#My idea was to bake more in like a month but bc he brought it up unprovoked ... Yeah ok im probably gonna bake them today or tomorrow lol | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

chaoticminhos · 4 years

Text

maybe i do

--”even at a young age, he knew he wouldn’t be able to choose who he married, but that didn’t stop him from hoping that one day, maybe, you would at least be an option.so imagine his excitement when you were. and then imagine his pain when you told him you wished you were anything but.”

pairing: lee know x reader

genre: angst, fluff, a smut scene

warnings: none

word count: 16.3k

a/n: arraigned marriage with minho was requested, as was breeding/pregnancy kink with him :) I didn’t make the pregnancy kink a big part bc the smut scene is small but i hope you like it anyway, anon!! I can always write a separate fic, too. there’s never too many minho fics <3

eighteen. that’s when you were expected to choose a partner. you’d just turned of age, and as an adult, you were now supposed to be getting ready to take the throne. with a partner, of course.

a very specific partner, specific to the point that all choice given to you to make you feel like you were in control meant absolutely nothing.

you needed to find a man, first of all. a single man, one that wasn’t already set to be married. he had to have power, at least as much or more power than you had. he needed to have wealth. you needed to find yourself a handsome, wealthy prince from one of your neighboring kingdoms, and your parents had to like him. as much as your parents said you were in full control of choosing your suitor, you knew you were not the one making the calls. not a single one of them.

there was only one person who matched all of these criteria. there was only one boy you whose name would be on your list of potential suitors and your parents knew it just as well as you did.

you could try just simply not writing lee minhos name down, not selecting a husband at all, but it would be futile. eventually, if you hadn’t selected a worthy candidate to marry, one would be decided for you.

without a doubt, minho would be the one selected, whether you wrote it down or your parents signed his name for you.

you didn’t have anything against minho specifically. he was no more intolerable than any of the other royal children you’d met. if anything, he was actually easier to be around. it’s just that you were expected to be fond of him.

you were ordered by your parents to love him, and that in itself made you want to despise him.

along with your side of the selection, minho also had to choose you. if he didn’t, you would just have to wait until someone else came along. it wasn’t just you looking for a partner, he was in search as well. the difference was that he had been in search for nearly a year and he had willingly selected you.

minho wasn’t the first in line to be king of his home kingdom, his oldest brother was. he was already married and set to be crowned in the coming months. instead, if minho ever wanted to be a king, he needed to find a woman to marry who was set to become queen.

luckily for him, you were the oldest daughter in a family that had no sons.

as the eldest sibling in a family of no boys, you were in line to lead. but according to the rules, you couldn’t lead without a man to stand beside.

in all logic, minho had to choose you just as much as you needed to choose him. of course, if both of you resented each other, the wedding could be held off until you resolved the conflict. or even cancelled. you might be given a few more years of freedom before another man who fits your parents wants walks into their life or ages old enough to marry.

much to your dismay, however, minho did choose you. even before it was brought to his attention that he was your only option, that you would remain single for an unknown amount of time unless he married you, minho chose you. the second he noticed your name on the list of possible brides, which was much longer than your list of possible husbands, he had his mind set on you.

and after finding out that you had no one to choose but him, minho was sure he was going to get what he wanted.

you clenched your jaw and took your place at the table, glancing at the seat beside you that had been saved for minho.

“we want you two to get to know each other more before the wedding,” your mother said, “and he’s such a sweet boy.”

“i haven’t even chosen him as my fiancé yet, mom.”

she sent you an apologetic smile, both of you knew it didn’t matter what you chose.

you sat biting your lip and playing with the frills on your dress for quite some time before minho and his parents entered the room, escorted by four of the palace guards.

he looked different than when you had last seen him. taller. it had only been a year or so, but you could clearly see changes. his jaw line was more defined and he had finally learned how to tie a tie so it wasn’t crooked. his eyes, though. even from across the room, you could see that his eyes were the same.

you smiled and sent a small wave towards one of the guards as they turned to leave. minho must have thought you were waving at him, and he waved back, a huge smile plastered on his pretty lips.

you were aware that he had already put your name down as his official choice of brides, practically robbing you of any chance you had of not being forced into marriage, and you knew he was probably equally aware that you had yet to write down his name, even though it was the only one you had.

you held back a laugh at minho waving at you, not having the heart to tell him you were waving to felix and not him as he made his way around the table and to you. you let yourself smile though. no matter how much you wanted him to hate you as much as you hated the idea of marrying him, you couldn’t be downright rude. not when the parents were watching, at least.

you stood to greet him, sending your now-forced smile in his direction. you went to shake his hand, but instead, he pulled you into a tight hug. it was short, so short that you didn’t have the time to return the hug, not that you would have wanted to.

you sat back down and looked up to greet his parents sitting across from the two of you on your big table. your own parents were sat on the ends of the table, your father to your left and mother to your right. neither your nor minhos siblings were present.

there was no time for conversation before the cook was bringing out the food. it was nothing fancy, per your request. he brought all of the food out at once, minus the desert, instead of in different courses.

you half expected minho to say something about the way the meal was brought out in a way that wasn’t considered the most elegant, but he didn’t. instead, his eyes went wide as he spotted the roasted chicken set down in the middle of the table.

his mother observed his behavior and laughed, “y/n, how did you know minho’s favorite food? i don’t remember sending a letter containing his favorites.”

you frowned slightly, “i didn’t, i just chose my favorite.”

at your words, your mothers shared a glance, one that said, “they’re perfect for each other.”

your father was the next to speak, “minho, why don’t you cut the chicken for us.”

once again you anticipated some sort of reaction out of the boy. he had been asked to cut the chicken when there were waiters standing all around that could most likely do it much neater than he could. it was another thing you had specifically requested to happen in order to judge his reaction. but again, to your surprise, he smiled, stood up, and began to cut even strips off of it, passing them out around the table.

he turned to you, “how much do you want?”

you ignored the softness in his voice, one that you could see yourself growing fond of if you didn’t resent the idea of loving him so much already.

“i can get my own.”

he didn’t even flinch at your response, chuckling as he cut a piece off of the bird and guided it to your plate. you had to keep yourself from pouting as you looked down at it. he’d given you just as much as you wanted.

he was making it very difficult to keep a bitter attitude towards him when he was doing everything right. how were you supposed to convince your parents he would be a terrible husband when acted like the perfect one?

after serving himself, minho reclaimed his seat beside you. you served yourself to the rest of the food as it was passed around, handing the bowls to minho when you were finished. you took notice of the way he chose food. he took a little of everything, as if he wanted to taste all of the foods you had requested to be made for his visit. you asked him about it.

“trying everything, minho?”

you dropped his formality. you should have predicted that he would take it as a sign that you were comfortable with him rather than a petty disrespect in the way you’d meant.

he nodded, sending a soft smile towards you, “i assume your chose all your favorites, princess, so i want to try them all.”

you would have blushed if someone you were fond of said it, but you weren’t blushing. no, the heat in your face was just there because the room was warm from all of the bodies and hot food.

one of the waiters came around with a bottle of wine and some glasses, offering one to everyone at the table. of course, everyone accepted, it was impolite not to, but you couldn’t help but notice that minho didn’t touch his glass as often as the rest of you.

by the time you were smiling up at the waiter as he poured you a second glass, minho still had yet to finish even half of his first.

you ate in casual conversation until all of you had your fill. the table was slowly cleared and the meals were replaced with a small array of sweets.

minho nudged you, pointing at one of the trays.

“what’s this?”

you were caught off guard by his voice. it was soft, timid, almost like he was embarrassed that he didn’t know what the dessert was.

“pumpkin bars.”

he nodded, “are they your favorite?”

you shrugged, shaking your head, “kinda. they’re not my favorite to eat, but i love baking them.”

his eyes widened, “you made these?”

you shook your head again, a small laugh leaving your lips. as much as you tried to stay short and serious with him, you couldn’t.

“no, but i know how.”

he paused for a moment as his eyes scanned the table before he turned to you once more, “can you teach me?”

your brows furrowed, “to make pumpkin bars?”

he nodded.

never mind. you definitely could be short with him.

what was he playing at? why was he behaving exactly in the way you’d want him to in every obstacle you threw at him? he couldn’t actually be that good. first, he wasn’t offset by the untraditionally casual meal or being asked to serve the main dish himself, and now he was showing interest in something you liked to do. something that was considered low level, something that a princess should never have to do. and now he was asking if you would show him how?

no, he had to be faking. any walls that had been broken down by his timid voice and him making you laugh were thrown back up.

“you don’t want to bake.”

it was his turn to frown.

he reached out to stop your arm as you went to grab a slice of pie.

“what do you mean? yes i do.”

you pulled your wrist from his grip, speaking lowly so only he would hear.

“well i don’t want to teach you.”

you missed the expression that crossed his face as you reached across the table to grab the dessert you wanted.

he didn’t say anything more. he just reached for the pie spatula as you went to set it down. his fingers grazed yours as he took the tool from your hand and you were violently aware of it, of how his fingers against your skin seemed to send a shock through your body.

he set a piece on his plate and took a bite, glancing at you. you hadn’t even registered that you had been watching him until he did.

“how is it?”

he nodded in approval, “it’s good. do you know how to make pies, too?”

“yes. i can make most every dessert our cooks can.”

he held your gaze as he smiled at you.

you frowned, averting your eyes from his and back to your plate, “what?”

“nothing.” he began, “i just think it’s interesting that you’re so into baking now. last time we spoke you were crazy about the gardens.”

you shrugged, “who says i can’t love both?”

there was a pause before, to your surprise, you kept the conversation going.

“do you still practice archery?”

he nodded, swallowing a bite of his pie before responding.

“i can out shoot almost all of our archers.”

you raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing at your lips, “who says they’re not letting you win?”

he playfully shoved you and you laughed.

“fine, then you go against me.”

you shook your head, “anyone could beat me in archery.”

he seemed to think for a moment before softly nudging you, “i could give you some tips?”

you almost found yourself accepting his offer before you caught yourself. you were not supposed to be enjoying his company.

“i don’t need your help. if i wanted to learn i would have one of my guards teach me.”

the way his expression fell made something in your chest ache and you hoped his parents hadn’t heard the remark. you felt bad for a moment, it wasn’t his fault that you were being forced to marry him.

then a thought crossed your mind- it kind of was.

he played by their rules and pretended to be excited to marry you, but that’s not what he wanted. he knew the perks that came along with marrying you. it wasn’t you he was excited for, it was the power and status that came along with marrying you. how could he be excited to marry you when he barely knew you? he couldn’t. all he wanted was to be king, and you gave him that option. he didn’t try to fight it. maybe if he fought it like you did, you wouldn’t be forced into it. or at least not so soon.

the fact that his cooperation was only securing your unwanted future was enough to wipe that sting from your chest.

you finished the rest of your dessert in silence, listening in on your parents conversations and trying not to scream at every mention of the upcoming wedding you didn’t want to have.

“has he picked out a ring yet?”

“no,” his mother responded, “he wanted to get to know her better first. he wants it to be perfect.”

you finished your food and pushed the plate away from you, letting the waiters know they could collect it. all of the adults were already done eating. minho finished soon after, having taken longer as he savored every bite. this left the table without food and full of conversation.

minho only spoke again when your mother addressed him.

“is there a specific type of flower you want at the ceremony?”

he spoke softly, kindly. you could see exactly why your mother loved him so much. even without him being the only choice, he probably would have been her first choice for you.

“yes. i love lilies.”

you took a deep breath to keep yourself from blowing up, it couldn’t be a coincidence that he kept having the same favorites as you. someone told him so he could better bond with you.

your mom knew how badly you didn’t want this wedding to happen, she probably send his family a letter of ways to win your favor.

“it would be the perfect time to have the ceremony outside,” minho’s mother gushed, “the green suits them both.”

your dad laughed, “every color suits our y/n.”

“what color were you thinking, dear?” your mother turned to you.

your eyes shot to her. you were about to snap that you didn’t care about colors because you hoped there would be no wedding to coordinate colors to, but minhos parents were in the room. you couldn’t risk upsetting them and throwing off the good relationship your kingdoms had simply because you didn’t want to marry their son.

cutting off the marriage would be one thing. if it was mutual, it wouldn’t harm any relationships between the kingdoms. it would just stall your transition to power until you were forced against another possible husband. insulting him in front of his parents, however, might.

instead, you opted to look over at minho and pull a false smile onto your features.

“i think purple would suit him well.”

his parents didn’t catch the falseness of your cheerful tone or the way the smile on your lips was obviously forced, but minho did.

“oh, you’re so right!”

you asked one of the servants for the time and stood up.

“mom, i need to water my plants. may i?”

she nodded gesturing to the boy beside you, “take minho with you.”

you nodded, turning to leave the room without waiting for him. you heard your mother mutter something about your own little garden that you refused to let the staff tend for instead of doing it yourself.

minho caught up as you were partly down the hallway.

“y/n, is something wrong?”

you stopped, nearly causing him to crash into you.

“is something wrong? minho, this whole thing is wrong.”

he frowned, following again as you made your way to the garden entrance, “what do you mean?”

you opened the door to the garden a little harsher than you probably needed to and began filling a watering jug, “people should be able to fall in love before marriage.”

he shrugged, “there’s plenty of time for you to fall in love with me before the ceremony.”

you sent a glare towards him, “i want to choose who i love, minho.”

“then choose me.”

you shook your head, choosing not to respond. he followed you across the garden and to a small, fenced off patch that he assumed to be your personal garden.

you could feel his eyes on you as you went around and checked the soil around each plant before watering the ones that needed it. he wasn’t saying anything, he was just watching you. you let him stand in silence.

he followed you back to the entrance where you sat your watering can down and to a small bench where he took his seat beside you.

you put some distance between the two of you when he sat down right next to you and he noticed, just as he had noticed every other less than loving way you’d reacted to each of his attempts to show affection.

his chest tightened, why did you hate him so much? he thought you two were on good terms. the last time you saw each other, you laughed and joked with him. what was different now? was the idea of marrying him really that bad?

maybe you were just nervous.

people handle nerves differently, he reminded himself, maybe yours just made you snappy. it wasn’t anything to worry about. plenty of people had second thoughts before their weddings. you just had to get used to him was all, since you hadn’t seen each other in so long. then you would go back to joking with him and your he happy to have him as your husband.

he was shaken out of his thoughts by your voice.

“you don’t drink much?” you were referring to the glass of wine he had barely finished during dinner.

he shook his head, “it makes my mind foggy.”

you chuckled. he liked the sound. somehow, it was sweeter knowing that it was because of him.

“isn’t that what alcohol is supposed to do?”

he smiled, “i guess. but i wanted to be able to see you clearly.”

something akin to butterflies woke up inside your stomach. you ignored them as you stood abruptly, heading immediately for the door. he followed you out of the garden and back to the dining room where your families were seated. they turned as you stepped through the door.

“mother, it’s getting late and they have a long ride home.”

minho said nothing, standing at your side like it’s where he belonged, once again too close for comfort.

his parents agreed, standing along with your parents and thanking them for having them over. his mother hugged you goodbye at the front door before stepping into a carriage with her husband and son.

you were thankful that minho hadn’t tried to hug you goodbye. or much worse, kiss you.

he spent the carriage ride home wishing he had.

it was only a matter of days before his family was visiting again. since minho would be living in your castle with you, your parents decided it was best to have him visit you again rather than you go to his kingdom.

“y/n, the lees will be here soon, get dressed!”

“i am dressed.”

“then get out here!”

you groaned and chan laughed beside you.

“stop laughing at my pain.” you scolded him, “i’ll have you fired from the guard.”

he laughed again, “you would never. who would protect you then?”

you grumbled as you straightened your dress and opened the door, “felix. woojin. seungmin. literally any of the other guards.”

he pouted, coming to stand next to you as you walked down the hallway and to the front where you would be greeting minho.

he was going to complain, but you cut him off when you saw minho and his family standing near the doorway.

“go join the others.” you told chan, “but be on watch. you might need to save minho from me if he acts like he was last time.”

chan laughed, heading to stand with the rest of the guards.

minho noticed the friendly interaction and smiled. he liked how you were always so nice to the servants. he noticed it during the meal too, when you smiled and joked with the waiter.

“sorry to keep you waiting.” you bowed politely to his parents.

you turned to minho, “hello.”

a big smile spread across his features, “hi again, my love.”

he had taken a risk with those being the first words out of his mouth. he thought that maybe seeing him again and time to adjust had gotten you used to the idea of him. he thought maybe your attitude would have changed towards him.

he was wrong. although you couldn’t make a point of showing it in front of his parents, he could see by the slight change in your eyes at the choice of the name that he was definitely wrong.

“would you kids leave the adults to talk for a while?” your mother spoke.

she placed one hand on your shoulder and the other on minho’s, “you can go wherever you’d like, just stay clear of your bedroom.”

your face flushed red and glared at your mom as minhos parents laughed. was she trying to embarrass you? did she think you’d laugh at the joke? it wasn’t funny.

knowing you wouldn’t last long without blowing up with teasing like that, you took a hold of minho’s hand and drug him away from your parents. you allowed him to walk beside you this time instead of rushing to be in front of him, but you dropped his hand practically as soon as you’d taken it.

he’d assumed the garden was your destination, so when you walked past the doorway to the giant greenhouse, he spoke up.

“where are we going?”

“i don’t know yet.”

you ended up at the base of a staircase that lead to the roof of the castle. without questioning you, he followed you up the stairs and to the open roof. you were immediately met with a burst of cold air, but the longer you stood in the wind, the easier it became to handle.

you followed minho as he made his way across the roof and towards the edge, throwing his legs over and sitting with them dangling down as he took in the view.

he probably expected to go sit with him, so you did. that in no way meant you were going to begin complying with everything, it just meant that you were choosing to be civil in that moment.

he noticed as you glanced back at the door you’d entered the roof from.

“what is it?”

“my mother must have told my guards not to follow us.”

he shrugged, “why would you need guards when you’re with me?”

you huffed, “in case i decide to bite your head off.”

he laughed at the remark, and even though you hadn’t intended it as a joke, you laughed along with him. something about his laugh made it impossible to sit there with a scowl on your face.

