustles back over to the vertical farms to see what else he can develop.

(He tries to argue that he's grown a fusa now! He can handle the hardest production plant they have. He wants the production plant with the tastiest, juiciest, messiest fruit! They have to be the messiest so he can lick them off his mates again. The dietary techs are all, you didn't have to say all that out loud and, no. Here's the next easiest production plant to develop after a fusa.)

It goes on like that for a long time where he picks up a plant from the vertical farms to grow fruit for his mates, suffers a setback because he doesn't actually know how to develop this particular production plant, and then he deigns to watch an instruction video before going back to the vertical farms to get another one. The vertical farms rack up a lot of favors from him due to his failures, but that's not the point. The point is that, sooner or later, Rodimus ends up with a forest in his hab suite and most energon meals are supplemented with fruit he developed himself. Drift and Ratchet sometimes try to help, but his production plants are his and if they help, then it feels like it takes away from the gift of fueling them himself, so, no, they're not allowed to touch. Besides, he's the plant tech now (unofficially), they might destroy his production plants! Trust him, he knows what he's doing. No, Drift, don't fuel my fusa, you'll rip the cells. No, Ratchet, don't change the microplastic medium for my mini fragrance tree, you might upset the root network and then the fragrance fruits will fall off before they're full and they'll taste bad.

Drift and Ratchet are, at first, surprised. Then they learn to live in a jungle of which they're not allowed to touch anything until Rodimus hands them a fruit and tells them to enjoy it. If they don't praise Rodimus enough, Rodimus donates the production plant back to the vertical farms. If they're not groaning like they're in a pornovid, Rodimus considers a fruit a failure.

Problem is, once they're groaning like they're in a pornovid to let Rodimus know that they like this fruit so please keep developing it, don't send it away, Rodimus gets revved up. So then they're distracted doing other things.

So sometimes Ratchet looks at the fruit they offer in the mess hall alongside their energon rations and has this uncontrollable response where he starts getting hot and he curses Rodimus quietly as he quickly looks in a different direction. It's not every time, but it's often enough.

Drift doesn't even bother going to the mess hall anymore. There's nothing the dietary techs can offer him that he can't get from their hab suite.

Rodimus is a very proficient plant tech by the time Drift brings him a mini circuit tree to develop.

"You want bytes?" Rodimus asks, grimacing.

"Oh," Drift goes, suddenly a little uncertain. "You don't enjoy bytes?"

"I mean, they're just crunchy. They don't taste like much and they scratch up my dentae." Then he sees the disappointment on Drift's face. "But, hey, if you like bytes, sure. Gimme it, I'm going to produce the best bytes you've ever tasted. Drift Jr. can go right here." He sets the tree down with one servo as he looks up instruction videos on a datapad in his other.

"Drift Jr.?" Drift asks, amused.

"Yep! Since it's going to be all yours, it might as well be named after you."

"Thank you, Roddy. Is there anything I can do to thank you for this?" He's being flirty.

"Yeah, if you can get the techs to give you an abstergo for me, that'd be great. They keep telling me they don't have enough to hand out to a production plant killer like me, which is just not true, I haven't killed a production plant in - wait, wait, you were flirting with me, no, come back, I want to change my answer -"

Drift does pick up an abstergo (think a production plant with vegetables full of washer fluid) for him and playfully denies his other less innocent requests.

Ratchet thinks this is a great idea and also brings Rodimus a production plant. Rodimus is quick to ask for a scandalous favor, all saucy grin and glowing optics.

Ratchet leans in real close and says against his mouth, "I'll do that as soon as I've had my first gold bar."

Note: This production plant doesn't actually develop gold in any form, but the vegetables, when fully developed taste and look a lot like soft bars of gold. It comes down to chemical reactions and pressure gradients within the outer shell of the fruit.

Rodimus is very determined to develop his production plants well, but especially the production plants that Ratchet and Drift give him.

At some point during the adventures of the Lost Light, they end up in a universe where Cybertron exists, but it's uninhabited. Either Cybertronians left a long time ago or there was some mass extinction event. His scientists are working diligently - and, in Brainstorm's case, with great excitement - to figure it out.

Before Rodimus even realizes it, his crew is settling down. It's not a surprise. The Lost Light has been travelling for an incredible amount of time through dimensions both boring and terribly exciting. No one's talking about decommissioning the Lost Light, but Rodimus and Megatron do eventually make an announcement that they're staying indefinitely to rest and refuel.

They're not planning on staying forever - they're all wanderers at their sparks, adventurers and discoverers and thrill seekers - but it's nice to get to spread out and build their temporary hab units and do their own thing and not live in fear of the hull of their home blowing out and stranding them in the middle of cold, dark space. The Lost Light gets to go through extensive repairs instead of just patchwork repairs and there's flowing energon on the planet for them to stock the ship up with and synthesize energon derivatives with and plenty of land for the dietary techs to farm. Being in a new dimension, they even discover new production plants they've never seen before.

Rodimus, Ratchet, and Drift build their own hab unit by one of the farms (to the horror of those dietary techs who live in fear of Rodimus and his propensity to develop production plants only after he kills one or two first).

Rodimus is thrilled. He has so much land now to spread his garden across. A stressed-out dietary tech even gives him another datapad on thermal-fluid science.

It basically says that some fruits and vegetables taste better when subjected to a high heat environment and other fruits and vegetables become toxic or explode. And then these fruits and vegetables explode, but they taste better after they explode, so just be careful how you expose them to high heat. There's even notes on certain production plants suggesting adding certain minerals or metal flakes to improve their taste or dietary value, or mixing them with the cells of other fruits and vegetables.

Rodimus flips through a few pages, looking at the pictures, and then says with disgust in his voice, "It's a cookbook."

"Well, I'm a doctor, but there's not much difference in repairing a combustor versus cobbling together a combustion appliance," Ratchet says thoughtfully. "And we have the room for one."

"And I can cook," Drift decides, having never actually cooked.

"Absolutely not," Rodimus says. "If anyone's cooking, it's going to be me." They're his production plants, after all. If anyone's playing around with the taste and texture of his fruits and vegetables, it's going to be him.

Ratchet and Drift agree with him (rather amusedly). Ratchet builds in a combustion appliance.

Ratchet builds him another combustion appliance after the first one explodes.

Ratchet builds him another combustion appliance in a completely separate building after the second one catches half the hab unit on fire.

Rodimus watches a lot of instruction videos and roasts some bytes in his free servo for Drift to snack on.

"I don't know why I even need a combustion appliance," he growls to himself. "I combust."

"Of course, Roddy," Drift agrees serenely, helm in Rodimus's lap. He opens his mouth and accepts the smoking hot bytes his mate feeds him with a happy little hum, crunching them loudly as he chews. "And you're very good at combusting."

"I am! This is useless."

"But it would be more convenient if you could use a combustion appliance," Drift continues, almost thoughtfully. "It would be difficult to roast fuel on your own servo and stir with your other. And some of these recipes call for a controlled explosion, which would be dangerous if you're heating it up on your own frame."

"Okay, yeah, I get your point. I have to use a combustion appliance."

"Ratty made this one particularly safe, just for you," Drift assures him. He chews another byte.

"I hate the sound of that," Rodimus tells him. "I can hear it scratching up your dentae."

"But you develop them for me?"

"Well, they make you happy. And they're not hard to develop."

Drift smiles up at him, thin lines of metal silver showing through the white coats of his dentae.

"You're lucky you're cute," Rodimus says down to him.

"Funny, that's what Ratty says about you."

Rodimus eventually figures out how to use the combustion appliance and suddenly, he's not only feeding Ratch and Drift. Now he's got Swerve sneaking in and making off with his leftovers. Megatron invites himself over and brings Minimus with him because Minimus would never deign to ask himself. Whirl pops in with Cyclonus and Tailgate, all, "I've gotta keep Team Whirl fueled, y'know."

Brainstorm says he's coming over to talk about what he and Perceptor are up to in their labs, but he just says big and confusing words while he and Perceptor eat Rodimus's cooking. Rodimus nods along because it sounds very science-y and mumbo jumbo-y and that's how it usually sounds when Brainstorm and Perceptor talk to him.

After they leave, having eaten far more than they actually needed to, Ratchet explains to him that Brainstorm didn't actually say anything they didn't already know.

Rodimus throws up his servos. "Then why were they here?"

Ratchet pointedly sucks down his smoked motor oil and give him an even more pointed look.

"Those fraggers," Rodimus says more to himself than anyone else, servos on his faulds. "Am I just feeding everyone on Cybertron right now?"

"I mean," Drift says, "more or less."

Rodimus imitates outrage, but he's actually quite pleased.

He loves his mates and he loves his crew and doing this for them, developing these production plants and giving them tasty fuel and snacks, feels like a really good way to let them know they're loved.

He saves the best for his mates, though.

[offorestsongs]

THE ORANGE PEEL THEORY, BUT WITH MY OC X CANON'S

summary; literary just the "would you peel an orange for me?" thing but with my oc x canon ships (feat. Rook, Floyd, Vil & Riddle). that's all that's it

author's note; this is so very self indulgent forgive me. ALSO if there's any mistakes pretend there aren't its like 5am for me rn

LILYARROW

♡ “Uh, hey, would you peel this for me?”

♡ Lysander feels a bit silly asking for this; he knows Rook would bring him a piece of heaven if he just asked, there is no need for silly tests. But Cater had mentioned the idea a few days ago, and for one reason or another, it had stuck with Lysander.

♡ It’s just for fun, he tells himself, no harm in that.

♡ Rook smiles softly as he takes the orange out of Lysander’s hands.

♡ “But of course, mon fleur. Let’s give your pretty hands a rest, shall we?”

♡ It’s kind of stupid, Lysander thinks, how watching his boyfriend peel an orange for him makes him feel like basking in the sun. Maybe there is a point to this whole thing after all - it is still sweet to have such tangible proof that somebody cares. 

♡ If Rook knows he's being put to a test (and he most probably knows, let's be real) he doesn't show it in any way. 

♡ He treats the orange peeling with the seriousness of a military order. And he even takes off the gross white parts that Lysander hates!

♡ “Mhm. Now open your mouth~”

♡ Lysander blushes, a vivid pink on his pale cheeks. “You- You really don’t have to! It’s fine!”

♡ “Oh, but I do. It’s an honor, really.”

♡ Lysander never had much of a strong will, not when it came to Rook, anyway. He puts his embarrassment aside and lets Rook hand feed him the orange, piece by piece.

BLUEGLASS

♡ There’s no point in testing their relationships because they’re very much not in a relationship. A few (a lot) make out sessions in the dark corners of the school’s hallways do not a relationship make.

♡ And yet there Kalle is, in the Octavinelle Lounge, when it’s just them and Floyd, that stupid orange in hand.

♡ They know it’s a bad idea before they even ask.

♡ “Wanna peel this for me?”

♡ Floyd (the audacity!) laughs.

♡ “Nice try, fishie,” he says, still looking smug and amused, and annoying (so — like usual). “You don't think I'm stupid, don't ya?”

♡ “It's just an orange, Leech. It's not like you have anything to do anyways.”

♡ Floyd gives them a long look. “Yea, no. I don't think I feel like it.”

♡ Well. That was about what Kalle was expecting.

♡ Floyd leans over, in one swift motion takes the orange out of Kalle's hand m. Kalle doesn't even have it in themselves to protest.

♡ It's not like they care. It's just a stupid trend and a stupid orange, and a stupid eel. They don't care the slightest bit about any of this. 

♡ Floyd throws and catches the orange, looks it over carefully. For a brief, horrifying second, Kalle expects him to bite into it like an apple.

♡ But no. He peels it like a normal, well adjusted person then breaks it in half.

♡ “Here ya go, fishie. Happy now?”

♡ He throws half of the orange at Kalle. They're too surprised to actually catch it, letting the fruit fall on their lap.

♡ “Yeah. Thanks,” they mutter.

♡ When the silence falls between them, neither of them seem particularly happy.

THORNQUEEN

♡ “Vil, my darling dearest, my sweetest heart, the light of my worthless life, the apple of my eye, the—”

♡ Vil rolls his eyes. “Stop this,” he cuts in before Rosienne can continue with his tirade. “Spending so much time with Rook is bad for you. Just tell me what you want.”

♡ Rosienne grins.

♡ “Would you do me a favor and kindly peel this orange for me?”

♡ He’s being silly, he knows it well, but he can't help it. Rosienne's heart is an ugly, thorny thing that without constant reassurances will rot and wither. 

♡ Vil raises an eyebrow. “Really, dear, really? Is that what we're doing now?”

♡ Of course he instantly figured it out. It's Vil, after all.

♡ “Hey now! I was trying to be romantic, alright!”

♡ “No, you're being silly. Do you really think you need to put me to a test? Because if so, that's frankly quite insulting.”

♡ Both his tone and stare are as cold as the darkest months of winter and Rosienne is ready to start spilling apologies.

♡ And then Vil leans over to place a light kiss on Rosienne's forehead.

♡ “I will still peel it for you, if you just want the orange. They're good for your health either way.”

♡ Rosienne feels like he may cry. 

♡ “...yeah, yeah I do.” He takes a second to take a deep breath, trying to keep the tears at bay. Sometimes he hates how easily crying comes to him. “Thank you.”

GLASSROSE

♡ For Eliott, it's less of a test and more of a cute little game. He loves Riddle more than the world itself, but he just wants to see Riddle’s reaction. For the fun of it, nothing more.

♡ At least there was a very low chance Riddle would know it's a trend — the boy didn't even know how to use most social media, bless his heart.

♡ “Would Her Majesty be so kind as to peel this orange for me?” Eliott asks, not even trying to contain his amusement.

♡ Riddle eyes him over carefully. He's definitely suspicious, taught by experience that his boyfriend is prone to coming up with various schemes, but finally comes to the conclusion that it can't be anything harmful.

♡ “Of course,” he just says, nodding.

♡ Eliott beams. “I love you so much. Have I told you that already? Because I do. So much.”

♡ The blush that blossoms on Riddle’s cheeks is maybe the most delightful thing Eliott has seen today. “Quite a lot, yes.”

♡ He peels the orange, quick and clean, then passes it back to Eliott.

♡ “You should have a half,” Eliott offers. “It's only fair.”

♡ Sometimes i love you is a neat little pile of orange peels. Sometimes i love you is an orange shared in half.

♡ When Riddle smiles at his boyfriend, it's soft.

[redactedlove]

This morning, I wanted to peel a tangerine for you.

I grabbed one from the fruit bowl in the corner of our kitchen, a bumpy sort of sphere that could not care less that it wasn’t perfect. Perhaps that was exactly what made it perfect, but who am I to judge?

I turned it over in my hands, running my finger from the bright green stalk at the top to the little dent at the bottom to the bumpy, carefree sides, unsure where to start. I haven’t done this for aeons. It felt like my hands had held about a million stars since the last time they held a tangerine.

I suppose, now that I think about it, it wasn’t all that different from holding a star; its orange skin radiated warmth, almost as bright as your laughter. From here, I could see everything: the cosmically-ordained meetings of tangerine flowers and the bees that whizzed by like comets, the miniature supernova as the flower’s petals fell, the galaxy of leaves that cradled the fruit as it grew. If I wanted to, I could even see your expression as I passed you a segment, but existence is no fun without surprises, is it not?

It took a few attempts, but at last I dug my short fingernail into the skin and pulled. Of course not, of course it hadn’t been so long since I’d last done this.

Somewhere on this planet, I was Cody, sitting on a picnic blanket with my parents, my nails short, just like here, only now breaking the outer coating of the fruit. Perhaps I’d pushed a little too hard, I thought, as juice ran down my thumb and onto my palm.

Just in the next universe over, two or three swishing temporal veils away, I was Isobel, unable to contain the hurricane of giggles at my own sticky fingers, drawing confused stares from my coworkers that I only loosely acknowledged.

The skin came away in little islands first, then in a sprawling spiral. I was Ala from the other edge of existence, confused to have come across such an unusual fruit and utterly, pleasantly perplexed at how easy it was to peel.

Holding the peeled tangerine in my hands, I ran over to you. You were sitting on our sofa that we’d found by a skip with several tears we’d since repaired with a hundred multicoloured patches. The sun in the windows caught your shimmering hair, and the little boat-shaped segment as I placed it into your palm.

Tangerines are orders of magnitude rarer than diamonds in this universe. I could search any infinity of existences, see all the wonders every dimension has to offer, and I would never feel quite the same elation as I did in our little living room.

This morning, you ate half a tangerine. So did a billion ‘me’s, or more. And so, though I did not need to, did the ‘me’ sitting on the patchy sofa with you, every segment a burst of electric, perfectly imperfect colour.

[purplesurveys]

1918

How old were you when you learned how to drive? I was taught when I was 17. Just around the village first, then my dad enrolled me in driving school where I learned to drive in highways.

Have you ever used a public payphone? I've only seen them around when I was much younger, but I don't remember ever using one.

Do you know what the most common bird is in your area? The maya.

How many teeth have you had extracted? Two wisdom teeth.

What’s a Halloween movie that you enjoy? Generic answer, but The Shining. I was also obsessed with Scream.

Would you ever walk a runway if given the opportunity? I honestly can't ever picture this happening, even if I'm offered money.. Too many lights! Too much attention! Hahahaha.

Would you say you’re in a good place mentally? It may look like it because I always seem so composed on the outside, but tbh my being composed is just me silently trying not to scream. I basically just do a much better job now of hiding angst. But I don't think I'm okay mentally – I'm very tired, and overwhelmed, and feel pulled in many different directions by many different people.

What’s a popular candy that you do not like? I don't like actual chocolate. Like on its own. Just thinking about it already hurts my throat, lol.

Do you bite your nails, cut them, or keep them long? I either peel them off or clip them.

Do you ever have to babysit? No but I imagine I'd be doing this a lot once my friends have kids.

Do you sing when alone? Sure.

Favorite pastel color? Pink and purple.

Favorite thing cats do? When I'm lying down and they lie down on my tummy :) Also, responding with meows whenever you talk to them.

