#this popped into my brain while i was contemplating what exactly continues to motivate me to stay alive

[zhengzi]

i have a lot of different dreams, at least one of them will come true

[rymndsmth]

querencia (jang han seo)

🎤 hello and gather around fellow himbo lovers, here is a small fic about our beloved and his life after That guy kicks the bucket. also idk how i managed to turn this into a love story? anyways lmfao, hope y’all enjoy! 

Everything felt so different.

Truthfully, Han Seo never imagined what his life could be like, would be like, without the proverbial ever tightening noose around his neck. One that had been unexpectedly and disappointingly placed on him as a child by the one person that was supposed to remove such things. He was now free of that person, and the fear that stemmed from veering off the path set by them, but wasn’t entirely too certain that he was free of that feeling. 

His muscles couldn’t shake it. The sudden chill to the bone, the anticipation of retaliation from an act that hadn’t yet occurred. Such an act that could never occur anymore given that his brother was dead. He knew this, but his mind had never been good at accepting possibilities that were positive. 

This much was evident in the case of his relationship with Vincenzo. There was no reason why the stoic yet baby faced Mafia member would want to keep him around, at least not any that he could see. So, Han Seo spent the first few weeks asking the question both silently and aloud, will you kill me? Vincenzo had the motive, it’s not exactly like his hands were clean in his previous dealings with Babel, and he most certainly had the means.

It wasn’t until Han Seo was told that because he was trying to make amends, he wouldn’t end up in the Jang family crypt well before his time that he started to feel at ease. Still, for months after that conversation, he still had the nagging feeling that some invisible fist was lurking around every bend. 

Regardless of that, Han Seo decided he would not waste his liberation however short lived it might have been. He made up his mind that he was going to do all the things that he was either too scared or outright forbidden to do before. The first thing on his list was to clean up his business. Luckily for him, the Guillotine file made it easy to weed out the snakes in the grass and allow him to steer Babel in the direction that the core of the business was about. 

The hardest part was going to be restoring the public’s faith in the organization. Cha Young told him as much, and advised him not to agonize over it as there will be new corruption that will grab their attention (and hers). He intended to be the Chairman that such a company deserved, and therefore continued to study no matter how nonsensical and outdated the information seemed. 

The second order of business was moving out of the place that felt more like a prison than a home to one that he liked. The realtor immediately recommended a few luxury places, but he turned them down to their surprise. Maybe it was due to the fact that he had seen what the quest for material wealth had done to his family (or more realistically because he wanted to be closer to newfound hyung  and his girlfriend). 

Either way, the house he settled on had its luxuries, but in a more affordable and quaint neighborhood. Han Seo even went as far as to attempt painting on his own, which went as well as expected for someone that didn’t even know the difference between a brush and a roller. 

Being able to do what he wanted proved to be chaotic at times. There was no one to stop him from going on last minute trips to Jeju just for oranges and a quick dip into the ocean. Or to take away all the sweet and savory snacks that he found at these things called convenience stores. 

He would stay up all night sometimes, not to binge watch all the shows he missed out on, but just to sit in silence. He didn’t know that the quiet could be so nice. That it was a space of tranquility and relaxation rather than one filled with anxiety. Of course, Han Seo more often than not regretted the choice not to sleep and ended up at the cafe a few blocks from his place. 

While obviously no one had better coffee than the one at Babel, he found himself going to the cozy spot with increasing frequency because of her. The first time he saw her, she was deciding on which apple to choose from the basket beside the register. He then noticed that her canvas bag was filled with art supplies, and decided that it was a brilliant idea to draw a conclusion. 

I think the one to the right would make a great subject on paper, he grinned. 

She stared at him in a way that made him contemplate whether to not she was related to Vincenzo hyung before replying flatly:

I’m looking for the tartest one to go with my tea. 

He was left a bumbling mess of flustered sounds and rapidly blinks, not getting the opportunity to insert some retort that undoubtably would’ve put him deeper into the realm of idiot. 

The following morning he went again. No cup of coffee, not even the ridiculously overpriced espresso at Babel, would give him that jolt of electricity he felt under her gaze. And sure enough, she was there. This time her apple sat upon a folded napkin right beside her tea, and in front of them both was her sketchpad. On the page? A picture of the fruit. He couldn’t control the noise of exasperation that left him as he passed her table. On his way out he tossed over his shoulder with a grin so wide it hurt:

Nice drawing. 

Their interactions continued in that same vein. Short, filled with just the right amount of bite. The balance of who had the best and last say constantly shifting, becoming somewhat of a competition. 

You’re outside today, is that weed your subject?

As if there weren’t enough clowns in this neighborhood already.

You buy a lot of lattes for an artist that’s supposed to be starving.

Ironic coming from the gentrifier walking around a working class neighborhood in thousand dollar shoes.  

He had look up what that g word meant after their last exchange.

There was something else he never got to do in his past. Sure, Han Seo had the occasional date or two, but commitment? That was out of the question. It wouldn’t have served his brother well if there was anyone around that would motivate him to step out from his hold. The realization that he never had a serious relationship hadn’t hit him until he started to have inconvenient thoughts during board meetings about stuff like taking a long afternoon stroll, and holding hands with her.

Han Seo could barely focus on the stack of jargon dense reading before him. He sent Vincenzo a text saying that he was coming over with soju, not waiting for a reply before making the short journey to Geumga. Cha Young’s face fell when she answered the door, muttering that she thought he was her delivery, but lit up once she saw he brought along alcohol. After poking around the rice he begged for them to share and sighing loudly for half an hour, Vincenzo ushered him out. He implored him to get a hobby so that these late night visits wouldn’t become a habit.  

He was confused by that. Weren’t studying and running a company hobbies? On his walk back home he spotted a flyer that someone was offering private classes for beginners painting. The nightmare of a time he had trying to get the walls in his kitchen evenly colored popped up in his brain, instantly making him tear off one of the numbers. He didn’t exactly know how learning to paint homes was going to be a practical hobby, but hell, he would have something to show Vincenzo later. 

While he was on one of his impromptu trips to the seaside, Han Seo had his assistant set up the class for him to take when he returned. As a gift for the instructor, he thought it would be nice to bring them an extra bag of oranges. If the session sucked, or if he hated it, at the very least there was going to be something to brighten the mood. 

The day he got back, he even went as far as to tidy up the place on his own and put some fresh flowers around so the air was lightly scented. He practically waited at the door until the alarm sounded to let him know that his instructor arrived. 

Is this a joke? She huffed.

No, I didn’t even know you were the teacher! His protest was adamant. I was on a trip and even brought back Jeju- He paused. Han Seo knew he wasn’t the brightest, but bringing up the oranges seemed like it would upset her given their previous history. 

You brought back what? Her brow raised.

Mmm, good energy! Don’t you feel the vibes from the ocean? He spread his arms wide. 

Han Seo waved her inside hurriedly, trying desperately to get past the awkward exchange. Of all people, he never would’ve thought it would be the neighborhood’s cute sass machine. A small noise of happiness couldn’t be stopped from escaping him as she accepted the invitation. Her eyes scanned the place without restraint, nose wrinkling when she took a look at the kitchen. 

Where are your supplies? A slender finger ran across the surface of his counter. 

Supplies? He thought that was included in the price for the lessons. 

She sighed, placing a sketchbook, brushes, and small pots of paint onto the table. It was now very apparent to him that the advertisement did not mean what he thought it did. Thank goodness he also didn’t decide to open his mouth about that beforehand, it probably would’ve made her smack him with her bag. 

Here, the materials were slid over when he sat. Paint something.

His facial expression surely mirrored what he was thinking. Han Seo had no recollection of ever trying to do this, not even during the course of his way overpriced private school education. She urged him on with a nod, only relaxing into her chair when he flipped open the book and picked up a fine brush. 

There was nothing in particular he wanted to paint. Hell, he didn’t even know if he wanted to paint at all. This was simply something random that came up when he needed it. 

To avoid being chastised, he dipped his brush into the light blue color and started swiping randomly across the blank page. He swapped the brush and added some dark green, then pink, and finished if off with small dots of white. At the end it looked like something a toddler would’ve considered a masterpiece. She eyed it with surprising interest. 

You clearly didn’t know what you wanted to achieve with this, or why you were doing it at all. 

Han Seo was about to interject with a prideful defense before she continued. 

That’s good. It’s better to work with an unbiased mind. Her eyes met his. Your technique is shit though. 

He laughed, like truly laughed. It was a full bellied, unashamedly loud, attack of sonic waves. She seemed to find it amusing, a hint of a smile dancing across her lips. 

Alright, let’s start with how to actually hold a paintbrush. 

There was no telling when their interactions had gone from less than playful banter to warm and friendly (still with a side of joking). Han Seo couldn’t put his finger on it. Did it happen during the second lesson where he mistakenly put paint on her hands, and didn’t settle for no when he said he would wash them off for her? 

Or was it the time he was running late for work, but the barista already had his order prepared because she told them that he was on the way? Perhaps it was the time she had to reschedule their Saturday morning for the evening instead, and all he could think about was trying to replicate the color of her alcohol flushed cheeks onto the page before him. 

Han Seo had never done the whole confession thing before, so he wasn’t sure about how it worked. An unfamiliar kind of anxiety crept up his spine as he poured glasses of wine and organized a fruit plate. Soft music played in the background accompanied by the crackle of the expensive candles he bought specifically for the occasion. Her mouth parted slightly as she took everything in once she arrived for what was supposed to be an ordinary session involving watercolors. 

Wow, got a hot date later or something? Her legs seemed to automatically take her to the table. 

Actually, He brought the glasses over to where she sat. It’s for you. 

Oh…She gasped. A few seconds passed that felt more like minutes before she picked one up and held it high. Cheers then!

Something about it made him feel like he made a mistake. Did he misread their change in demeanor towards one another? Was she truly just being kinder to him because she considered him to only be a friend? Han Seo tried to not let the embarrassment he felt seep into the room, keeping a smile locked and loaded for when she made a witty remark about stuff like him painting in the most inappropriate white button down. 

Don’t you have something to say to me? She quipped, neatly putting her things away after he finished. 

Me? I- no…I... He clenched his fists. Why couldn’t he come out and say it?! This was as good as a chance as he was ever going to get. If he let this opportunity slip, he wasn’t sure if there would be one again. He had to act, he had to-

What sounded like a small growl came from her as she raked her hand through her hair. She pulled him closer by the collar of his shirt, her nose just shy of rubbing against his. 

Jang Han Seo, when are you gonna stop driving me insane? She murmured, labored breaths dancing across his cupid’s bow. 

If only she knew how true and reciprocated that question was to him too. From the moment he couldn’t fight against thoughts about her entering his mind, to the smile she wore when he stepped across his threshold, and the way she said his goddamned name, it was all enough to make him want to combust. To burst out of his skin, transforming into something or someone else entirely. A person that fully accepted that there were no more restraints on their lives, that they was no more fear and no more betrayal. Someone that was completely in control, and free to take what was theirs. And so he did. 

It was painful, almost, the first time he kissed her. The second time even more so. By the third time, coupled with the question of her tongue prodding at his bottom lip, Han Seo had shedded the last of his previous being. He cupped her face, thumbs toying with her curled sideburns as he consumed her. Quiet whimpers made way for desperate cries, shivers were replaced by the searing heat of skin on skin. 

The high he’d chased fruitlessly so many times throughout his life was finally achieved with his arms wrapped tightly around her, their bodies pressed together as she shuddered and sighed his name. He was in disbelief that what he had experienced was real, so he chased it again and again, receiving the same result each time his sweat slicked forehead bowed to meet hers. 

Han Seo would learn that it could be obtained outside of that space they filled with the tangible evidence of their desire. It was also in buying melon flavored ice pops to eat in the park together on sunny days. The look on Vincenzo and Cha Young’s face when he timidly made the introduction. Her expression when she took her first bite of Hee Soo’s tteokbokki. When Mr. Nam and her had an hour long debate on which shade of red made the most realistic fake blood color. The flashing Best Chairman Ever coming from her phone when Babel secured their biggest deal yet without any dirty deals behind the scenes. 