“tell me what’s so bad about me, then.”

a teasing grin spread across your face as you looked at him, “god, where do i start...”

he gestured for you to continue, but your mind ran blank. what exactly was so bad about him? the majority of your issues weren’t with him in specific.

then one thing popped into your mind like a big red flag.

“you’re forcing me into marriage.”

he frowned, “i don’t think so, not really. if i refused to marry you, you would simply wait another year or two as a princess until your parents were able to find another prince for you.” he paused, “in some ways, i actually think i’m saving you.”

“saving me?” you scoffed out.

“yes. from some creep you might be forced to marry instead of me if i decline as harshly as you are.”

“who says you’re not a creep, lee minho?”

his face morphed into faux offense, “my mother says i’m quite the gentleman, thank you very much.”

you let out a small chuckle before responding. he did have a point, you were going to be forced into a marriage eventually, whether it be this one or not. at least you knew him. was a couple extra years of freedom worth marrying someone you didn’t know at all? or would it be wisest to settle for minho?

either way, you still didn’t understand why you needed a man at all to lead.

“why can’t i just lead alone? i don’t need a king.”

“there’s two thrones for a reason.”

he saw the confusion across your face and continued.

“two leaders is safer than one. it requires compromise and thought, not just one person making the choices according to their opinion only.”

you nodded, and you hated how much his explanation of everything was making sense.

“it’s the same reason they make a king marry before taking the throne if they can help it.”

there was a short pause before he spoke again, “i mean, technically, if both of your parents died right now, there would be no option other than to send you to the throne alone. and as the queen, no one could tell you to get married. but unless you want to assassinate your parents,” he brought his hand to rest on top of yours, “you’re stuck with me.”

ignoring the searing heat of his skin touching yours, you narrowed your eyes up at him as you spoke.

“you make it tempting.”

he laughed again, and this time you had intended for it to be humorous.

it was cleared now why things were the way they were. it would have been so much easier if your parents took a second to explain it in the way minho had. he was very good with explaining things, a talent a good king needs to have.

maybe he wouldn’t be so bad to lead with.

still, you didn’t resent the situation any less than you had before understanding it.

you turned from the view of the mountains to find minho already staring back at you. it wasn’t until you noticed the way the sun framed his face that you noticed how quickly the sun had been setting, had you really been outside with him that long?

you traced the lines of his face with your eyes, admiring the way the sun sat on his skin as if it was made for the purpose.

you frowned in confusion as the shapes across his face began to grow, and before you could register it, his lips were only moments away from yours. you reacted quickly, thankful that he had paused to give you the option to do so.

he didn’t seem surprised as the palms of your hands connected to his chest, pushing him away from you.

you stood from the edge, dusting off your dress and motioning to the door.

“i’m not supposed to be outside at dark without my guards.”

you knew that that didn’t matter, your parents trusted minho to keep you safe, that’s the whole reason they didn’t feel the need to send guards with you in the first place. you figured he probably knew that too, but he didn’t comment on it. instead, he nodded, following you to the staircase and opening the door for you, walking with you around the castle as you looked for your parents.

you found them in the first place you looked, the lounge. you waited for a pause in their conversation before making yourself known.

“it’s getting dark, shall i ask for the carriage?”

your mother sent you a worried smile as your dad spoke.

“sweetheart, they’re staying the night. we’ll have a carriage sent to take king and queen lee home in the morning.

you frowned, glancing at minho. he shrugged.

“the king and queen? what about minho?”

“he’ll be living here from now on. he might as well get used to his new home.”

your face fell.

“what about my things?” minho questioned. he seemed much more calm about the news than you, but he didn’t seem to know any more about the situation.

his mother waved the question off, “i sent for some carriages with your things as soon as we made the decision for you to remain here. they’ve already arrived and are waiting to be unpacked.”

“where are they?” he questioned.

his mother laughed like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“your bedroom.”

“where is that?”

your dad cut in, “y/n can show you.”

that’s when it hit you- his bedroom was your bedroom. that’s why your mother had told you to stay clear of it. she had anticipated the conversation about minho staying and wanted the area to be clear if they chose to move his things in. your mother hadn’t meant it as a joke at all, she said it as an order.

trying to hide your frustration, you grabbed minho’s hand and turned to leave.

“we’ll start to unpack now!”

you ignored both your and his parents calls as you dragged him down the hallways and to your bedroom.

the first thing you noticed was that some of your personal items were being carried out of the door as you watched. things that made your bedroom yours. stacks of books you loved to read and even piles of papers containing words of your own were being handled by random personnel. not even your own guards, staff you had never met was handling your personal things. it would be one thing if it was chan or one of your friends moving things out, but it wasn’t. you hadn’t even seen chan or the rest of your guard since you greeted minho when he arrived.

their soul job was to protect you, and they had been relieved of duty while you were with minho, so why couldn’t they have been the ones to handle your things? it would still have upset you, obviously, but it would have been far less intrusive to have people you know and trust doing it.

you felt tears brimming in your eyes. your parents knew how much you valued privacy, and yet they let people you’d never even seen on the property handle everything you valued.

minho’s eyes were just as attached to the scene ahead of you until he heard a soft whimper leave your lips. immediately, he had his arms around you and your face buried in his chest.

you wanted to pull away, to shove him and curse at him for coming into your life like this, but instead, you gripped the fabric of his button up shirt and let him hold you close.

“i’m so sorry,” he whispered into your hair, “i didn’t know.”

and then he did something you would never have expected.

“excuse me!” he called, his authoritative voice echoing down the hallway, “you can stop now. put whatever is in your hands down and leave.”

the movers hesitated, not knowing whether or not to follow his commands yet, but they ended up obeying. he stopped one of the men as he moved to walk past the two of you, you still secure and crying into his chest.

“where did you put the things you moved?”

the worker gestured to the things in the hall outside your bedroom, “everything we moved is in this hallway, your royal highness.”

“and my things?”

“waiting for you further down the hall.”

he nodded and let the man leave before slowly pulling you off of him. he felt a squeeze in his heart as you looked up at him with red, tear filled eyes.

he led you into your room, “let’s get you to your bed.”

you let out a small sob at his words, “that’s not my bed.”

he was confused for a moment before it registered in his mind. they must have switched out your old bed in favor of a larger one to suit the both of you, even though the one you had before would have no doubt done the job fine. you’d probably had a queen at the smallest.

the longer minho held you, the less you wanted to push him away and blame him for everything that was happening.

he walked you over to the bed and sat you down, taking a seat beside you so you could remain attached to him.

he knew that it wasn’t him you found comfort in, but rather just a warm body to hug. still, having you so close to him felt so right, he couldn’t bring himself to care. it felt like you were finally responding to him like a woman should to her fiancé. you were letting him take care of you.

truth be told, if he could have scooped you up in his arms the day he first saw you after learning you were to be his wife a few days prior, he would have, and he never would have let go.

when he saw your name on the piece of paper handed to him, he didn’t even read the rest. even before opening the letter, your name had popped into his mind. he’d always had a childish crush on you. even at a young age, he knew he wouldn’t be able to choose who he married, but that didn’t stop him from hoping that one day, maybe, you would at least be an option.

so imagine his excitement when you were. and then imagine his pain when you told him you wished you were anything but.

as he moved you up the bed and snuggled himself in beside you before pulling the covers up to keep you warm, he wondered if maybe tonight would change that.

maybe you would realize that you liked the feeling of being in his arms, of having him hold you close. as your sniffles became softer and eventually stopped, he wondered if you’d realize that falling asleep next to him was something you could get used to.

because oh goodness, after falling asleep with you in his arms, even though the both of you were still in uncomfortable cloths and had fallen asleep upset, he didn’t ever want to go to bed without you again.

you were woken up only a little while after falling asleep to the sound of soft knocking on your door. minho stirred beside you and you both sat up to see who it was.

both of your mothers were standing in the doorway with adoration in their eyes at the sight in front of them.

“and here i thought you’d be upset over the room.” your mother cooed as she made her way into the room.

you shifted yourself away from minho and you could have sworn you heard a whine of complaint come from him as your body lost contact to his. or maybe it was you.

his mother approached the bed as well, taking hold of his collar and straightening it out.

“goodness, you two didn’t even bother to change into sleep clothes.”

minho responded before you could, “we hadn’t meant to fall asleep.”

“what time is it?” you added.

“not late,” your mother responded, “it was still only 10:30 when we headed up to check on you.”

you nodded, and as the sleep wore off, the anger kicked in. before you burst, you stood and ushered them out of the room.

“i’ll get changed now, then, and then we can organize and unpack a little tonight.”

“we can help!” his mother chimed.

before you could deny the offer, minho did.

“no mother, we want to set up our bedroom ourselves, please.”

happy with the response, she nodded and followed your mother out of the room and back to wherever your fathers were waiting.

minho stood from the bed and looked into your closet.

“it doesn’t look like any of my clothes are here yet, so i’ll leave you to change. i can find something in a box and i’ll find a place to change.”

you nodded as he walked out of the room, closing the door behind him.

you sat on the edge of your bed for a moment before standing up and grabbing the same sleep clothes you wore every night. they had already been washed in the morning and pressed dry, ready for you to use again.

you tried to undo the buttons on the back of your dress, but you couldn’t reach. chan had helped you do them earlier in the day. you reached your arm over the opposite shoulder in an attempt to reach the buttons, straining the fabric of the dress in a weird way. you heard the sound of stitches coming undone and pulled your arm back into a normal position, inspecting the place the noise had come from. sure enough, there were little pieces of thread hanging around a small tear in the arm of your dress.

defeated, you sat down on your bed and waited for minho to return. it wasn’t long before he did, signaling his presence with a couple soft knocks to the door. you called for him to come in and he did, pausing in surprise when he saw you still in the dress, your night clothes bundled in your hands.

“i can’t reach the buttons.”

he threw his head back in understanding, taking a few steps towards you as you turned your back to him, moving your hair out of the way of the buttons.

you didn’t know what you’d expected, but the gentle touch of his fingers against your neck as he undid the top button sent a shiver through you. you hoped he didn’t notice, but by the way his movements stopped for a split second before continuing, you knew he had.

he undid the buttons until there were none left, leaving the top half of your back exposed to him where your dress fell open. his eyes ghosted over your shoulder blades and the smooth skin of your back. he wanted to place his palm there, to feel the warmth of your skin in more than just the tips of his fingers. he actually might have, despite his best judgement, if you hadn’t spoke up.

“are you done?”

he muttered a soft word of confirmation as you turned to face him again, hands holding the fabric to your chest to pretend it from falling off.

he stared at you for a moment before reality seemed to flow back into his head.

“let me know when you’re done.”

you nodded, waiting until he pulled the door closed behind him to let the dress fall to the floor. you took your time changing. it felt nice to be alone. after a few minutes, though, an unexpected feeling built up in your chest. it was nice to be alone, but you missed minhos company. or maybe you just missed company.

that was it, you told yourself, you just missed having someone around. your resolve was not breaking this quickly. you were upset and frustrated with how things were going and he was just as good as anyone, except maybe chan, to keep you company.

you called out for him to come back in and he did, immediately taking the clothes you’d just changed out of and setting them in a bin outside your door where they would wait until someone came and took them for cleaning.

you followed him to the door, heading right for a pile of books that had been taken off of your personal bookshelf. luckily, they hadn’t moved the shelf out of your bedroom yet, so you only had the books to carry back in.

you did the same for a few other things, things that you couldn’t imagine not having in your room, before turning to minho.

“what do you want moved in next?” he asked.

“something of yours.”

he was shocked by your reply, almost as if he had expected you to return your bedroom to the way it was before he arrived and pretend his things didn’t exist.

sure, you didn’t like that you had to remove your things from your room to make room for his stuff, but there wasn’t anything you could do about it right then. it wasn’t your room anymore. it belonged to the both of you.

at least until you could convince your parents to cancel the wedding, that is. that was still the plan.

“uh, okay,” minho began down the hallway, scanning his things as he did. he finally settled on a pretty, dark wooded desk. it had drawers along the side and it looked very used. you were surprised his parents let him keep it with how old it looked. it must have been important to him.

he insisted that he could carry it alone, but eventually he let you help. it fit perfectly in the room, almost like it was meant to be there. you placed it a couple feet away from your own desk, which was a similar color. it was a similar build too, with drawers on the sides.

back in the hallway, minho sighed as he attempted to move a large bookcase of his.

“we can’t move this alone. it can wait until morning.”

you nodded, thought for a moment, and then spoke.

“there’s room on mine, if you want. we can put this in storage and you can put your books with mine. there’s no need for two bookcases in one room.”

he was slightly taken aback by your offer, but nodded. he liked that you were getting used to sharing. getting used to it being not just your room, but his too. maybe you had changed your mind about him already.

“okay,” he agreed, “then we can take some books in.”

you grumbled, “but only one load. then we’re done for tonight.”

he laughed, assuring you that it was the last load of the night and walking back to the bedroom beside you, books in hand.

you helped him organize the books on the shelf, interlocking them with yours when it looked best to do so. the bookshelf was still quite empty, but that was fine. you had more books somewhere in the hall that you hadn’t bothered to search for and he had more, too.

you sat down on the bed, still messed up from your little nap, and sighed, but you didn’t say anything.

instead, minho did. after a few minutes of surprisingly comfortable silence, he sat down beside you and spoke.

“why won’t you let me kiss you?”

you were surprised by the sudden question, “you only tried once.”

“you’d only push me away again if i tried another time.”

“you gave me the chance to push you away.”

“because i knew you would.”

“then why try?”

“because i want to kiss you. why don’t you want to kiss me?”

you faltered at the confidence in his words. sure, his earlier actions had made it clear he wanted to kiss you, he wouldn’t have tried to otherwise, but hearing him say it out loud felt different. it made it click in your mind that he meant it, that it was real.

“i don’t- i already told you.”

“no you didn’t.”

“yes, i did.” you insisted, “i told you. i don’t want to be in a relationship that’s forced.”

and there it was. despite the progress he thought he’d made with you, there it was. that same angry, bitter attitude towards whatever relationship you two had.

he shoved the disappointment down his throat and replied, “then don’t force it. i’m not.”

he said it casually, just like he said and did everything else he did around you. his laid back demeanor gave the illusion that maybe his words were honest. maybe he wasn’t forcing anything he felt for you, maybe he genuinely did look forward to the wedding, and not only for the power. you shoved the thought from your mind, looking forward to marrying you and looking forward to taking control of your kingdom were not the same thing.

as had become common for you, you chose not to respond, instead scooting yourself along the bed until you had your head on a pillow, pulling the blankets over yourself. you felt the bed shift as he did the same, reaching out to shut off any lights in the room before crawling under the same blankets as you.

as badly as he wanted to pull you close to his chest and hold you while he fell asleep like he had hours before, he knew he couldn’t. everything in the way you were responding to him now told him that you would just push him away, maybe even change your mind about sleeping in the same bed as him and make him move to the floor. or worse, move there yourself.

no, minho didn’t want you to sleep on the floor and he didn’t want to upset you further than he knew he already had, so he stayed to himself. with your back to him, he listened to the even sounds of your breathing as you fell asleep. that would have to be enough for him for now.

the next morning was a repeat of the night before, minus minhos thoughts that you could be finally accepting him, maybe even growing feelings that didn’t involve resentment and anger.

after sending his parents off with a promise of them returning soon, just like the night before, you spent the day rearranging the room with him. you refused any help from your parents or anyone else, partially because you didn’t want anyone to touch your things again and partially because you couldn’t stand to be around them at the moment.

unlike before, though, your comfort and coziness to minho had worn off. you were no longer showing him any form of physical affection.

you still kept the room fair, although it didn’t feel like it was half you and half him. it felt like its own place. it wasn’t partially him, the other half you- it was 100% the two of you, together.

you actually quite liked the way the room turned out. you weren’t being as snappy to him as you originally had been, but the atmosphere wasn’t anything close to before, when you’d looked to him for comfort from the pain rather than looking at him like he was the source of it all.

minho hated seeing you cry. when he noticed your state the night before and pulled you into his chest, he could have sworn his heart broke, like it would have fallen right out of his chest if you hadn’t been there holding it in. that reason exactly is why he felt so bad now.

he didn’t want you to cry, he didn’t want you to be sad, but he almost wished you would again, if it meant you would let your walls down for him again. anything to put you back in his arms.

you were walking back to your bedroom after dinner and tending to your garden, exhausted from life and redecorating your room. you were growing used to spending nearly every waking, and sleeping, moment with minho, even beginning to enjoy his company, but that didn’t mean small moments alone weren’t appreciated.

you knew it would only be a few minutes, but walking alone to your shared bedroom while minho was speaking to your parents felt like heaven.

you didn’t remain alone for long, but it didn’t bother you. not when the person breaking the isolation was your best friend.

you jogged down the hallway and to your bedroom door where chan was standing, waiting for you. you hadn’t seen him since minho had arrived days prior.

you threw your arms around him the moment you reached him, happy to finally see him again. it hadn’t been that long, but considering he was usually with you constantly, a few days felt like forever. he pulled you into his chest, placing a kiss to your forehead as you smiled up at him.

you were about to ask him why he hadn’t been around when someone interrupted you.

“i thought you didn’t have brothers.” minho’s voice.

“i don’t.” you payed no attention to chan’s arm around your waist.

he nodded, “then this is?”

chan stepped away from you and reached his hand out to minho, “ah, i’m sorry! i’m chan, head of y/n’s personal guard.”

minho nodded again, taking chan’s hand and gripping it firmly.

“minho. y/n’s fiancé.”

releasing minhos hand and stepping back to you, chan laughed, “i know that, you’re all anyone is talking about recently.”

minho raised an eyebrow, locking his eyes to yours.

“am i?”

“of course!” chan babbled, “everyone’s excited for the wedding.”

minho scoffed, eyes still glued to yours.

“not everyone.”

he didn’t bother to excuse himself before he shoved past you and chan, an action that could have easily been avoided with all the space the hallway held, and into your bedroom.

a confused expression plastered on your face as you turned to chan.