Butterflies, or dragonflies? Butterfly.

Favorite kind of candy bar? Idk, are Reese's candy 'bars'? I like them anyway.

Favorite childhood store? There used to be this knickknacks store with plushies and other novelty stuff. I remember being face-to-face with a whoopee cushion for the first time thanks to that store (I also bought it).

Do you dream a lot? Do you remember your dreams? I do dream a lot, but I never remember any of my dreams.

Have you ever lucid dreamed? Nope.

Have you ever intentionally killed an animal for fun? I've done it with ants and mosquitoes.

What character trait are you most ashamed of? That I have? I'm so goal-focused and never focus on people's feelings.

Do you prefer waffles or pancakes? Waffles if eating anything else with it, like chicken; pancakes if I'm eating them as is.

Are you craving anything right now? Eh not really. I had a heavy brunch this morning and don't feel like eating anything anymore until later in the evening.

Are you content just blending in with the crowd? Yes please...

Who is your celebrity crush? Kim Namjooooooooooon omg

If you had to choose a random color to dye your hair, what would you choose? Dark green. It was the first ever color I wanted to try, yet it never happened hahaha.

Do you like the color orange? No.

Have you ever shunned a family member or vice-versa? Yes, I am doing this with my brother and one of my uncles.

Favorite shade of blue? Indigo.

Favorite soup? Miso or mushroom.

Do you like mangoes? Hate them. One of my least favorite fruits.

What do you want most? To get a long break and be able to spend that time traveling.

How is your mental health? Work-wise, I am very tired and find everything overwhelming. Much more frustrating when you consider the context that I am the leader of the team, so I'm forced to be the one who must look and act as if I have a good head on my shoulders. I DO NOT. I am just as scared and burdened and overwhelmed as fucking everyone else. It's tiring.

Every other aspect, I'm fine.

What are you thankful for currently? That despite everything, I genuinely still do not feel like resigning.

What’s an unpopular opinion you have politically? Unpopular where I live but not necessarily everywhere else - but abortion for women should be legalized. Divorce should be legalized. Same-sex marriages should be recognized and legalized. The church should get the fuck out of state affairs.

Name a song that’s fun to sing along to. The song I'm currently listening to is - Wild Flower, RM and youjeen.

Who is tallest in your family? My dad.

Do you currently have a headache? No, not really.

What’s the first thing you usually do when you get off work or school? Head downstairs to play with the dogs.

If you could be famous for anything, what would you choose to be famous for? Something to do with content creation I guess? My sister always tells me I'm hilarious and that I should've started making TikToks years ago. I've never really pushed through with it because I don't think I can handle bashers lmao, and out of fear that I would run out of ideas at some point.

Who is your favorite YouTuber? Rhett and Link, and these days I've been pretty hooked on Ryan Trahan. I watch his stuff all day some days.

Who is the nicest person you’ve ever met? Angela. And her mom.

How about the meanest? I can't really think of anyone.

What was the last thing you spoke to your mom about? That I was going to leave already and not to expect me back until late tonight.

When is the last time you felt appreciated for something you did? Last night when I picked up the bag of mooncakes my mom forgot to bring home from her office. I was out myself, but was pretty far from where her workplace is, but I figured it was a Friday and it wouldn't be too much of a problem to go out of my way to pick up the bag. She just requested the favor as a joke, but I went ahead and did it and she seemed pretty grateful when she saw me come home with the mooncakes.

Are you the type of person who gets straight to the point? Yeah. No one likes it when someone beats around the bush anyway, so might as well.

Do you enjoy playing board games? No, I quickly get bored from them.

Are there any movies you are wanting to see? The sequel to Hello, Love, Goodbye; and Moana 2!

Do you feel uncomfortable when people you hardly know confide in you? I'll feel weird about it first, then feel flattered upon realizing that they trust me enough to confide in me.

What’s something you’re proud of yourself for? Being able to live life with my own company.

Have you ever gone over 3 months without shaving/waxing your legs? I don't think I've let it linger for that long.

Have you ever swam in a saltwater pool? No.

Do you think anyone has given up on you? Not at present, but someone's given up on me before.

Have you ever been pregnant? Nope.

Have you taken anyone’s virginity? I guess so.

Have you ever made your boy/girlfriend choose between you and someone else? No.

Do you remember when some of the Walmarts had a McDonald’s in them? I have no idea what you're talking about.

What is one recipe that you would like to learn how to make? My grandmas' kare-kare recipes. Both of theirs.

Do you believe that Jesus will come back in your lifetime? No.

Were you afraid of heights as a child? I wasn't scared of height per se, but I didn't like the sensation of being dropped from a high height – like rides or unusually high speed bumps. My stomach wasn't ever all that cool with that, until today.

Have you ever had a lead role in a play? Hell no.

Do you have a chandelier in your home? It's a mini chandelier more than anything? it's the best way I can put it lol. Nothing too grand, but also not a super plain lightbulb housing.

Are you a Jeffree Star fan? Or no? Nope.

Do you own a guitar? Specify. Which brand of guitar do you own? My sister's guitar is in our living room, although she has not trained in years. She had a phase when she was like 10 and never picked it up as a hobby again, lol. I have no idea what brand it is.

Are you a monogamous person? Or do you hate commitment? Monogamous.

Who was the last person who was rude to you? My aunt's assistant. ?????????? So unreasonably rude, and I wasn't having it that day to begin with so I just hurled his shit right back at him.

Have you ever met someone in person that you first met online? Yes, three of them. Two were sweethearts, one had been very rude that I cut him off the very next day.

Who do you know who is dyslexic? Nobody.

Is weed legal in your state? Divorce isn't even legal here lol

What is something that you used to be ashamed of, but now you’re not? My name.

Have you ever held a newborn baby? The newborn-est I've held was like a month old.

Out of all your usernames for websites, which one is your favorite? Do you use it for more than one site? The one I use for Twitter. It's been my username for the longest time (since 2010) and I personally just find it super witty hahah. Yes, I've used it for a bunch of other sites.

Have you ever spent the whole day (or multiple days) just looking up one thing on the internet (e.g., videos of your favorite band, how-to videos, quizzes, etc.)? Sure.

Have you ever been in a situation where you had to be around your ex everyday? No thank gooooooooodddddd.

Which condiment (ketchup, mustard, etc.) do you use the most of? Mayonnaise 100%

Would you ever flirt with somebody in front of your parents? No thanks.

Have your parents ever questioned your virginity? I mean they might be? but they'd never confront me about it.

How many of your friends play World of Warcraft? No clue.

Is there a certain song you like to headbang to? I can think of a handful.

Is there a garage or carport attached to your house? We do have a carport.

[3rensgf]

stupid/annoying, but endearing, things they do in a relationship eren, armin, jean, connie, erwin, levi, reiner, bertholdt, porco, zeke, colt, hanji, mikasa, sasha, annie, pieck

word count: 2.3k

warnings: one mention of sex in erens, reader uses makeup in jeans, mentions of injuries and dilf!reiner in reiners

notes: this is a gn!reader. there are mentions of makeup being used, but i feel like any gender can use makeup. it's not even anything serious like a beat face. just some lip gloss n mascara. chapstick too but thats not makeup. it's just one line, so you can skip over it if you would like to!

✩ eren bites you. its not even in a sexual way, he just likes to bite. they’re like a second form of kissing to him. you could be chilling together on the couch watching a movie, and he’ll just chomp on your shoulder. even when you were trying to focus on something, he swings by, bites then leaves. eren has no shame, so he does it in front of your friends too. you could be having a normal conversation with mikasa and he’ll just bite you, then the two of you carry on as if it was normal. it’s not normal. but you love it. sometimes you bite him back too. but only in private.

✩ armin gives you random things he finds. armin likes to go out and explore, with or without you. when he comes back after an adventure you opted out of, he always has something for you he found. a rock, a seashell or a cool flower are just some of the things he gets for you. if he can’t find something, he finds a gift shop to get you something instead, saying, “well, (y/n), i did find it in the gift shop.” he always looks so proud giving it to you, rambling about the story of how he found your gift. you have a small box tucked away with all the treasures he gives you.

✩ jean steals your things. whenever he comes over, he likes to mooch off your possessions. if he’s spending the night at your place and needs a shower, he’s using your shampoo, conditioner and body wash. if his lips are chapped, he swipes your lip balm to use on himself. one time you even walked in on him trying your mascara and lip gloss. another time he had your clothes on his giant frame. but he always replaces whatever he uses, venmoing you within the next few days with some cash and a sorry note. “sorry for using ur lip balm baby, buy some more <3” with $20 attached to it. you tell him that lip balm doesn’t even cost that much, but he tells you to treat yourself to lunch with the extra money.

✩ connie makes plans without letting you know beforehand. at 3am, you are woken up by an influx of messages and calls from your boyfriend. in your sleepy state you go to answer him, only to be told to get dressed and come out. he’s right outside of your house and hungry. you remind him it’s very early in the morning and you both have class. “but i’m hungry and craving burgers,” he repeats. you have no choice to get in the car with him. this can happen throughout the day, not just early in the morning. one time he whisked you away in the middle of your online class because he didn’t tell you he bought tickets to a movie showing in 30 minutes. the memories you share on these spontaneous dates are always your favorite ones with him.

✩ erwin buys you whatever you like in bulk. it’s not even an exaggeration when you say bulk. you mention one thing to him, and the next day there are boxes upon boxes sitting on your kitchen counter. “these oranges taste pretty good,” you mumble to yourself as you peel your 2nd one. erwins sharp ears hear this, and first thing in the morning he’s off to buy multiple bags of your supposed favorite oranges. it takes you days, sometimes weeks, to finish whatever he decided to buy you. you always tell him he doesn’t need to buy so much, but he never listens. though, you always appreciate how attentive he is to your likes and dislikes.

✩ levi cleans up for you and ruins your organization. it’s always a blessing when someone else decides to take on the burden of cleaning for you, and you thought you hit the jackpot with a boyfriend who loved to clean, clean, clean. but it could get annoying when you suddenly couldn’t find anything you placed anywhere. if you’re anything like me, you’re messy but organized. you know where things are. when levi comes to clean, he places things where he thinks they should go. you’re sent on a wild goose chase looking for your pencil case, only for it to be in a completely different drawer than the one you usually kept it in. despite this behavior, it’s always nice to come home from a long day from school to see your desk organized. what was once a mess of papers and other supplies have been filed into their correct places, the table wiped down from any lingering coffee stains and your supplies being organized in a way so you knew where everything was. sometimes there’d be a plate of fruit with the note, “good luck on your exams,” written in your boyfriends neat writing beside it.

✩ reiner coddles you too much. whenever you express any sort of discomfort, reiner is always rushing to your side. “are you hurt? do you need medical attention? how many fingers am i holding up?” he asks, checking you for any cuts or bruises. thank you, honey, but i’m fine. just bumped into the counter. despite that, he’s dragging you over to the bathroom to fix up your imaginary injuries. you always find it a bit much when you’re fine. it’s during the times where you’re actually hurt where you learn to appreciate it. he’s so gentle cleaning your cuts, kissing them softly once they’re dressed. you wonder if he’d be like that with your future children.

✩ bertholdt is too nervous around you. it’s been years since the two of you got together, and he still refuses to make eye contact with you. his hands get sweaty and shake when you attempt to hold his hand. he always stumbles over his words when speaking to you as he tries to find the right words to say. he even blushes when he introduces you to other people as his significant other! you remind bertholdt over and over again that he doesn’t need to be so shy around you. but you cant help but coo over him showing up for your date, flustered mess and thrusting flowers into your hand. “they reminded me of you,” he said quietly, refusing to meet your eyes. you giggle and press a kiss to his hot cheeks.

✩ porco is too cocky for his own good. he’s always parading around the house, boasting about his latest achievements. he beat colt in a video game colt was a supposed god in. he can throw a baseball farther than zeke. he can run faster than pieck. if he’s taller than you, he's always making fun of you for being shorter than him. if you’re taller, you’re not exempt from his wrath either. he’s boasting about how he’s perfect height to not hit his head on doorways. he never goes as far as to hurt your feelings, always knowing when to stop. though he has a big ego, he would let it crash and burn just to see you smile after beating him at smash bros. you laugh and taunt him, happy you beat him in one thing. he doesn’t mind, instead watching you with a soft smile on his lips and love in his eyes.

✩ zeke forces you to work out with him. and it’s not like in the afternoon to help you stretch out. it’s not light yoga or a couple minutes on the treadmill. no, this man wakes you up at ass crack in the morning to take you on a 5 mile hiking trip. you barely have any time to register what is happening around you before you’re already standing at the start of the trail with your gear. “come on! we can’t slack off!” he says, clapping his hands together. the sun is beating down on you and your feet hurt, but this man doesn’t let you stop for a break. “we’re almost there,” he says. your complaining goes out the window when he shows you the view at the top. its one of the most beautiful things you’ve ever seen. hiking up long ass trails to see beautiful views with your boyfriend was so worth it in the end.

✩ colt accidentally turns your dates into babysitting sessions. you show up at his house with the promise of a good time, only to be met with a guilty looking colt and his little brother falco behind him. “sorry,” he says sheepishly, “gabi got sick with the cold, so i couldn’t drop him off there. i hope you don’t mind him staying.” you hide your disappointment behind a wide smile, nodding enthusiastically as to not hurt either of their feelings. you just wanted to spend some alone time with your boyfriend, and it would have to wait. hanging out with falco wasn’t actually that bad. the three of you had an amazing time together, watching tv, playing games and even baking together. if you hate kids, you can’t bring yourself to hate falco; he’s just the sweetest boy you’ve ever met. you and falco are already asking colt when the three of you can hang out again when you have to go back home.

✩ hanji is always talking. you don’t discourage them from talking about their interests. they’re very passionate about the things they love, and can’t help talking about them. its like the scene where hanji kept eren up all night talking about titans. when you’re trying to focus on something or go to sleep, hanji is just yapping away. you’re honestly amazed at their ability to never run out of things to say about the most mundane things. hell, one time they talked for an hour and a half about a building color they saw when they were out one day. but hanji just looked so happy when talking. their face would break out into a huge grin, and their arms would fly around as they told their story. it was too cute for you to tell them to stop.

✩ mikasa hovers too much. every corner you turn, every place you go to, mikasa is following. she claims she’s not clingy, but in reality she is. it’s like a cat who hates affection, but needs to be in the same room as you at all times. you don’t mind her following you into the bedroom or living room or kitchen. you had to draw a line when she tried to follow you into the bathroom. even when you’re out, she’s always following you around. you tell her it’s okay to break off from you and spend some time by herself, but she always shakes her head and follows you to your next destination. you’re always grateful for her hovering when a group of drunk people try hitting on you, whistling and telling you they’ll give you a good time. but one look at your girlfriend who showed up from out of nowhere, and they’re running away with their tails between their legs.

✩ sasha eats your food. she can’t help it. she likes to snack. she’s always hungry. and you get that. to stop things like this from happening, you have separate places to keep your food. just so sasha and you have your favorite snacks and takeout separated. you respect the rule, but your girlfriend seems to lose her reading skills when hungry, one too many times you have walked in on her with her hand deep into a bag of your chips, something you’ve been waiting to eat all week when you were supposed to watch that new horror movie on netflix with her. you huff and puff and retreat to your bedroom. sasha comes back after a few hours, looking upset with tons and tons of snacks in her arms. “i’m sorry i ate your chips,” she frowns. she sets down all the food she got on your bed. “i got all these snacks you liked as an apology. and 3 bags of your favorite chips.” you could never stay mad at her cute face.

✩ annie complains about spending time with you. “i like my alone time,” she says, brushing you off when you asked why she didn’t want to watch a movie with you. some people were introverted, preferring to spend time by themselves rather than with someone else. you were like that too; you had your moments where you didn’t feel like being around your girlfriend. but it became an annoying problem when she constantly shot down your attempts to hang out with you. when she finally agrees, she’s always finding something to complain about. but during important dates or when you’re not in the best mood, she’s always the first to remind you or initiate a hang out/date. she shuts her mouth and enjoys her time with you, not one criticism or groan leaving her lips. she would never admit it, but being around you made her so happy.

✩ pieck is always sleeping. you have to wait a few hours to get a text or call back from pieck because she’s always dozing off somewhere. “sorry sweets,” she yawns into the mic, “was taking a nap. need something?” good luck trying to reach your girlfriend during an emergency. when you come home with takeout for dinner because neither of you wanted to cook, she’s sleeping at the dinner table. when you’re watching a movie she wanted to watch, she’s snoring away, curled up at the end of the couch. during lectures you share together, she has her head in her arms and has the audacity to ask you for your notes in the end. and it’s not like she’s not getting enough sleep, no. she gets her recommended 8 hours of sleep and then some. it’s nice to have a sleepy girlfriend, though, when you’re dead tired from living. you drag your feet into the bedroom to see her about to take her nth nap for the day. she notices your zombie-like state and opens up her arms for you. the two of you cuddle and nap together, sleeping the stress away.

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[latetaektalk]

love to hate you | jjk [iv]

“when obnoxiously rich and spoiled frat boy jeon jungkook comes up to you one day and asks you to fake date him for money, you definitely should have said no. because before you knew it, you were going on insta dates with him and having lunch with his equally obnoxiously rich and spoiled friends.”

— genre: sexual themes, angst, fluff, fratboy! AU, fake dating! AU, college! AU, rich kid! AU, enemies to lovers! AU

— pairing: jungkook x female reader

— word count: 9.386

— warnings: swearing, banter, mention of atla and the cabbage man again

— playlist: to be added

— a/n: this used to be my date me series, but ive changed the title! again i cant thank @lcksndkys​​​​​​ and @gamerkooks​​​​​​ enough for beta reading this! also, this is inspired by To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before by Jenny Han!

You loved autumn.

Every season was beautiful in its own way, but autumn was downright gorgeous and breathtaking. There was something else about the way the leaves changed colours and rained down to the ground, about the way steam would rise from your daily cup of tea, about the way your sweaters moved to the front of your closet, about the sound of cold rain tapping against the windows at night, about the quietness and calmness that came with autumn. 