That feeling, one that outshone the other by such a long shot that it was nearly eradicated, had been there all along in the life he’d made. She just helped him see it.  

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

HASO, “A bucket.”

I wrote this little fluff piece this morning because I didn’t have the energy to write anything else. Still fighting with my motivation right now, but I hope you all like it :)

The air smelled like fall, wet dirt, a chill, and the unmistakable tang of mouldering leaves raked into large yellowing piles. The sky overhead was blue, and it was just beginning to warm as the sun peaked higher into the sky.  Standing on the sidewalk, he stared down the street of his childhood watching orange and yellow leaves fall to the pavement. In the distance he could hear the shouting of children, and watched decorative skeletons clatter and blow in a light wind.

A soft crunching noise jogged him from his musings, and he turned to see Sunny contemplatively staring at a yellowed leaf, only to watch her pop it into her mouth and crunch on it like it was a potato chip.

He frowned at her and she turned to look at him, “What?”

“Seriously?”

“What do you mean, Seriously?”

“Gonna go ahead and eat the fall ambiance?”

She frowned at him,” The trees aren’t using them anymore, and I don’t see you eating them.” He just shook his head at her, and turned to walk up the front steps and onto the porch. She paused to stare at the cluster of pumpkins on the front steps, and the grizzly faces that were carved into them. His father was a master at pumpkin carving, evidenced by the fact that Sunny made, “What the hell.” she turned to look at Adam and he shrugged.

“What are those?”

“Pumpkins/”

“That does not answer my question.”

“THey are a type of squash or gourd or…. Or something. People grow and eat them most of the time, but it is traditional, in october to carve scary faces on them for fun. Maybe mom has another one lying around and will let you try it out.”

“But why?”

“Back in the day people thought that doing this would help to fend off evil spirits, but now it is more of a contest to flex who is the most artistic. Dad wins every year.”

They stepped onto the porch where fallen leaves were still clinging wetly to the front steps and knocked.

“It’s open!” Came the voice from inside 

The two of them slipped in, Adam taking off his shoes and Sunny wiping her damp feet on the entrance rug.

They walked into the living room to find his mother, Martha sitting on the floor at the center of an explosion of pictures, and a couple of open binders.

Adam and Sunny walked in very carefully stepping over the pictures.

“Sorting the photo album again?” “Again, the last time I did this was almost ten years ago.” 

Adam wantered closer to his mother and Sunny curiously examined some of the photos, until one caught her eye.

A very tiny, chubby human barely able to stand on his own, and with bright green eyes.

She picked up the picture gingerly in one hand, “Awww is this you? You and your fat little cheeks.”

Adam turned, and Sunny held up the picture. Adam blushed and Martha laughed, Sunny looked at the next picture in the line, which seemed to be paired to the first, but now the small boy had a large bucket on his head, his feet sticking out from underneath. The bucket had holes in the side.

“What are you doing.”

Martha laughed again, “We were playing hide and seek.” Adam was still blushing madly as she continued, “He grew into his intelligence late in life.”

***

Martha walked slowly from the back room into the living room, “Ready or not here I come.”

The house was mostly quiet. The rest of her brood was out with their father on a hike for the day, but their littlest had woken up with a slight cough so she had decided to keep him home. He had spent the first half of the day lethargic, but around lunch time after some strawberries he had perked up and become  his usual exhausting self.

“Come out come out. I’m gonna get you.”

It was the giggling that gave him away, but when she turned to look she paused, sagged a bit and rolled her eyes covering her smile and laugh with a hand. The living room was completely clean, aside from a round laundry basket sitting dead in the middle, and two chubby little legs sticking out from under it. Not to mention that since it was a laundry basket it had holes in the side, and she could see him looking at her from inside.

She discreetly took a picture and quietly to herself Lord child i hope you grow into your brains soon

But instead of calling him out on his hiding spot she wandered around the room hands on hips, “Now where could he have gone…. Could he be under here?”

Giggling 

She kept up the pretence for the longest time until he seemed to have gotten tired of her charade. She heard the bucket tip over and he ran over on his stubby little legs grabbing her by the leg.

She acted surprised, “OH there you are!. I have been looking ALL over.”

He grinned and hugged her leg again.

She reached down and picked him up and he rested his head against her shoulder.

That was another thing about her youngest. He was VERY VERY cuddly, and she idly wondered what that would translate to when he got older. She patted his back and tried to fix his unruly blond hair which stuck up from all sides of his head, but it was no use, she sighed and gave up.

Oh well, she tried her best.

***

“You know honestly sometimes he is STILL as dumb as a pile of bricks.” Sunny mused setting the picture back down.

Adam rubbed the back of his neck, “I got my masters in aviation and orbital physics.””

“And yet who is the one who insists on putting strange alien plants in his mouth without knowing i they are safe or not.”

Martha frowned at her youngest.

He frowned back, “That is hardly fair, you eat them.”

“I also eat leaves, doesn’t mean you can too.”

She sifted through the pictures and barked a laugh at one that caught her eye, she picked it up, what are you doing. She turned the picture around, and Adam blushed madly. Martha laughed, “Oh yeah, we had to call the fire department for that one.”

“No, no no we are not going to be telling that story.”

A firefighter and a cop framed either side of the picture both giving exaggerated thumbs up with a young boy\ mabe seven or eight in the background stuck, backside first in a bucket of some sort, looking very embarrassed.

Martha grinned, “I think you were seven or eight maybe.”

“IT was Jeromy’s fault.”

****

“I dare you.”

The four boys and one girl stood  at the top of the hill staring down.

Maya, who was fifteen years old, older by five years than Jeremy who was eleven, frowned down the hill, “What if he runs into one of those trees.”

“He's got a thick skull, he’ll be ok.” Thomas said ruffling Adam’s hair viciously so the younger boy squirmed protested and ducked away. Adam was a very small boy, shorter than average and very thin. His clothes always seemed too big, his shirts baggy, and the shorts he was wearing were forced to stay on only by the belt his father had had to poke three more holes into to make it fit.

Even his sneakers seemed too big flopping around on his feet with floppy untied laces. 

“Who is even going to fit in that?” David asked.

Arguably the smartest of the three brothers, it hadn’t occurred to the others that none of them would fit.

That’s when all their heads turned to look at Adam.

Adam frowned, “But I don’t want to.”

“Chiken.” Thomas said 

“Come on your the only one small enough.” Jeremy urged.

“I see your chances of dying as very low, “ David interjected helpfully.

Maya tossed her braid back over one shoulder, “We should at least put some padding down at the bottom. Because if he gets hurt mom will kill me.”

Maya was technically supposed to be babysitting them, and keeping them out of trouble. But as was common with their family, she was not immune to the pull of a hair brained idea especially not when she was just to curious to see how it turned out.

Adam stomped his foot, “But you guys ALWAYS make me do it.”

“Because the buckets are ALWAYS too small for us, “Come on don’t be a chicken.”

Adam sighed and walked over to the barrel. He tired crawling inside it backwards, and when that didn’t work he attempted to go in face first, but every time he was just to tall.

He shook his head, “Too small.”

David looked at him very thoughtfully, and then an idea seemed to jump into his head.

“Not if we fold you in half.”

Adam frowned at him.

“Come on, hold the barrel upright.” The other boys did as told, while David instructed Adam to sit inside butt first.

Adam frowned, “But that doesn’t sound very comfortable, and how am I going to get out.”

“We will tip you out, don’t worry.”

Adam frowned but then allowed himself to slide down into the barrel. It was immediately very uncomfortable.

He wanted to tell them to pull him out but by that time he had been tipped over onto his side, “Ready?”

“No.”

They ignored him.

Adam was near panicking now, it wasn’t exactly easy to breathe.

“Three, two, one.”

And then the world was spinning around him. He rocked and bounced and spun so fast his eyes rolled inside his head. He screamed but the scream was cut off as he slammed painfully into something.

Dazed and sure he was going to vomit, he heard voices.

“Oh no, Adam!”

“Adam are you ok!”

Footsteps raced down the hill.

“Oh no we killed him!”

“Shut up He’s still alive, look.” Something kicked his foot, and he groaned.

He’s still breathing.

“Let him out.”

Something tugged on his feet. But it only managed to pull him and the barrel with it.

“Here you guys hold the bucket and we will pull him out.

Wat ensued was a horrible tug of war on his legs and on the bucket neither of which seemed to want to let go.

“STOP!”

They dropped his legs.

“Um, what if we tipped the bucket upside down?”

“Ok.”

The four of them tried really hard, and at one point almost succeeded until someone’s hand slipped and Adam crashed into the ground very painfully. He was near panic now, “Guys! Get me out of here.”

David patted his foot, “Its ok, ill get you out, ‘we just need science.”

Science turned out to be a  shoddy pulley system that went over the swing set and was designed to let them lift the bucket by way of rope and shake Adam out onto the ground.

The problem was the rope kept slipping off the bucket.

“Oh… no.”

A car rolled over gravel.

“Oh no, dad’s home.”

They heard a car door slammed shut, and Adam felt as the others hurriedly rolled him behind the swingset.

A door opened and the jangle of keys followed their father around the side of the house.

“There you all are, glad to see everyone is still in one piece, you didn’t burn the house down.”

“Nope.”

“Nope.”

There was sudden silence, “Where is Adam.”

“Uh, he…. He is us, around here somewhere.” Jeremy had always been bad at lying 

Their father turned his gaze on Maya, “Maya what is going on.”

“Uh…. nothing dad, we….”

“Don’t even try it….”

She sagged a bit, “We got Adam stuck in a barrel.”

There was a moment of silence, he heard the shifting of footsteps, “You got Adam stuck in a-” The light filtering into the barrel was cut off and he saw the silhouette of his father’s head, “Huh, you weren’t kidding. You are okay in their kiddo.”

His muffled reply came.

“Yeah…. I guess.”

Their dad grabbed the barrel by one end, tipped it over and shook Adam a few times. WHen nothing happened he gently set him back down, “Huh.”

“I hold and you pull his feet, “” They tried again but it didn’t work the second time either.

“Well, I have some tools in the garage.”

Adam began to panic as he thought of his dad's circular table saw.

“NO!”

“Ok ok.”

He heard his dad quiet for a minute and then, “Hey Joe, yeah this is Jim Vir….. doing good, and you, how about the family….. Glad to hear it….. Yeah anyway, my kids got my youngest boy stuck in a barrel like the geniuses they are, and I can’t seem to get him out. You want to send me a firefighter or two with something that can help….. Yeah thanks joe.”

Adam was relieved.

Of course as it turned out it was a slow day at both the police department AND the fire station, so what came rolling up was a motorcade of emergency vehicles. Adam was so embarrassed he wished he could melt through the barrel and into the ground as a group of cops and firefighters walked over to peer down at him from above.

“That looks comfortable.”

“How are you doing there son?”

There barrel was tipped back over, and he even saw his father sna a few pictures as the firefighters and police went to work surrounding the barrel. Of course since the entire towns emergency crew were here that drew curious neighbors who couldn’t help but laugh along with Jim at the antics of his children.

The wors part is when Martha showed up, and ran from the car scared out of her mind assuming something horrible had happened, only to find her husband laughing and taking pictures with the local emergency response team, and her youngest stuck in an oversized bucket.

At the end of the day they were forced to cut him out, but the sweet relief when he tipped onto the ground free at least was almost worth the embarrassment. He might not have thought that if he had known there was still a picture in both the police department and the fire station of him as a kid stuck in a barrel.

***

Sunny was laughing at him by the time Martha was done with her story.

He grimaced, “Why do you only keep finding the embarrassing pictures.

“Oh what is this,”

“What are you wearing?”

Adam covered his eyes.

“Oh yeah, I couldn’t get my other boys to wear it, but he would model anything for me when I needed it. This was when I was doing a commission for a Seventies themed party. Isn’t he adorable.”

“Is that a jumpsuit, and what is with those glasses.”

Adam looked up at the sky.

“And of course when Maya moved out, and I didn’t have the money for a mannequin….”

Sunny picked up another picture, “That is one big ass dress.”

“Ah yes the bell skirts, doesn’t he look nice.”