“i know i complain a lot, but he’s usually not that bad. not even near it.”

chan frowned, lowering his voice. minho was right inside the door, after all.

“did you get into a fight or something?”

you shook your head, why did it actually bother you that he seemed upset with you?

“maybe you should go talk to him?”

you debated it in your mind. you probably should go check out what was bothering him, he was fine not even twenty minutes ago at dinner, but you also wanted to stay and talk to chan. you wanted to catch up, to vent.

as if reading your mind, chan turned you to face him.

“hey, go. we’ll see each other plenty now. your mom wanted us to give you space for a while, but the guard is back on full duty.”

you nodded, eyes trained on your bedroom door. you walked away from chan practically the moment he gave you the good to go, stepping into your bedroom and shutting the door behind you.

it didn’t take you long to find minho. he was sat in his desk chair, fiddling with the cuffs of his shirt. he didn’t look up until you addressed him.

your voice was soft, “minho?”

if he hadn’t been so frustrated, he would have celebrated at your caring tone.

instead, he leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms.

“what?”

your frown grew, “what happened? are you okay?”

“yeah,” he stood from his seat, mumbling as he crossed the room to the closet, where he pulled out his sleeping clothes and began to unbutton his day shirt, “i’m fine.”

maybe he expected you to leave it at that. it seemed that’s what he wanted, considering his choice to suddenly switch to his night clothes. whenever he started to undress, you hurried out of the room. this time, though, you were worried about him. actually worried about him.

so you stayed put.

“minho, i can tell that’s not true. you’re upset.”

he scoffed. as if your words had broken some dam inside of him, he let his frustrations free. his hands flew into the air, completely abandoning his shirt, which he had barely begun to unbutton.

“pardon me for not cheering when i see another man kissing my fiancé!”

“you- chan? you’re upset because i was speaking to my best friend.”

you said it more as a statement than a question.

“no,” he took a couple steps towards you, abandoning his sleep it’s clothes over the foot of the bed, “i’m upset because he kissed you.”

“on the forehead.”

“you wouldn’t let me do that though, would you?”

he was right in front of you now. you stuttered before replying, and it clicked in your mind: he was jealous. your demeanor softened.

“you’re mad that i let him kiss me and not you?”

he took a step back, running a hand through his hair as he nodded, a small pout on his lips.

the sight triggered something inside of you. he looked so real, so sad. he looked, for a lack of better words, genuinely hurt. it put the notion in your head that maybe he did care more about marrying you than just taking control of your kingdom.

you sighed, walking past him and to the closet, grabbing your change of clothes before stepping off into the bathroom to change. you heard him let out a soft sigh as you shut the door behind you, he must have assumed you dropped the topic. you didn’t know if he was glad that a fight hadn’t escalated or if he was upset that the conversation didn’t get to the point where he could kiss you and blame it on a flurry of emotions and jealousy.

you got into your sleeping clothes and, trusting that he had changed as well, you stepped back into the bedroom without asking if it was okay. you went straight for the bed, wordlessly finding a comfortable position as he slid in beside you. he reached out to shut off the lights and lay flat on his back, taking deep breaths and trying to get himself to calm down enough to sleep when he felt a weight on his waist followed by a warm presence pressing up against his side. he made a small sound of surprise as he looked down.

there you were, arm draped over his torso, cuddled into his side. your eyes were shut and your head rested against his chest.

any frustration he’d felt towards you far gone, he took the chance to wrap his arms around you, securing you to his body as if you were going to run away at any moment. he leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. it was so light you wondered if he’d meant for you to feel it at all.

you shifted slightly, keeping your arm around his waist as you offered a small smile against his chest.

“there. even.”

things got easier from then on, although you wouldn’t admit it. you’d dropped your attempts at hating your new fiancé, how were you supposed to dislike him? you hadn’t dropped your hard feelings towards the situation and you definitely hadn’t agreed or started complying to the wedding, but you could bring it upon yourself to keep trying to be cold to minho. not even when the day was filled with wedding planning and dress fitting.

you’d woken up still in minho’s arms, even more so than you’d been when you had fallen asleep. your back was flat against his chest and one of his legs was sprawled over yours, practically trapping you as his arms held you around the waist.

maybe you should have been surprised to wake up that close to him or tried to pry his hands off of you, but you didn’t, and you didn’t want to. you hated yourself for it, but you were beginning to really consider the idea that he was your best bet. maybe complying and marrying him would be safer and more pleasant than anyone else your parents might throw your direction in the future if this wedding got called off.

minho shifted beside you, groaning at the light and removing an arm from your body to rub his eyes. the instant he did it, he dropped his arm back around you and held you close, as if he’d made a mistake by letting you go in the first place.

you laughed, and that’s always a good way to start a day.

it amazed minho how much your attitude towards him could change overnight. granted, you weren’t holding his hand and offering him kisses everywhere you went, but you had started actually initiating conversations with him. you joked with him and allowed yourself to laugh at his jokes, you didn’t even ignore him that much anymore. you weren’t treating him like your soon to be husband yet, but still. you treating him like a friend was better than you treating him like an enemy, even if it’s not what he really wanted.

“oh my god.” you groaned, “if i have to look at one more fucking shade of purple that looks exactly like the last and say which looks better i will absolutely lose my shit.”

he laughed, “you’re the one who said i would look hot in purple.”

you sent a glare his way, but it wasn’t like the ones you used to show him. it was joking, friendly.

“i did not say you’d look hot.”

“i think you did.”

“i can promise you i didn’t.”

“no, i’m pretty sure i remember you saying it. i think your exact words were, ‘oh, how lucky am i to have this treasure of a man as my future husband, i think purple-‘“

he was cut off by a call from the doorway of the room the two of you had been in practically all day, helping choose colors and getting fit for your wedding apparel.

“y/n, prince minho, dinner’s done.”

you knew immediately by the choice of laid back words that it was chan. no one else, not even your other friends, spoke to you like that outside of private.

you turned to the door, “one of these days i’m going to have you tarred and feathered for disrespecting me, bang chan.”

he laughed, “i’m sure you are.”

you met him at the door before minho even had the chance to stand, shoving him lightly.

“i am! watch, i’ll bring it up at dinner.”

he laughed, walking beside you as the three of you made your way to the dining room.

“isn’t it impolite to discuss executions during meal time?”

minho walked silently beside you, it was like you’d completely forgotten his existence once chan showed up.

“i might just break etiquette to speed up your punishment.”

another small laugh from him and then you were walking through the doors and into the dining room. you and minho took your seats at the table and chan took his standing along the wall with the rest of the guard and staff.

you turned to minho, “do you think we’re done for the day, then? or do we have more purple to look forward too?”

he shrugged your attempt at a joke off, trying not to show how bothered he was. so that’s how it was going to be? the second chan leaves, then he’s interesting enough to talk to again?

“maybe they’ll finally start making decorations and the suit and dress.”

either you hadn’t noticed his attitude change or didn’t care enough to react.

“i wonder how quickly they’ll pull things together.”

you really didn’t know. they could rush and work their butts off and you could be getting married within the next week, or they could take as much time as needed for preparations. you didn’t know. and if your parents had any clue, they didn’t bring it up.

their chosen dinner conversations were the same as they had been for the past many nights. talk about the wedding, who was going to be invited. was it bad manners to invite the brides minho had rejected? or was it polite? a good portion of the time not eating was spent with your mother trying to convince you to care more about the wedding. she was wholeheartedly convinced that you’d changed your mind and fallen in love with minho because you were being friendly now. she expected you to care more about the planning now that you didn’t seem so against it.

hurrying away from the dining room as soon as possible by claiming you’d had enough wedding talk for the day, which wasn’t a lie, you and minho made your way back to your bedroom. his earlier frustrations were forgotten as the two of you sat on the bed and talked about various books across the bookshelf.

as it turned out, some of the books ended up having to be put in storage. not for a lack of room, but simply because two copies were not needed. you shared a lot of the same interests.

“i told you,” he said, only half joking, “we’re meant for each other.”

you shoved him, pulling the book from his hands. before you could reply, he was speaking again.

“be careful! that’s my copy!”

you laughed, clutching the book to your chest and turning away as he reached for it.

“not anymore! it’s ours.”

“it is not. that is very much so mine.”

“no,” you insisted, moving again to keep him from grabbing it, “nothing in this room is yours. it’s all ours. or mine.”

he laughed, stopping his useless attempts at grabbing the book.

“yours?”

you nodded, “my stuff is still mine. but yours is ours now.”

with that, he jumped on you, tackling you onto your back. you dropped the book somewhere during the attack and it made a loud noise as it fell to the floor.

“what about you?” he asked, easily keeping you from struggling, “you’re mine, aren’t you?”

you stopped struggling, showing him the game was over.

“i don’t belong to anyone.”

you easily shoved him off of you in his stunned state. he hadn’t meant to offend you.

“y/n, that’s not what i meant.”

you cut him off as you shut the bathroom door behind you, night clothes in hand. you took significantly longer to change than you needed, both you and him knew that. he would have had time to crawl into bed and fall asleep three times over as he as waiting for you, but he didn’t. truth be told, he wasn’t sure if he was capable of falling asleep without you beside him anymore. he might have to test that theory, he didn’t know if you would let him hold you that night after he unintentionally upset you.

just as things were beginning to work, he messed it up. he really hadn’t meant to imply he owned you in any way, he was only trying to be cute, maybe get you to say yourself that you were going to marry him, maybe even that you wanted to.

he didn’t know the exact rules of falling in love, but if he could say anything for certain it would be that he was in love with you. maybe it was when he saw your name on that paper and his fantasy became a possible reality that he really fell, or maybe it was when he saw you face to face for the first time after learning you’d be the one he’d marry, he really didn’t know. he had no clue when it changed from some childish crush into fill blown love, but it did.

was it even possible to be in love with someone you’d only met a handful of times and were only paired to marry a few weeks prior? it must have been. otherwise, how would he explain the feeling in his chest whenever he saw you?

when you finally came out of the bathroom, you silently put your clothes in the basket and crawled into bed. like always, minho switched off the lights and secured the covers over himself, shifting until he found a comfortable position. he was debating in his mind if he should reach out and try to hold you or if that would just make everything worse when you scooted so your back was to his chest, not outright cuddling him but giving the invitation.

he obliged immediately, wrapping his arm around you while the other went to play with your hair. he placed another one of his gentle, barely-there kisses to the side of your head as he muttered a soft, “i’m sorry.”

he didn’t know whether you replied or not, he fell asleep as the last syllable fell from his lips.

you didn’t go as easily. if your internal clock was at all accurate, you’d been laying there for at least two hours, wide awake. you couldn’t pinpoint exactly what was keeping you up, probably the wedding, maybe the small fight with minho. either way, you could think of a better way to spend the time as long as you weren’t going to fall asleep.

carefully, you pulled minho’s arms off of you and slowly crawled out of bed, trying your hardest not to wake him up. you stood at the side of the bed for a moment, watching minho to make sure you hadn’t disturbed him, before creeping over to the door. you opened it as quietly as possible and peaked out. neither of the guards stationed outside your room were chan.

felix was on duty though, and he sent you a confused look as you stepped into the hallway and pulled the door shut behind you.

“where are you going? if you need something i’ll get it for you.”

you shook your head, “just can’t sleep. is chan in the bunks?”

felix nodded and you started off down the hallway towards the rooms the guards slept in when they didn’t have night duty.

“hey, wait,” felix called after you, moving slightly as if he were going to follow, “i’m not technically supposed to let you go alone.”

you frowned at him, “it’s literally two minutes away and i’m headed to a room full of guards. i’ll be fine.”

he thought for a moment before moving back to stand in his original position, “fine. but if some hallway demon kills you on the way there that’s on you.”

you chuckled at his joke and made your way through the halls and to the wing that houses all of the staff that lived there. you weren’t technically supposed to go there at night, you weren’t really supposed to even leave your room at night, but none of the guards in the halls tried to stop you on your journey. it wasn’t uncommon for you to visit chan at night, especially not when you were younger. the both of you used to have trouble sleeping and it was much easier for you to sneak out and into his room than the other way around.

you gently opened the door and stepped into the room, heading right for chans bed. there were a dozen other sleeping guards, not all of them from your personal guard, also asleep on their own beds. you tapped chan awake, stifling your laugh when he flinched awake.

you used to wake him at least half of the nights he didn’t have duty, yet he still flinched every time you woke him up.

he looked confused to see you there but he didn’t hesitate to stand and follow you into the hallway.

when there, you went down away from the doors so you could talk freely without disturbing anyone and slid down the wall. chan did the same, seating himself right next to you.

“what’s up? you haven’t woken me up in the middle of the night for a while.”

you laughed, “yeah, i don’t know. i couldn’t sleep. plus, i’ve missed you. even with the guard back, i haven’t been able to spend time with you recently.”

he nodded, leaning to rest his head on your shoulder, “i know. i’ve missed you too.”

there was a brief pause before he spoke again.

“what’s on your mind?”

you scoffed lightly, “i don’t think there’s room for anything other than thoughts about the wedding right now. i can’t even breathe without someone mentioning it.”

chan chuckled, “it is kind of a big deal.”

you ignored him, “i don’t want to marry minho, chan.”

he took a deep breath, “why?”

“why?”

“why? tell me exactly what’s so bad about him.”

you didn’t hesitate before answering, “i’m being forced into it! i didn’t even get a choice, chan!”

he ignored your words, “no, what’s bad about him? not the situation, not the wedding, minho.”

you thought for a moment, wracked your brain for answers, but you couldn’t think of one genuine issue you had against him specifically. you’d actually began to enjoy being around him.

chan waited for a while before he decided you weren’t going to answer.

“it seems to me like you two click really well.”

you shrugged.

“i think you should give him a chance, y/n.”

your brows furrowed in confusion, “what do you mean?”

“i mean i think you’re upset because you don’t want to get married, not because you don’t want to get married to him. and i think he might be changing your mind whether you know it or not.”

your frown didn’t lift.

“have you ever thought that maybe it’s fate that he ended up being your only option?”

not only did your frown once again not lift, it got deeper.

“i’m telling you y/n, a best friend knows. no matter how much you say you hate him, you’re falling for that boy.”

you cut in without hesitation, “no, i am not.”

his eyes widened and a grin spread across his face, “you are! no one is that defensive when they’re not lying.”

you hit him lightly and he continued, “for real, y/n. i think you like him more than you realize. just play nice for a while.”

“i am playing nice.”

“no,” he said, “you’re acting nice. actually let your guard down around him. let him in. let yourself feel the things you’re feeling for him.”

you grumbled. if anyone was going to be able to talk you into this marriage, it would be chan.

“okay.”

he followed your actions as you stood up.

“do you want me to walk you back?”

you shook your head, “i’ll be fine. go back to bed.”

he chuckled at your grumpy attitude, pulling you into a tight hug before letting you go. he watched until you turned a corner and he could no longer see you before stepping back into his room.

felix greeted you at your bedroom door.

“no hallway demons?”

“no hallway demons.”

“you’re lucky.”

you laughed at the boy and sent him a weird look to which he smiled in return. just as you had earlier, you carefully retraced your steps until you were back in bed with minho. taking chan’s request for you to try to warm up more to the idea of marrying minho, you secured yourself next to him, wrapping an arm around his torso. although, you probably would have done that even if minho’s name hadn’t even come up in your and chan’s conversation. you were finding that being in minho’s arms while you slept felt good. the thought that being held by anyone while sleeping would be comforting, it wasn’t just minho, crossed your mind before chan’s words echoed in your head.

“let yourself feel the things you’re feeling for him.”

maybe it was that it was minhos arms that made it so gentle and caring. if you thought about it, you couldn’t make a list longer than what you could count on one hand of who you would let sleep in the same bed as you, let alone cuddle you while sleeping. you’d only ever fallen asleep in minho of chans arms. and your parents, of course.

maybe you did feel deeper for the boy than you let yourself realize. maybe, despite every word coming out of your mouth insisting that you didn’t, you wanted to marry him.

several days went by, several wedding preparations were made. it turned out that they’d decided to go the rushed route, planning to hold the wedding ceremony as soon as possible. it was only two day’s out now. even though you still hadn’t even officially stated your acceptance of the wedding, preparations were in full force.

as you studied your reflection and took in the details of the gown you’d be wearing as you walked down the isle, you wondered how hard the seamstress’ must have worked to produce such a gorgeous piece of art in only a few days.

it was the traditional white color and it wasn’t anything overly fancy, you’d made it clear you wouldn’t wear it if it was. despite how quickly it had been made, it was clear it wasn’t rushed. every stitch looked perfect.

there were small embroidered designs along the fabric, popping out against the white of the base. the designs were a beautiful lilac purple, and although you knew that you and minho had chosen the exact shade, you wouldn’t have been able to decipher the shade from any of the other light purples that the seamstresses had in stock.

you assumed that minho had the same purple accenting his suit, but you had no clue what it looked like. your mothers were very adamant about neither of you seeing each other in the wedding apparel before the big event.

you bet he looked amazing.

you continued to admire yourself and the dress as several people checked the fitting, making sure the sizing was perfect and didn’t need any more alterations. when they decided it was, you found yourself not wanting to take the dress off quite yet. you couldn’t help but be excited for the next time you’d get to wear it.

minho was waiting for you when you stepped out of the room and into the hallway. apparently his fitting had taken less time than yours. suits did tend to be easier to size.

you let him take your hand as the two of you made your way to your bedroom. you’d taken chan’s advice and stopped shoving down emotions, and it made you realize how much you genuinely enjoyed minho. as much as you hated the way things worked and the way you got put together, you were beginning to think that maybe it had some sense to it. chan might have been right when he said that minho being your only choice was fate.

you dropped his hand to pick up the watering jug and fill it. he insisted on carrying it to your garden. you made no attempt to take it back when he held it out for you.

“no,” you laughed, “i showed you how to tell if they need watered yesterday. you do it.”

his eyes widened, “y/n, i seriously don’t think you want me to do that, i’ll kill them.”