“Can’t we sit inside? It’s so fucking cold!” Jisoo cursed, her face contorted in annoyance. “Plus, I think I stepped in piss earlier.”

You looked at her, a slice of orange hovering in front of your mouth. “I don’t think sitting inside is going to change anything about you stepping in piss.”

“Ugh, I know that.” She rolled her eyes at you and you popped the piece of fruit into your mouth. “But at least I won’t be cold inside.”

You blinked at her, thinking for a moment of arguing with her, but having had this conversation more times than you could remember, you decided against it, shrugging her off and finishing your orange instead.

“Y/N, please, let’s just go inside.”

“It’s not that cold,” you told her and formed a small mountain with the orange peel.

“Yes, fuck, it is. Look!” Jisoo shoved her arm into your face, sleeve rolled up, and you frowned.

“What am I supposed to be seeing here?” 

She dropped her arm. “Goosebumps, you blind fish,” she hissed and you took hold of her arm, inspecting it before looking back up to her and shaking your head.

“Nope, can’t see it.” Jisoo ripped her arm out of your grasp, a dramatic pout forming on her lips. You grinned at her.

“Please, let’s just-”

“Did you think about it?” you cut in, ignoring her plea.

“About what?” Jisoo shot back, shivering and wrapping her cardigan around herself when a gust of wind blew past you.

You tilted your head to the side, batting your eyes at her before elaborating, knowing that her answer was going to be no already. “Going to the pumpkin patch with me.”

Jisoo let out a groan.

“Why not?”

“It’s outside-”

“Yeah -”

“ - and well, it’s cold outside. I’m literally cold right now.”

“Wear my jacket then.”

Jisoo clicked her tongue, not quite convinced. You straightened up, scooting closer.

“Please, Ji, just go with me! It’s gonna be fun. I promise.” You knew you sounded like a child begging her mother for candy, knew you looked like it with your bottom lip jut out in a pout and your puppy eyes, but you couldn’t care less, determined to convince Jisoo.

And it was working.

“Well,” a heavy sigh, “what about-”

“Chae and Seok have papers to write,” you cut in. “And you know Jimin is allergic to hay.”

Jisoo stared at you, frown deepening and you knew that was a good sign, a sign she was slowly considering it, caving. 

“And remember, last year you promised you’d go with me! You have to go with me now,” you argued, eliciting a mix between a groan and a whine from Jisoo’s lips.

“It’s gonna be so cold though, Y/N.”

“You promised,” you reminded her, and for a moment, it seemed like you had done it, seemed like Jisoo was going to cave and agree. But her eyes grew wide, an idea popping into her mind. 

“Why don’t you go with your boyfriend?” 

You stilled. 

Right, Jungkook. If you were honest, you hadn’t thought about that possibility. Going with Jungkook hadn’t crossed your mind once, and you weren’t too sure if you liked the idea. Not that you had any doubts about him possibly rejecting you, but you were just not too fond of the part of where you would ask him to go with you. 

Yes, your pride and ego played a big part in why you couldn’t see that ever happening, but you also couldn’t imagine the two of you ever reaching that point in a conversation in which you could casually suggest to him to go to the pumpkin patch with you. 

And aside from that, you had actually not heard from or seen Jungkook in a week now. There were no texts or calls or showing up unannounced in front of your classes with a big bouquet of roses or knocking on the car window while you were talking to your friends.

Nothing.

That just added to the difficulty, made asking him to go with you impossible.

(For clarification, you hadn’t been waiting for Jungkook to reach out to you or anything. You didn’t care at all if he did or not. Really, you couldn’t care less. You had just... noticed he hadn’t.)

“That would be perfect, right?” Jisoo continued, taking your silence as you considering her suggestion. “This way you get to go-”

“But I wanna go with you,” you interrupted.

“But... I don’t wanna go,” she told you honestly, sighing. “Can’t you just go with- I mean isn’t this why people have significant others? So they have someone to hang out with when their friends can’t?”

“I’m pretty sure that’s not why people get significant others.”

Jisoo tilted her head to the side, letting out a hum of disagreement. “Pretty sure it is.”

“Pretty sure it isn’t.”

“Pretty sure it is.” Before you could repeat yourself, she continued, “Look, just go with your boyfriend-”

“I don’t want to-”

“Go where?”

Jisoo and you whipped your heads around, your heart tumbling in your chest because there he was, Jungkook—your fake boyfriend who everyone thought was your real boyfriend—standing behind you.

“Hi, cabbage,” Jungkook beamed, rivalling the sun.

“Uh, hey-”

“Jungkook!” Jisoo exclaimed, hands clasping together, too excited for her own good. “You really have perfect timing! Y/N was just gonna ask-”

“Ji!” you pressed out, your jaw going rigid. “Don’t.”

Jisoo turned to you, blinking at you oh so innocently, seemingly thinking about what she was going to say next and when she turned back around to Jungkook and opened her mouth, you thought you were going to strangle her.

“Y/N was going to-”

“Ji!” you cut in again, a fake smile plastered on your lips. “You said you were cold, right? So why don’t you go inside and get me a cup of tea?”

Jisoo hissed, feigning upset. “I don’t have any money though.”

You drew in a deep breath through your nose, and you had to remind yourself over and over again that murder was bad when you got out your wallet, practically throwing it into her hands. “Now you do.”

“Ah, how great,” Jisoo smiled. “Do you want anything, Jungkook? My treat.”

“Well, if it’s your-”

“I’ll break up with you right now, Jeon.”

Seeing this as her cue to go and leave you two alone, Jisoo stood up, but not without blowing you a kiss and exchanging a look with Jungkook.

You watched her go before turning to him, mouth pursed in a line because well, it had been a week since you had last seen him. Not knowing what else to do you just turned away, cursing your past self for finishing your orange so quickly. The sound of leaves crunching under his soles pierced the air and you knew, he was walking towards you. Next thing you knew, Jungkook slipped into the seat beside you, his arm wrapping around your waist.

You looked down, a scowl appearing on your face. “What are you doing?”

“Why so hostile?” Jungkook asked, feigning hurt. “We’re dating, are we not?”

“Fake.”

“Same thing.”

“No, not the same thing,” you argued. “There’s a big difference-”

“You gonna tell me what you were just talking about?” Jungkook interrupted, changing the subject. You blinked at him before looking away because no, you were definitely not.

“Y/N.”

You looked at the nonexistent dirt under your nails.

“Y/N.”

You continued to pretend to not hear.

Jungkook let out a heavy sigh. “I could just ask Jisoo when she comes back.” 

And all of a sudden, you could hear Jungkook, snapping your head around and staring at him. Jungkook grinned, nearly rolling his eyes at your ridiculousness because of course, this would get you. 

You narrowed your eyes, lips pressing into a thin line. 

“Either you tell me or she does. Which would you prefer?” 

Jungkook added a shrug to his words, an irritatingly nonchalant shrug. You tongued the inside of your cheek, hating this because obviously, you weren’t going to let Jisoo tell him. Knowing her, she would somehow twist the truth.

You were hesitant though. Because you really didn’t want to tell Jungkook what you had been talking about because doing so subsequently meant asking him to go to the pumpkin patch with you, or, well, technically telling him that Jisoo was telling you to ask him to go to the pumpkin patch with you, but that was really the same thing as you asking him to-

The point was, your pride and ego was seriously about to take a hit, and boy, did you not want that.

But as you eyed Jungkook, you knew you had no choice.

“... fine,” you pressed, and Jungkook had to bite his lip to stop himself from snorting. If one of you was dramatic, it was definitely you, but he was smart enough not to voice that thought.

“Look,” you clasped your hands together, feeling the embarrassment rise in you. “Here’s the thing, going to a pumpkin patch is on my college bucket list, and since Chae and Seok have papers to write and Jimin is allergic to hay, Ji’s the only person who can go with me... but she doesn’t want to because she gets cold really easily and thinks it’s cold now, which is so stupid because it’s only beginning of autumn and not winter and-”

“You’re word vomiting,” Jungkook said. “What are you trying to tell me?”

You pursed your lips and closed your eyes for a moment, hoping that maybe just maybe you were going to get struck down right now and wouldn’t have to do this. Your hopes were futile, in the end you were forced to push through the embarrassment sitting in your bones.

 “Okay, look, I think what I’m trying to tell you is that none of my friends can or, well, want to go to the pumpkin patch with me and,” you swallowed, “that Ji might have suggested I should ask you to go to the pumpkin patch with me instead?”

Jungkook’s grin widened, mischief sparkling in his eyes.

“Are you?”

“What?”

His grin turned into a smirk. “Are you going to ask me to go to the pumpkin patch with you then?” 

“Didn’t I just?” you huffed out, turning away. And just like that, embarrassment turned into annoyance.

“Did you?” Jungkook titled his head to the side, tonguing his cheek. “Or did you just tell me that Jisoo told you to ask me?”

You gritted your teeth, so fucking tempted to tell him to forget it, but you had already gotten to this point, might as well just commit..

“Fine,” you spat out, an irritating flush warming your face. “Do you maybe wannagotoapumpkinpatchwithme?”

You thought asking the first time was bad enough, but somehow the second time was much worse. Probably because Jungkook didn’t agree instantly, letting you wallow in silence instead and think maybe he was going to reject you. And well, your ego and pride couldn’t take that.

So, in an attempt to save face, you went on, “I mean obviously only because we’re like fake dating and we still haven’t done that Insta date thing. And you know, I don’t want you to possibly blame me if people start doubting the legitimacy of our relationship because you don’t post enough about us on your Instagram or whatever bullshit-”

“God, you’re cute. I love you so much,” Jungkook whispered, words slipping off his tongue annoyingly casually. He chuckled. “Of course, I’ll go with you.”

You shoved your finger into his face. “Just to be clear though, we’re only going because we still have to do that Insta date thing. D-don’t get it twisted.” 

“Right,” Jungkook’s grin turned into a smirk, “that’s the only reason why we’re going.”

“Exactly.” You dropped your hand and looked away. “Good that we’re on the same-”

The rest of your sentence got stuck in your throat when Jungkook wrapped both of his arms around your waist, pulling you into a suffocating hug and burying his face into the crook of your neck.

“Jeon!” you gasped. “Stop it! We’re in public! Don’t-”

“Yeah, dude, you’re in public.”

You froze at the voice, face souring immediately because you knew exactly who it was. You didn’t hide the scowl when you turned around.

“Love,” Taehyung smiled when you met eyes, a steaming cup of coffee in his hand. 

“Kim,” you hissed back, fixing him with a glare, but he only chuckled, not the slightest bit bothered by your animosity, walking around and sitting down in Jisoo’s seat, sharing a quick and friendly ‘hey’ with Jungkook.

“You guys should really calm it on the PDA. It’s gross.” Taehyung took a sip from his cup, and even though you had wanted for Jungkook to stop hugging you ten seconds ago, you threw your arms around his neck and pulled him impossibly closer to you now.

“What? Jealous?” you hummed, offering Taehyung a fake smile. Jungkook caught on immediately, chuckling to himself before tightening his arms around you.

“Yeah, jealous, Tae?”

“Oh, very,” Taehyung snorted, taking another sip from his coffee before putting it down, turning to you. “It’s been a minute since I’ve seen you, love. Last time you were running away from me.”

“Technically, we were running away from you.” 

“I was very hurt,” Taehyung said, completely ignoring your correction and putting his hand over his heart instead, jutting out his bottom lip. How you managed not to roll your eyes at him was a mystery to you.

“Well, blame Jeon. He’s the one that suggested it.”

Jungkook let out a rather dramatic gasp. “Cabbage! Don’t throw me under-”

“‘Cabbage’? What kind of pet name is that?” Taehyung interrupted, looking almost disgusted.

“What’s wrong with ‘cabbage’?” you shot back, offended even though you felt a similar way as he did about the pet name. “It’s cute.”

“‘Cabbage’? You wanna be called- you are fine with that?” Taehyung quirked a brow, squinting at you.

“It’s cute, dude. You don’t have taste,” Jungkook argued.

Taehyung wasn’t convinced, frowning and shaking his head in disapproval. “How did you come up with that?”

“In ‘Avatar The Last-”

You stopped when Taehyung let out a groan, the kind of groan that a teacher would be met with when they announce homework at the end of class. You paused, not sure how to interpret that groan.

“He doesn’t like the show,” Jungkook informed you and you gasped the same dramatic way Jungkook always did.

“You don’t like ‘Avatar’-”

“And you clearly do,” Taehyung stated quietly with a roll of his eyes. “It’s not that I don’t like it, it’s just that Kook is so fucking obsessed with it that he won’t shut up about it. Sorry that I’m not fond of it anymore after listening to him talk about it every waking minute.”

“How can you not love the show? It’s literally the greatest show, literally. Have you ever watched any show that has beat it in quality and consistency? That has somehow managed to be incredibly hopeful, uplifting, fun and gut wrenchingly tragic and tear inducing at the same- it literally has the greatest and most iconic intro TV history has ever seen!” you said, channeling your inner Jungkook, making a proud smile grow on his lips.

“God, you sound like Kook,” Taehyung mumbled, rolling his eyes at you a second time. “The show is not that great. I mean fire boy is kinda cool, but aside from that-”

’’Kinda cool’? You think Zuko is only ‘kinda cool’?” you repeated, getting worked up in ways Jungkook only has so far when you talked about the show. “Zuko isn’t just ‘kinda cool’, Kim. He’s literally the most well rounded character on the show- in TV history, period. Not only does he go through perfect character development, but he’s without a doubt one of the most interesting and inspiring characters-”

“And Katara,” Jungkook threw in and you were quick to agree, nodding and snapping your finger.

“Yes, and Katara! But you probably think she’s annoying and naggy, don’t you, Kim?” You squinted at Taehyung, and when he wouldn’t disagree with you, you just scoffed. “Typical. I’m not surprised. You’ve got no taste. Katara is hands down one of the best characters in the show.”

“That’s what I’ve been saying! Katara is literally a whole badass!”

“Total badass! She’s so misunderstood by-”

“That’s it. I’m gonna go look for normal, non-obsessive ‘Avatar The Last Airbender’ people to hang out with,” Taehyung announced, grabbing his cup of coffee and offering the two of you one last look like you were completely crazy. But neither of you cared, returning to your conversation about how cool and amazing Katara and Zuko were.

[You - 07:28 PM] : hey

[Jungkook - 08:24 PM] : am i dreaming or areyou actually texting me rn cabbage o.O

[Jungkook - 08:24 PM] : to what do i owe this honour??

[You - 08:27 PM] : why are you so dramatic for no reason?

[You - 08:27 PM] : seriously I regret txting you now

[Jungkook - 08:28 PM] : cmon that was funny!! youve gotta admit youv never texted me first before 

[You - 08:30 PM] : ugh, whatever I just texted you to ask you if you’re free on saturday

[Jungkook - 08:30 PM] : uhhh why?

[You - 08:32 PM] : what do you mean why? have you already forgoten what we talked about today?

[Jungkook - 08:32 PM] : ???

[You - 08:33 PM] : you’re not actually serious right? don’t you remember? I asked you to go w me to the pumpkin patch today?

[Jungkook - 08:33 PM] : ofc i remember! im just messing with you lol 

[You - 08:33 PM] : why? literally why

[Jungkook - 08:34 PM] : just wanted you to say again that you asked me out today!! makes me feel super euphoric and like a main character in a cheesy teen romcom

[You - 08:34 PM] : im blocking you

The week passed by in the blink of an eye and soon enough, you were standing in the middle of a pumpkin patch. 

Childish excitement brewed in you, stewed in your gut. It was stupid, you were aware. You shouldn’t be this excited, but you couldn’t help yourself. And how could you? You had wanted to go to a pumpkin patch ever since you had first driven past one with your parents. You still remembered how the hues of orange, yellow, and red had rendered your eight year old self completely fascinated and speechless. 

And like you were still just an eight year old child, sitting in the back of your parents’ car, inexperienced so everything was incredibly impressive and warranted a dramatic reaction, your mouth was wide open as you looked around yourself. But that initial shock quickly turned into amazement, the corners of your lips pulling up into a dopey smile, heart pounding in your chest because you were here! At a pumpkin patch! Finally!

“It’s so pretty,” you said under your breath, barely glancing at Jungkook when he appeared next to you. He was still busy trying to shove the change into his pocket, but stopped when he saw the sparkle in your eyes, a soft smile forming on his lips.

“Cabbage,” he whispered quietly, and you were too mesmerised to pay him any attention. When he gently nudged you though, you turned around. “Look, goats.”

Your eyes grew big when you saw where he was pointing at.

Goats. 

Without a moment of hesitation, you grabbed Jungkook’s hand and pulled him towards them. You kneeled down, right in front of a goat that was lazily lying on its stomach and chewing on some hay. Automatically you reached out to pet the goat, but midway you stopped.

“You think I can pet it?” you whispered and turned to Jungkook, looking up at him with big hopeful eyes. His heart stuttered in his chest.

“Uh, I’m not sure.” He looked around for a sign, sighing in relief when he found one. “Yeah, ‘petting allowed’.”

Jungkook barely got to see the huge grin forming on your lips before you turned back around and reached your hand through the fence, softly petting the goat’s fur. It bleated at your touch, enjoying it.

“Oh my god, it’s so cute,” you gasped, pressing your lips together in a vain attempt to stop the squeals from breaking through.

Jungkook smiled, kneeling down himself, but he wasn’t looking at the goat. He was watching you- only you. He thought goats were cute as well, this one in particular, but you were cuter. Your bottom lip jutted out, eyes sparkling brighter than the stars, holding so much love and warmth in your pupils it should be impossible. Everything paled in comparison to you.

And as Jungkook looked at you, he felt a familiar pulling on his heart, something that had noticed for a while now. 

His eyes softened when another squeal broke from your lips (the goat had moved a bit). 

Right then, as Jungkook looked at you, he knew. He had to memorise this, take a picture of you. He would regret it if he didn’t snap at least one picture of you, kick himself for it later. 