Adam grunted and cleared his throat, “I think you'll find corsets are surprisingly comfortable. Second of all, I rock the regency and victorian periods, and no one can tell me otherwise.”

He might as well own it.

This was the 41st century, dresses weren’t just for women anymore, and some of them had been quite comfortable.

They would never really be his style, but he could see  why someone else would find them appealing.

By this point both Sunny and martha had migrated to the couch where they looked through embarrassing pictures of him as a baby and shared embarrassing stories. Sometimes gross stories as he sat on the other side of the room and suffered silently. Sunny seemed to be enjoying herself though, so he let it slide.

Seeing her happy was nice, since it hadn’t been very common over the past few months.

He blamed himself for that, and wondered idly how long it would take for her to fully forgive him.

He hoped not long.

[radiosandrecordings]

Ace fic request if ya feel: Jmart taking a bath together at Upton, w some nonsexual nudity/intimacy? Thank u!!

“Ahaha, I’ll ask for some ace fic prompts and do drabbles for it!” I said, naively. 3K words later. Thank you Gwyn for reading over this and fixing my typos because it is. now coming up to 5am because I decided to write 3K in one sitting

CWs for talk of nudity but no one ever gets full nakey. Jon also has a brief panic about not being able to protect Martin without the Eye.

Ao3 version too 

They’d probably been awake for an hour or so by the time the feeling of grime coating his skin became intolerable. 

It felt wrong, really, the juxtaposition of the soft, clean cotton under his head and the greasy knots his hair had woven itself into over the course of their journey. Like it was insulting to the pillow, the case of which, Jon guessed absently, was worth more than his entire bed back in his flat, if it was still standing.

And wasn’t that something? To have to guess that and not just be aware. As it normally was, the Beholding would inform him that that wasn’t quite true, as while the sheets on this bed were certainly nice they were more chosen for display purposes than with the intent of anyone truly sleeping in them. The house was a museum. The curators had not supposed upon the current scenario. 

The current scenario being that there were two men lying in it, half asleep, lying still and just staring at each other with an eye-watering fondness. They had spoken, when they first awoke. Got out all the words they wanted to say. The “Where are we” and the “How long were we asleep?” and the “Is it finally safe to rest?” and the “I love you so, so much.” 

Now the thing to break the silence was the sound of Martin’s stomach making its discontent known. This, of course, sent them both into peals of laughter, because when was the last time they’d felt mundane hunger? 

“Do you think they even have food here?” Martin asks, still buried up to his neck in duvet. 

“Perhaps? Salesa surely has to eat, if we do.” 

“Yeah, but Annabelle though,” Martin chews his lip in mock contemplation. “What if we go downstairs and open up all the cupboards and it’s just… Flies as far as the eye can see, all wrapped up for eating. There’s one in the fridge all done up on a platter like a Christmas ham. Cloves spiked into it and all.” 

Jon winces. “I’d really rather not picture that right now, if you don’t mind.”

“Ah, course,” Martin says, looking slightly sheepish as they lapse into silence again. “Should probably go check though. Don’t exactly want to have gotten through all that just to starve. Though I’d happily let this be my death bed, honestly. Don’t think I’ve slept that well in… Ever.” 

“Mmh, now that you mention it, I’m quite peckish as well… Odd, that. Had almost forgotten what it felt like.” Jon heaves himself into a sitting position, and takes stock of the door to his left. “Probably the bathroom. Ensuite. Very nice.” 

“You want to get cleaned up before we go scavenging?” Martin asks, prying the duvet away like he’s pulling teeth. Jon feels bad that they can’t just stay in bed all day. He hadn’t been able to sleep, in the safe house, but Martin had chosen to dream. He might be biased, but Jon figures that that was probably worse. Martin seemed now to be relishing the opportunity to relax.

“I think we rather need it. Not keen to embarrass ourselves in front of our hosts a second time, so I’d rather not appear downstairs looking like something the cat dragged in.” Jon shoves the duvet away and gets, somewhat shakily, to his feet. Damn. No Beholding means the pain from- Where- The wound… His leg hurts. It means his leg hurts something fierce. He hopes he can stand in the shower. 

When he makes his way over to the door and swings it open, it turns out not to be a concern. The bathroom, in the fashion of the rest of the house, has no shower. Instead, a comically beautiful bathtub sits against the opposing wall. It’s a clawfoot, gold varnish painted over its feet where porcelain turns to antique wood. 

“You want to go first then?” Martin asks, slowly pulling the duvet around himself again. 

Jon rolls his eyes. “Yes, I’ll go on ahead. You enjoy the extra time.” 

Martin gives him a smug look and burrows down again. God, Jon really, really loves him. Which is why, when he puts his hand on the door handle to close it behind him, he freezes. 

Statement readings aside, this will be the first time Martin has been out of his sight in… However you choose to categorize the indefinite amount of time they spent roaming the hellscape. And even then, Jon had his powers. If anything threatened Martin he’d be there to help him. To save him. The Eye offers no such comfort now. Jon doesn’t want to close the door. He doesn’t want Martin out of his line of sight. Not with Annabelle here. He won't leave him alone, not now. 

“... Jon? You okay?”

Jon realises he’s been standing in the doorway for at least a minute now, hand frozen in indecision. He blinks a few times, trying to bring his eyes back into focus. He opens his mouth, and finds himself gaping slightly, looking for the words. 

Martin shifts, sitting back up again. “Jon, talk to me. What’s wrong?”

It comes out like a croak. “I- I don’t Know.”

Martin’s tone is gentle, placating, two hands gently offered out in Jon’s direction. “You don’t know what’s wrong?”

“No, I don’t Know,” he can feel tears beading at the corners of his eyes and tries to push down the lump in his throat. He’s gone this long without crying, why does he have to go and do it now, ruin the peaceful moment that he’d watch Martin lapse into like a drowning man with air. 

“Hey, hey, hey,” Martin hushes, sliding out of bed and walking round from his side. He brings his arms around Jon and just lets them stay there, not pulling him against his chest in a restrictive grasp, but just laying his hands against his back, letting him know he’s there. 

Despite his best attempts, Jon lets out a hiccup. “And- And that should be a good thing. It should. I don’t want to Know. But it’s… I’ve spent so long with this constant presence at the back of my skull and now it feels… It’s raw and it’s vulnerable. Annabelle Cane could be a wall away and I’m vulnerable and that means you are too. If I’m in another room, I can’t Know if something is wrong, and more importantly, if something does go wrong I can’t save you.”

The right wrapped around to hold Jon’s left hip, Martin’s free hand has been tracing soothing patterns into his back through his shirt. It stills when Jon finishes. He takes a moment, before breathing out heavily through his nose. He leans back slightly so he can look down and match eye levels. 

“Jon,” he says, and his voice is as soft as that duvet felt. “I can’t imagine what that’s like. I’m so sorry. I thought being free of the Eye would be a good thing, I didn’t even consider how it would feel for you. I can’t promise nothing will go wrong, because… Well, our track record speaks for itself. But I can try and ease your fears.” He brushes Jon’s fringe out of the way, and presses a quick kiss to his forehead. “Tub seems pretty big. How do you feel about taking a bath together?” 

Jon feels his face, flushed from tears, pale. And oh what a relief, to feel a fear so comparatively… Mundane. To not be afraid of the cosmic monstrosity in the back of your brain, or the spiders with motives that scuttle across the ceiling, or the fact that you are responsible for the suffering of billions. Oh to be afraid of… Intimacy. 

Martin must feel him tense, because the hand on his back drops away, and the one at his hip loosens its grip. “I’m sorry, if that’s too much, we can just-”

“No,” Jon cuts him off, and is surprised at his own voice. “No, I… I would like that. That sounds nice.”

He knows it’s from his earlier anxieties, but Martin must still be able to feel Jon trembling slightly under his hand, because he continues to give Jon a sceptical look. 

“Forgive me for being blunt, but you really don’t seem up for that. If that’s not in your… Intimacy wheelhouse, I get it.” 

“I’m just a little shaken, is all,” Jon says, but he knows there’s a truth to Martin’s words. He knows Martin respects him and his orientation, they’d had long discussions about it in the safe house, about boundaries and desires and how Jon wanted to spend his days glued to Martin’s side but he under no circumstances wished to have sex with him. He knows that this isn’t what that is, that Martin means it in the most innocent fashion imaginable, but there’s still something about the idea of close, physical proximity while naked that makes the hairs on his arm stand on end and his stomach churn. 

It’s not that he was bashful about it. He’d seen Martin naked before, gotten changed in the same room most mornings and evenings in the safe house, but that was just a symptom of existing in the same space, never something actively done with the intent to exhibit. It had, predictably, stirred no feelings in him. The idea of them so close while not clothed… No, that wouldn’t be happening. 

“I- Can I make one request, though?” Jon asks, tilting his no longer watery eyes up to meet Martin’s. 

“Anything,” Martin replies, no hesitation to be found. 

Jon feels his face flush again, and the rapid pooling and draining of blood from his face must be doing terrible things to his circulation. “Can- Can we keep our underwear on? Please? God, sorry, that must sound horribly childish-” 

“No, no that’s okay. Whatever you need to feel comfortable,” Martin says and his voice is not so much laced with sincerity as built from bricks of it. 

They break apart and Martin ambles through the doorway and over to the bath, turning the water on. It sputters, clearly struggling after years of disuse, but after a few seconds it flows clear. Martin waits for the brackish residue to be cleaned away before popping the plug into place.

Jon preoccupies himself with looking over the shelves. They were well stocked, likely by Salesa, as Jon has a hard time believing that plastic bottles full of opalescent purple liquid were considered period appropriate set dressing. He pops the lid open on one and is met by a strong whiff of lavender. He tucks it under his arm before swiping a shampoo and matching conditioner. 

“Find something you like?” Martin asks, leaning against the edge of the tub. Jon hums a response before joining him. The tub was filling up quickly now, almost half way full and the water is pleasantly warm when he drags his fingers through it. Jon deposits two of the bottles where they can be grabbed when needed, before taking the lavender body wash and drawing swirls into the water until a layer of foam and bubbles begin to build on the surface. 

When Jon turns back to face Martin, his fingers are twitching at the hem of his t-shirt. Whoever was responsible for transferring them from cold marble floor to warm bed had also seen to it that their shoes were removed, as well as their bags and coats, which Jon had seen folded and placed over a chair in the corner of the bedroom. They were both down to their now ripped, muddied and bloodied trousers, and two v-neck t-shirts from the same set, Jon’s of which was tucked into his jeans to disguise the fact that it was several sizes too large. What possible conclusion could be drawn from that?

Martin cleared his throat. “Do you mind, then, if I…?”

“Yes, of course, go ahead.” 

Martin pulled his shirt over his head. 

It’s not that Jon didn’t find him attractive. He did, very much so, just in the romantic sense. So seeing Martin shirtless was similar to seeing him in a particularly flattering outfit. It didn’t change the way he felt about him, just intensified it. He was very handsome and Jon enjoyed getting to look at him. 

He pulls his own shirt over his head, before turning back to trail his hands through the water again, trying to gage the temperature and encourage more bubbles. When he turns back to face Martin again, he’s fiddling with his belt, eventually getting it undone and letting his trousers drop. Jon does the same. And then nothing more happens, and Jon breathes a sigh of relief. It’s not that he hadn’t trusted Martin to keep his word and not fully strip on him, it was just.. It was a relief. 

“Shall we?” Martin asks, gesturing towards the water. 

“Let’s,” Jon responds, hooking one leg over the edge before stepping fully into the bath, and letting himself sink below the water. 

He’s just about acclimated when suddenly the water is rising slightly as Martin joins him, placing himself at the other end of the tub. There’s not enough room for his legs, so he ends up with his knees close to his chest, sticking out of the water. Jon’s just about fit, stretching down to the other end of the bath and bracketing each side of Martin’s hips. 

If the bed was heaven, this is absolutely blissful. The warm water surrounds his aching joints, slowly massaging them as it laps around him. The water, just seconds earlier clean and pure, is already starting to take on a stale quality as the dirt begins to slough off of the two of them, but Jon can’t bring himself to care for relief that it’s no longer coating his skin. He thinks the lavender may have been a bad choice, because between it and the warmth he’s finding it hard not to fall asleep again. 