“you will not,” you giggled, “but fine. i’ll help you.”

you approached the first plant along with him. it was a large basil plant. you didn’t use it for cooking or baking, the garden had plenty of basil that was used to harvest, but this one was just for show.

“check the soil.”

he did as you instructed, pressing his fingers into the dirt to check for moisture.

“i think it’s okay?”

his words came out as more of a question than a statement.

you reached forward and double checked, smiling and clapping your hands together when you realized he’d gotten it correct.

he did the same for the next plant, a lavender bush, claiming more confidently now that it didn’t need watered yet either. you checked, letting out an exaggerated gasp.

“i can’t believe you’re trying to kill my lavender plant. how could you?”

he sputtered, “i’m not! i really thought that it was fine!”

you huffed, taking the water from his hand and watering the plant.

“i can never trust you again.”

you started to check the other plants, watering a few of them. he complained and promised he’d learn better, but you continued to ignore him.

“my own fiancé... trying to kill my babies.”

you only stopped teasing him when he wrapped his arms around you from behind, holding you tight and promising into your shoulder that he didn’t want to hurt your plants.

you turned to face him, his hands still resting on your hips.

“okay, i’ll give you one more chance.”

you gestured towards the last few plants you had yet to check, a couple flowers that minho couldn’t what you said were named.

he walked up to them, taking his time to check them before turning to you.

“the yellow ones are okay, the purple and blue ones need watered.”

you eyes him suspiciously as you went to check his claim, breaking out in a smile when you found that he was correct.

“technically, the yellow ones could use a little water, but i’ll say you passed.”

he laughed and watched you water the last plants before reaching out your free hand and taking hold of his. you set the watering can by the door and made your way back to your bedroom where minho dropped your hand and headed to his desk.

he’d grown confident enough in your comfort towards him that he wasn’t afraid to do things like that anymore, drop your hand or break away from a hug. he knew you’d let him hold you again. it wasn’t like less than a week earlier where he felt like you might run away if he didn’t hold you tight enough.

he leaned down and shuffled through some papers on his desk. you recognized them as archery point sheets. he hadn’t been lying when he said he was good, he scored nines and tens easily from distances you wouldn’t have even been able to get close to hitting the target at, even after letting him give you some tips on aiming.

you snickered as you pulled out one specific scoring sheet that caught your eye. it was an insanely long distance round, the longest he’d ever tried yet, and he’d managed to score two nines and an eight.

you laughed as you help the paper up, “an eight? you suck.”

he tried to glare at you, but a smile poked through. you saw him made a move and dropped the paper, darting to get away from him.

he caught you quite easily, tackling you onto the bed. he held you loosely as he straddled you.

“take it back. say i’m the best archer you’ve ever seen.”

you shook your head, smile plastered on your lips.

“take it back!” he whined.

you shook your head again, trying not to laugh.

“whatever.” he released you from his grip, crawling off of you, “this is why i tried to kill your plants.”

you gasped, “i knew it!”

he laughed as he reached for his pajamas, stepping into the bathroom and pulling the door lightly shut. it didn’t close all the way, there was still a small crack. he wasn’t as shy as you were, you’d learned that all too well. you were surprised he even went into the bathroom at all.

he waited until he heard you drop your day clothes into the bin before coming back into the bedroom. he put his dirty clothes next to yours and crawled into bed beside you, following his same routine of shutting off the lights before pulling you into his arms.

as he always did with you there beside him, he fell asleep easily.

you had fallen into a deep sleep as well before something woke you up a couple hours later. you couldn’t say what it was that had woken you, maybe it was nothing at all. regardless, you sat there for a few minutes before realizing you weren’t going back to sleep any time soon. you looked at the boy beside you.

you considered waking him up to keep you company until you could fall asleep again, but decided against it. he looked too peaceful. chan, however, you had no issue waking from a peaceful sleep.

sitting a few yards from any doors leading to people sleeping, you spoke to your best friend.

“am i going crazy, channie?”

he hummed, “probably, but why?”

you sent a light glare towards him before answering, “being kind of excited for the wedding.”

he broke out into a huge grin, “i so called it.”

you frowned in confusion and he continued.

“i said you were in love with him and you so are.”

you shook your head, “i’m not... in love with him,”

why did the words seem foreign?

“i just think i might, i don’t know, actually see us working out, and not just as a royal couple, together to rule. like as a genuine pair.”

he made a sound of understanding, “you’re totally in love with him.”

you didn’t deny it a second time.

you frowned as you approached your bedroom door. there was a faint light peaking out from under the crack in the door. you inched it open to find minho awake, sat up on the bed reading with a single lamp on. he looked up when he heard you enter.

“hey,” you greeted him, “why are you awake?”

he shrugged, “guess i got cold without you next to me.”

you got back into bed with him, pulling the blankets over your legs and leaning over to see what he was reading.

“what are you reading?”

he shut the book momentarily, marking his page with his finger and showing you the cover before flipping it back open and resuming where he left off.

you frowned. it wasn’t like him to ignore you like this.

“is something wrong? did you have a nightmare?”

he shut his book, tossing it to the ground beside his side of the bed. he pressed his lips together.

“yeah, i keep having these dreams that my fiancé is leaving in the middle of the night to secretly meet up with some guy. it’s weird.”

you raised your eyebrows, “who told you that?”

he shrugged, “asked the guard outside the door one night after you left what you were doing, he said you were visiting chan.”

you nodded, “yeah, i do that sometimes, is that an issue?”

he scoffed, “no, i just brought it up for fun.”

you pursed your lips, “really, minho? why does it bother you so much?”

there was no hesitation in his next words, almost as if he’d been itching to say them for a while now.

“is there something going on between you two?”

you scoffed, “seriously? you really think that?”

by now he had stood from the bed, “it doesn’t seem so crazy.”

you stood as well, challenging him as you stepped around the bed and in front of him.

“yeah, it does. it sounds insane.”

he looked you straight in the eyes, “does it? because it makes perfect sense to me. you won’t let me kiss you, you won’t sign the marriage contact even though you know you’re stuck with me, you’re so comfortable around him and you keep leaving in the middle of the night to meet with him in secret. it literally screams affair, y/n!”

“you seriously believe that i would cheat on you?”

“i don’t even think you see it as cheating since you don’t take a single fucking part of our relationship seriously.”

he took a step forward and you instinctively stepped back.

“i do take it seriously.”

he continued to close in on you until your back was pressed to the wall.

“then act like it.”

without thinking, you did just that. you acted.

you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him down, crashing his lips to yours. it wasn’t what you’d expected your first kiss to be like, you’d actually imagined it would be at the altar, but you weren’t complaining.

he reacted immediately, hands finding their way across your body. he slid one down your leg, stopping at your thigh and tapping it. you got the message, jumping up and wrapping your legs around his waist. your back collided with the wall and the paintings hung there shook a little, but you couldn’t be bothered to care. not when he tasted as good as he did.

one hand secure on your thigh to hold you up, the other found its way under your night gown and up your bare leg to the bare skin of your torso. he broke away for a moment as his fingers inched higher up.

“is this okay?”

you barely had time to mumbled a yes before your lips were back on his. you hadn’t realized you wanted to kiss him so bad until you finally did.

he let you breathe for a second as he peppered kisses along your neck, his hand exploring your body under your gown. his fingers found their way to your breasts and he squeezed one, causing a soft moan to fall from your lips.

he cursed at the sound, attaching his lips back to yours and turning to walk you to the bed. he easily sat you down, back to the mattress, and hiked up your night dress. you let out another soft moan when his hands finally made their way to your core. he ran his fingers over your clothed folds.

“you swear this is only mine?”

you nodded, “yes.”

“you promise?” he spoke between kisses, “tell me you promise.”

“i promise.”

that seemed to be enough for him as he growled against your lips, slipping his hand down the waistband of your panties.

you struggled to keep quiet as he finally made direct contact to your dripping core.

he cooed, “what, baby? no need to be quiet. who’s gonna hear? the guards?” you could feel his breath against your neck, “is chan on duty? is he right outside the door? let him hear you.”

you could only whine in response as he toyed with your clit.

you made a sound of annoyance when he pulled his hand from your panties, but your disappointment didn’t last for long. he pulled you to sit up so he could remove your night clothes, tossing them god knows where on the ground. he let out a deep groan as his eyes came on contact with your bare chest.

he brought his hands up to cup them, one in each hand.

“you’re gorgeous.”

he let one of his hands fall back to caressing the rest of your body and replaced it with his lips, taking your nipple into his mouth. despite his earlier demands not to try to silence yourself, a hand flew to your mouth as you let out an embarrassingly loud moan for how little stimulation you were getting.

he popped off your breast and licked a long stripe down your stomach until he reached the waistband of your underwear. he glanced up at you to make sure you were still on board before looking his fingers on them and pulling them down your legs. immediately, you tried to close your legs in embarrassment, but he easily held them open.

he placed sloppy kisses to your neck as his fingers teased your entrance.

“has he ever seen you like this?”

“no.”

“you really expect me to believe that?”

“it’s true.” your words came out strangled as he slowly began to slide a finger into your heat. it was unusual and uncomfortable at first, but you got used to it, nearly screaming when he curled his finger and a line of pleasure shot through you.

he hummed, “i can tell you’re not lying, baby. no one is this sensitive if they’ve been fucking their royal guardsman behind their fiancé’s back.”

you whined as he added another finger, “haven’t- haven’t done this before.”

he hushed you, “i know, angel. you’re doing so well, just relax.”

you gripped tightly onto his shirt as he continued to work his fingers inside of you. with a particularly rough curl of his fingers, you felt something inside of you let go and a wave of pleasure flowed over your body. you let out the most heavenly sounds as minho worked your through your orgasm and he felt a swell of pride knowing that he was the only one who had ever made you feel so good. he was the only one who would ever make you feel this way.

he rode you through your orgasm before placing a gentle kiss to your lips. you tugged are the bottom of his shirt.

“are you sure, baby?”

you nodded, far too worked up to let out coherent words. he complied, slipping his shirt over his shoulders and ridding himself of his pants. you stared at his chest, reaching out to touch his skin before you even realized you were doing it. you slid your hand down his body until you came in contact with his hard length. he hissed as your hand wrapped around him, slowly stroking him. you couldn’t keep your eyes off of his cock as you basked in the sounds he made. the sounds you made him make.

he reached down and grabbed your wrist, “baby, i won’t last much longer if you keep this up.”

you nodded, reluctantly letting him guide your hand away from his length. you wrapped your arms around his neck and buried your fingers in his hair as you felt him like himself up with your entrance.

the noise you let out when he began to sink into you could only be described as divine. minho had to stop for a moment and recollect himself, he really wouldn’t last long if you sounded like that at every move he made.

after a few moments, he was fully buried inside of you. he waited for you to adjust to his size before slowly pulling out, only to roughly slam back into you.

he had every intention of going slow and being gentle for your first time, but everything, from the way your pussy felt wrapped around him to the way you moaned out his name was too much for him.

despite his previous remark for you to let yourself be loud, he guided your face to his shoulder when he became genuinely concerned you may wake the entire castle.

“bite down.”

you did as he said, sinking your teeth into the flesh of the junction between his shoulder and neck. he let out a sound that made you think for a moment that you’d bitten too hard, but when you released your grip he groaned out, asking you to do it again.

he brought his hand between your bodies and began running slow circles onto your clit as his cock worked magic inside of you.

“im close. gonna fill you up, is that okay?”

you barely managed to get out a yes through the pleasure you were feeling.

“fuck, gonna let me fuck my babies into you, huh?”

he adjusted your legs and the new angle plus his fingers working expertly on your clit threw you over the edge.

“you’re going to be a great mother one day.”

you bit down hard on his shoulder as you came, only releasing the grip to tell him how good he was making you feel.

he came soon after, muttering praises and gushing about how good you did. he groaned as he gave a last few thrusts, watching as his and your cum leaked out with every thrust of his hips. the sight nearly made him hard again.

he pulled out, grabbing his discarded night shirt and wiping his length off before tossing it to the side again. he leaned back over you, connecting his lips to yours to swallow the whine you let out when his fingers connected back to your core.

he collected the cum that had dripped out and spread itself along your thighs and onto the sheets, pushing it back into you with his fingers.

he hushed you as you whined from overstimulation, “i know baby, i know, but we don’t wanna waste any, do we?”

you shook your head.

“no, we don’t. that’s my good girl.”

he connected his lips back to yours, “you’ll look gorgeous with my baby in your belly.”

you were honestly too fucked out to process anything that was happening, just laying there and letting him do what he wanted. despite the discomfort the overstimulation brought, you couldn’t help but complain when he pulled his fingers out of you, wiping them on his night shirt and slipping your panties back onto you.

needless to say, you slept easily after that.

you were beyond sore the next morning, but you couldn’t bring yourself to regret it. the achy legs and raw throat were worth it.

you hurried to get dressed and shower off the sweat and other substances on your body the next morning before hurrying down for breakfast. minho had showered with you, insisting that since he made the mess, he should clean it up.

although your parents had already been confident that you’d changed your mind about the wedding, if anyone had doubts, including yourself, they were long gone.

a drastic change from even just the day before, you and minho stole kisses nearly any time you could. leaning over to grab the salt? kiss. walking past him to grab a book? kiss. sitting down waiting for more orders on how to help prepare for the wedding that was only a day away? kiss, kiss, kiss.

you’d been so caught up in your newfound love for kissing your fiancé that you didn’t even notice as chan snuck up to talk to you.

instinctively, minho’s arm tightened around your waist. he believed you when you promised him that you and chan were just friends, but he was still protective.

“so... hyunjin tells me i was right.”

you frowned in confusion, “what?”

“hyunjin said i was right. he had guard duty outside of your room last night and he told me you really warmed up to minho overnight.”

you nearly choked on your own spit at the realization that not only had your guards, your friends, heard last nights events, by the sound of it, they’d told everyone else.

minho didn’t even try to his hide proud smile has you blushed, covering your face in his chest.

chan turned to minho, “i knew she’d fall for you eventually. she used to gush about how cute you were when we were kids.”

you opened your mouth to protest, “that is not true.”

it really wasn’t. maybe you’d mentioned that he was easier to be around than many of the other royal, stuck up kids, but you had never said anything close to what chan claimed.

chan turned to minho, nodding his head as he scratched his nose, “it’s totally true.”

“it’s literally just not.”

he made a sound of disagreement.

“that is a big fat lie and you know it!”

you reached out to hit him and he dodged it, making a scene out of saying felix called him before hurrying away. you turned to minho.

“it’s not true.”

he shrugged, “it’s probably true.”

“it’s not!”

when you walked down the isle, minho could have swore his heart stopped. you looked gorgeous. the dress framed you perfectly and the delicate flower crown placed on your head looked just on you. he made a mental note to compliment whoever had planned your full outfit.

the closer you got, the more minho worried that your vows would be droned out by the sound of his heart beating against his rib cage.

you finally stepped in front of him, letting him get a clear view of you in your dress for the first time. you weren’t much better, speechless as you took in how handsome he looked. your felt your eyes began to well up at the realization of what was happening. who would have known you’d be crying from happiness, not disappointment or fear?

your eyes met minho’s own glassy ones and you let out a small laugh, speaking so only he could hear.

“i was right when i said you’d look hot in purple.”

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oreo-bixch · 3 years

Text

I need to air out my brain so have some of my

Timkon headcanons

Kon developed a crush first. He really tried not to, but just couldn't stop himself. It was out of his control, completely smitten before he could register it

Tim just thought of them as close friends. Ironic how he's so smart and yet so oblivious to his own feelings. It wasn't until Kon came out as bi that he took a step back and realized that it was strange just how happy he was to know Kon wasn't straight.

If it were Bart coming out he'd be like "hey, nice bro" but when Kon did it he found himself thinking "omg omg omg he likes guys?? He likes guys??? Omg I'm a guy, that means he could like me. Omg wow that's so wild wow...now wait a damn minute-"

It was about 3 months of mutual pining until they finally confessed

Altho they definitely told Cassie

Poor Cassie was itching to just tell them already but she swore she wouldn't, and she's a very reliable person, would literally take a secret to the grave. She spent 3 months sitting back watching Tim and Kon pine after each other while knowing how they felt. It was torture

Meanwhile Bart was oblivious lmao

Bart's a great friend but he's not so good with secrets. He's got a little problem where he speaks before he thinks

Finally Kon made the first move...well kinda

He was sooo ready to just tell Tim in person, and then he settled on maybe a phone call, actually no, a text might work better...or maybe he'll just wait another week

And so he decided to have Cassie do it for him, what can I say, our boy Kon is afraid of rejection

It's bad enough Clark didn't wanna be his dad, what if Tim didn't wanna be his bf? That'd be harsh

And so Cassie called Tim up one evening and spilled the beans, which was a huge relief for her, and Tim was pleasantly surprised

He was also freaking out

He didn't know what to do, he wanted to call Kon immediately and tell him that he felt the same way, that he wanted to be more than friends, to be boyfriends. But then he collected himself, decided he wanted to tell him in person. Someone's gotta put on the brave face

So he texted Kon, asked if he was free to hang out at the Manor, talk abt a little something that Cassie brought up.

Kon was so nervous but he agreed and the next day he went over to the Manor.

Usually Conner was really chill with the Batfam, the Manor was practically a second home, but this time he was hella awkward. Mans was nervous

But they sat down in Tim's bed and talked. They talked abt everything, how long they've felt that way, how much they've been wanting to tell each other, when they first knew, I mean everything.