So, he pulled out his phone and opened his camera, aiming his phone at you as discreetly as he could, thankful that you were so distracted by the cuteness of the goat that you had completely forgotten about him.

Taehyung would definitely scold Jungkook for the amount of times he was pressing on the shutter, would definitely tell him this wasn’t the optimal way to photograph anything. But Jungkook couldn’t give a flying fuck, just wanting to capture this moment, wanting to capture you.

It took a while for you to notice and when you did-

“Jeon!” you gasped, struggling between wanting to keep your voice down in order to not scare the goat and wanting to hiss at Jungkook for taking pictures of you. “S-stop it! You can’t just do that!” 

“You looked cute,” Jungkook told you, shrugging and smiling shamelessly. “I had to.”

Your cheeks warmed at his words. “Ugh, just cover my face with an emoji or something before posting. I- I wasn’t prepared. I must look so weird.”

And for a moment, Jungkook didn’t know what you were talking about, had forgotten that this was only an Insta date and you were hanging out mainly to take pictures and post them, so other people believed you were genuinely dating. It was nice to forget about that and God, how he wished you wouldn’t have reminded him.

“Yeah, right,” he cleared his throat and stood up when you did. “I- yeah, I’m not sure if I’m gonna post these pictures.”

He definitely wasn’t. He wasn’t going to share them with anyone.

“Okay, good,” you said, nodding before looking around, eyes scanning for something to do. With a snap of your head, you turned back around, grin growing on your lips. “Wanna go pick out a pumpkin?”

Jungkook blinked at you before grinning too because how could he possibly not? How could he possibly not reciprocate your grin with one of his own? How could he possibly not when you were making his heart stutter in his chest like he was thirteen again?

“Whoever can pick out the best one?”

“Is that a challenge?”

He tongued his cheek, tilting his head to the side. “Scared?”

“Of you crying because you’re gonna lose?” You raised a brow, tilting your head to the side too, and Jungkook had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from grinning too much.

“Crying?” he scoffed, shaking his head. “I think you’re mistaking me with yourself here. I’m the fucking champion of picking out pumpkins. Just ask Tae or Jin. Don’t project here, yeah?”

You stretched out your hand. “How about we meet up here in ten minutes again to see who picked out the best pumpkin?”

Jungkook couldn’t grasp your hand fast enough.

“It’s on.”

With a quick shake and a nod it was sealed, the ten minutes beginning now.

Unlike you, Jungkook didn’t immediately start his search for the perfect pumpkin. Instead, he watched you, hands by his side and a smile on his lips, eyes so soft it was almost gross.

Without thinking, Jungkook pulled out his phone, opened his camera app and zoomed in on you. You were once again too busy to notice him, standing in the distance by a pumpkin stand and inspecting a pumpkin in your hands. Jungkook almost started laughing when you shook it, you looked adorably stupid doing that.

He took probably (re: definitely) far too many pictures of you, spent probably (re: definitely) too much time on capturing you and your adorableness, but he didn’t care. Because when he finally began his search, the smile on his lips never disappeared, you making him so fucking happy by being just… you.

You gasped when you saw a particularly pretty pumpkin, rushing over to it and picking it up, inspecting it to make sure it was really perfect. When you saw Jungkook appear next to you though, you stopped, eyeing him suspiciously as you hugged your pumpkin close to your body.

“What are you doing here?”

Jungkook turned to you, putting down a pumpkin he had just deemed mediocre at best. “Uh, did you already forget we’re doing a pumpkin picking competition?” Jungkook laughed, looking around before picking up a pumpkin, turning it back and forth to inspect it from every angle.

It was perfect. He was serious when he had told you that he was the champion of picking out pumpkins. It was obvious that the one he held right now was a winner. You were going to lose, no doubt about that.

“No, that’s not what I mean. I mean why are you,” you gestured around, “here? Go look for a pumpkin somewhere else, stalker.”

“You think I’m following you?” Jungkook snorted before laughing, throwing his head back and scoffing. “Please, if anything you’re following me!”

“I was literally here first,” you said, chortling almost.

“Hm, yeah, I don’t think so,” he told you, continuing before you could insist you were definitely here first. “Also, why are you looking at me like I’m gonna steal that pumpkin from you?”

“Aren’t you?” you asked, hugging the pumpkin closer to yourself.

“You think I would- if anyone should be eyeing the other like a thief and cheater, it should be me. After all, I’m the champion of picking out pumpkins,” he said.

You rolled your eyes. “Ugh, you’re so full of yourself.” 

Not wanting to waste your time on talking with Jungkook any longer, you turned away, focusing back on the challenge.

You registered the chuckle slipping past Jungkook’s lips, but you missed the way he glanced at his pumpkin and then at yours, missed him walking over to a section he knew you hadn’t looked through yet and put down his pumpkin in exchange for another one, a worse one. 

“Hey, cabbage,” Jungkook called and you turned around. “I’m gonna go over there, yeah? So, don’t you dare follow me.”

“Like I’d follow you, Jeon!” you bit back and continued on your search.

Jungkook just smiled to himself before walking away and giving you some space. When he turned and looked at you again, his smile grew into a grin. 

Because there you were, walking over to the section of pumpkins he had just stood at. He beamed and almost cheered out loud when you picked up his previous pumpkin, watching you gasp like a child on Christmas day opening presents, because yes, that was the best pumpkin!. So completely unaware that Jungkook had put that pumpkin there for you.

After exploring the rest of the pumpkin patch, enduring your excessive bragging and teasing (“I thought you were the champion in picking out pumpkin?”), petting even more goats and giving the corn maze a try (in which Jungkook got separated from you a total of four (!) times somehow, proving that his navigational skills were really absolute shit), you were drained and exhausted.

So, now you were sitting on top of a pile of hay, still half of the pumpkin patch unexplored.

“You’re seriously in love with that thing, aren’t you?” Jungkook snorted, leaning back on his hands, and eyed your pumpkin that was sitting in your lap like it was your baby (it was).

“Have you seen how perfect it is?” you asked, holding it up to show him, like this hadn’t been the pumpkin Jungkook had picked out before you. “Of course I love it.”

And even though he still didn’t quite get it (it was just a pumpkin after all in his opinion), he was happy. Because you were. And that was all he wanted- to see you smile and enjoy yourself. Mission accomplished, one might say.

“Hey?”

You hummed. 

“Do you really have a college bucket list?”

You paused, remembering how you had mentioned that when you had asked Jungkook to accompany you here. “Yeah, I do. Don’t need to say it, I know it’s stupid.”

“Show me,” he said. “What do you have on it?”

You were hesitant, contemplating to refuse, but in the end, you put your pumpkin next to you and pulled out your phone. What was there to hide? Your college bucket list was really not that spectacular. 

With a few swipes, the notes app was pulled up. You clicked on the document named ‘my college buckt list’. (You had yet to correct the spelling mistake, simply too lazy to.)

You handed Jungkook your phone.

“‘Sit in on one of Hoseok’s international relations classes to see if it’s really that bad’,” Jungkook read, looking up to you. “And?”

You shuddered at the memory. “Complete shit. Can’t recommend.”

“‘Go to philosophy class hungover’,” Jungkook continued, looking at you again, but you just shook your head, not wanting to talk about it.

Jungkook grinned, reading the next point of your list. “‘Watch the sun-’ you’ve never watched the sun rise before?” 

He gasped.

You rolled your eyes. “I’ve come close to.”

But your explanation wasn’t enough, Jungkook still staring at you wide-eyed, thinking it was impossible, that you, as a full time college student, had never ever in your life watched the sunrise before. 

“H-how?” 

You shrugged. “Dunno, just never have. I just always fall asleep.” 

And at that, he shook his head, clicked his tongue too. When he added a sigh, you rolled your eyes, finding this all just a bit too dramatic. 

“Well, looks like I know what we will do next,” Jungkook mumbled. “By the way, can I tick off ‘Going to a pumpkin patch’ for you?” 

You shrugged, not caring much. “Go ahead.”

Jungkook tapped on the circle, ticking it off, and weirdly enough, he felt a sense of accomplishment. It wasn’t even his college bucket list.

“How come you have never gone to a pumpkin patch before?” he asked you while he handed your phone back.

You shrugged, shoving the device back into your pocket. “Just never have.”

“Not even as a kid? With your parents?” Jungkook asked, brows furrowing together.

“Not even as a kid,” you admitted with a scrunch of your nose and looked off to the side, gaze landing on a family of three—mother, father and young daughter—in the distance, picking out a pumpkin, the young daughter carefully scanning every single one. Your heart melted because that was all you had wanted as an eight year old—to go to a pumpkin patch with your parents and pick out a pumpkin.

“I mean I wanted to go, but my parents always had to work, you know? Just never had the time to take me as a kid,” you explained and shrugged. There was a confused look on Jungkook’s face and you knew exactly what he was thinking—what kind of parents don’t have time to take their daughter to a pumpkin patch?

“They work multiple jobs,” you jumped to their defense before Jungkook could come up with an explanation himself. “We were kinda struggling when I was young.” You went on, knowing exactly what question was going to follow. “My mom got pregnant rather young, and, well, to put it nicely, neither of my grandparents were particularly happy, so for the first couple years, my parents were on their own. They came around eventually, but it was still difficult... still is, to be honest.”

“Oh.” It was all Jungkook said and all he had to say. He clearly hadn’t expected for you to share all of that with him and if you were honest, neither had you. But you had and that was fine, for now. You knew already you were going to regret sharing by the end of the day, so you refused to start now.

“They go gobble gobble, right?” you asked as you looked at the turkey in front of you, studying it curiously because you had never been this close to one before. It was not nearly as cute as the goat you determined.

“It’s a weird sound,” Jungkook laughed and leaned forward too, the two of you sitting on a bench nearby the turkey cage.

“The goats were cuter.”

He looked at you. “Wanna go back then?”

“No, it’s still kinda cute,” you mumbled and pulled out your phone, grabbing a few pictures, for the memory.

You turned to Jungkook when he suddenly looked at you. “I already wanted to ask you this before, but are Hoseok and Chae a thing?”

You laughed like he had just told a joke and shook your head, straightening up. He mirrored you. “I wish, Jeon. I fucking wish.” 

“But... it’s so obvious they’ve got feelings for each other?” Jungkook argued, furrowing his brows because it made literally no sense to him that Chaeyoung and Hoseok weren’t dating when they were clearly in love with one another.

“Well, they’re both idiots,” you told him. “Scared idiots.”

“Sure are,” Jungkook agreed. “I mean it was so obvious. It’s one of the first things I noticed. I’ve been meaning to ask you this all week now-”

“What have you been up to this past week? How come I didn’t hear from you?” You peered at him, but paused the next moment because it dawned on you how weird your questions were. After all, Jungkook and you weren’t actually dating or anything. You weren’t even friends. He didn’t have to keep in touch with you.

“I mean obviously you don’t owe me an explanation, but I just noticed you hadn’t reached out, and I just wondered. You know what? Forget it. You don’t have to answer-”

“No, no, no, that’s a valid question,” Jungkook said. “Sorry about the radio silence.” He continued before you could tell him that you were just as guilty, you could have reached out to him as well. “But I was busy studying for my midterm.”

You weren’t sure what answer you had expected, but Jungkook not reaching out to you because he was studying for the past week took you by surprise. It had never crossed your mind he could possibly be studying… which was stupid, considering it was midterm season. God, you really were judgemental.

“Right.” You nodded awkwardly because you felt stupid now. “What’s your major again? I don’t think you told me.”

“Physics.” 

“Oh.” 

“Yeah, it’s super lame, I know-”

“What?” You looked genuinely confused, a deep knit between your brows. “Physics isn’t lame at all. Why would- I find it really cool to be honest..”

Jungkook chuckled. “You do?”

“Jeon, I liked physics in high school so much, I actually thought about majoring in it. But I just never had the guts to- too difficult. I have no idea how you do it.”

“It’s not that-”

“You must be really smart,” you continued on and you meant it, genuinely impressed by the fact that Jungkook was studying physics. You had always thought it was interesting yourself but a bit too difficult and hard in your opinion.

“Thanks,” he grinned. “I’m sure you could have done it too though. Majored in physics, I mean. You’re super smart too.”

You cringed at his words, thinking the exact opposite. “Don’t be ridiculous. I couldn’t have. I’m not nearly as smart as you think I am.”

“You’re not-” Jungkook cut himself short, shaking his head. “Right, you’re a genius.”

You frowned, laughing almost because he was being ridiculous now, but before you could point it out, Jungkook continued. “Don’t try to deny it. I know you’re a fucking genius.”

“How-”

“We have philosophy together.”

“You never attend-”

“Well, sometimes I do,” he interjected. “And the times I do, I’ve always been amazed by your intelligence.”

“Have you already forgotten I misquoted Freud in class once?” you shot back.

“Okay, fine,” Jungkook admitted, but before you could celebrate your victory, he continued, “but I also remember you going on and explaining Freud’s psychoanalytic theory and how the Id, Ego, and Superego are connected with one another.” 

Your gaze wandered to Jungkook, cheeks growing warm because he was right. After your little mistake, you had managed to fight through the embarrassment and explain Freud’s psychoanalytic theory. “And you did that perfectly, without looking at your notes! That was super impressive. I could never.”

You shook your head. “If you’d attend class, you also could have-”

“Why do you want to convince me so much that you’re not smart?” Jungkook asked. “Do you genuinely think that of yourself?”

You paused.

Did you?

“I- no,” you started, knit growing between your brows as you continued, letting Jungkook’s question repeat in your mind over and over again. “I-I guess you could say I’m smart, but- I just, I don’t know. I don’t wanna come off arrogant-.”

“‘I guess you could I’m’-” Jungkook scoffed, clicking his tongue at you and shaking his head. “Look, It’s not arrogant of you to state the truth. You are smart, period. Stop trying to convince me otherwise.”

You wanted to disagree with Jungkook, tell him you weren’t trying to convince him of anything, opened your mouth to say that, but then it dawned on you. He was right. He was. He really was. And so, you switched out your words of disagreement with words of agreement.

“Y-yeah,” you lowered your head, embarrassed, “I guess you’re right.”

“Say it,” Jungkook prompted. “Say you’re smart.”

Your eyes grew wide, face flushing hot because admitting that Jungkook was right and actually saying you were smart? Two completely different things. And admitting that he was right in the first place was already embarrassing and hard enough.

“I won’t drop this until you say it,” he told you. Jungkook quirked his brow at you, giving you a look that left you with no other option but to cave.

“... I’m smart.”

“You’re right, that is arrogant. You are-” Jungkook stopped when he saw your shocked expression, your mouth wide open and eyes so huge they might as well fall out. 

“Jeon!” you gasped before smiling and laughing because it clicked with you. Saying that you were smart, didn’t make you arrogant. It didn’t, not even a tiny bit.

You mumbled something underneath your breath before turning back to the turkeys, hand falling into your open palm as you studied them once more. Because you didn’t know. Did you think they were ugly or not?

You were so busy trying to figure out this question, you missed the way Jungkook looked at you with soft and mushy eyes.

If you had turned around, you would have seen it, seen the way his gaze traced every curve and dip of your face, seen the way he was holding his breath because you looked absolutely ethereal with the sun slowly dipping below the horizon and casting a warm glow on your skin, seen the urge grow in Jungkook to take a picture of you.

When he tried this time though—phone pulled out and camera open—you noticed, face contorting in annoyance.

“No, let’s not do that, Jeon.” You put up a hand.

“Why not? That’s the purpose of today, right? That I take pictures of you and post them on Insta?” Jungkook argued, knowing very well you couldn’t say anything against that. “Plus, the light is nice right now.”

“But-” You stared at him, the corners of your mouth turned downwards. “Ugh, fine,” you grumbled, admitting defeat. 

Your breath hitched when Jungkook instantly scooted closer to you, stretching out his arm and angling the camera until the two of you were in frame. You adjusted your hair and when you were done and smiling into the camera—the corners of your lips feeling incredibly tense though—Jungkook hit the shutter a handful of times.

“Okay, enough, enough,” you said and turned away, finding your smile to be too awkward.

“No, wait. Just one more. I need something to post on my story.”

“W-what about the ones we just took?”

“I’m gonna post those to my feed. I need something different for my story though. Now, smile,” Jungkook told you and aimed his phone at you, only you.

“No, that’s so weird, Jeon,” you whined, face growing hot. “It feels so awkward when it’s only me in the picture. I don’t like that.”

Jungkook rolled his eyes at you, but before you could rip into him for it, he pulled you into frame with him, beaming into the camera. Left with no other option, you mustered up a smile, one that looked even more awkward than the other one. This time, he noticed.

“You really don’t like getting your picture taken, do you?” He dropped his arm.

You scowled. “My smile that ugly, huh?”

“What? No,” Jungkook shook his head, “that’s not what I’m saying. It’s just… a little awkward.”

“Well, sorry, I can’t be a model and natural in front of the camera,” you grumbled, rolling your eyes and twisting a piece of hay around your finger (because the entire place was covered in hay.). “Honestly, if anything it’s weird that you’re so comfortable in front of the camera.”

“Excuse me?”

“Like, how many pictures must you have taken of yourself that you’re so comfortable with it? Narcissistic if you ask me.” You shrugged, deep down knowing very well you were spewing bullshit right now.

Jungkook stared at you, a mix between disbelief and amusement. In the end, he laughed though, shaking his head and before you could process it, snapping a picture of you.

“How many pictures do you think it’s gonna take until you stop being judgemental?” he asked you, grinning.

“You’re so annoying,” you hissed, crossing your arms in front of your chest like a child. Jungkook poked you in the rib in response, making you jump and snap your head to him.

“Come on, just smile,” he encouraged you, putting an arm around your shoulders and pulling you closer, his phone up in the air again, but you couldn’t even bring the corners of your lips to lift up, feeling self-conscious now about how awkward your smile was. (You knew deep down this wasn’t what Jungkook had meant but still, the comment was repeating in your mind like a broken record.)