“This okay?” Martin asks, because he’s still worried about Jon and his comfort and that makes his heart ache with affection, that someone would care that much about him and his boundaries. 

“Far more than okay,” he responds, dragging one hand down the other arm in an attempt to get some stubborn filth off. Martin is doing the same, except he’s wisely taken a sponge from somewhere and is scrubbing at a spot on his ankle where his trouser and boot hadn’t quite met and the Buried had decided to leave a crusted circle in its wake. 

They sit in silence for quite a while, each taking care of their own needs before Jon reaches one arm out of the bath to make a swipe at the bottle of shampoo. 

“Here, let me,” Martin says, breaking the quiet. He shifts forward slightly, on instinct, before pausing and rocking back slightly. “If you want, that is. Do you?” 

“Do I what?” 

“Do you want me to do your hair? It’s just- It’s probably easier, y’know, than you trying to do it yourself.” 

“And far more romantic,” Jon adds, smiling as he leans over to press a kiss to Martin’s freshly cleaned cheek. 

“That too. Do you want to turn around?” 

Jon answers wordlessly by shifting until he’s facing away from Martin. He’s surprised, but not unpleasantly so, when Martin’s arms wrap around him and gently pull him backwards until his back is just shy of flush with Martin’s chest. It’s very intimate. It’s very nice. 

“That okay?” Martin asks again, and more than ‘I love you’, that’s a phrase Jon will never grow tired of hearing because it means Martin truly cares for his comfort. 

“Absolutely.” 

“Good,” Martin says, as he uncaps the shampoo and pours a small puddle of it into his hands. Even turned away, Jon can smell the wafts of artificial apple scenting in the stuff. 

When Martin starts to gently drag his fingers against Jon’s scalp, he can feel himself almost melt under the touch. His spine loses all tension and he lets himself fall back entirely against Martin’s chest, and it’s only the knowledge that he needs to keep still for Martin to actually do his job that stops him from turning and burrowing his face there. 

“I really hope that was a positive thing and you haven’t just fainted on me. Like, literally on me,” Martin says from behind him and this close, pressed up against him Jon can feel it reverberating in Martin’s chest. 

“Still conscious, don’t worry. That’s just… Very nice.” 

“Oh! Well… Good.” 

This continues for a few minutes, Martin slowly making his way from the scalp down to the roots of Jon’s hair, untangling it with his fingers and then repeating the process with the conditioner until his hair ran smooth under Martin’s hands. Even when Jon knows he’s long finished any actual hair care, Martin continues to run his fingers through the hair, just because. Jon loved him for it.

Eventually, both of Martin’s hands come to rest against Jon’s torso. “This okay?” 

“Yes. I don’t mind any of the touching, as long as it’s… Nowhere previously established to be out of bounds.” 

“Gotcha,” Martin says, pressing a kiss to Jon’s shoulder that makes his brain fizzle like fireworks. 

It takes Jon a minute to fully realise what Martin is doing. Two hands trace lines along his ribcage, one on each side, thumbs gently drawing and redrawing a pattern. His scars. 

Then, the hands travel upwards. Again, two lines along his chest, traced with as much tender care, and Jon’s brain has gone a little fuzzy. He’s unused to such casual touching. There is nothing hurried about it, no urgency, no purpose other than to make him feel good. To make him feel loved and cherished, and if he’s being honest, it’s working. No ulterior motive. This isn’t the lead up to anything. It just exists on it’s own as an experience he gets to have without worrying about what comes after, because he knows the answer is nothing. 

After, Martin shifts slightly, leaning forward. One hand cups Jon’s elbow, raising that arm out of the water as one by one, from shoulder to palm, Martin makes his way down pressing a soft kiss to each and every circular scar. He repeats the process with the other arm. As if to finish it off, he presses a slow, soft, close mouthed kiss to the line that stretches across the front of Jon’s neck.

He’s perfect. Martin Blackwood is perfect and Jon doesn’t know what he did to deserve… This. This quiet barrage of love, the consideration and care poured into it something Jon never thought he would be worthy of, let alone have become a reality.

Jon twists to lie sideways, pressed against Martin with his head tucked under Martin’s chin. Martin’s knees bracket his shoulders on either side and he feels safe. He is in the eye of the storm, a brief respite from the dreadful horrors that ravage the world outside their bubble, but with Martin Blackwood he is safe.

[jimlingss]

Sugar and Coffee [6]

Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7

➜ Words: 7k

➜ Genres: 99.5% Fluff, 0.5% Angst, Pâtisserie school!AU

➜ Summary: It isn't hard to be a pâtisserie chef, but it's not a piece of cake either. It seems like for you in particular, life keeps throwing in one wrench after another. It always finds ways to make your sweets bitter. The cherry on top is Jeon Jungkook — a rival with a sensitive sweet tooth who always finds ways to complain about you.

➜ Notes: I know it’s not Christmas or even remotely winter, but in the timeline of the fic, it is. I hope you guys don’t mind.

cr.

Sometimes when Jungkook doesn’t hear from you for an extended amount of time, he wonders who you’ve found to terrorize now.   But he doesn’t have to wonder for a long time since you always find your way back to him, plopping down at his table at the dining center during breakfast when he’s mid-conversation with Jimin, sitting beside him during the lectures and online shopping on your laptop when you’re supposed to be paying attention, texting him to ask how you pop a pimple on your back….   The list is endless. You weasel your way into his life until it’s almost natural. Like you’re Hoseok or Taehyung.    And that extended amount of time where he wonders whose life you’re ruining decreases from days to hours to minutes until he eventually stops pondering altogether, knowing that it’s his life you’re destroying and no one else's.    “So I’m guessing you didn’t completely bomb the tempering chocolate part of your final.”   You look over at him with a raised brow. “Who told you?”   “You would’ve screamed about it over text if you did.”   “Hmph.” You tear your eyes away from the dark-haired man, continuing to scrub your dishes beside him. “That’s right. I did well, no thanks to you.”   “Excuse me, I think it was through our failures that you learnt the most.”   The kitchen is still bustling with kids cleaning up after themselves. The two of you are beside each other, washing your own dishes. You hate that Jungkook’s sharing a sink with you, but he complained there was nowhere else to go, and you figured kicking him somewhere else would’ve been more work.   “I’ll admit, it was the motivation to destroy you and win that got me through it.”   He scoffs as you smile mockingly at him, finishing the rest of your dishes. “Are you almost done with all your finals?”   “I have one more tomorrow and I’m finished. You?”   “I’m done with all of them.”   “Wow, are you trying to brag, you little shit?”   Jungkook grins. “Look, I—”   He’s interrupted by the vibration of a phone.    Jungkook quirks a brow, knowing full well there’s not supposed to be any phones in the kitchen. It’s a dumb policy of your teacher, but a policy nonetheless.   You pout at him, pulling the device out of your back pocket. “I’m waiting for a call, alright?”   Luckily class is over and there's only cleaning to be done, so you don’t get into trouble for turning around to answer the call.   Jungkook continues to wash his plates and bowls, minding his own business. But he inadvertently catches the conversation.   “Hey….yeah….I’m good...uh-huh. I have an exam tomorrow and then I’m off for the rest of the month until the second week of January.” You’re speaking in hushed whispers, arm hugging your body as the other presses the phone to your ear.   You peek over your shoulder and Jungkook looks away right in time. But out of the corner of his eye, he sees you frown and whip yourself back around into the corner.    “What do you mean? No, mom. I...broke up with Jin, remember? I’m not—…..what? Are there any more tickets?” There’s a long silence. You release a frustrated sigh, pressing your hand on your forehead. “Can’t you cancel your trip then? Or find a way….”   There’s yet another pause. Jungkook can vaguely hear voices on the other line.    “So you’re just going to leave me behind?” His ears perk when your voice cracks like you’re going to cry, or maybe you’re just angry. Jungkook can’t really tell. “Well, what am I supposed to do for three whole weeks? There are no classes, mom. I don’t want to spend Christmas by mysel—Fine. Fine! Have it your way!” you spit in a whisper that’s loud enough to draw the attention of your other classmates nearby too. “You have fun on your little trip then. No—don’t talk to me! I’m hanging up.”   You remain there for another ten seconds and Jungkook watches you hang up, sliding the phone into the pocket of your apron. He looks at you fast enough to see how your eyes are glossy and diverts his vision, not wanting to embarrass you or put you on the spot.   “Trouble in paradise?”   “There’s always fucking trouble in paradise,” you mutter. “Nothing ever goes right for me. Whatever.”   Jungkook put the dishes away with you. He decides to address the elephant in the room, clearing his throat. “I, uh, couldn’t help but hear…so what’s gonna be your plans for the break?”   “I don’t know.” You sigh again. “I’ll probably just stay here. Work on some stuff. Learn a recipe or two or maybe get a head start for next semester. You?”   “I’m going home. We’re not really religious, but my entire family usually gathers for the holiday for gift exchange and to eat and stuff,” he says, trying not to rub salt all over your wound.    You nod. “That sounds nice. Have fun.”   There’s tense silence again, merely the noise of bowls and plate clanging as you put them back where they belong. But Jungkook is unable to move from the conversation. His thoughts brew in the forefront of his mind.   He knows it’s unnecessary, that he shouldn’t, but his conscience compels him otherwise.   “You should come with me.”   Goddamn. Jungkook hates himself for being such a good person. Why can’t he be as cold as Yoongi? He’s gonna have to ask the man how he does it.    But Jungkook also knows if it were him who just got dumped by his two year long girlfriend, he wouldn’t want to spend the holidays at this damned, empty institution by himself.    “Pardon?” You give him that look of yours, like you’re disgusted or confused. He’s not sure which one it is in this context.   “You should come with me.” The words leave Jungkook’s mouth before he can consider what he’s exactly offering. “Spend Christmas with my family.”   “What?” You shake your head. You’re not appalled, merely perplexed at why he’s going out of his way to propose something so big. “Why would I do that?”   Jungkook shrugs. “You don’t have to. I just think you shouldn’t have to stay here by yourself.”   Your expression softens. “Won’t it be weird?”   “No, my parents won’t mind. Taehyung and Jimin actually spent Christmas with me two years ago and that was fine. You don’t have to stay for the entire break, but at least for the holidays….”   Jungkook knows that expression — the nibble of your bottom lip, the way your brows knit together. You’re touched by his hospitality and benevolence, but hesitant as you consider it, even though you want to.   “There’s no pressure,” he says and quickly adds, “I wouldn’t want you to embarrass yourself when I put the ornaments on the tree better than you can.”   All at once, you make a noise between a scoff and a laugh. It bubbles out of your throat and makes him smile. “How does someone put ornaments on the tree better?”   Jungkook shrugs. “Someone without a sense of aesthetics wouldn’t know.”   Your mouth curls. “Is that a challenge, Jeon?”   “You have to come to find out.” He smirks.   “Okay, sounds like a plan then.”   Jungkook grins, ruffling your hair with his hand until you swat it away. “We’re leaving in two days. Get packing.”