Kon asked what this meant, what this made them? And Tim said whatever he wanted

Kon had come out just 3 months prior to this and in a way, this was Tim's coming out. It was all so new for them, and it was nerve-wracking and exciting and crazy. But they were ready, and so they decided they would be boyfriends

Idk I guess that's how it works but anyway

Cassie was sooo happy for them and could finally spill all the beans

"omg FINALLY!! I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS YOU GUYS HAVE NO IDEA HOW HARD IT WAS TO KEEP QUIET ABT IT ALL"

And then Bart's just there like

"wait, Cassie knew? You told Cassie but not me??" >:/

Either way their friends were super happy for them

Tim told the Batfam abt a week later and everyone was super supportive and sweet about it. The Batfam actually likes Conner so they were excited for them

Alfred saw it coming a mile away, but he's happy for Tim since Conner's a good kid. A little obnoxious but they're a good fit

Dick was so happy for them, he likes all of Tim's friends and he knew for a while that they were a little closer than most. He accepted Conner into the family with open arms bc he's the best, like what do you expect

Jason was like "damn, didn't know u were bi. Cool tho, have fun dating ur annoying ass friend"

That's the extent of Jason's brotherly love

Damian was similar in that sense, he blatantly told Tim to his face that "Kent could do better but I suppose that's great news for you"

Bruce was happy asf for his son, being bi himself he was really supportive and proud of him. Plus Conner wasn't all that bad, yea he knocked over that expensive vase that one time and he's always yelling during sleepovers and he nearly ran over their cat that other time but hey, he's a good kid.

Babs and Cass and Duke were all happy for Tim too, Steph found out a few months later just bc her and Tim are exes. Not that there's bad blood between them, things just get a little awkward sometimes.

Kon didn't tell his family until about 2 months into their relationship. Except for Jon, he found out the same week but was sworn to secrecy.

Kon was really nervous to come out and tell his family bc he didn't know how Clark or Lex would react. He wasn't too worried abt Lois, he knew she would be supportive. But Clark and him were constantly at each other's throats and Lex wasn't all that good at listening or connecting to Kon.

Despite his daddy issues tho, both dads were really accepting of Kon and we're happy for him and Tim. Clark gave Kon the biggest hug and assured him that no matter how much they fought, he'd always be there for him. Lex also, surprisingly, hugged Conner and told him that who he loved didn't matter to him.

Kon and Tim's favorite date spot is this humble little coffee shop on a corner in Metropolis. Tim can feed his caffeine addiction and Kon can stuff his face on their freshly baked pastries

Altho Lex really wanted some of those WayneTech secrets

And yea those are my hcs on how it all started :)

I'll make another post for my other hcs since this one is long enough

#mine #my hcs #hc #headcanon #dc #dcu #dc hc #young justice #young justice 2019 #timkon #tim drake #conner kent #kon el kent #kon el #ship headcanons #timkon hc #superboy #red robin

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manonblaqkbeak · 3 years

Text

How We Met

here it is, my last fic for rowaelin month! thank you so much to everyone that’s read, liked and commented on my fics, it’s been so much fun reading and writing these last four weeks! i’m glad to know that i’m not the only one that is in dire need of more rowaelin content (srsly, i would pay sjm a truck load of money for a strictly rowaelin book bc i miss them sm)

here’s part 4 for the little series i had going on. i was so tempted to make this an angst piece but held back lol.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

cw: none

1.8k words

enjoy and thank you again!!! :) 💕💕💕💕

Gathering the ingredients for the cake that she and Ophelia were going to make for Rowan, Aelin plopped them down on the kitchen counter and tied her and her six year old daughters hair back. Even in the kitchen light, Ophelia's hair was a vivid shade of silver and when she turned to look at her mother, the golden ring in her eyes were just as bright.

“Up, mama!” Ophelia asked, pointing to the step ladder that Olive made for her little sister in her woodshop class at school. Getting it off from atop the fridge, Aelin and Ophelia started their baking session for today. It wasn't often that Aelin baked cakes from scratch but it wasn't every day that her firstborn turned sixteen—not that Aelin could really comprehend that her Olive was sixteen—but Aelin wanted to do this for her, wanted to make something special.

She hoped that it wasn't going to taste as bad as the last cake she baked. Rowan had been sick afterwards and didn't go to work the next day.

That was five years ago, so surely with gaining wisdom as people said when others got older, her baking skills grew too.

“Where did everyone go?” Ophelia asked, her little tongue poking out as she helped Aelin sift the flour.

“To get dinner for tonight. We're having Ollie's favourite.” Which was cuisine from the Southern Continent, there was a restaurant that specialised in the spicy food, and Aelin couldn't wait—she and Rowan often tried to recreate their favourite recipes, but it was never right, so Olive wanted to have the genuine stuff for her birthday and not her parents shoddy attempts.

Not that Aelin could blame her.

They continued making the chocolate cake, Ophelia babbling on about her day at school, when her little one asked, “How did you and papa meet?”

Aelin blinked at the sudden question, but answered it nevertheless. “At the grocery store.”

Ophelia furrowed her brows, and with the way her nose scrunched up, she looked so much like Rowan that it made her heart sing. When Aelin first realised that she was pregnant, she was nervous, they had only been married for seven months and while they spoke about having a child of their own, she didn't think it would happen so quickly—but Rowan's enthusiasm melted away her fears. She would never forget his tears of joy when she showed him the pregnancy test, his beaming smile when they heard her heartbeat for the first time. Aelin would walk through hell, as long as Rowan was by her side, or waiting for her at the end.

It wasn't always perfect, however, they had their ups and downs like every long-term couple, they had moments where it felt like they were walking on tightrope, either because of their own personal issues or marriage issues, or when Egan was fourteen and completely lashed out at Aelin, accusing her of replacing his mother—but she worked with her son, telling him that she had never intended to do that, that Lyria would always be the woman that brought him into the world, and that Aelin was raising him. Her heart broke in two at his pain, but she understood, he grew up with photos and stories of Lyria.

Or when they had the awkward conversation when Olive was eleven and asked why she didn't look like Rowan, and Aelin had explained her story, about Sam being her biological father, but he had given them space for Rowan to raise her instead. That had lead to brooding silences and confusion, but otherwise, Olive still saw Rowan as her dad, but she did ask from time to time about Sam, what he was like and what he was doing (the last update Aelin received from him via email that his wife was pregnant with their second child. Aelin was so happy for him that he was able to have a family, a feat that was made easier since Arobynn had been dead for years by this point) and that she would like to meet him properly one day; Aelin had kept that to herself, not wanting to tell Sam in case Olive changed her mind—Aelin hoped that she wouldn't.

Overall, their life together was what she needed, she went to bed each night loved and fulfilled. It was better than what she might have had with Chaol all those years ago, she was fairly certain that if she had married him, it wouldn't have been a long marriage.

“How did you meet at the food store?” Ophelia asked, her brow still furrowed as she and Aelin stirred the cake batter. It surprisingly smelled good.

“I needed something from a high shelf,” Aelin said, “and I couldn't reach it. Your papa was only a few feet away from me, so I asked him to get it for me.” She might have also subtly ogled him as his shirt exposed his tanned skin, and Aelin had damned near swooned at the sight of his six pack.

“Did you get married at the food store?”

Aelin laughed at the question. “No, we got married at the beach. And then you arrived not long afterwards.” Sometimes they wanted another, but things financially were going so well that they didn't want to jeopardise that by adding another mouth to feed.

“Can you have another wedding?” Ophelia asked, looking at her mum with wide eyes. “So I can go? Please?”

“I'll talk to your daddy about it, but I like the sound of that.” Kissing her daughters forehead, they continued. Just as they were putting the cake in the oven and the icing mix in the fridge, the front door opened and three booming voices infiltrated the house and the mouth watering goodness of food.

Aelin's eyes widened at the amount of food that Rowan piled on the table. It looked like they were feeding a small army and not a family of five.

Ophelia helped her older brother set the table, Egan ruffing her hair as he recounted their little adventure to the restaurant.

As they sat down, Aelin mentioned Ophelia's request. Rowan pretended to mull it over as their daughter pleaded, giving her best puppy dog eyes. It didn't take for Rowan to relent—he really had trouble saying no to her—saying that a second wedding was a great idea.

Ophelia squealed in delight and squealed even more when food was placed in front of her (she was very much like Aelin in that regard).

“How did the conversation of another wedding start?” Rowan asked as they all started eating.

“Phia here wanted to know how we meet.”

Olive snorted. “Yes, the ever romantic story of meeting in the toilet paper aisle.”

“It was not the toilet paper isle!” Aelin protested. “It was the cereal aisle.”

“At least you kids have inherited my manners,” Rowan said, “your mother didn't even ask nicely. She just came over to me and said, 'You're tall, could you get that box for me?'” It had taken him a moment to realise he had been spoken to, too focused on deciding what box of porridge to get when Aelin showed up, wearing a faded band shirt and shorts, pointing to the box of cereal that had far too much sugar to be healthy. He had said 'yes' because it was the nice thing to do, and had stayed behind, talking to her for so long in the aisle that his vanilla ice cream had started to melt.

It was the best decision in his life back then, he never thought he would have gained a friend in the grocery store—and that the friend would become his wife.

“I have manners. I said, 'Excuse you' first before I told you what I needed.”

“That's not really using manners there, ma,” Egan said, smiling as poked her tongue out. He looked so much like Lyria that it was almost scary—he still loved flowers and plants too, and was currently studying to become a florist and then one day horticulture. The backyard was full of flowers and plants thanks to him, making into a little wonderland instead of the barren plain it used to be.

“I did say 'thank you' afterwards.”

“You said 'thanks',” Rowan interjected, laughing as Aelin threw a chunk of her flatbread at his head. Ophelia's cute laughter rent through the air.

“It's the same thing!”

“If you say so, love,” Rowan muttered, his lips twitching. Aelin rolled her eyes in the dramatic way Rowan was used to, but he saw the mirth behind the movement.

“Like I said Phie, it's very romantic,” Olive said drily, sounding very much like Rowan. She had even inherited his scowl, which she was wearing now as she sniffed at the air. “Is something burning?”

Aelin had never run so fast as she did right then, the kitchen filling with smoke as she took in the blackened cake. Swearing viciously under her breath, Aelin chucked the cake into the bin, apologising to Olive as she did so.

“It's okay, mum, dad got me an ice-cream cake earlier today anyway.”

Aelin narrowed her eyes at her husband, who simply gave her an innocent smile in answer.

Rejoining her family, they talked well into the night, helping Aelin to forget her failed baking attempt. Ophelia asked more questions about their time in the grocery store and how that moment lead to friendship, to pining for the other without realising it, to a life together.

And to think, Aelin almost didn't go to the grocery store that day.

Rowan thanked the gods that he had remembered at the last moment that he had no porridge left, otherwise, he might not have met Aelin at all. Might not have had this life, this family. Part of him would always be sad that things had gone so wrong with Lyria, and he would always miss and love her. But he learned in therapy that it was good to have a life, and Rowan was glad that he heeded that advice.

He thanked the gods all the time.

And thank the rutting gods he did right now for the umpteenth time that Aelin deemed him tall enough to get her food for her, to stay in that aisle with him as they got to know each other.

Rowan was a very happy man indeed as he and Aelin went to bed that night, the smiles still on their faces at Olive's unrestrained joy at the sight of the car they spent weeks looking at second-hand dealerships at, hunting for the perfect car for their daughter.

Thank the rutting gods for all those moments in the past, present, and future.

Rowan couldn't wait to marry her again, and neither could Aelin.

Life was good.

#rowaelin #rowaelinmonth #my work #thank u!!

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wristpockets · 3 years

Note

Can I throw some prompts at you? All fluffy but with potential for Deep Emotional Talks™ if that's what you're after. Anyway: 1. Essek and jester trying to cook/ bake for the first time (two rich kids who have never been in a kitchen while food has been made) lots of potential for comedy but also ways to explore the differences and similarities in their childhoods?? 2. Caleb and Essek teaching each other dances from their homelands, (I feel like Essek probably had to learn formal dances in his youth and absolutely despised them until he realized that dancing with someone you actually like can be fun) Anyhow, happy writing!

Thanks for the suggestions! Going with the first one!

(If anyone else has any fic prompts/ideas/requests feel free to send them my way!)

This kind of got away from me 😅 Ended up a lot longer than expected. Not going to spend too much time proofreading or editing bc this was supposed to be fun. Anyway

Essek is leaning over the railing on the Nein Heroez, a glass of wine in his hand. He can hear the party going on behind him - the rest of the Nein get together every month for dinner - but he needed to get away for a moment. He watches the moonlight reflect off the waves as he swirls the wine in his glass.

He doesn't notice Jester until she's right next to him.

"What's wrong, Essek?" she asks, her voice laden with sincerity and sympathy.

He sighs, takes a long sip of his wine, and says, "I feel inadequate."

"Oh no Essek," Jester says. She moves closer, until she can bump her hip against his. "You're so powerful. And!" She lowers her voice conspiratorially, "I saw the way you floated in Cognouza. You were faster than Caleb, which I think means you're even smarter than he is."

Essek actually smiles at that. Lets out a little laugh. "You're not wrong. But I'm not concerned with my power or intelligence."

"Then how do you think you're inadequate? In what way? Is it-" Jester cuts herself off, looking over at him while wiggling her eyebrows.

"No," he says quickly, his ears heating up. "Everyone else is so..." He looks for the word and comes up blank. "Caleb and I see Beauregard and Yasha for dinner quite often. Yasha will have freshly baked bread, or even cake. Beauregard works all day, and Yasha stays home and cooks."

"I think she's happy though," Jester says.

"I think so too," Essek says quickly. "Caleb works all day too, and I stay home and do nothing." He lets out a little laugh. "I cannot believe this is my problem. Feeling bad that I cannot cook dinner while my - while Caleb is working."

Jester's eyes light up. "Okay," she says. "Okay okay. For our next get together, we're making dessert. Me and you."

Beauregard and Yasha are hosting the next meetup. Essek had collected Jester, Fjord and Kingsley early that morning, to give Jester and Essek time to make dessert.

They sent Caleb and Fjord out of the house and set to work in Caleb's kitchen.

But when Essek takes the third batch of cupcakes out of the oven - burned on the outside, somehow raw inside - he's ready to give up.

"I don't understand what I'm doing wrong," Essek says quietly. He floats there, uselessly, staring at another failed attempt at a fairly simple baked good. "Is this how you normally make them?"

"Hmm?" Jester says, looking over at him. She dips her finger into the frosting she'd been working on. "I've never made cupcakes before."

Essek turns toward her. "What? You've never-"

"Nope," Jester says, matter-of-factly. She puts the icing-covered finger in her mouth, tasting the frosting, before scrunching up her nose. "This is awful."

Essek deflates a little. "So we are currently lacking both edible cupcakes and edible icing."

Even Jester's smile falls. "I'm sorry, Essek."

"It's not your fault," Essek says. "We still have some ingredients - what do you know how to make? What could we make quickly that's simpler?"

Jester looks down at the floor. "I don't know."

"Anything," Essek pleads. "Anything you've baked successfully-"

"I've never baked anything," Jester admits quietly.

"Oh," Essek says.

"Yeah."

Jester turns so her back is to the counter, then slides down, sitting on the floor. "I know how you feel. I feel like I should know how to do this."

Essek floats over, then sits down next to her. He can't bear the look on her face. "Two powerful adventurers, brought low by mere cupcakes," he jokes.

"I wanted to do this," Jester says, still quiet. "I wanted to bake something for everyone, something delicious! Something everyone would eat and say, 'oh Jester, your baking is so delicious,' and then maybe I'm not just the girl who draws dicks on things."

"You're a lot more than that," Essek tries.

Jester nods. "I know. I just feel bad."

"I feel that way too," Essek says. "All this power and knowledge and ability - for what? What good is it doing me here, now? And I know it's not an either-or thing. Caleb cooks. Even Beauregard does sometimes. I've never so much as fried an egg."

"Neither have I," Jester admits. "When I lived at home..."

"I understand," Essek says, and he knows he does.

"It's just embarrassing," Jester says.

"Yes," Essek agrees.

They sit like that for a moment, until they hear the front door open.

"Essek? Jester?" Caleb calls from the entryway. "Am I allowed in the kitchen yet?"

"Not yet!" Jester yells. "Almost done! Fifteen minutes!"

Essek looks at her in shock, and she just shrugs her shoulders.

"I do not possess the arcane ability to create cupcakes," Essek says blankly. "And I am unsure of how else we might make a dessert in that time."

"I panicked," Jester says apologetically. "Maybe some of the cupcakes aren't so bad-"

"They are," Essek says as Jester leans over batch number two, tearing off a piece of cupcake and trying it cautiously. After a few bites she scrunches her nose, then spits it out into the garbage.

"It looked good," Jester pouts. "I can't believe cupcakes would lie to me."

Something connects and Essek can feel his eyes widen. "I have an idea."

Several hours later, Jester and Essek are ready to present their cupcakes to the rest of the Nein. At the very least, they look nice - frosting is apparently close enough to painting for Jester to have some skill at it.

"These look delicious," Caleb says, smiling up at Essek. The compliment in front of their friends makes Essek's cheeks heat up, and he's grateful his complexion doesn't let it show.

"I might need to get some pointers from you," Yasha says as she carefully peels off the cupcake wrapper. "I wish I could frost like this."

"Don't eat that!" Beau shouts, quickly leaning over to slap it out of her hand.

Everyone stops to stare at Beauregard, Yasha's mouth still open, the cupcake discarded on the floor.

"What's wrong, Beauregard?" Essek asks nervously.

"They've been tampered with," she says. She picks up Yasha's dinner plate. "These plates are enchanted. They change colour if any of the food on it is fucked with. A few crumbs fell off of it." She points to a few speckles of bright purple on the plate. "I watched the plate react to the crumbs."

"Tampered with?" Fjord asks. "Tampered how?"

"I don't fucking know, man," Beau says. "It doesn't like, tell me."

"Um," Essek says carefully. "Would a magical alteration to the dish set off that reaction?"

"I should fucking hope so," Beau says, "since that's the whole point."

"In that case," Essek says, shooting Jester a worried look, "then yes, they were tampered with. But they will not harm you."

"Essek," Caleb says, looking at him worriedly.

"It's just prestidigitation," Essek says hurriedly. "We used it to flavour the cupcakes and the frosting." He takes a bite of his own cupcake. "See? They're safe."

"But why?" Veth asks. "Surely it can't be any worse than that fish stew Fjord made us all eat last time."

Essek looks at Jester again, who looks resigned. He waves his hand, dismissing the spell. "See for yourself."