“Smile and I’ll buy you chocolate chip cookies.”

You gasped, turning to look at Jungkook and see if he was serious, mouth wide open in surprise. 

“Really?” you smiled and before you could realise he had only said that for the sake of the picture, he hit the shutter. When it all clicked in your mind, your smile fell off.

“Aw, don’t look so disappointed,” Jungkook told you, pinching your nose and smiling at you like that would make it better.

“I’m not,” you grumbled, turning away in fear he would pinch your nose again, the slight pout on your lips making it very hard to believe you. And when Jungkook fixed you with this doubtful look, you rolled your eyes, gritting your teeth. “You tricked me.”

There is an accusatory tone colouring your words, one that was seemingly funny because Jungkook laughed and put his arm around you, pulling you into a hug you didn’t want to be pulled in.

“Aw, I’m sorry, cabbage,” he cooed into your ear like you weren’t trying to push him away. “Don’t be mad at me.”

“Let go of me right now or I’ll punch you in the fucking dick,” you hissed, but with your face smushed against his shoulder, your words lost the edge you wanted them to have. But it was still enough, Jungkook letting go.

“I hate you,” you spat out, but he just grinned at you. He looked at his phone and pulled up the pictures.

“We look cute.” 

Turns out, Jungkook was right. You did look cute. Both of you were smiling and neither of you looked awkward at all. While Jungkook was expertly looking into the camera, his smile as bright as the sun, your eyes were on him, a hint of surprise reflected on your face and a smile on your lips, your love for chocolate chip cookies to be thanked here. 

You couldn’t believe how perfect the picture it was, couldn’t even believe existed in the first place. Because here you were, Jungkook and you sitting next to each other, his arm around you and both of you smiling. Looking at it, it was easy to forget that this was as staged and fake as it could get, that you weren’t a real couple.

“Yeah, we do,” you agreed quietly and watched Jungkook open Instagram and add the picture to his stories, typing up a caption.

“What do you think?” He showed you his phone.

“‘Having a gourd time with my cabbage’,” you read, and there was a frown on your face when you looked at Jungkook. Unlike you, he was beaming, clearly super proud of his awful and terrible pun, expecting you to double over in laughter, but you just stared at him, face void of any emotion.

“You get it? Gourd instead of-”

“Yes, Jeon, I get it,” you told him, stopping him before he could explain his stupid pun to you. “Proud?”

“Very.”

You stared at him silently for a few seconds, sighing heavily. “How long did it take you to come up with that one?” 

“... might have been thinking of puns for the last couple of days now,” Jungkook admitted quietly, and you heaved out another sigh, shaking your head in disappointment.

“You’re so cringy.”

And at that, Jungkook gasped, as dramatically and theatrically as he always did.

“Can’t you at least pretend like you think I’m funny?” 

“Yeah, that costs extra.”

“And you scolded Jisoo for exploiting me,” Jungkook bit back.

“Well, you said you’re all mine to exploit, didn’t you?” you hummed, scrunching your nose. “You are my boyfriend after all, right?”

Jungkook stared at you, blinked three times before he tilted his head to the side and tongued his cheek, defeat.

“Touché.”

And then, neither of you said anything, both of you quieting down and allowing each other to just silently sit next to each other, the chatter and laughter of children running around you serving as quiet background noise. 

It was easy, surprisingly easy, you realised. To sit next to Jungkook, you mean. It was surprisingly easy to do that, the silence not feeling suffocating or tense between you. It was baffling almost, the fact that the sun was setting behind you, the sky a deep rich orange. Hours had passed now, and it hadn’t felt like that at all. It was weird to think about, how time had flown by in a blink of an eye, and it was even more weird to think about how the past hours had been… enjoyable, fun, easy. 

“Hey?”

You snapped your head around. You paused when you saw the look on Jungkook’s face. You couldn’t say what exactly it was, but it had a knit growing between your brows. 

Something was wrong.

You knew it right away, heart slowly dropping into your gut. It didn’t help that Jungkook refused to meet your gaze, looking past your shoulder instead. 

“There this thing- I didn’t tell you then, but…” he trailed off and God, that was just the worst because you waited and waited and waited for him to find the end of his sentence, but he didn’t, leaving you hanging.

“What, Jeon?” 

Jungkook finally looked at you, staring at you silently before taking a deep breath and finding his voice. (How you wished he hadn’t.)

“He asked if you were okay.” 

You blinked at him, three times in total before he continued, taking your silence as a sign to, sounding so unsure though.

“When I, uh, walked back into the café? To get your bag? He asked if you were okay,” Jungkook told you and averted his gaze, eyes following two siblings chasing each other.

It took a moment for his words to click with you, for you to understand them, and when you did, right then, in that exact moment, the world stopped spinning, the air getting pressed out of your lungs and the sound of children running around filtering away, leaving you in utter silence.

Oh.

You didn’t know what to say…. or do. Quite frankly, you didn’t know how to process this. Jungkook hadn’t brought it up after it had happened, he had brought it up now, after you had almost forgotten all about it, about running into him in the café. You knew and understood why Jungkook hadn’t said anything then, but doing so now, was just so much worse, hurt so much more because the memories got dragged up to the surface all over again, the wounds ripping open once more.

“What,” you looked at your quivering hands, “what did you say?”

“I said you were okay.” Jungkook tried meeting your gaze, but you kept your head low, embarrassed and feeling so fucking awkward because this shouldn’t be a big deal—him asking if you were okay—but it was because he had asked, after everything that had happened if you were okay, he, of all fucking people. “Should I have said something-”

“No, no, no,” you interrupted, shaking your head. “Saying that was...”

You paused to look for the end of your sentence, for a word to fill in the blank, but just like Jungkook, you failed to find the end, somehow having forgotten how to speak in the last two seconds. 

“Who is he?”

It was a careful question, one Jungkook was incredibly hesitant to ask, one he almost didn’t ask, but he had to. He had to ask, at least try to get the answer, because the question had been plaguing him, repeating itself over and over again in his mind forever now, haunting and bothering him. He couldn’t take it anymore. The question demanded to be asked and who was he not to ask?

“I mean obviously you don’t have to tell me if you don’t wanna share,” Jungkook added because even if the question had to be asked, it didn’t mean you had to provide him with an answer. “If you’re not comfortable with it, I totally get it. I’m not trying to pressure you into sharing something with me- I just wondered...”

You didn’t respond in any way, didn’t look at him or make a single sound. You were just silent. It was maddening. 

“I’m sorry,” Jungkook ran a hand through his hair, guilt blooming in his chest and wrapping around his heart. “I shouldn’t have brought-”

“Bathroom guy.”

He stilled. “... what?”

“Bathroom guy,” you repeated quietly, and Jungkook swallowed, feeling a lump in his throat, chest tightening.

“It’s this guy I met like a month or so ago,” you explained, almost tripping over your own words. It was laughable really, so much so you lowered your head to hide yourself, your voice weak, wobbly, shaky. “It was during this birthday party, I think. Jimin dragged me to, so I’m honestly not sure what exactly it was.” You let out something that sounded like a laugh. It was awkward. “I met him there, in the bathroom. We just… talked a bit. Bonded, I guess you could say.”

Your words seemed to take a while to sink in with Jungkook, his voice seemingly lost, and you scrunched up your nose, the silence that you were met with nagging on your heart, on your conscience.

“Is he, uh, the guy that Jimin mentioned-”

“Yup,” you interrupted quickly. “But he doesn’t know- well, actually, uh, none of my friends- don’t mention that we ran into him, yeah? Please?”

You were practically curling in on yourself, body slumping forward and folding in on itself like a weight had been dropped on you. You should straighten up, lift your head, but you couldn’t. Not with Jungkook’s eyes so clearly digging into your face, waiting for you to meet his gaze. You stared at the ground, finding comfort at looking down, the sunlight filtering through the leaves and leaving dainty shadows on the ground.

“Right, yeah.” You almost didn’t hear Jungkook speak, voice so low and quiet you thought he actually didn’t want you to hear his words. “Of course, I won’t mention it.”

You bit your tongue, heart feeling suffocatingly heavy in your chest.

“Thanks.”

The air grew cold around you, making you shiver. Autumn was really arriving.

Half an hour later, you were sitting at the curb of your condo building, pumpkin in your lap and a heavy silence hanging between you.

It was your fault.

Jungkook didn’t have to say it for you to know. You had said something wrong. What, you didn’t know, but this silence was clearly and obviously to be blamed on you. And how much you hated it because the day had been great and fun up until that point. So fucking great and fun. 

“So-”

“Jimin mentioned the annual Halloween party your frat throws every year,” you blurted out, a smile on your lips. “Let’s go together.”

“Uh, what?” Jungkook shot back, frowning.

Yeah, uh, what? You had spoken without thinking, but you were committing now, too late to backtrack, guilt fuelling your words.

“You sure?”

You nodded, a bit too enthusiastically though, just like your smile. “Yeah, I-I’m sure. Let’s go together.”

“But... a lot of people attend,” Jungkook said, tilting his head to the side, clearly not thinking this was a great idea. “You sure you’re comfortable with that?”

“Yeah!” 

Your answer came out too fast, shot out of you practically. So rather than convince Jungkook of how sure you were, your reply did the opposite, suspicion growing in him. 

“Y/N,” you cringed, he had switched out his pet name for you with your actual name, “did you really think-”

“I mean that’s a good thing, right? That a lot of people attend?” you interrupted, shifting in your seat. “This way everyone will see that we’re an item.”

Jungkook was still not convinced, brows pinched together. “I guess, but-”

“Plus, what a bad girlfriend would I be if I didn’t attend with you? I mean the Halloween party is a huge thing, right? I can’t miss it, not as your girlfriend.”

He looked torn, mouth opening and closing several times. “Yeah, but I’m just saying, I don’t want you-”

“Jeon,” you placed your hand on his arm, “it’s fine. I know what I’m getting myself into.”

You didn’t. It was a lie, but again, you were committing, heart feeling so heavy in your chest.

Jungkook studied your face, mouth pressed into a line. Knowing his attempts to ask you again if you were sure, if you had really thought this through (the answer to both questions were a flat out no), would just end with you interrupting him, would be a waste of air, he relented.

“Okay. Sure, let’s go together.”

→ links don’t work, but don’t forget to message me with any thoughts/feedback! i’d love to hear it!

[rosella-writes]

Happy Friiiiday! I'm excited to find out more about Pride x Valor for the prompt "I held my breath on the way down / Your tangled hair became my gown / I'll never tell you what I found / Now look who's finally got the crown" (from 'They Fear Us' by Ithaca)

You're very sweet, thank you!! I've got the rest of the ramblings about them in no refuge so sure as valor. Not sure how well this matches the prompt but it definitely started something! Thank you.

Valor is Virelan Lavellan, repurposed for an Arlathan AU, and Pride is an agender femme Solas in a once-upon-a-time, a-long-long-time-ago kind of way.