If you told yourself half a year ago you’d be lugging a suitcase and backpack to Jeon Jungkook’s parents’’ house, you would’ve laughed and then called the psych ward to pick up an insane girl in your dorm room claiming she’s from the future.   But you guess in the recent months, insane things have been happening to you one after another.   You’ve been on the bus for five hours now, slowly making your way up north where it’s icy and snowy. You only get to stretch out your legs at a rest stop for about an hour.   “Took you long enough.” Jungkook pushes himself off the wall he was leaning on, eyes flickering down to a bag you’re holding. You notice his stare and you move the bag behind your back. “I thought you went to the bathroom. Went shopping on the way?”   “It was just a souvenir I picked up. A lame key chain for the occasion. How much longer is this gonna take?”   “Well we’re halfway through, so another five hours give or take?”   “Oh my god.” You sigh while stepping outside. The snow hits you at once and it makes your cheeks numb in the frost. “My ass is so sore.”   “You’re the one talking.” Jungkook rolls his shoulder. “My shoulder aches from your heavy head.”   “Hey, it’s your fault for stealing the window seat.”   “I didn’t know you would be sleeping four out of the five hours.” He sighs with a small smirk, feigning frustration. Yet Jungkook’s the first to climb onto the bus.    There are people all around, napping, playing games. You put your souvenir bag into your backpack, sliding it back onto the overhead bin before you look down at the boy who’s settled in his seat in spite of his complaints, looking out the window like he’s having thoughtful contemplation and there’s something in that empty brain of his.   “Are you not gonna give me the window seat?”   Jungkook turns his head, arm propped up on the rest. He flashes a brilliant smile. “Why would I?”   “So your shoulder doesn’t have to be sore anymore, Jeon.”   He hums a low note. “Nah. I’m good.”   You scoff. “Your call.”   You plop down, immediately lolling your heavy head onto his shoulder. You try your best to lean your entire weight on it, as heavy as you can, and you shut your eyes and cross your arms to continue your nap.    Jungkook mutters how bratty you are and it only makes you smirk in satisfaction.   Eventually you’re shaken awake when you arrive at the destination five hours later and your ass is sore beyond belief. Your eyes are bleary as you try to rub them awake, squinting out the window to look at the small town covered in snow.   The white is blinding and it almost overflows into your boots.   You pull your suitcase behind you with your backpack on your back. Jungkook drags his belongings with him too. “Where to now?”   “It’s a fifteen minute walk. Think you can handle it?”   “Yeah.”   Even if it’s cold enough that your fingers are curling in on themselves and snot is dripping down your nose, it’s still better than being by yourself in your warm dorm room with nothing to do.   The town is quiet, not in an eerie fashion but serene. The houses are twinkling with strung lights, puffs coming out of chimneys, people through the windows putting up ornaments or gathering around the fire. This place is the perfect Christmas movie setting, small shops and friendly folks. You wonder if this is where Jungkook grew up.   “It’s this one.” Jungkook stops on the sidewalk suddenly. It’s house one two three at Imlings Avenue, a cozy looking home with a giant front yard and two cars on the curb. You can hear the festive music already.   As you roll your suitcase up the shoveled walkway, hearing the wheels roll, you become increasingly nervous. It’s odd — even if you and Jungkook are friends now — you’ve never met his family before. You’re a stranger to them and you’re probably unwelcome considering this is just a family affair…   “Wait.” You linger back. “Jungkook—”   But it’s too late.    He knocks before he can hear your voice. And the door swings open.   Oddly, you don’t see anyone….until you tilt your head down. There’s a little girl in a red and green plaid dress, her black hair in pigtails. She looks up at Jungkook and bats her lashes. A wide grin spreads into her chocolate stained cheeks and she throws herself onto him. “Kookie!”   There's a stampede of steps and you hear multiple voices. “Yeonjun! He’s here!”   “Oh my goodness, have you been eating well? You look so thin! We’ll change that.”   “Kookie! Kookie!”   “There’s food in the kitchen, son, go have some.”   “Or get some rest if you’re tired. There’s plenty to do, but that can get done later.”   “Okay, okay.” Jungkook laughs and turns around to see that you’re still standing outside. He quirks his head to the side. “Are you going to come in?”   What ensues is one of the most awkward moments in your life. There’s sudden silence, and then two or three sharp gasps. You manage a smile, looking down at the floor as you step into his house.    The door shuts behind you, solidifying your position here.   Your eyes flicker up. There are two kids, an older lady that resembles Jungkook but with wrinkles creased at her features, and an older man, aged like fine wine and with Jungkook’s doe eyes.   “Hi. I’m Y/N. S-Sorry for the intrusion. I really...appreciate your generosity for letting me stay.”   Jungkook smiles softly and plops his hand on your shoulder, gesturing to each person. “Mom, dad, this is Y/N. She’s my friend and, uh, classmate I told you about. Y/N, this is my grandma, my uncle, my aunt, and my two cousins, Lia and Eunbi.”   He goes over them so fast, you’re reeling.   Lia grins a toothless smile, arms politely behind her back as she sways from side to side. “I’m seven, nice to meet you.”   Eunbi, the one who opened the door, spreads her hand in front of you. “Five!”   “Nice to meet you.” You nod.   But instantaneously, your hands are taken by the old lady. Jungkook’s grandma, despite her entire head of hair being stark silver, has her irises shining with newfound energy. “It’s my pleasure, sweetheart. Please, come in. Take off your coat.”   “How long have you known Jungkook for?” his uncle suddenly asks, wearing a blazing smile as well like he knows something you don’t.   “Umm….actually, we went to high school together.”   “Really now?”   “We weren’t close though until...until recently.”   “Jungkook.” His mother shakes her head in disapproval. “You didn’t tell us your friend was a girl.”   Oh god. Now he knows what’s going on and why they’re treating you like you’re a prized possession. “It’s not like tha—”   His aunt completely jumps the gun. “How long have you been dating Jungkook for?”   You choke on air, taking your hands away from Jungkook’s grandma to pound on your chest lest you die this pathetically. Jungkook’s eyes bulge from their sockets. And Lia is old enough to understand and wrinkles her face. “Ewww, are you guys gonna end up kissing?”   “No! No.” He takes a deep breath. “Y/N is a friend. She’s just a friend.”   “I-um, sorry if there’s been a misunderstanding.” You back him up. “I’m not dating him. Frankly, I can’t handle someone like Jungkook. B-Because he’s too great,” you quickly add, not wanting to insult their son in front of their faces when they were already inviting you into their home.    It’s so awkward, you want to run outside and faceplant into the snow and die from hypothermia. “We’re just not like that. Never.”   “Yeah. She’s a classmate. A friend. Like Jimin or Taehyung.”   “O—kay then.” Jungkook’s mom breaks the tension with a warm smile. “Well, we shouldn’t dilly dally here all day! Jungkook, you can take your suitcase up to your usual room. Y/N can have the one down the hall, the guest one—oh no, dear, you don’t have to carry it.” She stops you when you grab your luggage again. “Jungkook can do it for you.”   “A-Are you sure?”   “Of course. He has to make himself useful somehow. Make yourself at home! Lia, Eunbi, want to show Y/N the stockings you made?”   “Yeah!” Lia grabs your hand, leading you away. You glance at Jungkook and he has a tight lipped smile. But the moment you turn the corner, he’s bombarded by his family members' curious stares.   “Are you sure she’s just a friend, dear?” his grandma croaks. “She’s awfully pretty.”   “Are you in the process of courting her, son?” his dad inquires. “Let me tell you, when I courted your mother, I did all sorts of things to get her to like me, so if you ever need advice—”   “You learnt how to drive a motorcycle and almost killed yourself with it,” his mother chides.   “I’m glad he didn’t.” His grandma turns around, deadpanning, “Your funeral would’ve been a terrible embarrassment to the family.”   “I remember that. You stole from me to get that motorcycle and never paid it back,” his uncle pipes up, and his dad ducks his head behind his mom.   His aunt laughs and pats his uncle’s chest. “Now, now, let’s not get ourselves worked up.” She turns, addressing the real issue in the room. “Jungkook, is Y/N really just a friend?”   “Yeah.” He stops, having ignored his family and struggled to carry the suitcases across the living room. Jungkook doesn’t know how many times he’ll have to insist his relationship with you is platonic, but out of everyone he knows his aunt is the most understanding and convincing. If she believes it, the rest will too.    “She’s just a friend. Actually, she….recently broke up with her long-term boyfriend, so…...yeah, um, and she’s my internship partner and I felt bad that she was spending Christmas by herself….”   “Well then, that’s fine. Friends are as valuable as any other kind of relationship. I think your mother and everyone else were just surprised that you brought a girl home.”   “She was going to spend Christmas by herself?” his grandma asks, surprised by the mere idea of it.   “Yeah, I think she was supposed to spend it with her boyfriend’s family but they broke up, so…”   “Well then I’m glad you invited her! No one should spend the holidays by themselves. Poor girl.”   “The more the merrier!” his uncle proclaims.   “But you still should’ve told me it was a girl,” his mother chides with her hands on her hips. “I would’ve gotten her a suitable gift!”   “Friend or not, I don’t want any shenanigans under my roof, Jungkook,” his dad warns. “You’ll both be sleeping in separate bedrooms.”   The mere idea of it has him frowning. “Of course!” Jungkook says as if it should be obvious.    He lugs his suitcase and yours up by himself while wondering what if you brought actual bricks with you.   It hasn’t even been ten minutes in this house and Jungkook already has a headache.   //   Not even an hour at the house, you and Jungkook are thrown into a truck with his dad and uncle to go buy a Christmas tree at some small market.   Your hands dug into your pockets as you walk alongside each other, finally able to get a breather.   “Sorry about them. Did they ask a lot of questions?”   “Only about my education, how old I am, what my parents do, my hobbies, if I have siblings, if I’m religious, where I grew up, and oh yeah, my plans for the next five years.”   “Sorry,” Jungkook repeats with a sigh. He knew they were overbearing but this is really something else.   You giggle. “It’s okay. Just felt like a job interview. I’m just happy they’re so welcoming. Your family’s really nice, Jungkook.”   “Yeah. Mostly. My mom can be pretty crazy. My grandma can be hysterical — same with my aunt. And my uncle and dad can be short tempered.”   “Every family has their fair share of crazy.”   “You could say that again.”   You stop to point at a tall, luscious looking tree. “That tree’s pretty nice, huh?”   “I think it’s too big for the house.”   You keep walking. “I’ve actually never gone looking for a tree like this before. Certainly not a day before Christmas Eve.”   “Really?”   “Yeah, my family usually uses artificial trees.” You smile at the memory. “Oh, Jin’s family uses a real tree. Usually it’s already decorated when I get there though—……” It takes a moment for you to realize what you’re saying. “Never mind.”   Jungkook glances at you. It falls into silence and he can see you brooding in your thoughts. He then taps your shoulder. “What do you think of that tree?”   The boy points to a small one that’s drooped over. “It’s so….sad looking.”   “Hmm, like you, right?” Jungkook laughs hard when you shove him. He catches himself before he faceplants into the snow.   “God, you should be lucky I love your family or else I would kill you.”   “As if you even could.”   “Don’t test me, Jeon.”   “Hey, kids!” His dad shouts, a few meters away. “Come help your uncle and I with this one. It’s a good one!”   Once it’s paid for, you all haul the tree into the back of the truck.    You muse that you’ve truly never done this before as you watch Jungkook’s mom screaming as all the men try to shove the tree through the front door and the tree losing nearly half of its pine needles, shedding to the carpet.    But finally they manage to get it inside without much damage done and all that’s left is to decorate. You help pull out old boxes from the cottage and Lia shows you the noodle ornament she made in class. “Look!”   You’re genuinely impressed at how intricate it is. God knows your talent was in baking and never in arts and crafts. “Wow, it’s really pretty!”   “Thanks.” She grins and you pick her up so she can slide it on at the very top.    You try to hold Eunbi too so she can put the star topper on but when your arms begin to shake with the weight of the five year old, Jungkook takes over for you. He puts her on his broad shoulders so she can lean over to do it. And you’re finally able to race Jungkook to put the rest of the ornaments up, and find out who’s the true Christmas master. But you don’t get far into the game when his grandma waddles over and starts complaining that he was bunching the candy canes too close together.   “When you kids are done with that, come outside. We’re going to put up the lights,” Jungkook’s dad says as he carries a ladder with his uncle.   Though once you’re actually outside, dressed up from head to toe in Winter gear, there’s not much you can do. You watch as Jungkook climbs the ladder while you hold the bottom rung to steady him, but his uncle ends up telling him to get down when he nearly slips off the roof.   “Imagine if you actually fell…”   The both of you looking up, squinting as you observe the old men bickering to one another about how to string the lights on. “You’d probably laugh and use my body for a ritual to summon a demon, huh?”   You turn to him, deadpanning, “How’d you know?”   What follows is snow hurled to your face and a shriek of his name. “Jeon Jungkook!”   Your body shakes with rage and you collect a snowball in your hands. But he takes cover in the backyard behind a tree, giggling boyishly like he’s four years old. “You coward! Come here!”   You chase after him at full speed, but he runs, laughing even more. You smack the back of his coat, but there’s no effect so you gather another one, patting the snow firmly to chuck it. You wish you had ice shards, so you can put it in and attack with full force.   You sprint after him before taking a leap, jumping onto his back. Unfortunately, your plan in tackling him doesn’t work. Jungkook doesn’t waver, knees not even buckling, but you adapt and slap the snowball to his face. He laughs, shaking you off and you fall onto your ass. It’s one bad thing after another considering you’re not fast enough to run away — and he chucks another one to your face.   Your aggressive shouts and Jungkook’s laughter draws the attention of the kids because they come out all bundled up in toques and scarves, cheeks overflowing above them. They march out in snow pants and thick coats, ready for battle.   “Be careful!” Jungkook’s aunt shouts from the porch before running back inside to hide from the frost.   “I wanna play! I wanna play!” Eunbi hops while Lia runs and falls back, making a giant snow angel.   “Come here, Eunbi! Come here!” Jungkook motions her over and she waddles. “We’re gonna get the evil witch!”   “Excuse me?!” you shriek and it makes the both of them giggle. You tell Lia to help you and she’s old enough to understand your instructions, making snowballs with you quickly as she laughs hysterically and tries to chuck them at Jungkook to no avail.   