Caleb is the first one that takes Essek up on that, tearing off a piece with his fingers and tasting it. Essek can see Caleb trying very hard to keep his expression neutral. He eventually - with some difficulty - swallows the bite of cupcake. "Ja," he says, eventually. "It's not that bad." He offers Essek a warm smile.

"Well that's obviously a lie," Veth says, pushing her plate a few inches away from her.

"Sorry guys," Jester says. She's looking down at the table and looks absolutely lost. "We just wanted to make something nice."

"Have either of you ever baked anything, ever?" Veth asks, picking up a tiny piece of the cupcake and trying it. "This is awful. I love you Jessie, but who taught you to bake?"

Jester looks too crestfallen to answer. "Both of us are, ah, new to this," Essek admits instead.

"Maybe cooking lessons are in order," Fjord says. "I used to cook on the ship, back when I was getting started. I could show you a few things, Jester."

Jester nods, still looking down at the table.

"And I could teach you," Caleb says to Essek.

"That would be appreciated," Essek says.

"Okay," Jester says. She sighs, then looks up at everyone. Forces a smile. "Okay. Me and Essek are going to learn how to cook, and then we'll make something for next time."

"Maybe not cupcakes," Beau says.

"Maybe nothing for anyone who complains about my baking again," Jester retorts.

"There are some desserts from Rosohna I'd like to recreate, if possible," Essek says. "If I can find a recipe."

"That sounds nice," Caduceus says.

"I am not much for sweets, but I do like some of the ones in Rosohna," he continues. "They're, ah, made with cinnamon. I don't think they do that here in the Empire."

"They don't!" Jester almost yells, smiling. "I know! It's crazy!"

#essek thelyss #jester lavorre #shadowgast #i guess?

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extravaguk · 3 years

Text

santa&prada

part of my opposites attract! series.

ksj / knj / myg / jhs / kth / jjk

pairing: rich!jimin x reader

summary: Yeah, Park Jimin most likely didn't even realize he was being a rude and disrespectful son of a bitch.

wordcount: 5k

genre: smut - angst(? - fluff (? idk u tell me

rated: m

warnings: a christmas fic in late november, cursing, a huge misunderstanding lmao, i call jimin ‘park jimin’ too many times bc i felt like it, car sex, oral (f recieving), some good ole spanking, (kinda) rough and unprotected sex, a lil of dirty talk, spit kink. thats about it. just an excuse to write jimin fucking you in a car. jimin is not as bad as oc thinks srsly.

The first time you meet Park Jimin is through mutual friends. On a firday night on December, with white, red and green lights decorating the streets of New York, filled with the typical hustle of the masses doing last minute Christmas shopping, the freezing weather impacting your body temperature, cursing yourself for choosing tights, a skirt and heeled boots that are too pretty but too uncomfortable to wear.

You had never considered yourself a particular enthusiast of Christmas festivities. You guess discovering Santa Claus was, actually, your parents before the rest of the kids in your class was one of the many reasons that made you grow up too soon and therefore, not allowing you to fully enjoy the month of December. Or maybe it had nothing to do with Santa, and more to do with your parents deciding to get a divorce a day before Christmas Eve. A traumatic event for seven year old you, but completely forgotten and overcome by twenty-four year old present you.

Growing up each Christmas suffering the consecuences of a shared custody would have probably had a disastrous effect on anybody else, but not you. Although the separation was a tough reality to accept at first, fortunately your parents were always capable of raising you in an environment full of love and affection, just like any other kid. And you prided yourself on having moved on from those circumstances a long time ago (even if your therapist disagreed and blamed many of your behaviors on it. Whatever.)

To put it simply, December was just not the month for you. It was just another month, like the remaining eleven of the year, except Mariah Carey's voice was heard every five minutes everywhere you'd go and people gave each other presents as if it was only during that time of the year when they remembered their loved ones.

The only thing you could thank Christmas for were the well deserved two weeks of holidays our work allowed until the new year's arrival. Fifteen days of rest, peace and baking those gingerbread cookies that Seokjin died for and that you sincerely denoted as nauseating.

You truly had no idea what exactly you did wrong that night. You don't know if it was something you said, or something you did, but what you did know was that Park Jimin pursued a silent and personal vendetta against you that continued nowadays.

"Here are your disgusting cookies, you filthy animal." it might have been that very first sentence you said when you entered the bar and reunited with your friends that didn't cause a good impression. "Shit, it's cold as fuck. My nipples are harder than my life." or maybe it was your selection of words while you waved every familiar face hello until you stopped to look at the only (pretty. too pretty, as well) one you had never seen before.

"_____, it's Chrismtas! Santa Clause will only bring you a lump of coal if you keep cursing like that!" Lisa laughed while she kissed your cheek and made space for you to sit next to her. "Oh, by the way, this is Jimin. A friend of Namjoon. He's a newbie!"

Park Jimin was stunning, you had no trouble admitting that. You weren't blind, you weren't stupid, and you could go as far as theorize that his dark eyes, his light and always immaculate styled hair, his sharp jawline and those plump lips as red as cherries must have been sculpted by Satan himself.

Fuck, you were even sure you'd be on your knees in front of Park Jimin in an alternative universe begging for his dick inside your mouth. But in the universe where you and the real Park Jimin reside, he would never come near you unless somebody was aiming a gun into his skull.

You're not precisely sure what it was, but a brief exchange of glances and an evasive and sligh shake of hands with Park Jimin was enough to make you feel ashamed and withdrawn for the rest of the night.

If Jimin wasn't even able to drop a polite "Nice to meet you", he sure as hell wasn't able to pretend you even existed.

Even the small talk you had tried to engaged with him about his shiny pair of shoes went terribly wrong.

"Oh, are those Dolce and Gabbana?"

"Dolce and Gabbana are homphobic, racist and sexist, so no" the grimace on his face should've been enough to make you regret speaking to him in the first place , but the snarky voice of his made you want to run away and hide from him until next Christmas.

In reality, you swore you didn't care. Seriously. Other's opinions were never something that could easily bother you or keep you awake at night. You had always turned a deaf ear to the cruel children that made fun of you due to your parent's divorce, you had always ignored the amount of men that never considered you "ladylike" enough (what the fuck did that even mean, anyway? what exactly made a lady and what didn't?), and you had always disregarded any envous comment surrounding you.

So, fuck Park Jimin! You had said to yourself. He's just a well mannered rich boy. Somebody who didn't resemble you in any aspect. A stupid, pretentious, spoiled boy who's had everything he's ever wanted in the palm of his hand, unlike you. Who the fuck cares what Park Jimin thinks?

But apparently, you did.

You would have never placed such importance to whatever it was that roamed inside Jimin's head if his appearances in your group of friends hadn't been so recurrent.

Because each time you were forced to see Jimin's face, you were also forced to experience a strange knot of discomfort and humilliation growing in your stomach in his mere presence. It's not like Jimin did anything specific to make you feel that way. He might not even do it on purpose, or his intentions might not be entirely evil. Maybe he simply didn't realize how he always avoided being by your side like the plague, or how his body immediately tensed and he balled his hands into fists everytime you were less than two feet away from him, or how he would look at you from the corner of his eye everytime you decided you speak, almost as if he was waiting for you to shut up to finally let out the air he was containing inside his lungs in relief.

Yeah, Park Jimin most likely didn't even realize he was being a rude and disrespectful son of a bitch.

And with time, you couldn't help but attribute that disdain and hostility that Park Jimin always directed at you to the many undeniable differences that constituted each of you. Park Jimin, with his impeccable and always well ironed Prada shirts, his spotless trousers, jewelry that probably costed more than three of your annual salaries, and always emanating that Givenchy fragance that screamed "wealth!" every rare occasion you could experiment his presence next to you. Exactly two years after that first meeting with Park Jimin, you hadn't been able to avoid reciprocating that feeling of contempt towards him. Not when you were the only victim of his arrogance. Everybody loved Park Jimin, and Park Jimin loved everyone.

Except you.

Clinging to your glass of Don Pérignon and finishing the rest of the liquid in one go, you try to snap out of your own thoughts, reminding yourself to return to the conversation you're currently having with Taehyung about a pretty waitress that he's met during one of his art exhibitions (or at least that's what you think you caught him say) and forcing yourself by all means to stop observing the friendly and kind smiles that Park Jimin was shooting to those present from across the room and that you will never be able to achieve.

"_____? Are you even listening to me, darling?" Taehyung's voice is what makes you finally look away from the dumb blond standing on the opposite side of the room, blinking a few times before clearing your throat.

"Sorry, Tae." letting out a sigh, you try to brush back and put in place the strand of hair that escaped the intricate hairdo you had tried and so miserably failed to do yourself to try to fit in and hopefully impress such environment of preppy and privilaged people (ahem, Park Jimin) falling on your forehead as best as you can. "Just been really stressed this week and I'm on another planet. You know how I feel about Christmas. I think I need a new flute of . Or five."

Taehyung sends you a look full of empathy and places one of his hands in your shoulder, squeezing lightly in a comforting way. "I'll get you another one. I'll be right back." You quickly interrupt him though, to prevent him from standing up before you.

"No, really. I'll go. I need some fresh air anyways, if you don't mind." And of course Taehyung doesn't mind, so you get on your feet as graceously as your tipsy state allowed you to (who told you it was a good idea to drink three glasses in less than thirty minutes of the extremely expensive champagne Taehyung had brought to the Christmas party he had organized and why did it convince you it would appease your anxiey?) and make your way towards the table where the rest of the bottles are. A table dangerously close to the conversation Jimin and that friend of Lisa (whose name you don't remember) were having.

Both are with their backs turned and, honestly, you take a silent moment to thank God or whatever is up there because the last thing you need right now is yet another awkward interaction with Jimin, so you try as best as you can to refill your glass of champagne to get out of there as soon as possible, praying to make your exit going unnoticed.

But no. Because the stars and the universe loved to align to make you suffer! They love to play with your karma and they love making you damn that one day you didn't help that lady cross the street. They love making you regret buying those plastic straws. They love making you feel guilty for hacking your neighbour's Wifi when you run out of money to pay for yours. Because the moment you try to take a hold of the bottle in your hands, it slips out of your grasp, and you're watching in slow motion how the sparkling berverage ends up spilling all over the extremely expensive (or so you assume. Balenciaga maybe) suit pants Park Jimin decided to wear that night.

Everything is kind of blurry and you can't even hear anything. You can only watch as Park Jimin turns around, lips parted and eyebrows furrowed, until his eyes find you, the bane of his existance and immediately recognizing the culprit of his now drenched piece of clothing. And you can watch as, once again, his gaze turns almost black and narrow lightly as to reprimend you for what you've caused. But of course he doesn't say a word. He has nothing to say. He doesn't even look surprised. No. Because obviously, Park Jimin knew that if there was somebody in this room willing to ruin his night, it would be you, and only you.

"Shit!" you're the first one to break the strained silence, but that only makes Jimin flinch. "Shit, shit, shit. I'm so fucking dumb! J-Jimin, I'm so sorry, let me just go grab a paper tow-"

"Don't." his voice cuts through you. Literally cuts through you. Because it's not often that Park Jimin decides to aim his words at you, but everytime he does it holds the same frigid tone. Like knives trying to painfully stab your being. "Just, don't."

In reality, you don't know a lot of things and you don't know what causes what happens next. You don't know if it's the specific time of the year, you don't know if it's your internal stress, or if it's Park Jimin, his voice, or the fact that he will never like you. But it's instant. They way something compresses your chest, and suddenly your eyes are not glaced by the alcohol but by something wet that threatens to flow. You would never admit to anyone they're tears.

So, shutting your mouth and swallowing the uncomfortable feeling of anguish in your throat, leaving your flute forgotten on the table and grabbing the bottle instead. Without saying a word, your feet start moving up the stairs of the ridiculously enourmous house Taehyung owns towards the first free and empty balcony you can find. Free of people and free of Park Jimin.

Closing the large window behind you, you allow yourself to close your eyes and take a deep breath; the icy temperature outside immediately welcoming you. Although the hairs on your arm stand up and you know you're probably going to catch a cold (because the dress you've chosen for the dinner is not at all appropiate for such winter climate), at least the tension in your body seems to disappear while oxygen keeps that ugly feeling in your heart at bay from continuing to choke you.

With shaky hands, you take a big gulp straight from the champagne bottle. Fuck Park Jimin. No man will ever have the power to make you feel what you're feeling right now. Fuck Park Jimin. And fuck his beautiful face and his ability to make you tremble and fear looking like an idiot. Fuck his fancy clothes and his perfect manicured hands and his marvelous but frigthening presence.

Knock knock.

The sound makes you jump back from the window, hand grasping your chest while you turn around, coming face to face with the man in question. Your first instinct is to ignore him. But that thought is already out of the way when it's him the one who struggles with the window lock before opening and taking a step towards you. You step back as he steps in, raising your head up high and puffing your chest. Because your second instinct is to tell Park Jimin to go fuck himself.

"_____, I would like to-"

"You would like to what?" Jimin looks taken aback at your harshness. Alcohol has always been a weapon of mass destruction in your system, provoking words to flow too easily and without filter out of your mouth, more than they already do when you're sober. Especially when it's mixed with the frustration you've been harboring inside of you for two years. That's why when the words start to come out, they won't stop. "To make me feel like shit one more time? To look at me with that fucking conceited face trying to make me feel like you're better than me? Or would you like to ignore me once again as you always do everytime we're in the same fucking room to make sure I know you hate my mere existance, even if it's just the two of us right now?"

The steam leaving your lips due to the accelerated beat of your heart blurs his face for an instant while he looks at you dumbfounded. The silence and his expression makes you scoff, an acidic smile adorning your face while you take another sip of your drink because even with such a stupid face, he still looks delectable with his white shirt and ruined pants. You turn around, removing a tear that you hadn't even realized had fallen during your speech and that, frankly, you were hoping he hadn't either. You would blame it on the cold, anyway.

This time, a gust of wind running through you from head to toe, making you forget of Park Jimin's presence looming behind you, reminding you it's still December and the fabric of your dress is doing nothing to conceal you from the cold.

But before you can do anything about it and blame yourself for being dumb and not taking your coat with you before deciding to step into balcony, Park Jimin surprises you once again, this time by placing his navy blue blazer over the naked skin of your arms.

Your back straightens when you feel his warm breath caressing the back of your neck, at the same time that a voice you have never heard Park Jimin use with you echoes in your ears.

"I really don't hate you, _____. I..." Jimin wets his lips. His body trembles, but it's not due to lacking his own coat, while his brain hurriedly searches for words eloquent and adequate enough to explain voice his thoughts. "I like you very much, _____."

Scoffing again while you shake your head, you push down with all your inner strenght the incipent fluttering of butterflies in your stomach that Jimin has managed to cause in just a matter of seconds. It's probably the longest sentence you've heard from him in two years, and you don't exactly understand why your body is reacting the way it is. But you're also not willing to give Park Jimin the satisfaction of knowing that. He doesn't deserve it anyway. So with all the courage you can muster, you turn around with your hands clenching.

And even though being at such short distance from Jimin is a bit overwhelming and unexpected for you, the irritation still making your blood bubble is enough to not let a man as handsome as him derail you from your current circumstances.

"Well, fuck you Park Jimin. You certainly have a funny fucking way to sh-" his hands cradling your jaw that pull you closer to him and his lips that silent you roughly, but with surprising care. Only for a moment. A moment in which your body betrays you and make you melt into hir warmth. But his voice, low and sinfully husky, murmurs against your lips.

"God, that mouth of yours..." he goes back to attacking your own lips, this time more firm than before, snatching a sigh from you. The sound has his tongue asking for permission into your mouth, and with your body betraying you once again, you part your lips to allow him in. It's him who whimpers this time, while one of his hand moving until it reaches the bottle in your hand and letting it drop carelessly onto the floor, ignoring the sound of glass shattering and the future scolding you'll get from Taehyung. Instead, he sneaks that same hand on your waist, pulling your body flush against his, fingers digging onto your skin. "It's been driving me crazy for two years. Two years, _____."

He mumbles between kisses and swipes his tongue against yours, while he stars walking the both of you until your back meets the nearest concrete wall.

"Two years of having to hear the incessant filthy words that leave your mouth..." his own stop their movements and you catch yourself before begging him to reattaching his lips to yours, enjoying instead the path of wet kisses and bruises his lips traile from your chin to the pulse of your neck "...and trying my best to hide the painful boners I get whenever you're nearby."

With your eyes shut, your hands are back in motion, ignoring the voice in your head reminding you he's still an asshole and finding their way between Jimin's soft golden strands of hair. He hums in appreciation, sending goosebumps all over your body. "So, s-so why not do anything about it sooner?" you say, suddenly finding it difficult to breathe properly.

You feel Jimin's body tensing before you and he ceases the movement of his lips against your neck. Breaking away, your heart stops, afraid you might have ruined the moment. But Jimin's in search of your eyes, eyebrows very lighlty raised, the intensity of his gaze pinning you in place. You don't know for how long you stare at each other until Jimin comes out of the trance, eyes descending over your flushed cheeks, the very same color as your lips and the soft flesh of your neck until they reach your cleavage, the glimmering fabric encasing your breasts, taunting him the same way they had been doing all night long.

"You scare me so much..." and then, one of his hands repeats the same journey his eyes just did, until he touches your shoulder, right under his own blazer. "Everytime I look at you, all I can think of why the hell a girl as real as you like you would even glance my way." he slides the strap of your dress slowly tentatively, just enough for you to stop his advances if you chose so. You don't. "You're smart in ways I could never compare, so funny it makes me jealous, and so pretty it leaves me speechless. You're...You're everything I'm not."

His voice resonates in the atmosphere, and you would love to blame it on the cold again for how your body has reacted, but your body heat has increased so much since he started kissing you that it would be stupid not to admit that it's just the effect that Park Jimin has on you tonight. You're sure he would've had the same effect if it had happened before.

Your now uncovered breast doesn't even has to suffer the consequences of the icy wind, because one of Jimin's arms quickly comes around you to hold your body against his, lifting you ever so slighty until your erect nipple is at the same level as his mouth and his lips are enveloping it in their warmth. You gasp his name, and that encourages his teeth to tug softly before his tongue stars moving in circes.