For @dadrunkwriting

~~~

It was while departing a village under the jurisdiction of Mythal's youngest daughter that Pride slipped her hand into her dress's pocket, then held out its bounty — an orange, whose skin was dimpled and perfect.

Valor took it from her outstretched hand, then bit it to create a notch from which to peel. The fruit's oil and juice were bitterly sweet on her tongue. "Where did you get these?"

Pride shrugged, grinning wickedly as she bit into her own. She gestured for Valor to follow in her bare footsteps as she descended the steep, almost clifflike hill. Her gauzy hem caught on each seedhead of grass as she went.

"What next, ma'falon?" Pride asked, setting her sleeve aflutter as she waved at the land before them. She ate the last of her orange with gusto. "There is the world at our feet, with only our inclinations to direct us. I am in no hurry to return to my patron's side, are you?"

Valor thought of Falon'Din as she placed an entire orange segment in her mouth. Its juice burst against the roof of her mouth as she bit down. "Nuh uh. Just tell me we're not walking the entire way to kill time."

"Don't be silly," Pride scoffed. She cast a look at Valor over her shoulder — promise-light eyes, long-lashed eyes, eluvian eyes — and smiled. "Mythal gave me a key. Now come on."

And she cast herself, arms outstretched, down the hill.

Valor's breath caught — with fear? with disbelief? — and her gaze dropped to the orange she held near her mouth.

"You've got to be kidding me," she cursed, then quickly finished it, upset at the lost opportunity to savour it.

When she cast herself likewise down the hill, it was with a high-pitched screech and little grace. She tumbled, rolling like a pin and holding her elbows desperately to her sides, and kept her lips pressed shut against another scream. The world spun in a dizzying mess of colours and sunlight.

Valor gasped when the air changed, and she crashed to a halt against a warm body. She opened the eyes she'd clenched shut, gasping and gulping at the air, and turned to see Pride at her side... laughing.

"I never said you had to roll!" she hooted, clutching at her sides. Her sleeves were muddy and torn, and Valor lay tangled in her long, loose hair. "I just did because I wanted to!"

"You didn't say anything!" Valor gasped, too relieved to be angry. "Just... there she goes! Gone again."

Pride caught her breath, still giggling to herself, and turned until she was flush against Valor's side. Her hair enveloped Valor as if it were a cape, soft and waving and deep auburn. Pride propped her chin up on one hand and looked entirely too smug for her own good.

"We are across the world," she snarked, "or, rather, as far as the eluvian at the bottom of the hill saw fit to take us. I thought the orange key would take us someplace pleasant but... this is dark."

"Orange key," Valor repeated grumpily. "What will Mythal think of next?"

Pride snorted. "I shall never tell. How else will I surprise you next time?"

Valor scoffed, then lunged for her, knocking her back against the stone floor and peppering her face with kisses. "I cannot stand you," she told her. "I'm never travelling with you again."

"Absolutely not," Pride laughed. "You shall have too much fun if you do, and we cannot have that."

"Hate," Valor emphasised, kissing her mouth soundly again and again. "Loathe. Detest."

"Love," Pride said. "Love, love, love."

[sungie]

(10:29am) : inumaki toge x reader

a/n: i went to a farmer's market and missed people so i wrote this ,, i also missed writing for best boy ^^

masterlist

Savor summer sweetly. Suck on laughter, like you do that lemon-drop held beneath your tongue. Swallow familiar bliss so it syrups down your throat in golden spools.

Inumaki bites into the tangerine too fast. Juice splatters mid-air to speckle onto his cheeks and the tip of his nose. Citrine and warm and tangy. Golden freckles on a pale boy. He attempts to steal another bite before you snatch the fruit away from him.

“An absolute monster,” you chide, “eating oranges with the peel on.”

Inumaki reaches for your hands to pry his prized possession away. Earlier, he managed a bargain with Itadori to compensate for his lack of money: one satsuma for one free pass of communal kitchen duties.

“Okaka.”

Bitch.

“I can’t believe I have to baby-sit you.” It’s hard to hide the grin tugging at your lips. The peel slips away from the fruit easily enough, and you toss it into the wicker bin before Inumaki grabs the orange and pops it into his mouth. Whole.

With his newly freed hands, he unlocks his phone to show you (rather smugly), a text you sent the previous hour.

come with me to the farmer’s market pls :,(

“You’re no fun.”

“Salmon, salmon,” Inumaki mocks, in the same tone. He’s swallowed the orange, now. A gleeful grin rests atop his face. He points down the street.

“Yep, let’s go.”

Quite honestly, it wouldn’t matter where he pointed. Adoration for this grumpy boy who speaks in onigiri ingredients and sarcastic texts is surprising. If you could tell your younger self - watch out - this will be your dearest friend, you wonder what snapshot would emerge from old polaroid. Amusement? Wide eyes? Or perhaps a sigh of relief (thank fuck I found you at last).

You startle at the peach sample being held to your lips. Inumaki stares at you blankly. “Tuna?" He fights to keep his expression steady, and you know he’s thinking about poking you with the toothpick instead.

What is love? Is it sliced peach dissolving in your mouth? Tangy and jubilant like the bursts of peripheral color from fruit arrangements, and flower stands, and people selling fresh bread? Is it this stupid boy who likes to make your life a living hell, while also handing you fresh peaches and a hand to hold when you’re scared?

Savor summer sweetly. Don’t bite into orange too fast.

Inumaki ends up poking you with the toothpick. You don’t think you need to find an answer so soon. Summer sun sits high up in the sky. The polaroid hasn’t printed its image yet. There is still time.

[sitp-recs]

Hii, I hope you're doing well

I've been feeling blue lately and I was hoping you could rec some comfort fic with late summer vibes ??? Or just one that are soothing or sweet

Thanks youuu <3333

Hi darling! I feel you on those blues 💙 I highly recommend checking @peachpety’s Autumn Drabbles collection, it never never fails to cheer me up! All her short stories are a delicious mix of fun, tender and sweet that I personally find very soothing! See more recs below. I decided to do a different format this time and included a few summer quotes instead of the summary :)

Light Years Away by @lettersbyelise (2019, M, 2.5k)

“Draco rides him slow and deep, the pale column of his long body rising above Harry, shining with a sheen of sweat. Harry fists the sheets, pants for breath, takes in the smell of the night wafting through the open window, thyme and old stones and Draco's soft skin under the pads of his fingers, against the coarse hair of his thighs.”

Secretly, between the shadow and the soul by @teacup-tai (2021, T, 3k)

”It shouldn’t feel like this to watch Malfoy exercise his profession on paediatric healing. Feelings so tempestuous inside his chest, like a summer storm in a tropical rainforest. It feels all-encompassing and way too much to hear the way Draco reassures Andromeda gently that it’s really just a fever, nothing to worry about.”

Between the Power Lines by @tackytigerfic (2020, M, 3.2k)

“They swam every afternoon, Harry mostly floating, blinking up at the flat blue sky, Malfoy with his shoulders pink and peeling and his wet hair bleached like bone from the sun. His Mark had faded over the years, though it was still ugly, and he had a ropey, reddened scar curling around the bracket of his left ribcage right up to the hollow below his Adam’s apple. Harry determinedly didn’t think about how odd it was that he suddenly knew Malfoy’s body like this, so casually and easily.”

Sun Stroke by @peachpety (2020, E, 3.8k)

“Draco blinks, his mind clouded with endorphins. He hugs the jumper to his chest. It smells sweet like summer fruit, sharp like a smoky bonfire, woodsy like tanned skin. Like everything he’s ever wanted.”

A Midsummer Affair by @lazywonderlvnd (2020, E, 5k)

“They’ll drink it naked in bed as the sun sets on another endless summer day and transforms before their eyes into a humid and pungent summer night, in the midst of which they will fuck at least three more times, and Potter will keep smelling like sweat and bergamot and boy, and Draco will keep feeling starved for him.”

Life goes not backward by @shealwaysreads (2020, T, 9k)

“Harry had taken a week off that September to give Draco a tour of Seville, his home for the last five years. He had kissed him under trees heavy with orange blossom, and watched his face transform with curiosity and pleasure as they wandered the palace of the Real Alcazar. He’d basked in the sight of sunlight filtering through the filigree of carved white stone, falling across fair skin, and high cheekbones, and eyes like smoke.”

Take My Hand by daisymondays (2018, E, 13k)

“Draco strips off his shirt before following Harry down to one of the lower rock ledges and diving in after him. Jumping off rocks isn’t really his style, but there’s something about Harry cheering him on from below that makes him feel like he can do anything, also the intoxicating smile Harry gives him when he emerges from the sea makes it all worth it.”

Nice Things by aideomai (2020, M, 22k)

“The next day Harry woke slow. They’d slept in his bed last night, and the room was filled with the clear, golden light of a summer morning, dust drifting slow through the beams, Draco’s hair flopping over his eyes, his dick soft against Harry’s leg, all the long, lovely lines of him. Harry loved this room. He loved this house. He pressed his face against Draco’s neck and drowsed, easy.”

Follow the Water by @xanthippe74 (2020, T, 38k)

“The stream is already shrinking to its more slender, summer proportions, while the forest floor is growing lush with ferns and other low-growing plants. Overhead, the new leaves have created a canopy of pale green. It’s a feast for Harry’s eyes, and he doesn’t know how he’ll be able to bear spending any length of time in his colourless, cramped flat anymore.”

Against All Odds by momatu (2015, E, 53k)

“What you eat and drink whilst visiting France is every bit as important as what you see. It’s most popular in the south of France, but you cannot leave France without sipping a pastis on a summer afternoon.”

The Promise of Summer by Omi_Ohmy (2019, M, 66k)

“Looking around, Harry realised that this was what the school had given him: new life, and hope for the future. Summer was on its way, and with it the chance for the life he never thought he’d have.”

[oumaheroes]

Earthbound: Gabriel’s Story

Written for @needcake, whose wonderful and ongoing encouragement has spurred me to explore new directions.

Context: Hundreds of years after the fall of Earth, mankind is slowly starting to return. Some people have a stronger urge to return than others, confused by fragments of memories from a life already lived.

Word Count: 3570

Characters: Portugal

Arthur’s story can be found here.

Matthew’s story can be found here.

---

Gabriel is six.  He’s at the doctor’s, which he doesn’t think that he deserves, and to protest this offense he does not answer when he is spoken to.

‘Gabriel? Can you answer some questions for me?’

The lady doctor looks nice enough; she doesn’t look scary but that’s not the point and Gabriel presses his lips together and picks up a plastic shape. It’s solid and brightly coloured and he has some like this at home. He likes to build with them, usually, when he can get them from the other kids for long enough, and on the rare occasions he’s left alone with them undisturbed he builds high high towers and pretends they’re castles.

He turns this one, red and smooth, over in his hands and lays it on the small plastic table he is knelt in front of with finality. It will be a part of a dungeon.

‘He’s always like this,’ His foster mummy Anita speaks from behind him, over his head, ‘he has these funny moods where he won’t speak at all, and then when he’s not eating it just gets worse. Never had a kid like him.’

Gabriel feels his presence swallowed softly underneath her words as the conversation passes over and around him as if he were not there. He picks up another shape. This one is round at the edges and is blue. It can go at the top.

The Doctor gently taps the table by his elbow. He turns to find her crouched next to him; eyes slightly too wide behind large glasses. She smiles, ‘What are you building?’

He shrugs.

‘Ah,’ She ponders the beginnings of his construction with interest, ‘Well, the biggest I’ve seen someone build with these is about this big,’ she gestures with her hands to her chest and Gabriel is forced to look at her.

That is quite high.

‘I can go bigger.’

The doctor raises an eyebrow sceptically, ‘I don’t know,’ she says, ‘the girl who built it didn’t have to go home for dinner.’

‘I don’t have to go home for dinner,’ Gabriel retorts, immediately. Mummy Anita scoffs and Gabriel flushes, looking away.

‘Do you not like dinner?’ the doctor prompts, softly.

Gabriel shrugs again.

‘I don’t like Option 3,’ the doctor says. She reaches under the table and picks up another shape -yellow, a triangle- and puts it near him.  Might be a good turret ceiling, if they leave him alone to build high enough, ‘that’s what I hate. But my favourite is Option 17.’

‘I don’t like any of them.’

‘No? You must like one of them, there are so many!’

Gabriel shakes his head and continues to stack shapes, ‘they all taste funny.’

‘Funny?’ the doctor glances at Mummy Anita who shrugs.

‘None of the other kids say that. We’ve had the machine checked out- I eat from it. It’s fine. Even tried him on other machines but he says they all taste funny.’

The doctor looks back at him and he tries to look unbothered by their discussion, ‘Why do you think food from meal machines tastes funny? What’s strange about the food?’

It’s an easy enough question, but one that Gabriel can’t really answer- not even to himself.

The best way he can describe it is that food from machines just tastes wrong.

All meals come from food machines. They’re in every home and school and all taste the same; a catalogue copy of meals for everyone to have. But there’s a dryness to everything, something that sticks bland and metallic in his mouth and no matter which out of the many hundreds of options he tries, Gabriel hates them all. There’s something wrong about them, he thinks, something unnatural that he never wants to taste, no matter how used to it he knows he should be. Food from machines is all he’s ever eaten.

They don’t grow things on his colony; vegetables or fruits or grain. There’s no room in the towering stacks of buildings, stretching into the dusty orange sky. The colony is a jumble of things, a jungle bleached colourless and lifeless despite the scattering of people that scrabbled through its warrens.

There is no room for fields here. No farms for cattle to roam. The machines feed them: food materialised from the collective memory of humanity. Gabriel has heard in the playground at school that other human colonies, the ones further off into space where their communications cannot reach, make their own food from scratch, like the people of the olden times of Earth. This seems bizarre to him. What difference would it make, if you made a meal from things instead of a machine? All of their neighbouring colonies do the same as they do and this is all anyone of them have ever known.

Either way, the taste is lifeless and empty so Gabriel avoids eating as much as possible, giving in only when his tummy hurts with an ache that needs to be filled with something, anything, before it will think of going away.

He doesn’t know how to put this into words, so he turns away and adds another block to his tower, hoping that the adults will leave him alone. The doctor on his side sighs and taps something into her e-tab, looking back over at Mummy Anita.

The conversation begins again, over his head, and Gabriel slips away.

When Gabriel is thirteen when he realises that something about him isn’t quite right. It’s not his problem with food, although that has never improved, things taste as stilted now as they ever have done. No matter what meal option he tries, and no matter from which machine, there is the same blandness to everything, a cotton covering that prevents him from tasting what everyone else says he should.

But lack of taste is the least of his concerns.

The word most used to describe him by adults is ‘unfocused.’

This isn’t something he thinks is fair, but he understands how they think that, he supposes. He can often be found staring out of a window or escaping off into space, eyes glassy and face slack. He doesn’t agree with the term ‘unfocused’ because Gabriel is very focused on doing just that.

Escaping.

It is easy. So very, very easy. Like a quick breath in, he can switch off today effortlessly and take himself away somewhere, mind’s eye overlaying reality to wash his surrounds bright and true and better. He can take himself to a place so perfect it can only exist in his mind- soft sandy beaches in front of scrubby mountainsides that soar and roll up and down in sharp curves, all under a sky so blue it burns. Cyan rivers wend down corridors and curl around the legs of his classmates, a cliff face leans out of the drop of a window, a dark cupboard hides the maw of the unknown- damp caves that drip drip drip with depth and cool his older, sun-burnt skin.

If he closes his eyes and truly does focus, he can go even further- bite down and taste Brazilian gold, hard and cold as it hits his teeth to send shivers of warning up his spine. A dropped pencil or a creak of a floorboard snaps into the crackle of a fire, hot and close and his mouth waters with the promise of flame kissed meat and the smell of woodsmoke.

As much as he enjoys this, he realises it is a problem because it is not something that anyone else does. Not anymore, at least, and never as well. Children used to play pretend, of course, when they were younger- it was normal. Gabriel always seemed to be the best at it, somehow, better able to call to mind a place for their games with a vivacity no one else could hope to compare to and it was fun- something he excelled in. He made all of their games, a playmaker in setting the stage and lifting another world to blanket the dusty playground and wrap them all in colours.

But his friends have grown out of such things. Their thirst for the imaginary cooled and then tapered off entirely whilst Gabriel’s hunger for it only grew and grew until he could travel miles in the blink of an eye, drumming fingers playing a marching song to set the pace and propel him onwards.

Why be here when he can be elsewhere? Why would he ever choose otherwise, when elsewhere was a paradise unlike any other. Any colour, any texture, any smell or taste, and all blended and whirled together to spill a storm of yearning through his waking days.

Maybe he could write, he thinks. He is sixteen and thinks that, maybe this is why he does this. Maybe this is something that is normal after all, if he can put what he is feeling to paper and share it with others. If it is productive, it is good, after all. If it creates something tangible, if it is something that others can use and enjoy then it is something worthy; it has value. When it is just for him, it is strange; adults watching with dark and wary eyes, muttering condemnations that shackle him with labels.

It is the way of things.

But writing is harder than it looks. Words only describe so much and are too flat, too rigid to encompass the entirety of what he feels and sees. On paper, the world of his daydreams regresses to shapes like the coloured blocks he used to love as a child- useful for building something, yes, but ultimately something controlled and solid, changeable but unmoving and limited. Gabriel’s imagination isn’t like this, it is constantly new and fluid, forever showing him more and more and more with a detail words can never capture, never truly express.

He dreams of orchards, of fruit so orange and full and clear to him that he can see the speckles of dust in the dips of its skin, the dew that sits on the leaves in the morning. He feels himself, brown, large hand scarred with mistakes and history, close about it and pull; feels the tension as it resists on the branch before a gasp of a break. The leaves of the tree swing back and the fruit is full and firm and he can taste it, taste how full it will be when he peels back the skin and bites down to flood his mouth with sweetness.

He feels air that is cool and tastes of salt, wind that pushes and tugs at his clothes, of a floor of wood that moves and bucks in angry waters of grey and blue. Unknown jungles where the air is thick and hot, arid plains where the sun scorches the rocks, and damp misty hills that whistle ancient secrets across the miles and twist his heart until it breaks.

What is that.

Why is that.

He doesn’t know.

When Gabriel is eighteen, the foster home he is in releases him.

‘You can stay, if you want,’ Anita gives him a measured look, up and down, from beneath her eyelashes, ‘but you’ll need to start paying rent. Benefits stop for you now so I can’t keep you about for free.’

Gabriel blinks at her, ‘But, I don’t have a job.’

Anita’s face remains impassive, ‘Then you’ll have to find one.’

‘How?’ he is angry, all of a sudden. Older children had never stuck about after their eighteenth birthday but he always imagined that they had left of their own accord, that they couldn’t wait to leave. Now he wonders how many of them were forced out, where they went, ‘I’ve never had one before.’

‘Your school should do something about helping you find one. Or, here,’ she reaches into her desk drawer and pulls out her e-tab. The paint of the old thing is chipped but it still works; the screen flashes bright and the contrast with the dark office room washes her face flat and white in the glow. After a moment, she holds out the tab to him, ‘there are some programmes about. Take a look at them and sign up to some.’

Gabriel doesn’t take it and her arm hangs there, suspended and stiff between them. Eventually, she sets down the tab and pushes it towards him, ‘I’ll give you two months, if you want to stay. You should be able to find something in that time.’

‘What do I do if I can’t find anything?’ there is a tightness in his chest. He does not like it here, does not really even like her but the taste of betrayal is thick on his tongue and catches in the back of his throat to prick at his lungs, ‘what do I do? This isn’t fair.’

Anita looks at him, hard and cold, ‘Life isn’t fair. The quicker you learn that, the better off you’ll be.’ With that she motions with her head towards the door behind him and tabs on her computer, bringing it back to life.

The conversation is over.

Gabriel clenches his jaw, spins about and opens the door. The e-tab he leaves on her desk.