Lia is hit a few times by her feet, while you’re smacked straight at the neck, freezing snow melting down your shirt inside and making you cry out in agony. You try to smack Jungkook with one but then he holds Eunbi up so she can take the hit.   “Are you seriously using her as a shield?!” you scream at him.   “You gotta do whatever it takes to win!” Jungkook laughs like a maniac as his human child shield giggles along.   You’re unable to hit him at full capacity, but you get the upper hand when you tell Lia to sneak around. She shouts she’s going to the bathroom while you continue to fire light snowballs uselessly. But when the seven year old walks around the gate instead of going inside like she declared, she smacks Jungkook at the back of the head with a snowball, catching him off guard.   “Hey!”   At that moment, you rush him, trying to shovel snow down his coat. But his reflexes are too good. He lightly tosses Eunbi down on the fluffy surface and she laughs, making snow angels and Jungkook wrestles you. “I think not, witch!”   “If I’m a witch, you’re the grinch—!”   Jungkook successfully tackles you down, but you manage to rub snow all over his face, making him spaz.   In the meanwhile, his grandma, aunt and mom watch from the window, laughing hysterically. And the men up on the roof are speechless. “What are they doing?”   “You know how the youngins are.” They exchange a meaningful look, wishing they still had that same amount of energy.   //   Jungkook is a fucking lucky bastard — sometimes you can’t fathom it.   Not only does he have a great group of friends, but his family is amazing. He really has it all.   You find out his dad is an absolute airplane enthusiast, and he even shows you his aircraft collection of small planes he gathered over the years. He’s knowledgeable on all the models and tells you about a realistic flight simulator he’s planning to set up. His mother, on the other hand, can paint like a genius. The artwork in the living room that looked expensive was ones she painted and when you found out, your jaw dropped to the ground.   Everyone in his family also knows how to play chess ridiculously well and everyone seems to know how to play some kind of instrument. Jungkook’s grandma is teaching Lia piano, his aunt plays violin, his uncle is dedicated to guitar and Jungkook tells you he used to sort of dabble in drums.    You wouldn’t be surprised if he turns out to be a musical genius.    The gene pool of the Jeon family is just too strong. You can’t handle it.   And it’s no wonder he’s good in the kitchen. Everyone in his family is spectacular at cooking. You nearly start crying at dinner because of the sheer delicious taste of every dish presented in front of you. You thought you were in Heaven.   After dinner, there are games, and everyone calls it an early night to prepare for Christmas Eve the next day.   By the afternoon of the eve, the adults all leave for last minute Christmas shopping while you and Jungkook stay at home to babysit the kids.   “What are you two doing?” You approach said children when you finally snap out of the Charlie Brown Christmas special playing on the television, remembering it’s for the kids’ entertainment and not yours.   The both of them at the small table, scribbling on some paper. “We’re writing letters to Santa!”   “Oh, is that so?” You look over to see the chicken scratch. Eunbi can’t write yet so she draws pictures. “Wow, looks good. What does...this say?”   “It says cooking stuff, silly!”   “Right, silly me,” you laugh, endeared at how she wrote it as ‘Kooking’ like Jungkook’s name. “You want cooking stuff for Christmas?”   “Yeah.” Lia nods enthusiastically. “I saw on tv this oven and you get to make stuff and stuff.”   “Oh. You mean Easy Bake Oven?”   “Yeah!” Her drawing isn’t bad for a seven year old. “What do you want for Christmas?”   “Me?” You hum, considering it. “Maybe an A for my pastries class. What about you, Eunbi? What do you want Santa to give you tomorrow morning?”   “Chocolate!” she shrieks with laughter.   “She always wants chocolate,” Lia tells you listlessly.   “Candy! Cookies!”   You grin, lowering your voice like you’re about to tell them a secret. “Do you want to make cookies?”   All at once, there’s a change. Eunbi gasps. “Yeah!”   And Lia’s hand stops scribbling. “Can we really?”   You shrug. “I don’t see why not.”   It can’t be too hard.   But you’re sorely, sorely mistaken.   The moment you preheat the oven, Lia opens it and tells Eunbi to climb in — but you shut that down real quick, joke or not. When you melt the butter and turn around for one second, you come back to find Eunbi drinking the butter straight from the measuring cup.   Her lips greasy as she grins. “Yummy.”   “Oh my god—” You collect them together, keeping a reign for both kids. Calming down, you try to show them how to crack the eggs, but they’re clumsy and you end up having to fish eggshells out of the mixture.   As you’re cleaning, you hear a thump. When you whirl yourself around, the floor is coated in white. The flour bag is upside down on the ground.   “Uh-oh.” Eunbi giggles.   Lia’s hands are covered in the all-purpose flour, but she points to her younger sister. “She did it! Not me!”   You take a deep breath, mustering your patience. “It’s okay.”   But it’s not okay.   Not when they put in a cup of salt instead of sugar and you have to scoop it all out. Not when you wash their sticky fingers, clean their faces, and open drawers to look for a spatula to fold the mixture, but you hear giggles instead. Not when you slowly turn around to see them mixing the batter with their bare hands.   But with a sigh, you give in. Some of their techniques are physically painful to watch and make you cringe, but as long as they’re having fun, you’re not going to stop them.   Or at least until Eunbi sneezes straight into the batter.   “Okay, alright, let's not do that.”   “Can we eat it?”   “Eat it? You mean raw?”   Eunbi is already taking the cookie dough by the fistful. “Yummy!”   “Not too much.” You cringe as you watch them taste it. “You might get sick! Hey— Jeon Eunbi, take your hand out of the chocolate chip bag!”   The five year old grins, cherub cheeks rosy as her eyes glimmer with mischief. But after all the trials and tribulations, you finally get the tray of cookie batter into the oven.   In the meanwhile, Jeon Jungkook comes downstairs with a towel draped over his shoulder. His hair is still damp but he came down at the ruckus. He stops at the doorway of the kitchen, freezing as he regards the surroundings. “I left for one shower.”   “We made cookies, Kookie.” Lia grins with a milk moustache, sitting on the counter with her sister.   “They’re almost done,” you tell him sheepishly. “We’ll clean up soon.”   He hums as he looks at the floured floor and the sink overflowing with dishes. He wonders what happened. They’re just cookies — but it looks like a battlefield.   You approach him with a mug. “I made hot chocolate.”   “I thought chocolate was your nemesis.” Jungkook smiles, taking the cup. He notices the floating marshmallows and happily sips.   “I can melt it,” you chide. “I know how to do at least that much.”   You can hear giggles from the girls and at this point, you know it means they’re up to no good, so you turn around with your brow quirked. Jungkook is curious too and Eunbi answers the unsaid questions when she points above you both, right at the doorway.   “Mistletoe.” Lia laughs. “Eww, are you guys gonna kiss?”   You look at Jungkook, and he frowns. His expression wrinkles like he just bit into a lemon. “Gross.”   “Gross?! Excuse me?!” You loll your head to the side. “I’m gross to you?”   The boy grins. “Yeah. You are.”   “Give me back that hot chocolate.” You try to grab at it, but his reflexes are fast. Jungkook moves the mug out of the way and then above his head where it’s out of your reach.   “Nuh-uh. Finders keepers.”   “But I’m gross, aren’t I? You wouldn’t want to consume something made by a gross person.”   “I’ll make one exception.” He brings it down and quickly chugs the steaming hot chocolate.   “It’s hot, you idiot!” you shout, but like the masochist he is, he downs it all with a groan.   “Delicious.” Jungkook grins, wearing his milk moustache with pride.   You shake your head. “You’re ridiculous.”   He helps you clean and when the oven timer goes off, the scent of freshly baked cookies fill the home right in time as the adults arrive home. All twelve chocolate chip cookies are inhaled at an instant and you muse how the entire Jeon family has sweet tooths.    You share a cookie with Jungkook and it’s delicious for the disasters you had to go through.   The evening eventually settles in and they tell you about the family tradition of getting in ugly Christmas sweaters and taking a family photo. You’re touched when they show you the sweater they got, one in neon red plastered with dogs and cats in Christmas hats. Jungkook’s has batteries and physically lights up, and you can’t stop laughing.   “I feel like a tree.”   “You almost look as pretty as one, Jeon.”   It’s cute when they waddle together in front of the fireplace and you wonder what it takes to have a family like this. “What camera are you using?” you ask. “I can take it for you.”   “Oh no, dear. Don’t be silly! Come in, come in!” Jungkook’s grandma motions you over.   His uncle moves to a cabinet. “We have a tripod!”   But you hesitate. “Uh, are you sure?”   “Why wouldn’t we? If you spend Christmas with us, you’re family. Get in here!” His mother moves aside. “Stand beside Jungkook.”   Everyone shuffles, creating a perfect slot for you to join with the Jeon family. Jungkook even slings an arm over your shoulder, giving this biggest and most boyish smile of life. His uncle clicks the button and runs to his spot. The light begins to flash. “Everyone! Say cheese!”   With one snap, the moment is engrained forever.   Dinner is delicious like last night and it feels like you’re being stuffed like a pig. Your stomach nearly bursts at the seams and you would fall into a food coma if not for how Jungkook drags you along to go caroling with the rest of his family.   “I’ve never been caroling before.”   “Yeah, well, it’s something my grandma likes to do. She used to do it when she was young and she freaks out if any of us say we don’t want to go. Personally, I don’t like caroling. It feels like I’m a car salesman harassing people.”   You know what he means when he’s swaying from side to side awkwardly on some stranger’s lawn while his dad knocks on the door and everybody else waits for it to open. Jungkook looks out of place. But the minute he opens his mouth to sing Silent Night — it’s fucking angelic.    You’re shocked, like you found out the devil actually has a halo above his head.   The lady and her child thank you all for the song and while walking, Jungkook finds you staring intently at him. “What?”   “Since when did you sing?!”   “I don’t.”   “How can you say you don’t?! You literally sound like perfection.”   The sudden praise makes laughter bubble out of his throat, a cloud of condensation emitting from his parted lips. His aunt turns around with a smile. “That’s what I’ve always told him. I’m glad someone else can recognize it.”   “I remember when Jungkook was just a small boy,” his grandma pipes up. “He sang so well, knew all the lyrics, and all the neighbours were so surprised. He was so cute, even the grumpiest of grumps would be melting because of him.”   “Remember when he would start crying if he didn’t get the main part or had the harmony?”   “God, can we not talk about this?” Jungkook cringes.   But you grin. “No please, keep going. I’m so curious now.”   “Well one winter…” His mom hugs your arm, leaning into you like she’s sharing a secret. “He peed himself but didn’t want to tell anyone because he was scared caroling was going to be cut short and it ended up freezing in his pants. Poor child got a butt rash afterwards.”   “You peed yourself for caroling?” you ask incredulously.   “I don’t recall,” he deadpans.   “Oh, he used to pee himself all the time,” Jungkook’s dad clarifies. “There was an incident on a plane—”   “That’s enough of that.” He puts a hand on your shoulder and pushes you forward at a fast pace. You laugh as the two of you walk way ahead of the rest of his family and how Lia and Eunbi begin to sing-song that Kookie’s a bed wetter.   Despite being out in the cold at night, you didn’t know your Christmas would end up so warm, surrounded by people who treat you as one of their own. You feel lucky. Privileged to be part of it.   The rest of Christmas Eve is spent around a fire and the tree until it’s lights out at nine. It’s early again since the adults know that the kids will end up making it an early morning the next day. So with cookies and milk left out, you bid your goodnights. But their predictions end up exactly as said after many years of celebrating the gift-giving holiday together.   Right at five thirty with the sun barely risen, you’re shaken away by Jungkook.   “What’s going on?”   Your bleary eyes blink and you rub at them. Jungkook’s tender grin and sparkling eyes are the first thing your vision focuses on. His hair shags over his forehead as he stares down at you. “Get up, sleepyhead. We’re all opening presents.”   “It’s so early,” you whine, but he tugs the covers off anyhow and helps you stand on your feet.   Jungkook ruffles your bed head. “I know.”   The two of you make your way downstairs. The adults are already hugging their coffee cups while Lia and Eunbi tear up their gifts that Santa left them. Christmas melodies are turned on for background noise, and there are hugs and gasps given during the exchange of presents.    You’re given one too.   “For me?”   “Yes, we managed to pick up something yesterday for you, dear. If Jungkook had told us beforehand he was bringing such a nice friend, we would’ve gotten something better.”   You open up the box to find a red, wool scarf. The texture is soft and it looks warm enough to protect you from the cold Winter wind. You’re touched beyond belief. “T-Thank you, I love it.”   “We’re glad.”   “I-I’m sorry I didn’t get you anything.”   “Please, your presence is more than enough, sweetheart.”   “I got this for you, Y/N!” Lia comes over with a piece of paper. “Eunbi and I drew it yesterday, well I did most of the work, but she drew you. Thanks for spending Christmas with us!”   “I love it. Thank you.”   Jungkook watches with a gooey smile. It’s good to see you like this — for once not moping around or crying after some guy that didn’t know your worth anyway. But what he catches him off guard further is when he’s tugged away into the hall by you.   Your arm extends, holding a bag haphazardly.   “Sorry, I forgot to wrap it,” you mutter, barely coherently. Your vision is diverted elsewhere, looking towards the ceiling so you can spare yourself the embarrassment of how he’ll react.   But if you looked, you’d see that Jungkook’s grin could almost break his face. He takes it. “Isn’t this the souvenir you got at the rest stop?”   “Well, I lied. It’s not a souvenir. Open it.”   He does. Quickly. With much anticipation.   You lean over to watch him.   Inside the bag is a box. Jungkook tears it open to find a simple, white mug. But across the surface in black text, it’s written ‘Jungkook — World’s Best Chocolatier’.    “I found an engraving place. Took ten minutes. It’s nothing. But see? I can be thoughtful. Sometimes…”   You pause. There’s silence so you look at him to gauge his reaction. His face is blank, hard to read. Damn. You had second thoughts in the moment but you didn’t think he would hate it this muc—   Suddenly, you’re being hugged.   Jungkook has his arms wrapped around your shoulders, and he pushes you into his chest. “I fucking love it, you witch.”   You smile, a rush of air leaving your nose. “Glad you like it, grinch.”   He muses that you’re the most softhearted witch on the planet.   Jungkook can’t yet pinpoint the reason why, but he knows without a doubt that this is the warmest Christmas he’s had.