"My God, you're so perfect." Your head spins while you hold onto his shoulders as tight as you can, the undeniable heat roaming all over your form, hips involuntarily rutting his incipent erection poking your abdomen. "Been thinking about this since that night we first met." Looking for relief, Jimin mirrors your movements without ceasing the administrations on your chest, as one of his hands lifts one of your thighs to wrap around his waist, closing the short gap remaining between the both of you.

"Ohmygod! F-fuck, Jimin," trying to form coherent phrases is almost impossible, not with Jimin finding a slow and tortuous rythm with his hips, his clothed cock rubbing against your core. Something shifts in the air, because Jimin stops abusing your nipple with a loud pop, and shuts you up by pressing his mouth onto yours in an urgent, dirty and desperate kiss. You could almost hear him swearing, while his hand keeps your jaw in place.

"S-stop talking like that, ______." his voice, inaudible, and his face now hiding in the crook of your neck, the thrusting of his hips speeding up, more and more frantic this time. The hand not holding your thigh against his hipbone reveals your other breast, hand covering it and giving it a light squeeze before tugging at your unattended nipple between his forefinger and his thumb while his tongue and teeth mark the skin on your neck.

"Hell, I've been dying to stuff your mouth with my cock to prevent you from such foul language," the soft whimpers leacving your mouth coax him into taking the hem of your dress and bunching the fabric until his fingers easily find the place in your body calling to him the most through the lace. It's immediate, how his fingers dampen at the first touch, surprising the both of you, and how your body jolts and an embarrassing sob escapes your throat. "How-how are you this wet? Holy hell, I could just slide right in..."

And as he says that, one of his fingers pull aside the fabric of your underwear and glide into you, so easy. You insides burning while he fingers you, another finger being added with his thumb rubbing circles on your nub. And fuck, you're not sure if you're just too horny and Park Jimin is a magician with his hands, or maybe it's the way he keeps mouthing at your chest and whispering how soaked you are, but you don't think you've ever been so close to cumming in such a short period of time.

"W-whats stopping you?" you manage with a voice that doesn't even resembles yours, but before your hands can even make work of the zipper of his trousers, he pulls his finger out from your center, causing you to whine in protest.

Jimin licks his lips, eyebrows framing the dark expression that his eyes ooze. Although the desire in his eyes is more than evident, it is also evident the faint hesitation in them. Because Park Jimin doesn't do things this way. Park Jimin was raised in a world of correct manners and conservationism. A world that has taught him when and how to act. And as badly as he is dying to fuck you against the wall of Taehyung's ridiculously inmense house, he also wants to do the right thing.

"Let me take you on a date."

Park Jimin has been spoiled his whole life. Being born in a well-off family has always provided him of everything he had ever wanted and more. From the innecessary number of toys Santa Claus left under his Christmas tree every year since he was a baby, to his fisrt extravagant sports car at the age of eighteen. Park Jimin has never been a greedy or needy man. How could he, when he's had everything he's ever wished in the palm of his hands. He has never missed anything in his entire life. Hasn't missed a roof over his head, warm food on his plate or brand new designers clothes each week.

It has taken him two years to control himself. He still remembers that night he first met you, just like he remembers every single time you both had coincided in the same place at the same time. He remembered your scent, had memorized your figure over your pieces of clothing and had tried as best as he could to keep a distance from you because he knew you would never give him the time of day. How could you? You probably despised everything he was because he was definitely nothing like you, and that thought intimidated the fuck out of him. He was a mess everytime you wear nearby. Never relied on his voice because he knew he would stutter if you ever spoke to him, could never trust his eyes because if he ever looked at you he was afraid he wouldn't be able to look away.

And everytime you spoke, shit, that voice of yours always cursing here and there left him wondering how would you sound in a different setting and if you would still be that badmouthed. More specifically, between his sheets. So he did everything he could to minimize your interactions as much as possible. He just never thought he would come across as such a jerk. It was never his intention to hurt you, and seeing you cry that night (although you denied you did, over and over again) seriously made him realize he wanted to make things right.

He was trying really, really hard to keep it in his pants, to be the same well composed and controled Park Jimin he had mastered himself to be.

But that damn dress.

After seeing that little black dress hugging your figure when you started taking off your coat at the restaurant, the brief flash of thigh tights that you accidentaly (or not so accidentally) had blessed him with by crossing a leg over the other, that exposed collarbone calling his name and those heeled sandals with straps wrapping around your ankles, reminding him of the snake tempting Eve, Park Jimin was sure he needed to dig into that apple more than anything he has ever needed before.

That's why he surprises you right after you both finish the second course meal by telling the waitress you won't be having desert, at which you look at him somewhat indignant. But the look he shoots you is enough to make you understand if somebody was going to have desert tonight, it would be him. In his Mercedes.

"I'm gonna-" you gasp, fingers tugging at the soft strands of his now ruined blond hair, his head between your thighs and your legs thrown over his shoulders. His hands have a grip of the meaty flesh of your ass, holding you firmly againt his mouth as it works wonders on your clit. You're sure it hasn't even been ten minutes since Jimin had opened your legs in the backseat of his car, not even bothering to take your underwear off, simply moving the fabric aside before diving in, and you already feel yourself on the edge of an orgasm.

"I know." voice vibrating right into your core, he slows down his administrations, tongue carefully and delicately lapping at your folds while he enjoys the feeling of your fingers loosening their grip and fondly brushing his hair back. You meet his eyes as he pushes a finger inside your core and your whole body twists in agony.

"N-no!"

Jimin stops immediately, lifting his head and focusing his concerned eyes on you. He's about to ask you if he's done anything wrong, but you're fast to roughly pull him up by his hair until his face is leveled with yours. You answer him by kissing him and he returns the kiss with the same eagerness, and now it's your hands that are looking for his cock, palming him through his pants.

"Your dick. Inside. Right Now." you punctuate each phrase with a kiss and he only stops kissing you to pout.

"But I wanted you to cum on my tongue." but still, he's putty in your hands when you undo the botton and the zipper. "Wouldn't you rather me fucking you in my bed, where we're more comfortable?" you notice the slight quivering of his voice when you slide his trousers and boxers down, just enough to pull him out.

"You can eat me and fuck me as many times as you want tonight, tomorrow and whenever you'd like, but right now..." none of you contain the moan in unision that leaves each of your mouths when just the head of his lenght comes in contact with your entrance. "I really can't wait anymore." brushing your lips over his, you lower your voice. "Wanna get on my hands and knees for you."

Park Jimin has tried to do things the right and appropiate way throughout all his life. He's been a professional from a very young age on how to be in charge of his emotions, his desires and his impulses. Always well mannered and well composed.

But it's in this moment that Jimin comes to the realization that the only thing that has ever made him lose his mind and self control, is you. Seeing you like this, ass up, grinding your drenched and still thong clad cunt all over his precum dripping lenght, he can't control the way his hand bunches the fabrick of that damn dress over your waist, then flies to your right cheek, a sharp sound of skin filling the air, tearing a gasp from your throat.

"God, I'm-I'm sorry. Couldn't help mys-"

"Do it again."

And he does, the palm of his hand now leaving a reddenning print on your flesh, making you jolt back involuntarily, aligning yourself to the head of his cock and like he had hoped, he slides right in. Not all the way, because Jimin is sure he would cream inside you too soon and he wouldn't be able to forgive himself if he did. He wets his lips, clenching his jaw and dropping his palm one more time, hand more steady and purposeful.

"You like it rough?" voice hoarse and a hand beside your head holding himself, your back to his chest, twitching beneath him as he soothes the sting with his free one.

"I like you rough." turning your head slowly to peer at him from the corner of your eye, your hips moving on their own accord trying to take him deeper. Your head is suddenly pulled back harshly, Jimin's fingers tangling in your hair as his own hips close the remaining gap between your bodys in an abrupt thurst. You squeal, Jimin's cock finally filling you up to the hilt just like you wanted him to be, the pleasure making your arms wobble and finding it harder to mantain your balance.

Jimin's breath fawns over your ear, his tongue darting out to suck on your skin sending chills down your spine. "You're such a dream." he groans, torturously sliding out of your core that's gripping around his shaft for dear life. A whine of protest escapes your lips and he tightens the hold on your hair in response, diving right back in. You fall forward, your arms' strenght betraying you as his thrusts find a new rhythm. With your eyes closed shut, you try to muffle the sound of your voice with the back of your hand as Jimin's lips place soft kisses to your exposed shoulder.

"Don't be quiet." he stands straight, the pull on your hair arching your back in such a enticing way it was Jimin look away for a second, cock buried inside of you and his hips faltering. "Been dying to have you like this for so long."

Another clap of his hand against your right cheek, and a particular stroke of his dick that has you mewling as your climax approached again. "S-so good, Jimin. Oh my god."

"You're gonna cum for me?" his fingertips leave bruises on your skin and the windows of his Mercedes are foggy, just like your mind. You can't concentrate on anything that's not Jimin's cock sliding in and out and how much you wished this had happened way sooner. "Gonna cum for me like a good slut?"

Park Jimin always takes his time. Always does things nice and slow to assure the best outcome possible.

But he can't contain the acceleration of his hips against yours as your walls clench impossibly tight around his cock, your orgasm finally taking over . Can't contain himself from falling forward again, hand twisting your head in his direction and his mouth searching for yours in a fiery and messy kiss. And he most definitely can't barely contain himself from cumming when your you ask him to spit in your mouth.

"You're gonna kill me." he breathes, removing himself off you and quickly maneuvering you on your back, his dick finding its way back inside you. Picking up right where he left off, skin slapping against skin in an obscene melody, he collects a considerate amount of saliva in his mouth before dropping it into your welcoming tongue, watching you swallow with a smile he hopes he'll be the only one to see in the future.

And that's what has the last bit of his self restraint slipping from his fingers. He somehow manages to rip the top of your dress down, fabric tearing until your tits are free and his mouth is attacking your nipples, white strings of his release panting your walls, some of it them oozing out that he fucks back right into you.

It's between ragged breaths, kisses and tender carresses that Jimin promises you more dates in the future and new dresses that he can't promise not to savage apart again.

#jimin #park jimin #jimin smut #park jimin smut #bts smut #bts #pjm #pjm smut #bad bunny is retiring like who the fuck does he think he is to decide when he gets to retire???#nah bb WE decide when you retire

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woulddieforperrytheplatypus · 3 years

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I've been rewatching all the Loki content to get ready for the new show and I have thought of A Phineas and Ferb AU™ for your viewing pleasure (and if anyone wants to turn any part of this into an actual fanfic I would owe you my life)

this post was brought to you in partnership with @dumbausfromdanville

You know how the first Thor movie ends with Loki yeeting himself off the Bifrost and falling to earth? What if, instead of going after the Tesseract, he falls straight to the Tri-State area?

Jane, Darcy, and Selvig all seemed to be on vacation, right? So Thor presumably took place during the summer — say, perhaps, ending on June 3? So he falls right onto Phineas and Ferb's rollercoaster just before it goes down that ♫ three-mile drop straight down ♪. He has no idea wtf is happening so it's not like he gets the chance to sit down and put on a seatbelt, so he's stuck holding on for dear life for the entire rollercoaster ride which Phineas and Ferb find weird but they're not really concerned bc they're chill lil dudes and tbh this isn't too far off a normal day for them.

Phineas and Loki strike up a none-too-pleasant conversation (not that Phineas notices Loki's bad mood; he's too Him to realize not everyone is rainbows and sunshine all day, every day), and our favorite lil disoriented demigod has to figure out where the fuck he is now ("You there. What realm is this?" "Danville 🙂" "Wut da fuk?") and what the fuck he's supposed to do now that he's here.

Phineas ends up inviting him to hang out for the afternoon, and Loki is about to turn him down but then he smells the pie. He's never had doonkleberry pie before so obviously he has to try it. Then, when Loki's no longer hangry, they can hold an actual conversation. It's lowkey more Loki wallowing in his own self-pity than anything else, but Ferb recognizes Asgard when Loki mentions it so he and Phineas piece together that he's a god pretty quickly.

More importantly, though, they figure out that he's completely alone, and because Loki never mentions trying to, you know, murder his brother and lowkey overthrow the monarchy, they just kinda assume Loki's family sucks (Ferb is completely prepared to start the anti-Thor club but Phineas stops him because he doesn't want his brother to get struck by lightning) and adopt him (without his consent, but it's not like he has anywhere else to be -- and he did like that pie).

Loki has no desire to build anything with the boys He thinks the idea of a backyard beach they make the next morning is stupid — even more stupid than a regular beach, and that's saying something. But over time, he gets more involved -- not just with the boys, but with the entire family. He helps the boys build their inventions. He talks about human history with Lawrence and corrects much of his knowledge on mythology. He lets Linda teach him how to bake seriously, her pies are so good. He even suffers through Candace's mall trips as long as he gets to go to that fro-yo place on the second floor (though he draws the line at any conversation involving romance).

He's still a little skeptical of the platypus (and he feels like the platypus is a little skeptical of him, too) but Phineas insists that he's "just a platypus" and he "doesn't do much." Loki doesn't realize that Perry's keeping an eye on him for OWCA, nor does he know that Monogram has absolutely no idea what to make of the dude so he hasn't actually told any of his superiors about him. As far as the government is concerned, after the fiasco in New Mexico, Loki just disappeared.

This makes it fucking hilarious when the boys accidentally steal the superheroes' powers in Mission: Marvel and the superheroes show up at the Flynn-Fletchers' front door only to see fucking Loki. Loki just shuts the door in their faces without a word because what the fuck?, but eventually Phineas and Ferb go check the door and they agree to help the heroes (much to Loki's chagrin), which, of course, isn't complete with Candace fangirling over them (also much to Loki's chagrin; she never fangirled over him). At first the Avengers are fully convinced that Loki is responsible for stealing their powers, and Loki never actually denies it because he's a little shit but Phineas, Ferb, and their friends are very insistent that Loki didn't do anything (except a little bit of manual labor putting together the satellites because they're 10 and he's a whole-ass demigod).

At some point, Thor and Loki have a very heated discussion about the events of Thor, and it's pretty much all news to the Flynn-Fletchers and their friends. They're not really sure what to make of it so they basically glue their mouths shut and watch it all play out. I'd like to think it goes something like it does in The Avengers and that a) Thor is pissed because what the fuck have you been up to Loki you fucking dumbass, b) Thor has been in mourning since Loki yeeted himself into the abyss and he wants to make sure the guy knows it, and c) Loki does not take it seriously at all he's being antagonistic the entire time because he is so sick of Mr. High-And-Mighty's shit. In the end, Loki storms out of the SHEDquarters and Phineas doesn't even think to try to stop him until he's halfway out the door and it's too late.

He shows up again when Phineas, Ferb, and the Avengers try to fight the bad guys in the mall with the wrong powers and he basically singlehandedly saves their asses until superhero Perry shows up. As everyone's favorite shapeshifter, he has absolutely no problem figuring out that this beaver duck dude is the Flynn-Fletchers' platypus. He has no idea what to do with that information, but it sure is information that he now has apparently. (At this point, poor Loki has a very warped sense of what earth is supposed to be like lmao).

Phineas tries to get Loki to come back with them after superhero Perry grabs them and carries them home. Instead, Loki cuts himself loose and falls like 30 feet straight down (and tbh after falling from the Bifrost, that's nothing to him) and peaces the fuck out.

Loki ends up accidentally bonding with Candace and Isabella over feeling useless and unwanted (and he absolutely gets his own verse in Only Trying to Help because it's what he deserves), but unlike the two girls who are hell-bent on changing that, Loki is content wallowing in his own self-pity. He's tried this whole "being important" thing before and he ended up in self-exile for it. He's not putting himself through it again because he really doesn't expect it to end well. But then the powerless heroes decide to face the villains again, and with Candace and Isabella in space and Perry nowhere to be seen, he realizes it is once again up to him to keep the tri-state area safe (which he knows is a stupid priority but he's gotten kind of attached to these stupid little humans and he wants to keep them safe).

Then the heroes get their powers back and they join Loki (and Perry and the mysterious waffle gun in the sky) and beat the shit out of the villains. Thor and Loki work together in the heat of the battle which serves as a Great Bonding Moment™, and once the villains are gone, they have a nice lil heart-to-heart where they both apologize for their past. Thor remarks that Loki seems to have grown a lot over the last couple of months and tries to bring Loki home with him, but Loki refuses. He'll never be welcome back into Asgard, no matter what Thor may say.

But he is welcome with the Flynn-Fletchers, who are completely over the fact that he tried to ruin Thor's life and take his not-so-rightful place on the throne (except Candace who's very skeptical about having him back but it's not like Linda will believe her if she tries to tell her what Thor and Loki talked about so her opinion is unfortunately as irrelevant as it usually is on the show).

And early the next morning, before anyone else is awake, Perry gets an alert that he's needed in his headquarters (presumably to talk to or about Fury). He quietly sneaks off, only to find Loki waiting at the bottom of the stairs for him. They have a very nice "conversation" (not that Perry speaks) about the superhero Ducky Momo they saw the day before, and Loki assures him that his secret is safe, thus starting a much-needed bromance between Loki and Perry because it's what my babies, goddammit!

Anyways yeah if anyone wants to write a fanfic about Loki hanging out with Phineas and Ferb during his self-exile I would give you a socially distant high-five because I want to read it but I have too many other fanfics on my plate to start this one for at least a few months. It doesn't have to follow this prompt literally at all (I swear I wasn't trying to get this in-depth with it but this is what I do apparently) or it can follow this prompt exactly idc i just want a PnF/Loki fanfic 🥺

#marvel #mcu #loki #phineas and ferb #pnf #fanfic idea?#mission: marvel #mission marvel

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ackerfics · 3 years

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your eyes still shined, like pretty lights — mikasa ackerman

— mikasa ackerman x female reader (modern au)

— request by anon: ooh how about some childhood best friends to lovers with mikasa? also based from taylor swift’s mary’s song :)

— warnings: none? just too much fluff and a hint of angst :))

— summary: you never knew that being childhood best friends with mikasa would lead to you finding forever within her gray eyes.