He moves his way through the house and out to the street. Night has fallen and the glow from their fat, orange sun hangs warm and faded behind the horizon. It looks like a painting; abstract- not real. The cut of the skyline is wrong, too sharp and small and alien all at once and he hurts with the urge to close his eyes and drift away on the tide of his dreams to somewhere better.

He can’t. He needs to do something, needs to go somewhere, needs to eat. Food machines are everywhere, but they cost money that he doesn’t have and the fear of hunger for the tasteless pushes him into the tangle of streets.

Gabriel is twenty-two. He found a job, eventually. It was the spur of the moment, out of desperation, but it’s not all that bad, in the end. He is a builder.

The monotony of manual work allows him to loosen his mind, lift himself out of his body as he lays dun-coloured bricks down in careful order, one by one by one. He builds a home under his hands but his mind is away, far far into grasses so tall they tickle his cheeks and he reconstructs himself into a reality he can control.  

This brick can be the dungeon. This brick can be a turret. Gabriel can be elsewhere.

This is enough. It is enough, he tells himself. It is more than enough; if he gets better, he can actually do that, actually build the castles of his dreams. Maybe he could be an artist, or an architect, maybe he can design a whole new colony that has fancy machines to replicate wind or bodies of water to recreate a sea deep and blue enough to have come straight from the Earth itself.

When he thinks about this too deeply, it hurts.

The ancient planet sings to him from the files of history, a stunning colourful thing that hangs suspended in time. Oh, what he would give to be there. To see the oceans and feel the grasses of fields that are somehow so very green. What he would give for the possibility see it, just once. Any part of it.

The pictures he’s seen, the videos and the stories that are collected into binary are the only things left of humanity’s original home- something so colourful and incredible that it is hauntingly impossible. Gabriel’s dreams must be modelled on it, he knows, they must have a grain of truth in them because only his imagination can compare to the flat, coded remains of Earth. Nothing man-made can be so beautiful, nothing built by mortal hands produce such unkempt beauty.

Gabriel feels like he was born in the wrong time, made and moulded to explore something older and wilder where he can go and go and go and always see something new, unending and natural. This lost opportunity, this missed moment and incorrect assignment whips a storm in his heart and brings tears to his eyes but passes, eventually. He is not a man for regret, not a man to dwell on what he cannot have and he consoles himself with the idea that maybe, one day, he can help to build a new world that rivals the one in his dreams.

When Gabriel is twenty-four, one of the human colonies fails. As the colony collapses, life systems screaming into the vacuum, the population spills into the sky, desperate to get away however they can. As one of their closest neighbours, despite the distance, Gabriel’s planet catches a lot of them.

They arrive in huge patchwork ships- cobbled together with speed, not precision. They’re falling apart and can barely cling on and the people they contain are scared, panicked things; exhausted by the constant and very near threat of death they press beseechingly into their new home. His planet is full, really, too full to take on so many but they have nowhere else to go, no place else to stop and so they flock into streets and public buildings, cawing for food and water and housing.

As a builder, Gabriel is in high demand and is immediately put to work. Hastily constructed houses spring up, growing the towns outwards and into the desert. There are no domes here- Gabriel’s planet can sustain itself and for the new arrivals this is bewildering.

Gabriel begins to talk to one of them. She is old, feather light skin wrinkled and soft, and she flutters like a bird about the building site, eager to offer help in any way she can. It’s sweet and Gabriel softens to her instantly, sensing she feels a displacement similar to what he does. A kinship of the unbelonging.

Every afternoon she arrives and as soon as his shift ends, he lowers himself to the ground and goes in search of her. They take tea together in the shade and talk existence to rights.

‘You remind me of my grandson,’ she says one day. Gabriel avoids talking about her planet or her family, or anything to do with what brought her here. He does not know what parts of it will cause her pain and he has no wish to do that to her. She must feel enough when she is alone, he knows, when she has time to mourn what she has lost and it is not his place to bring that sadness to other aspects of her day. She never offers anything and so the subject lies between them, an elephant in the void of space.

When she says this, then, he is surprised and curious, ‘Oh? How so?’

She smiles, ‘He’s a dreamer too. Always thinking of things when he should be focusing. He makes a similar face to the one you do.’

Gabriel blushes, ashamed to have been caught drifting off whilst in her company.

She sees his embarrassment and laughs, ‘Oh no, don’t worry- it’s fine. I used to love watching him float away somewhere. I used to say he was going off to Neverland.’

‘That’s a nice description for it,’ it’s an old Earthen story Gabriel was fond of growing up- a tale of a journey to somewhere else, ‘What was his name?’

‘Is,’ she corrects firmly and Gabriel nods apologetically, ‘Is. His name is Peter.’

‘Peter,’ the name fits a fellow daydreamer. The boy who never grew up. Gabriel decides to ask, tentatively, ‘Where is he?’

The old lady looks wistful, ‘Earth,’ she says with a sigh, ‘He and his parents managed to get passage to Earth but I wasn’t able to. We’re too far out to send any communication- I don’t want to think about what they believe became of me.’

Gabriel blinks once. Twice. Tries to speak, ‘Earth?’

She frowns at him, ‘Yes, don’t you know?’ Realisation hits and she shakes her head, ‘Oh, I forget that you don’t hear much this far out. Earth was declared habitable a few months ago. They’re starting a founding colony there to see if humans can survive there again.’

‘Wh- what?’

She looks at him, concerned, ‘Are you alright? You’ve gone awfully pale.’

Gabriel can’t really understand her, her voice feels like its coming from one end of an endless tunnel and his heart is hammering too loudly in his chest to focus on her. He stands, shaky, and she clutches at his shirt hem, ‘Gabriel? Gabriel, what’s wrong?’

‘I don’t know,’ his heart pounds canon fire, a boom boom boom that disorientates him. He smells smoke, smells fire, smells death, ‘I thought- I thought it was gone, Earth was gone.’

‘It was, but they travelled to investigate about a decade ago and they’ve been researching it- dear please sit down.’

She tugs at him but he shakes his head, a ghost of understanding in his mind that slips away like silk, ‘Can we go? Who can go- can I go?’

She looks scared, ‘Yes, but there’s a waiting list, you need to get your name down- Gabriel!’

---

He doesn’t wait for her to finish. He takes off into the centre of town to the public buildings, pushing his way through crowds to get there faster. He won’t waste one second more, will grab hold of what acutely feels like a delicate second chance with both hands and won't dare to let go.

AN:

This was my first time writing Portugal as a character with a voice and it was both challenging and very fun to do. There are so many amazing Portugal writers out there to inspire me and I hope I have done him justice for any of you who read this!

The full fic can be found here on A03. It doesn’t include Portugal, but explores this AU a whole lot more with a different cast of characters.

Thanks for reading!

[kissinginkitchens]

You Bring Me Home—Chapter Seven: How Sweet It Is

a/n: Welcome back friends! Thank you again for tuning in for another chapter of YBMH. It has been so much fun to talk to you lovelies and hear your thoughts, so keep them coming! I have to give a very special thank you to the wonderful @duckyficrecs​ for all of the love and amazing commentary so far, I really appreciate you!! Happy reading! Much love, Mel <3

Pairing: Hawai’i!Harry x Original Character

Warnings: unrealistic standards of men (sorry) 

Word Count: 6.8k

catch up on parts one, two, three, four, five, and six

Alani’s eyes peel open and she squints at the clock on the bedside table that reads 8:53 a.m. The sun creeps in gently behind the thin curtains, casting the room in a soft, warm glow that pales in comparison to the light inside her chest. As she inhales deeply, the arm strapped across her midsection rises, but it doesn’t budge. Alani turns over carefully to face Harry still sound asleep with a light snore escaping from his parted lips. She fondly observes every detail of his serene features, from the tiny freckles atop his cheekbones to the curl of his eyelashes. As her finger glides along the slope of his nose and the indentation of his cupid’s bow, Harry stirs lightly and his arm tightens around her waist with a contented sigh. Alani drapes her leg over his hip and presses a feathery kiss to the middle of his brow that causes the edges of his sleepy mouth to twitch. 

“Good morning, sunshine,” she coos and Harry’s eyes flutter open slowly. 

“Mornin’ beautiful,” he replies with a deep rasp in his voice. 

She massages his scalp gently and he hums, planting a sweet kiss to the spot just over her heart. 

“Y’hungry?” Harry murmurs against her skin. 

Alani’s stomach growls in response and they both giggle. 

“I’ll take that as a yes,”

“Need a shower first,” she decides, sitting up. 

Harry groans at the loss of contact, but he manages to secure a hand around her wrist. “Ten more minutes,”

“Nice try,”

“Five?”

Alani grins before burrowing under the covers again with her cheek fit snugly against Harry’s chest. His knuckles skim over her arm as he fights the drowsiness weighing on his eyelids. 

“Did y’dream anything?” he mumbles. 

“I did,” she admits apprehensively. “But I don’t know if you’re gonna like it,”

“Why not?”

“Well, I sorta dreamt that I was married to James Marsden—the guy from The Notebook,”

Harry laughs gently. “Lucky bastard,”

“What about you?” Alani deflects, peering up at him with curious eyes. “Any dreams?”

“Not really. But I did wake up a few times in the middle of the night ‘cos you were hogging all the blankets,”

“I get cold!”

“Uh-huh.”

Alani presses her chilly toes against Harry’s shins and he grimaces, peeling himself out of the bed to escape her icy touch. With a self-satisfied chuckle, she swings her legs over the edge of the mattress and slips away to the ensuite bathroom, chin held high as Harry trails close behind. 

********

Harry digs out a faded t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants from his closet for Alani to borrow, and although it’s a small gesture, the sight of her in his own clothing fills his entire body with euphoria. He holds out a white t-shirt with the Volkswagen logo on it and a pair of grey sweatpants that she accepts gratefully. While she slips into his clothes, Harry puts on a pair of running shorts and a black hoodie with the image of Earth and the words “Spice World” on the front. Next, he digs through his drawers and produces a red bandana that is used to keep the damp hair out of his face, but Alani has already braided her wavy locks before he can find a similar garment for her. Harry extends a hand and Alani interlocks her fingers with his as they set out for breakfast. 

“Why don’t you go pick out some tunes?” He suggests when they reach the kitchen. “There’s a record player in the living room,”

Alani wiggles her brows and gives him a quick peck before venturing out ito the other room. Her eyes immediately land on a wall full of vinyls, and she excitedly browses them with delicate fingers. The Zombies, Bill Withers, and Sam Cooke are among the first in the collection, but her eyes widen when she spots a familiar blue cover. Joni, she gasps, pulling the record out of its sleeve. Alani quickly switches the player on and navigates the needle over the first track on the disk, turning the volume up and filling the room with the sound of a folk guitar. Harry’s ears perk up in the other room and the music brings a wide grin to his face. A few moments later, Alani reemerges in the kitchen, her hips swaying; she reaches out for Harry’s hands, which are occupied with the switches on the stovetop and a carton of eggs. He puts it down and gives Alani a twirl, which elicits a playful giggle that tugs on his heartstrings. His hands settle around her waist while her arms weave around his neck. They sway for a moment, hips flush with one another, before another soft kiss is exchanged. 

“Looks like I don’t need a ‘kiss the cook’ apron after all,” Harry jokes lightly, their noses still touching. 

Alani rolls her eyes with a scoff. “You haven’t made anything yet,”

“That’s because a certain dancing queen keeps distracting me,”

“Fine,” she starts to pull away but Harry immediately ropes her back in. 

“Not yet,” he smirks, lifting her with a quick spin. Alani shrieks and her arms tighten around his neck. 

“I see the lovebirds are up,” Mitch grumbles, the heel of his hand rubbing his tired eyes. 

The pair conceal their laughter and put a bit of space between each other, though Harry instantly misses Alani’s touch. 

“Morning, Mitch,” she says sweetly. 

The guitarist forces a smile on his face and reaches inside the fridge for a bottle of water. “Morning,” he returns, padding back to the hallway. “And keep it down, you crazy kids. Some of us are hungover and not in the lovesick way.”

Alani’s cheeks flush. “Sorry, mom.”

Harry snickers and he returns to the stove with a gentle shake of his head. 

They scarf their breakfasts down with legs woven together under the table and fingers interlaced. While their meals are identical, they take turns feeding off of each other’s plates and stealing sips of the other person’s drink. Harry feigns annoyance over the spilt orange juice on the t-shirt that he lent to Alani, though a part of him hopes it will leave a stain as a subtle reminder of this moment. It amazes the both of them just how quickly they had fallen into a shared rhythm, as if breakfast was a sacred ritual engraved into their muscle memory. But despite the natural ease that comes with each other’s presence, there is an impending sense of dread looming over Alani and Harry’s heads about the inevitable end to their domestic bliss. 

“I should probably get back soon,” she sighs, thinking of her younger sister waiting alone at the house. 

His stomach turns. “Do you have to?”

“Afraid so. Need to check on Pua and Freddie,”

Harry nods with a small sigh and collects both of their plates. “‘Kay,”

Alani follows him into the kitchen and her arms delicately wrap around his torso from behind when they reach the sink. “Are you upset?” she asks timidly. 

Harry’s heart cracks, racked with guilt over his petty behavior. It wasn’t her fault that she had to leave eventually, and it wasn’t right to take his disappointment out on her. He turns his back to their dishes and presses a light kiss to the tip of her nose. 

“No,” Harry assures her with a soft, dimpled smile. “Could never be upset with my sweet girl. Just gonna miss you.”

Alani’s chest stirs at his words and she slots her needy lips between his. Now that they had tasted a little less than twenty-four uninterrupted hours together, being apart for more than one moment seemed near impossible. Harry’s fingers slip inside the back of her shirt, and his nails gently graze the outline of her spine with a sly grin. 

“I don’t think I’ll have what she’s having,” Jeff teases, sifting through a bowl of fruit on the counter. Harry grits his teeth and makes a mental note to plot revenge on all of his friends later. 

“Good morning,” Alani offers shyly, pulling away from his warm touch. 

Jeff smiles and waves with a banana in hand. “Buenos días. Always good to see you, Alani.”

“You too,”

He whistles a cheerful tune and roams into the living room, leaving the pair alone again. 

“I think we better go before we get caught.” Alani jokes weakly.  

********

The Range Rover pulls up slowly in front of Alani’s house and Harry’s grip on her hand tightens as he puts the car into park. 

“Where’re your parents?” he wonders aloud, reaching in the backseat for a spare bag that Alani can use to carry her clothes in. 

“Mom had a big surgery this weekend, so she stayed at the hospital to keep an eye on her patient. Dad is in California on this chef’s weekend trip with, like, Guy Fieri or something. Just me and Pua until tomorrow night,”

Harry hums, watching her stuff her belongings into the bag. “You working?”

“Yeah, I close tonight,”

Damn, he swears to himself. There go his plans. “What’re you doing until then?”

Alani shrugs with her hand already on the door handle. “Chores, I guess. You?”

“Probably nothing,” Harry sighs. “Missing you.”

She grins and presses an affectionate peck to his cheek. “Ditto, sunshine. I’ll call you tonight, okay?”

“I won’t miss it.” The new pet name makes his stomach twist, but the butterflies quickly turn to stones when she slips out of the car. 

Alani begrudgingly treks down the stone pathway when she hears loud music coming from the car behind her. Turning quickly, she spots Harry peeking over the roof of the SUV with the song “Baby Don’t Go” by The Supremes blaring from his speakers. She shakes her head playfully and blows him a kiss before retreating back to her house; He catches it in his palm and presses his palm to his lips. The song is still playing softly when Alani closes the door and she momentarily considers throwing all caution to the wind by inviting him inside. 

“I’d ask how your night went, but I think half the block knows that answer now,” Pua smirks with arms crossed as she descends the stairs. 

Alani offers a sheepish smile and clutches Harry’s bag to her chest. “Morning,”

“Are those his clothes?” her sister questions. 

“Yeah,”

“Okay that’s really sweet, actually,”

Alani shuffles through the house to make sure that everything is still in one piece and Pua follows close behind, anxious for all of the details about her older sister’s date. “So I wanna hear everything, but you can spare me the making out parts,” she insists. 

“What? Harry didn’t give you the rundown already?” Alani pokes. “I’m assuming you’re the one who told him about Angelo’s,”

“It may have come up once—casually, of course,” Pua admits. 

Alani rolls her eyes playfully, but the confirmation that Harry had conspired with her sister melts her heart. “Well then, I guess I owe you some thanks for a perfect night,”

“It was all his idea,” Pua maintains with her hands raised in surrender. “But it was? I mean, really perfect?”

“Straight out of a movie,”

“He has that way about him, doesn’t he?”

Alani’s mouth curls gently. She couldn’t describe Harry’s allure better if she tried. “He really does,”

“I can’t believe it,” Pua muses with a starry look in her round eyes. “My sister is dating the Harry Styles. I can practically hear the millions of hearts shattering over the news,”

Out of all the thoughts running through Alani’s mind these days, the public’s response to her blossoming relationship with Harry was apparently last on that list. Fame hardly seemed to be the focal point of his life given how little he had to say on the subject, thus it was easy to forget that he was, in fact, a celebrity, especially when they were alone. But despite his reluctance to open up about stardom, it’s a conversation that Alani figures she should prepare for. 

“Speaking of,” she begins, making her way upstairs. “What are his fans like? You know, what should I expect?”

Pua considers it for a moment, searching for the right words. “Passionate I guess. Loyal,”

“And they’re all in love with him?”

“Can you blame them?”

Alani chuckles lightly and her chest swells as she reflects on her growing feelings for Harry. While she had initially wanted to believe that he was no different from any other guy, it was becoming increasingly difficult to stand by that judgement. His immense thoughtfulness was evident long before he had whisked her away for the evening of her dreams. Afterall, what famous person willingly agrees to help a stranger with their homework? And then there was Harry’s boyish charm and tenderness that no leading man in any romantic comedy seemed to rival in Alani’s opinion. Could never be upset with my sweet girl, his words echo. 

“No,” Alani exhales, her throat tightening with a sudden sense of longing. “I really can’t,”

Pua squeals and envelops her sister in a warm embrace. “God, I’m really so happy for you both. My favorite singer and my favorite sister,”

Alani hugs her sister tight and it temporarily quells the ache left by Harry’s absence. “Me too.”

“But if he hurts you, I will kill him.”

********

“Hey Harry, what do you think about Maui?” Jeff proposes, typing into his phone. “The resort’s got a private pool for every room,”

Harry blinks with a faint smile still on his lips. “For what?”

“Next weekend, maybe. Glenne and Jenny are thinking of meeting us there,”

The thought of going an entire weekend away from Alani makes Harry’s brows furrow. He was going on just five hours now and it was complete torture.

“Can’t,” he says quickly. “I’ve got—”

“You can bring Alani,” Jeff reassures him with a knowing smirk. “But you two gotta promise you’ll socialize,”

Harry blushes and his chest aches at the sound of her name. “I’ll ask,”

“Don’t make me say it,” Mitch threatens from the sound booth. Harry’s head tilts, challenging his friend to continue. The drummer clears his throat and coughs into his closed fist. “Whipped,” 

“You’re just jealous that your girlfriend couldn’t make the trip ‘cos  she’s too busy being a badass rockstar,” Harry shoots back coolly. 

“So we’re dropping the g-word, huh?” 

The singer casts his eyes down at the guitar in his lap and fiddles with the strings to occupy his hands. “Dunno,”

“He’s got it bad,” Tom teases, turning to Jeff Bhasker with a dramatic outstretched hand. “Alani, my dearest, how could I ever live without you?” 

“Oh, Harry.” Jeff raises his voice a pitch. 

Tom drops to his knee, clutching Jeff’s hand to his chest, and the group erupts into laughter. “Say you’ll be mine at once!”  

Harry relinquishes a shy smile and a dry laugh at his friends’ antics in an effort to be a good sport. “Very funny. Oscars for you both.”

 His idle fingers continue strumming the guitar gently as everyone else dissolves into their own conversations. The  phone balanced on his thigh pings, and though the notification has nothing to do with Alani, Harry decides to check in. 

Harry: How’s the weather?

He can’t think of anything particularly witty to say, but the mere action of sending her a message keeps him from dissolving into a puddle on the floor. 

Alani: Google is free, you know

Harry: Ouch. Trying to tell you that I miss you here :(

Alani giggles at Harry’s clingy show of affection. Truth be told, she also misses him deeply and resents the fact that she has to work instead of staying snuggled into his side all day. The smell of his shampoo lingers in her hair and it twists the knife deeper. She decides to snap a silly photo of herself, eyes crossed, and sends it off to him. 