[starlitsummermoon]

Nobunaga X MC - The Konpeito Trail

Requested by anon for my Valentine’s Day Request Prompt. They wished to break up the thirst and asked for FLUFF, but I’m still going to tag @phantomlover04 and @mochiiswan who requested the NSFW option. Do not fret, I’m still going to post that one, but I’d thought you’d like to read this as Nobunaga fans ^^ Speaking of Nobunaga fans @oh-my-otome

Marching through the halls of Azuchi castle, Hideyoshi struggled to keep up with Lord Nobunaga as he headed down to the chatelaine’s room. With morning rays lighting his way, his heavy footsteps repelled any nearby staff as they scurried away, steering clear of his rampage.

“My lord,” Hideyoshi beckoned, “there’s too much we need to do today. Can’t this wait?”

“It’s been three days since I’ve seen Kikue,” Nobunaga grunted as he turned the corner, “She’s avoiding me and I’m going to discover her reasoning immediately!”

Swinging her sliding door open without announcing himself, Nobunaga entered her room, eyeing down every object in sight before calling for her, “Kikue!”

“The room is empty, my lord,” Hideyoshi stated, standing just outside of her room, experiencing the silence it offered. “I haven’t seen her these last few days myself, but I did hear that she was busy with a project.”

“I assigned her no such thing,” scoffed Nobunaga, flicking his haori as he turned on his heel. “Find her.”

“Of course, my lord,” his vassal straightened his posture, bracing himself for any violent impact, “but we have much to do today before it gets dark. We need to get started if—”

“Sounds like the perfect task for you, Hideyoshi,” Nobunaga smiled devilishly as he walked passed him, continuing down the hall, “I’m trusting you to complete my work for the day while I search for Kikue.”

Sliding her door shut, Hideyoshi sighed with his head hung low as he muttered to himself, “I did my best, Kikue, but our Lord is persistent.”

Peeking his nose in every room he came upon, startling random staff with questions of his beloved Kikue, all of whom had no valuable information. The lack of leads fueled his frustration and sparked concern, a terrible mix for this warlord.

‘Why would she avoid me?’ he pondered, settling in his tenshu to relax for a moment, rattling his brain for clues. ‘I haven’t said anything that might have upset her. In fact, the last I saw her, she was begging me for more as I—’

“My lord,” Mitsuhide interrupted his train of thought as he entered his room, “is now a bad time?” He knew it was as he watched the strain on his lord’s face.

“Mitsuhide! Perfect timing!” Nobunaga jeered, motioning his vassal to come closer. “I have need of your mental library of information.”

“Of course,” smirked Mitsuhide as he took a place on the floor, ready for whatever was about to be thrown his way.

“Tell me, what do you know of Kikue’s current whereabouts?”

“Ah, yes. Rumors have been fluttering around this morning about your terrible interrogating skills, demanding information on our precious chatelaine. Truly, my lord, I must ask you perform only what you excel at.”

“Do you know anything? I have reason to believe she’s not in the castle.”

“True, my lord. Word on the wind is that Kikue has been busy gathering various objects as of late, one would assume a task or a project of her own desire.”

“Various objects? Such as?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know all of the things she’s gathered. From what I’ve learned, she’s ordered good from a local merchant, but I did see her leaving Ieyasu’s manor with a rather large futon, or perhaps a blanket, just yesterday.”

“Right,” Nobunaga stood from his seat, a sparkle of motivation in his eyes as his infamous victory-grin spread across his lips. “Once again, you have been most useful, Mitsuhide. I must be off to see Ieyasu, he must know more about this.”

“Good luck, my lord,” Mitsuhide stood up, reaching into a small pouch at his waist, “Here, take this. It’ll cheer you up before you scare away all the castle staff.” Holding out his open palm, Nobunaga watched his trusted friend drop a small piece of konpeito into his possession. Pleased to receive his favorite treat, he wasted no time popping it into his mouth before exiting the room, heading to Ieyasu’s manor.

“Can’t someone work for five minutes without being bothered,” Ieyasu grumbled, refusing to look up from his paperwork as Nobunaga stood before him. He had hoped that if he ignored him, he would simply leave, but that wasn’t going to happen until this warlord got the information he desired.

“I was told by a reliable source that Kikue was here just yesterday,” Nobunaga glared down, watching Ieyasu’s busy brush at work. “I demand to know why!”

“She needed a large blanket,” Ieyasu sighed, reapplying his brush on the inkstone, “I had a few, so I lent her one so she would leave faster. I don’t care why she needed one, so I didn’t ask.”

“Damn,” Nobunaga spat, rubbing his chin in thought, “what would she need a blanket for? She has plenty for her room.”

“If it makes you leave, I heard her say she needed to see Masamune and Mitsunari when she left,” Ieyasu finally looked up, his brow furrowed with irritation, “maybe she’s scouting for someone not so over-reactive.”

Ignoring his comment, Nobunaga flicked his haori as he turned on his heel, newfound confidence filling his chest as he loudly proclaimed, “Then I’m off to find Masamune!”

“Here.”

Turning back, Nobunaga caught a small object that was thrown from Ieyasu’s hand. It was a small piece of konpeito, his favorite. Before he could say anything, the prickly pineapple spoke.

“Take that as payment for leaving me alone.”

‘First Mitsuhide, now Ieyasu,’ Nobunaga pondered, ‘Hideyoshi probably gave it to them so I couldn’t have any!’

Asking around, it was discovered that Masamune and Mitsunari were back at Azuchi going over war tactics. Bee-lining to their location, both warlords were a bit surprised to find Nobunaga demanding information from them.

“Geez,” Masamune growled, taking a bowl of food from his tray, “and I thought Hideyoshi was annoying.” While he slurped his hand-made noodles, Mitsunari set down his book to answer Nobunaga.

“Kikue was here this morning,” his angelic smile tried to smooth the ruffled fur of the sixth demon king of heaven as he removed his spectacles, “So I can’t imagine she’s that far away.”

“Did she ask for anything?” Nobunaga eyed his warlords suspiciously, trying to kill Masamune with his eyesight as his loud slurping started to drown out their conversation, so he spoke louder. “Anything at all, Mitsunari?!”

“Yes, my lord!” Mitsunari shouted over the one-eyed dragon’s eating habits. “Kikue asked Masamune to coof er um—”

“Try this, Mitsunari, made it myself!” Masamune interrupted, shoving a rice ball in Mitsunari’s face, nearly choking the man, “Nope, the lass didn’t need anything! She was just dropping by to get away from her overbearing tasks!”

“My lord,” Mitsunari managed to scarf down the rice ball, “Kikue just had a few questions about Azuchi’s geography. I was more than happy to oblige.”

“I see,” Nobunaga sighed with relief, “Do you know where she was planning to go? She’s not in the castle.”

“The lass needed to go to the village,” Masamune stated, slurping more noodles, “why don’t you have a bite? You look worn out from all the running around you’ve been doing.”

“Yes, some of the staff look worried,” Mitsunari picked up a plate of his food, “you can have some of mine, my Lord. I’m not at all hungry.”

Taking the plate in his hands, Nobunaga examined the delicious smelling food, noticing a piece of konpeito sitting on the edge of it. Plucking it off the plate, he eyed it suspiciously as he began to contemplate a new hiding place for his goods.

“No you don’t!” Masamune snatched the plate from Nobunaga’s hands, shoving it in Mitsunari’s hands. “You wouldn’t know hunger if it was gnawing on your ass and it’s my job to make sure you don’t starve to death, idiot!”

Nobunaga felt a small rumbling in his stomach, salivating from the smell of the delicious food, but finding Kikue was more important. Leaving the two to their bickering, he headed towards the village.

As the sun was setting low, tinting the sky with a vibrant orange, Lord Nobunaga scoured the crowds for his beloved Kikue. As lanterns lit the streets, concern settled in his chest, worried he wasn’t going to find her before darkness took over completely.

“My lord? What are you doing out?”

Looking over by a tea shop, Nobunaga spotted Hideyoshi enjoying some dumplings and a hot cup of tea, waving for his lord to come over.

“Have you had any lucky finding—”

“Why are you wasting time out here, Hideyoshi? Have you completed all of my tasks?”

“Yes, my lord, I have! You’ll be happy to know—”

“How dare you take my konpeito and give it to everyone. You will be punished for this.”

Blinking in confusion, Hideyoshi tried to compose himself as he stared at his lord who was about to take his hell-bent rage on him. Clearing his throat, he pulled out a piece of the said konpeito out of his pouch, eyeing it carefully.

“Forgive me, my lord, but it wasn’t me who took your konpeito.”

“Then who—”

“Before we get into details, my lord, I’ve spotted Kikue.”

“Where?!”

“She was headed towards the tall hill just north of Azuchi. I asked her to wait for you, but she refused.”

Taking off in a run, Nobunaga headed towards the hill his vassal spoke of. He knew exactly where it was, he had taken Kikue there before. Questions ran through his mind faster than his feet could carry him, but he waited to find her before any left his lips.

As he approached the foot of the grassy hill, he spotted a person atop the mound. Hiking up, he felt his heart pound ferociously into his ribs from anticipation, excitement, and anger.

“KIKUE!” he shouted as he came within distance, his voice booming into the trees below, causing birds to take flight. “I DEMAND to know… what you’re doing.” Sitting atop a neatly placed blanket, Kikue beamed up at Nobunaga with a lantern lighting up the ground around her, revealing a tray of neatly prepared food. Her smile melted away any rage threatening to build up.

Standing up from her spot, she flung her arms around his neck, locking him in a warming embrace. He instinctively wrapped his arms around her waist, taking in her comforting aroma as he nuzzled his face into the crook of her neck.

“I’m so happy you made it on time,” Kikue whispered, kissing the soft skin below his ear before he gently pulled her off.

“I don’t understand,” Nobunaga didn’t recognize his own voice as it dared on the edge of desperation, “Kikue?”

“This wasn’t supposed to be as hectic as it has been,” she smiled nervously as she sat back in her seat, gesturing for him to sit next to her. For the first time in years, he followed someone else’s command, taking the motioned spot, keeping his eyes affixed to her as he awaited her explanation, “and I’m sorry for being away from you for so long.”

“Why?” Nobunaga pleaded sternly, pulling his beloved Kikue into his lap, locking her into his embrace as if she was going to run away and never come back.

“You see,” grabbing a small bag next to her, she began to pull out various goods, such as cups and a bottle of sake and chopsticks, “in my time, there’s a holiday called Valentine’s Day. On this day, couples express their love to each other, sometimes in eccentric ways. That day is today, and I wanted it to be special for the both of us. So, I’ve been spending these last few days, getting this sake, asking for help from Masamune, Mitsunari, even Ieyasu. I gave them a list of instructions, basically leading you to me, here, by today’s end. I asked them to give you a piece of konpeito after they talked to you, hoping you‘d get the hint.”

“Hideyoshi and Mitsuhide—”

“They did their part well! I’m surprised Hideyoshi just didn’t break down and carry you here himself!” Kikue giggled at the thought of a panicked Hideyoshi, in tears, as he carried Nobunaga and spoiling the surprise. Glancing down at the setup, Nobunaga looked back down at his smiling Kikue.

“All of this, to celebrate our love?” he questioned, picking up the cup of sake she had poured for him.

“Yes, I asked Masamune to help me prepare a few of your favorites,” she explained picking up a steaming dumpling, holding it up to him, “I thought it would be romantic to have a private dinner under the stars.” Her cheeks turned pink as she waited for him to respond the way she expected him to, but he didn’t.

Instead of eating the dumpling, Nobunaga pushed his face passed her hand, capturing her in a heated kiss. The sweet nectar of her lips set his chest ablaze, moaning as he enjoyed his favorite delight. As their kiss deepened, he forgot all worry and stress he had experienced all day.

“Kikue,” he moaned through a breath. “Please—”

“I love you,” she whimpered, still struggling to hold up the dumpling, still ready to be devoured, just as she was.

“Don’t ever take my konpeito,” he chuckled, pulling her bottom lip with his teeth. She giggled at his serious demand, pulling out a small container from the bag.

“Never fear, my darling, I’ve got plenty more, just for you!”

[adeletandocblog]

  “Concepts and Theories on PHYSICAL, SEXUAL, and EMOTIONAL SELF”

Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that                                                            matter 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MgpBvCtsZPc

The problem isn’t with your body, the problem is  what you think of it...                                 and what you think of yourself

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s6779PxqkCo&t=13s

Feel the feeling but don’t become the emotion. Witness it.  Allow it.                                                         Release it.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fcmsUnOy9QY&t=2s

"HOW CAN I GROW AS A PERSON, IN CONTEXT OF THESE ASPECTS              EMOTIONAL SELF, PHYSICAL SELF, SEXUAL SELF ?"

There may come a period in your life when your emotions have been depleted, and you need to find ways to deal with stimulate yourself so you can continue having a nice presence. Exactly when you are truly exhausted, it is difficult to finish anything. So, here are a couple of clues to help me reeenergize my excited being. to begin with, I recognize where I am. all in all have change times in my day to day existence, it will in general be hard to see what is genuinely going on. it very well may be tendency isolated from my investigations, or possibly I mentally exhausted, which is an abnormal excited experience. I Enjoy a respite. It's possible me just need a staycation for several days or a couple of months to permit things to settle or discover an answer for my issues. People who don't take trips will as a rule wear out, so I extra my self from that torture by taking a rest when I need to, whether or not I don't for the most part accept that I do. Calm myself. Whatever self-calming methods I have learned or used previously, at this moment is an ideal occasion to wipe them off and start my cycle again. Building eager strength requires step by step work out, much equivalent to building real strength. Whether or not I contemplate step by step, or journal, or simply have a quiet cup of wine, it will help with stimulating me. and Get an all out physical. There may be a genuine motivation to my enthusiastic weariness, and I recommend get a clinical pro to investigate. Every so often the encouragement from an approved proficient is all my need to start getting my solidarity back. Have a go at something different. It has been shown that doing new things I grows my relationship with life and those close to me. If I have never been appreciating nature, by and by may be a respectable an ideal occasion to rest under the stars and agreeable with nature. Essentially assessing my bowl once-over will empower me to pick what encounter me that need to take. Quiet myself. Whatever self-soothing frameworks I have learned or utilized beforehand, right now is an ideal event to clear them off and start my cycle once more. Building energetic strength requires bit by bit work out, much identical to building authentic strength. Regardless of whether I think about bit by bit, or diary, or essentially have a calm cup of wine, it will help with engaging me. Make an effort not to race through this, anyway give yourself a few days to make an absolute overview. I also record what is working for me in my life. Also list my opinion about what my personality is: my legitimate assertions. Differentiation my anxiety list and my summary of what's working, and in a perfect world the balance is on the side of my self. If not, by then I use what I have on the extraordinary overview to get the worry list. Lastly, I Make some bearing. A portion of the time, when I am not tendency my self, it may require an outside perspective to give me the information I need to take an action or to stop achieving something that is finished benefitting me. It will in general be hard to see that in spite of the way that I may worship something, it presumably won't be gainful for me starting at now.

 Growing up genuinely alludes to an individual's actual development like expanded tallness, strength, and wellbeing. It can likewise allude to the advancement of your mind. As individual, I grow up genuinely by doing this things. To start with, I do actual activities. this implies that a sound body implies a solid psyche, customary exercise has a positive impact our mind work. The cerebrum takes in supplements from the blood, and actual exercise builds blood stream to the mind, which makes the mind more beneficial. Actual exercise is basic for improving mental force. Second, I Eat well nourishments. Invest some energy to look at which sorts of nourishments bring me up and which food sources cut down. Making an eating routine arrangement can cause me to feel great, and gives me self-appreciation improvement. This will help my feeling of progress. Improve rest and take naps.I get as much rest as I need, around seven or eight hours, consistently. While resting soundly doesn't ensure great wellbeing, it causes me to keep up numerous fundamental capacities. Maybe in particular, rest encourages me recuperate from the mileage of every day life. Significant recuperating capacities in the body, for example, tissue fix, muscle and mental development happen only during rest. I avoid using drugs and alcohol.because utilizing cigarettes, liquor, and illicit medications harms my psychological and actual wellbeing. Diminishing mental and actual steadiness produces "bogus" feelings. also, I beverage a great deal of water to evade lack of hydration, It can be hard to make sure to drink enough water, particularly when the choice of pop or squeeze is available. Notwithstanding, it's unbelievably imperative to keep my self hydrated. Haul around a water bottle with me and fill it on the customary. I'll see enhancements in my skin, energy levels, and by and large constitution. Quit contrasting my development and appearance and that of others. my face, stature, weight. are not same or won't be same later on. It's smarter to contrast yourself and your past self. That is the reasonable activity. Be straightforward and tasteful in my design. I don't have to follow the pattern. I Wear what fits in me and what I feel looks great on me. Being inside a dress that fits me will give cultivate an extraordinary certainty. I additionally Spend time for prepping. Dazzle my self. At the point when I look in the mirror ensure that I'll have the option to applaud my self. I take part in any movement that I love to do as it will give my inward fulfillment which is generally significant. what's more, attempt to experiment ordinarily for understanding my latent capacity and boosting assurance. I Surrounded myself with sure and fiery individuals who become a wellspring of motivation for me. I Spend some time with nature and oranimals. An I figure out how to cherish my self and individuals who really thinks about me. Ultimately, I Laugh and SMILE. Grin causes me to feel great right now. What's more, giggle it lit up the climate around me with fun and amusement.

In brain research, the expression "self" alludes to an abstract encounter we have of what our identity is. It seems like a reasonable element, that is alive and changable, yet remains the equivalent over the long run. to be in contact with my sexual self is to have the option to relinquish a portion of the uncertainties I have about myself, likewise let loose any restraints I may have that doesn't let me appreciate all of lifes pleasures.how to turn out to be so. figure out how to cherish myself inside and out,be honest with myself and in the event that I have an accomplice I don't be reluctant to show them what I like and dont open to various thoughts. I simply be consistent with myself. I additionally Focus on foreplay Straightforward way of life changes can assist with improving erectile brokenness and lessen tension. since Some men accept that entrance is the most significant, even the characterizing part of sex. In any case, numerous who experience erectile brokenness might be cheered to discover that they needn't bother with an erection to satisfy their accomplices. Indeed, erectile brokenness can even be a motivating force to attempt new techniques that turn out better for their accomplice. Thus, Foreplay can incorporate contacting, kissing, and oral sex. Making foreplay last can improve the sexual experience for everybody included. I attempt the beginning stop strategy Men who need to last more during intercourse can attempt the beginning stop technique.To utilize this method, stop sexual action each time discharge feels fast approaching. Inhale profoundly and start again gradually, at that point stop to postpone discharge however long attractive. also, this strategy can prepare the body to hold off discharge and help a man to feel more good with not discharging, in any event, during serious sexual movement. also, I will have a go at something new Sexual joy flourishes in a climate of energy and fervor. Thus, If an individual has been with one accomplice for quite a while, sex can start to feel schedule, and it might appear to be progressively hard to feel energized, stay centered, or please the accomplice. It might assist with attempting another sexual movement or position or to have intercourse in an alternate area. Likewise, discussing sexual dreams can make sex additionally energizing. Likewise, it can assist with exploring new territory with an accomplice outside the room, for example, cooking together, kayaking or climbing, setting off to a historical center, seeing another band and attempting another game. I will deal with my nervousness and stress. Tension and stress can make it difficult to get or keep up an erection. These emotions can likewise divert individuals from sexual closeness. In the event that a man feels on edge about how he will perform explicitly, he may feel less amped up for sex and less drew in during it. Thus, there are Strategies for overseeing nervousness and stress remember the centering more for actual sensations than sexual performance,exercising ,getting more rest, attempting to improve connections, reflecting, investing more energy in a most loved interest ,going to treatment and last taking mental prescriptions. I open correspondence. Talking openly can altogether improve sexual encounters. In the event that issues identified with sex have made strain or stress, it is ideal to carry this up with an accomplice. Cooperating on an answer can assist a man with feeling less confined and address any worry or blame. An accomplice might have the option to ease fears about sexual brokenness, and they may have reasonable proposals. I will likewise rehearse care. since care is the act of getting more mindful right now. It is a famous type of contemplation for tenderfoots, and it might improve sexual capacity. The care and contemplation it can likewise assist with overseeing pressure disconnected to sexual action. This can by implication address sexual brokenness and improve a man's capacity to center at the time.