Alani: Missing you too, my little pocket of sunshine ☀️

Harry’s heart nearly bursts from his chest when he opens the attachment, and his cheeks hurt from smiling so hard. He quickly saves the photo to his phone before setting it as his lock screen. 

Harry: My god you’re going to be the death of me

Alani: The feeling is mutual 

It takes less than five minutes of admiring the photo for Harry to decide that he can’t go any longer without the real thing. 

Harry: What time does your shift start?

Alani: 5 minutes 

Swiping his wallet and keys, Harry slips out of the studio without another word. 

********

Alani ties her hair up and adjusts her apron as she heads out into the busy restaurant. She quickly falls into a rhythm of taking orders, clearing tables, and filling drinks while the minutes in her eight hour shift tick by. Before she knows it, an hour has already passed and her mind is completely occupied with her guests, but a familiar voice sticks out among the buzz of it all. 

“Excuse me, miss?” Harry pipes up from the counter, a bouquet of sunflowers emerging from behind his back. “Think these are for you,”

Alani fights back a smile, but it’s no use. She accepts the flowers gratefully and raises them to her nose.

“Why, thank you. They’re beautiful,”

“They’ve got nothing on you,” he suggests, leaning in closer over the counter. His eyes dart to her lips in silent prayer, but Alani clears her throat and scans the busy scene around them. 

“Can I get you something?”  

Harry peruses the menu with a serious dent between his brows. “Hmm sure, I think I’ll have the Chef’s Salad—dressing on the side—a lemonade, and a kiss,”

Alani smirks, accepting the menu from his hand. “The kiss is extra,”

“Make it two, then,” he offers expectantly, but she shakes her head in disapproval. 

“Kissing the waitresses isn’t allowed,”

“Well what if I don’t wanna kiss a waitress?” Harry counters. “What if I wanna kiss my…” 

He intentionally trails off to read Alani’s reaction, but she suddenly feels flustered by the implications of his statement and turns on her heel to put in his order. “I’ll go get your lemonade.”

“Alaniii.” he complains, watching her back away. She shoots him a wink over her shoulder and darts into the kitchen to avoid his further protests. 

The afternoon rush gradually subsides after another hour of Alani racing around the restaurant. Eventually, as she heads back to the counter to refill two iced teas, Harry catches her attention again and holds up his own glass. “I think something was missing in my lemonade,”

She frowns. “What was it?”

“Some sugar,” he replies with a mischievous grin. “Have any to spare?”

Alani rolls her eyes playfully, but before she can quip back with something clever, one of her co-workers calls her to the kitchen. Harry slumps in his seat and picks at an olive on his plate. 

Two more hours go by and he silently watches Alani dart from table to table, hunched over a journal splayed in front of him. Alani’s eyes repeatedly linger in his direction as the night winds down and she knows without a shadow of doubt that more of his antics await, but she can’t resist wandering over to indulge his advances and her own curiosity. 

“Whatcha working on?” she questions with a quick glance at the page in front of him.

Harry beams, shutting the book and leaning against the counter on his elbows. “More pick-up lines,” 

“I admire your tenacity,” Alani chuckles lightly. “How long are you gonna stick around here?”

“How long you got left?”

“Three hours,”

“Then I’ll have another lemonade.” he says with a flash of his infectious smile. 

Alani swipes his nearly empty cup, but before she retreats to fill it again, her head lowers to his level and she plants a chaste kiss to his eager lips. “Didn’t wanna forget your sugar this time.”

Families come and go and tables are cleared as the sun disappears into the horizon. By the last hour of Alani’s shift, the restaurant is practically dead save for Harry, who eventually migrated from his perch at the counter to a more comfortable booth in the corner. The sight of Alani rolling out her shoulders across the room steals his attention away from his scribbles, so he stands and makes his way over. When his warm fingertips meet her tense muscles, she immediately sinks into the touch. 

“That better?” Harry murmurs, feeling her gradually relax as he works the knots at the base of her neck and shoulders. 

“Yeah,” Alani hums. The relief is instant just like it always is when he’s around. After a moment, she reaches up to where his fingers are pressed against her skin and she spins so they’re standing chest to chest, hands clasped. 

“Hi,” she greets softly. 

“Hiya,”

“I can’t believe you stayed here all day,”

Harry shrugs nonchalantly. “It’s better than being at the house missing you. Besides, I got some work done, too, so I’d say it was a success overall,”

The edges of Alani’s mouth turn up and she pulls away slightly with their hands still attached. “Oh yeah? So are you finished with that book of pick-up lines, then?”

“Almost,” Harry laughs airily. “Think it might even be a New York Times Best Seller,”

“Maybe ditch the ‘have any spare sugar?’ one. It’s a bit saccharine, don’t you think?”

“Dunno, that one worked pretty well, if my lips remember correctly.” 

The corners of Alani’s mouth curl and she pulls away with their hands still attached. “Want some pie?”

“What kind?”

“Cherry,” she says, making her way over to the dessert bar. 

“The best kind,” Harry replies, taking his seat. 

Alani cuts out a generous portion and serves it to him. “I’m more of an apple pie girl,”

“A la mode?”

“Definitely,”

“You know,” Harry starts, cutting out a slice with his fork. “I used to work in a bakery,”

“Is that so?” she indulges him, taking a seat on the opposite side of the counter. 

 “Oh yeah. I’m a natural baker, it’s what they all used to say,”

“You’re gonna have to prove it one of these days,”

“Maybe I will,”

Alani rests her chin in her hand and watches Harry finish the rest of his pie, a content glimmer in his eyes. It’s ten minutes to closing time, so she wipes down the counter and starts the routine that she knows all too well. Harry sneaks off to the jukebox and sifts through the selections available, his tongue peeking through the corner of his lips when his eyes land on the perfect song. A gentle piano wafts through the restaurant followed by Diana Ross’ vocals singing a cover of “Bring it On Home to Me.” Alani hums the familiar tune and continues cleaning up before she feels an arm slink around her waist. She stops her work and turns around to face Harry who is singing the lyrics softly. 

“Bring it to me, bring your sweet lovin’, bring it on home to me,”

Alani turns slowly to face him and she watches his strawberry lips carefully, realizing that this is the first time she’s ever heard him sing in person. His voice is low and smooth with just the right amount of grit behind it. She savors the sound, wondering what he would sound like performing his own lyrics before her memory recalls the image of him stooped over his notebook, scribbling something secret. The pair begin to sway gently, Harry still singing as he pulls Alani closer. He slips one hand to hers and lifts it so they’re in the starting position of a waltz. She slips an arm around his neck and her head meets his shoulder, feeling the vibration of his voice against her temple. For the remainder of the song, everything ceases to exist but the two of them: two hearts beating against each other—beating for each other. Harry dips Alani gingerly as the melody begins to fade out and she cranes her neck just enough to grant him another tender kiss. Her lips feel like the first sip of water after a long journey through the desert, and he knows that he will never get enough as he pours every ounce of adoration and longing that he can possibly muster into the kiss. Slowly, he brings her back to standing with their lips still attached before pulling away to catch his breath. 

“I’ve never heard you sing.” Alani murmurs with her heart still racing. “Not like that,”

“I’ve never sung like that before,” he confesses, referring to the emotion behind the lyrics. “Guess I never really had a reason to.”

Alani’s breath hitches. Once again, she finds herself toeing the line between reality and fantasy. It often felt like he was too good to be true and this moment is no exception, but the delicate brush of his fingertips against her arm coaxes her back to the present—and very real— moment. Alani hugs him to her chest to feel the fierce beating of her heart and the drum of her own love song. 

********

“Did that sound weird?”

“Sounded fine to me,”

Harry chews on his lower lip, eyes pinched shut as he locates the correct pitch in his head. “No, it sounded weird. Let’s go again,”

“You got it,” Tom says over the sound system that floods into the recording booth. “Take two of Harry’s untitled thing, rolling,”

“That’s not what we’re calling it on the tape, is it?” 

“We are until you title it,”

Harry releases an amused breath. “Fair enough. Let’s just call it…” he hums and a faint smile creeps across his lips. “Let’s call it Clair de Lune for now.”

Tom scoffs. “Okay Debussy. Take two on Clair de Lune.”

“What does that mean?” Jeff asks, adjusting the levels on the soundboard. 

“It’s French for ‘moonlight,’” Mitch declares. “According to Google Translate.”

Alani peeks inside the back entrance of the dimly lit studio and immediately hears a faint chorus of laughter. She cautiously steps inside and follows the sound down a narrow corridor, treading lightly to go unnoticed. The familiar gaggle of voices grows louder as she reaches the end of the hall and up to the door of the sound booth left slightly ajar. Her head pops in first, index finger raised to her lips, and Jeff silently beckons her inside while Harry and Tom go back and forth over the sound system. 

“It’s fine—”

“—It’s not fine, it’s missing something.”

“So go again, but maybe try head voice instead of falsetto this time.”

Alani observes the scene with her back pressed firmly against the door to remain out of Harry’s sight. His presence at the café earlier in the week had been such a pleasant part of her day that she decided it was her turn to surprise him and show support for his work, which would undoubtedly be more interesting than watching her serve food for hours on end. The impromptu day off cost her a week of doing Pua’s laundry, but it was worth the chance of becoming a fly on the wall in the studio before eventually stealing Harry away for a few hours.

“I think I wanna do a harmony for this bit,” he says finally after a minute of playful bickering with Tom. “Can you send Mitchell in?”

The guitarist flashes two thumbs up through the window and stands, but he makes his way over to Alani, instead, and prompts her to go in his place with a conspiratorial wink. She slips inside the recording booth and Harry casually glances up from his notes, doing a double take and grinning wide when he realizes that it’s her. 

“Sweets,” he beams, hanging up his headphones to scoop her into a tight embrace. 

Alani’s feet hover a few inches from the floor and she giggles into the crook of his neck. “Hi, sunshine,”

“Whatcha doing here?”

“Just wanted to see you,” she admits, pulling away to relish in his dimples and bright eyes. “Well alright, maybe I also planned to kidnap you at some point, too, if that’s okay,”

Harry laughs and plants a kiss to her cheek. “Course it’s okay. Was just about to take a break and head your way, but you beat me to it,”

“Perfect,” Alani smirks. “So I’ll just wait for you to finish up here and then we can head out,”

The singer shakes his head before taking her hand and stepping over to the microphone.

“That’s a wrap for the day. Great work everyone,”

“You don’t have to do that,” she insists. “I can wait—”

“—Well I can’t. I’m dying to see where you’re whisking me off to.” Harry quips back, already escorting her out of the booth with a jaunty spring in his step. 

********

“You can open your eyes now,” Alani bids after putting Stevie into park. 

“Finally,” Harry huffs teasingly. “Missed your face,”

They share a lighthearted kiss before Alani nods to the passenger side window. “Aren’t you curious to know where I dragged you to?”

Harry’s head turns, a cheshire grin spreading across his lips as he catches a glimpse of the sign that reads ‘Akaka Falls State Park. “Hey! Déjà vu,”

“My reason for bringing you here is twofold,” Alani explains, reaching into the backseat for the supplies she had brought along. “I know you’ve been in kind of a writer's rut lately, so I figured some proximity to the falls might help. But I also thought that maybe you could flex your painting skills, too,”

A tote bag full of fresh paint, canvas, and brushes materializes onto the middle console between them and Harry’s eyes light up. He gleefully sifts through the materials before looking back at Alani with a tender expression. “Alani, this is amazing,”

“I want you to draw me like one of your french girls,” she jokes with batted lashes. “Sorry, I’ve been sitting on that one since yesterday,”

Harry’s eyes crinkle with unbridled laughter. “You’re the best,”

“You get me,”

“Well what are we waiting for?” he questions, stepping out of the car and into the fresh air. “We’ve got some masterpieces to create,”

Alani meets him at the hood, and her arm slings across his back as his rests around her shoulders. “Full disclosure: I’m terrible at arts and crafts. I think I was the only ten year old who flunked art class,”

“Nah, I don’t believe it,”

“It’s true!”

“But you’re good at everything,” Harry reasons. “Maybe you’re just one of those artists who weren’t appreciated in their own time.”

Alani scoffs, her gaze occupied with the way their steps fall into sync. “Sure, let’s go with that.”

They venture down the same route as their very first trip to the falls, though this time joined at the hip. The cerulean sky overhead and high summer sun provides the ideal subject for landscape paintings, and though dozens of tourists have also gathered to enjoy the perfect day, Alani and Harry are oblivious to everyone else. His cheeks flush with self-consciousness when she casually mentions the song that she had overheard him working on earlier, and he simply rubs the back of his neck and feigns ignorance when she asks what it’s about. It had always wracked his nerves to let other people hear his music before it was completely finished, but the fact that his current work-in-progress was heavily inspired by Alani only makes him that much more reluctant to share. While her curiosity begs to her to keep prying, she shrugs it off and refocuses on the lush scene before them as they reach Harry’s favorite lookout spot. 

“What’re you gonna paint?” he asks, tongue peeking out of the corner of his mouth in concentration as he picks out his supplies. 

“I don’t know,” Alani ponders. “What about you?”

“Something good—hopefully,”

“Have you ever painted before?”

Harry’s eyes lift to the sky, as if searching the clouds for his answer. “Sure. Loved art class when I was in school. It’s a good way to de-stress,”

“Have any favorite artists?”

“Keith Haring’s pretty great, saw some of his stuff in New York City last time I was there,”

“Oh yeah, he’s incredible,” Alani agrees, mixing some paint on her platter. “Hey, have you ever been to the Louvre?”

Harry nods and the tip of his tongue peeks through the corner of his lip in concentration. “Yes actually, once,”

“Lucky. Paris is definitely on my bucket list,”

“Good to know,” her comment is stored in the back of Harry’s mind for future reference. “Hey sweets, you’ve got something on your face,”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah, riiiiight,” Harry leans in, silently dipping his pinky in a dollop of pink paint before pulling back and smearing it across the bridge of her nose. “There,”

“Hey!” she cries. 

Harry throws his head back and laughs. “I don’t know how you didn’t see that one coming,”

“You are such a child,”

“It’s fun, you should try it,”

Alani’s lower lip pouts. “Don’t wanna,”

“Sure you do,” Harry insists, holding out his plate of colors to her. “Go ahead,”

She releases a sharp breath and turns her back to him, strategically dipping her fingers in her own palette out of his sight.

“Sweets,” Harry coos. “Alani, hey, I’m sorry. That was a stupid—” 

Her fingertips meet the side of his face and slide down to his chin, leaving a trail of yellow, orange, and blue. “Oh, sorry. What were you about to say?”

Harry’s mouth hangs agape and he blinks slowly. “You know what, I’ll let that one slide,”

“No you won’t.”

“No I won’t.” 

Alani springs up from the bench and turns to bolt, but Harry’s arms snake around her waist and lift her in the air with one swift move. She shrieks, but she doesn’t fight his grasp and turns to face him instead, offering her puckered lips in surrender. Harry slots their mouths together with a satisfied smirk, but the spirited kiss quickly dissolves into laughter when their teeth collide.  

********

Alani flips her bedroom light on and ushers Harry inside. “Sorry about the mess,”

He steps inside and absorbs every detail, taking note of all the photos and trinkets on display. The walls are a shade of blush, which doesn’t surprise him, and the bed is tucked neatly in the corner under a skylight. String lights dangle along one wall above a desk piled high with books and magazines. A hanging plant in another corner catches his attention, but it’s quickly overshadowed by the presence of her own record player and collection of vinyls. A red, heart shaped rug in the middle of the room ties it all together, and Harry doesn’t think that it could possibly be more Alani. She plops onto the bed with her completed artwork and motions for him to do the same. When he makes himself comfortable, she turns the canvas over with a wiggle of her brows.

“What do you think?”

“I think it’s amazing,” Harry applauds, admiring the blobs of colorful shapes that somehow coalesce into a perfectly admirable—yet unidentifiable—piece of art. “What is it?”

“It’s you!”

“Me?”

“Mhmm,” she begins, sitting up straighter to explain. “I really tried to go for the Keith Haring thing, but I added a little bit of my own touch to it. And there’s me too, see? The pink one in the back. And that’s supposed to be a palm tree but it looks kinda like a dude with green hair,”

Harry’s heart soars. “You made us into a Keith Haring?”

“I know it’s not as cool as what he would’ve done, but—”

“—It’s perfect,” he asserts. “I love it,”

Alani beams and she sits back on her heels, setting the painting against her nightstand. “Your turn,”

“Alright, well,” Harry clears his throat. “I also tried to emulate your favorite artist, so hopefully you’ll like it,”

He turns the painting over and a light gasp escapes Alani’s lips. She immediately recognizes the waterfall—the same one from ‘Akaka Falls that they had visited together twice now. Alani had had the slightest inkling that Harry was being modest about his artistic abilities, but she hadn’t quite anticipated this level of skill. 

“Harry,” she starts, breathless. “I don’t even know what to say. This is incredible,”

“It’s no Georgia O'Keeffe, but I did my best,” he offers sheepishly. 

Alani shakes her head with a small laugh. “I kind of hate you for saying that. It’s gorgeous. Blows my stupid kiddie craft out of the water,”

“Hey,” Harry tuts. “I love your painting, it’s so creative,”

“Yeah, well, yours is infinitely better and I love everything about it,” Alani states matter-of-factly, admiring each brushstroke and use of color. “So would it be okay if I—I mean… can I keep it?”

“Course you can, made it for you,”

“You did?”

“Yeah,” Harry admits shyly. “It’s kinda like our spot, you know?”

A wide grin splits across Alani’s lips and she slinks her arms around his neck to bring him closer. “Yeah, I guess it is,”

“And the lookout where we saw that rainbow and had our first kiss,”

“Right,”

“Maybe even the café,”

“The whole island,” Alani hums. “And the sun, and the moon, and the stars,”

Harry smiles softly. “The sun and the moon, eh Mahealani?”

“Funny how life works out like that, isn’t it sunshine?”

next chapter

[rodeoxqueen]

Hey its me again, remember when I said that you might see more poly request, well your in luck I have one, well two but I think one can work for now. If its alright with you, could you do a nero and kyrie celebrating their s/o birthday, mostly because mines coming up on march 3, but anyway thanks.

Happy birthday, please enjoy my take of what these two would do for their s/o on this special day. 

-Rodeo 

Birthdays are pretty personal with these two. If you wanted a party with a lot of people, they could do that. But if not, this would be a three-person event. 

Kyrie and Nero wake up before you to make you a birthday breakfast. Nero usually insists on doing the brunt of the work. Kyrie peels the fruit into cute animal shapes while Nero makes heart-shaped pancakes and waffles. 

You wake up to the smell of breakfast in bed. A glass of freshly-squeezed orange juice is next to a pink note. Nero, although his arm grew back, uses his old devil breaker to juice fruits. 

“It’s a nice day to turn a year older,” Kyrie says, a light smile on her face. Nero laughs at her comment, kissing your cheek in time with Kyrie tucking her hair back, and giving you a peck on the other. 

You get dressed in your favorite outfit, going to spend the day with your favorite people. 

Festivities on your birthday with these two involve going on walks to memorable places, Kyrie humming a song. 

Nero and Kyrie insist on making you a cake, opting to take you around town while getting fresh supplies to make you a great homemade cake.

You go back home in the later afternoon, eating a quick lunch at a cafe you often frequent together. 

You help with making the cake, refusing to let those two have all the fun. You joke around and even fling a bit of frosting on Nero’s nose, nearly causing a food fight. 

Kyrie makes your favorite dinner foods while Nero grabs the hot cake pan with his bare hand. It’s horrifying. 

After dinner, you close your eyes and then open them to reveal a cake frosted with your favorite color and candles. The two sing the birthday song, you make a wish, and then you blow out your candles. 

“Darn, Nero. Where is that knife?” Kyrie asks. Nero appears from the kitchen with the Red Queen revving. 

“Nero. Nero. No. We are not cutting the cake with that.” 

“Oh come on, (Y/N) is only gonna turn this old once. Make it memorable.” 

“Nero, please.” 

When the cake is almost done,  Kyrie sits next to you down as you unwrap a few gifts Nero managed to hide in the van so you couldn’t see them. Nero goes to get something for you. 

You gasp when Nero ties a necklace around your neck, designed to look like a combination of the shape of his and Kyrie’s necklace charms. 

“Nico made it. Costed me literally an arm and a leg.” Nero joked. 

“I love it, thank you so much.” You kiss Nero on the cheek and he kisses you back with vigor. 

“Anytime.” 

You spend the evening together, as you should and as you wanted. At the end of the day, it’s being able to wake up and go to bed with these two, as well as spend time with them between those events that is the gift you feel you are more than happy to have.