— word count: 6.3k words

— author’s notes: i am so happy that this is my first request !! thank you for requesting this and i hope you enjoy reading this as much as i loved writing it. i never knew writing mikasa would evoke feelings i was so familiar with back when there were face to face interactions with people. i will be forever grateful for the request !! you are a gem.

i reposted this bc it seems like this didn’t appear in the tags :(( i hope this works now :”((

> just two kids, you and i

The scent of apple pies drifted across the Ackerman household, ensnaring the girl of black locks and starlit eyes inside her room on the second floor. It wasn’t a regular day in their neighborhood. For starters, there was a moving truck parked at the house beside them, men shouting for the furniture to be lugged inside the walls of the empty home one by one, and the quiet atmosphere was interrupted by what was ensuing in the neighboring house of the Ackerman’s. Mikasa, the only daughter of the household, wanted to satisfy her curiosity, which flared, even more, when her mother baked one of her special apple pies. Throwing away the homework her first-grade teacher gave them, the young girl padded across her room, opened the door with a bang, and ran towards the kitchen in an excited rush.

With wide eyes, she stood on her tiptoes and peered at the edge of the countertop. There was flour everywhere, or was it powdered sugar? Mikasa will never know unless she will have one taste of it. Just a little taste. And so she carefully reached out one arm to swipe the white ingredient off the counter.

“Mika, don’t even think about it.”

Mikasa froze in her tracks, looking up to meet her mother’s eyes. “But I wanted to know if this is powdered sugar.”

The older woman smiled endearingly at her daughter. “You could’ve just asked, you know? Besides, I think these apple pies are much better than the powdered sugar.” She turned to get one of the pies from the oven with her mittens, then facing Mikasa with a proud smile. “So what do you think? Will our new neighbors love it?”

“Everybody loves your pies, Mom.”

A laugh came from the woman’s lips, letting the delicacies cool down before putting them in a box for their neighbors to enjoy. What her daughter said was true. Every time the light of the Ackerman household baked treats for the neighborhood, she would always receive remarks that she needed to open her bakery, saying that every single one of her treats was divine. She wanted to open her bakery, even to the point of helping out one of her nephews who was starting to have a tea shop as a dream. Her daydreams were interrupted when she saw something move in her peripheral vision. Mikasa was once again reaching out to swipe the caramel apple toppings. “Mika, you will have your share later. For now, we’ll have to be patient, okay?”

The little girl pursed her lips in annoyance. She was getting tired of standing on her tiptoes anyway. She had nothing else to do — she ditched her homework, she was told to wait before eating the dessert, and she was bored out of her mind. The silence stretched on for a couple of minutes, all spent by Mikasa thinking hard on what interesting thing she should be focusing her attention on.

“You know, our new neighbors have a little girl your age, why don’t you introduce yourself to her?”

That was the only catalyst for little Mikasa to make her way to her room, getting the toys she wanted to show, as she brightened at the thought of making new friends. In her elementary school, nobody wanted to be friends with her, knowing that she was known for being blunt and introverted. She was trying her hardest but nobody lasted longer than a few months — they always found a new circle of kids to share their stories with and Mikasa will be left alone again. Her older cousin, Levi, always teased her (in the least condescending way possible) that she should get rid of that permanent frown on her face (like he was one to talk). But it was never Mikasa’s fault that their classroom was always stuffy, with the air conditioner not functioning well. Mikasa doesn’t like being cooped up in a room, sweaty because of the humidity. The little girl rather preferred the coolness of the library, which the other kids didn’t like at all. They wanted to have fun and run around the school’s playground the whole hour of their recess and lunch breaks.

So now, it was an understatement that Mikasa was excited. She even brought some of her toys with her to share with her new neighbor. She hoped the girl liked toy soldiers (it was a gift from Levi on her birthday last year).

The little girl her mother was talking about was sitting on the front porch swing bench.

You were smaller than she and Mikasa wondered how you ever sat in the high swing. Your head was hung down and it looked like you were coloring something, with the way your hands gripped the red crayon. The black-haired girl wanted to call out to you but she doesn’t even know your name. Taking a deep breath, the little girl of gray eyes mustered up her courage and tried quelling the pitter-patter of her heart.

Why was it beating so fast?

The moment she stepped on the lawn of the house next door, Mikasa was sure she was seeing the constellations in your eyes when you looked up to meet her expectant stare.

> take me back to the house in the backyard tree

Mikasa was eight when she had this crazy idea inside her head.

In the two years that the two of you were friends, you always talked about a little safe haven tucked from the eyes of the world. A place where the two of you can be yourselves. A place where magic can happen even in the smallest space. Your eyes would light up blindingly when you talked about the things you will put inside your safe space, Mikasa matching your starry eyes with her own, staring at you silently as you poured out your beautiful dreams to her. The last time the two of you had a sleepover, you were chattering about a hidden library that only opens at certain times at night. The next second, you were off narrating how the stars were the most amazing things that gave you comfort on nights where you miss one of your parents because they were working so late. Then, you were relaying the possibilities of having a little art studio where you’re not afraid of drawing one of your prompts.

Mikasa let you ramble with a smile on her face. She was always a listener, afraid that the shine in your eyes would die down when she would interrupt — you just look so beautiful. However, there were times where you asked her things like her hobbies and likes, almost as if you were listing them down in an imaginary notebook in your head, and it will always catch Mikasa off-guard. Stutters accompanied her answers to your questions, not used to being the center of attention when it should be you. You were just too bright and full of sunshine. When Mikasa mentioned this to you, you only grinned, “Then you’ll be my Moon, Mika. I’ll let you glimmer through the night.”

She never slept that night, staring at the moon through her open window while thinking about your words.

Now, her mission led her to her father’s study, face set in adorable determination.

“Mika? What brings you here?” Her father placed his hands on her waist, lifting her until she was situated on his lap. His focus immediately went to his laptop on his desk. Mikasa’s eyes went from her father’s face to the gadget’s screen. She knew her father’s job was something hard and fun at the same time but looking at what was displayed on the screen, she instantly thought that drawing houses was harder than it looks. There were lines that she never knew were supposed to be there, a sprinkling of equations not suited for primary school was scattered around the blueprint, making Mikasa dizzy enough to place a hand on her forehead. “Complicated, isn’t it?” Her dad asked her in amusement. “This is what your Dad does for a living, Mika.”

“You like drawing houses, right?” Mikasa looked up at her father, gray eyes twinkling.

Her father hummed, ruffling her hair before squinting at his laptop. “Yes, I do.”

“We have a big tree in the backyard, right?”

The man furrowed his brows. He looked down at his daughter who was still in a daze in front of his laptop’s screen. “Yeah, it’s pretty hard to miss, you know?”

Gray eyes matched his own as Mikasa lifted her head and squeezed her hands on her lap. “How about building a treehouse in our backyard?”

Her father’s sputter was the only thing she received as a reply but that didn’t stop Mikasa from smiling smugly, your haven becoming possible by the minute.

And nothing can compare to your star-struck face the moment you laid your eyes on your little castle with Mikasa months after it was finished.

The midnight-haired girl swore she once again saw the entire cosmos in your irises, sending her heart in a confusing tangle of beats.

> said you'd beat me up, you were bigger than me (you never did)

Mikasa was eleven when she realized that she will do anything for your happiness.

Friday afternoons were always reserved for your and Mikasa’s many traditions: watch the movies the two of you borrowed from the rental shop downtown, snack on Mikasa’s treats and your mom’s sandwiches, immerse yourselves in video games until dinner was called. It was a celebration for surviving the end of the week — something that kept the two of your going. Your mom never lets you watch television throughout the week, the time was only spent studying and focusing on academics, which must be why you were one of the top students in your primary school. Fridays were your breathers, it reminded you that there was still happiness lingering after a week of pouring everything to not disappoint your parents. And you were happy that you get to spend this with Mikasa of all people.

The movies you two watched were all romantic comedies that your mothers suggested. You were a crying mess while Mikasa only stared at the television with a blank face. She never understood how everything in the movie moved you so much when it was just a pair of people expressing how much they meant to each other. You have that in your life — your parents, your two friends who you recently introduced to her, your dog, and her. Mikasa has always told you how much you meant to her through the littlest of things, the animated little girl when you were kids becoming a soft-spoken pubescent that supported you with little actions. And now, Mikasa didn’t want to see you cry because it didn’t sit right with her. You should be smiling because that’s when you were the most beautiful for her.

“Here, figured the movie would make you cry,” the black-haired girl told you, pushing the box of tissues in your direction.

You sniffed, lips pursed and wobbly. You took out some tissues from the box and proceeded to blow your nose, Mikasa’s hand forming a pattern of soothing circles on your back. “They died together. It was so bittersweet.”

Mikasa thoughtfully stared at your hands that were fiddling with the box of tissues. “At least she remembered him.” She lifted her eyes to meet your teary ones, breath hitching and thoughts forgotten as she blinked at how the lights from the television made your irises have silver flakes on them. Looking away without moving her head, Mikasa cleared her throat. “But they can still do everything as long as they love each other. I guess it’s not a sad ending, it’s not a happy one, either. I think it’s fitting for the two of them.” She carefully reached out a hand and wiped away a stray tear at the corner of your eye, lingering her palm against your cheek. “But if the movie made you cry for varying reasons, it means you understand their feelings, of the characters, I mean. Plus, your tear ducts are still functioning.”

A bubble of giggles came from you. You stared at her with soft eyes that pinched Mikasa’s chest. “What would I do without you, Mika?”

“Probably die in a ditch or something.”

“Hey!” You playfully pushed her side, Mikasa’s slight chuckles tickling your ears. “That’s mean. I never knew our friendship could amount to a thing such as bullying.”

She ruffled your hair with a small smile. “It’s a once-in-a-blue-moon experience.” The black-haired girl then turned around, rummaging for something besides the box of movies you rented for the rest of the day. Two video games were presented in front of you with a faux look of seriousness painting your best friend’s face. “Now, how about we play some games to alleviate the sad atmosphere brought by the movie we just watched?”

“You’re on.”

A few rounds of racing games later and you were becoming agitated. Mikasa always won against you at any type of game you two dedicated your time on. At the moment, you were ranked second, meters away from Mikasa’s selected car model. You were always brushing off your poor gaming and strategic skills, blaming your loss on the equipment you picked, saying that the stats are the absolute worst because Mikasa always took the best-looking car in the choices. All of the cars present in the racing game were all good and it depends on the gamer on how they’ll manage with the listed specs. You maneuvered your red racing car to one of the shortcut routes, your side of the screen displaying a forest terrain that neither of you ever ventured in before. You can see Mikasa glancing at you from the corner of your vision, making you speed up, only for you to be thrown off course by some traps plugged in by the developers. There was a standby screen flashing in front of you, not knowing how Mikasa slowed her car.

When the countdown finished, your car was able to move again and this time, you tried to take it slow since Mikasa might have won the game by now. To your surprise, your name was the one displayed on the screen instead of your best friend. She was awarded third place instead of the second when you could’ve sworn she was just a few meters from the finish line. You looked at her curiously, wondering what happened.

She glanced at you before looking down on her controller thoughtfully. “I guess I messed up, too. I thought there are no traps in front of the finish line but it turns out a bomb was implanted at the side of the track.”

There were no traps in front of the finish line and your giddy smile was picture perfect as you celebrated your first win against Mikasa.

> i dared you to kiss me and ran when you tried

Mikasa was fourteen when she realized that her heart was beating for you, something that wasn’t appropriate between best friends.

“Okay, for this small party, we’ll be playing Truth or Dare!” Connie exclaimed, the smell of his father’s stash of beer coming out of his mouth.

Your little world with Mikasa extended and created a universe with unlikely people that you never imagined would be your friends.

It all started with Armin and Eren, the two boys who became your friends in primary school. Armin was one of the smartest people in your middle school, already getting a sure spot in your town’s high school, being the candidate for valedictorian. Meanwhile, Eren was one of the members of the school’s soccer team, which in turn brought along his teammates, Reiner and Jean. The latter person in Eren’s little circle in his soccer team claimed that he and his two friends, Sasha and Connie, were a package deal. It was funny because Sasha was befriended by you and Mikasa way before the two of you knew she had some connection with the soccer player. The brown-haired girl was your seatmate in History. When you heard her stomach grumble (the subject was set before lunchtime and everyone was practically hungry after the morning hours), you offered your bar of chocolate to her. There you found your other best friend, her hugs and gushes of ‘I love yous’ made the first interaction unforgettable.

The small party held in Connie’s house was thrown because you were all graduating the following week. The short boy was ecstatic while planning out the mini-event, even threatening to kick out Sasha when she became hungry while preparing the snacks. Since the party was not limited to your friend group, Reiner invited some of his friends — Annie, Bertholdt, and Ymir. Connie was overjoyed that he was finally getting popular, to which Ymir shut down, saying that she needed the booze (she fought with Historia, her on-off girlfriend, leading to their nth break-up).

“Ugh, man,” Eren groaned. “Do you even remember what happened the last time we played Truth or Dare?”

Jean snorted. “Nobody asked you to do the dare, idiot. You could always take the shot.”

“Well, I don’t want to smell like booze when I go home, horse face. Mom’s going to kill me.”

“Who in their right mind would jump into the freezing lake naked then, Eren?”

You chuckled, remembering how Eren talked your ear off when he went home after his retreat with the soccer team. He claimed that his dick was numb to the point that he couldn’t feel anything while jerking off. Mikasa had to cover your ears while he went to that part and Armin was begging for the brown-haired boy to stop tainting his mind.

“Okay, can you guys stop arguing for just one minute?” Sasha pleaded through a mouthful of hash browns. “I’ll start spinning the bottle now!”

The game started quite well. Armin had to perform a dance number in front of all of you because Sasha wanted to let everyone know how awesome Armin was at dancing. Jean chose truth and was asked who he found hot among the girls his year. (Nobody missed his subtle glance at Mikasa, who was focused on the drink in her glass.) Reiner was asked who he last hooked up with and surprisingly, he downed a shot instead of answering. When Sasha chose dare, Reiner thought it was a good idea to witness the girl put as many marshmallows in her mouth without stopping. (Sasha managed to empty the bag.) Annie was dared to text her crush and the next second, Armin’s phone dinged with an incoming message. You and Sasha cooed at the blonde boy’s burning face. Mikasa also chose truth and drank her shot when she was asked by Annie about the person she likes. (Jean perked at this but quickly deflated when the black-haired girl held no hesitation in drinking the shot.)

Then, the bottle landed on you.

Your eyes met with Mikasa, knowing that she will be the one asking the infamous question of ‘truth or dare?’

“Dare.”

Sasha and Connie ooh’d at the background.

“I dare you to kiss the person you’re thinking about a lot.”

It was a masked question. Mikasa wanted to ask you about your recent crush but she had to be conspicuous about it. Of course, she noticed how you and Eren became close these days. Always sitting with each other during lunch and how the green-eyed boy always offered his jacket whenever you felt cold. She had to confirm it. She didn’t want Armin to pick up on her nerves every time she witnessed how Eren looked at you like you placed the stars in the sky. She was only worried for you since Eren had the most experience when it comes to dating among the four of you, having only dated one person the whole duration of middle school.

However, Mikasa didn’t expect you to place a hand on her cheek, your face inches from hers.

The entire circle became silent, jaws dropped at the scene unfolding in front of their eyes. Mikasa didn’t pay them any attention. Her eyes were wide while yours were hesitantly trained on her lips. She didn’t register that you whispered along the lines of only kissing her cheek. Her heart was threatening to burst out of her chest. Her face was burning with a beautiful shade of rouge. Her mind was muddled, panicking that you were so close to her. Mikasa remembered the times you left her breathless. They were unexpected moments that only occurred in a mundane situation but it was you. You were different from the people in Connie’s house right now. You were a force to be reckoned with, always interrupting Mikasa’s focus during class because you were there in her thoughts. You were a sight to behold, having a fair share of admirers, one of them being Mikasa, to which she was never aware until now. You were everything held tightly in a small body that fit exactly against Mikasa's when the two of you hug after a bad day.

You were so beautiful.

But Mikasa couldn’t handle the continuous pounding of her heart.

She turned around and immediately darted to the bathroom, leaving you frozen along with your gawking friends.

Oh, how Mikasa regretted running away the moment the door was flat on her back.

> take me back to the time we had our very first fight

Mikasa was eighteen when she heard the words she dreamed of coming from your lips.

“Why don’t you go back to Eren?” Mikasa grumbled, her eyes glaring at the road in front of her, knuckles white from gripping the steering wheel a little too tight. “Why would you even go home with me? He was offering to drive you back and you’re here sitting in my car.”

There was no reason why she was being angry right now. The past years in high school were pure torture for Mikasa and the soccer game that happened hours prior was the cherry on top of the sundae. When their school’s soccer team won at the final game of the seniors, she had to watch Eren pick you up, laughing while twirling you around. Everybody knew how much Eren liked you since he wasn’t afraid of expressing his feelings to a crowd of people. However, even with Eren’s efforts of wooing you, you always brushed it off, saying that he is still one of your best friends. There was no denying that Eren was courting you with the whole school as the witness. It was like a love story waiting to hit its climax — two childhood friends intertwining their fates together until they found forever with each other.

Mikasa had to suppress a groan at the thought. Maybe she watched too many romance movies to think straight at the moment. She honked the horn too loudly, making you flinch in the passenger seat. Her gray eyes were a raging storm and even the biker at the side of the street wasn’t safe as she turned her head to the window, shouting, “Hey, there’s a bike lane for a reason!”

“Mika, calm down,” you pleaded.

She scoffed in disbelief, remaining silent even though you were expecting to hear her answer.

“Why are you so angry right now? I don’t know how to fix this if you’re going to be so quiet over it.”

The car stopped in front of your house and you didn’t even notice how Mikasa practically broke the speed limit. It was a good thing there weren’t any cops doing their patrols on your side of town. Now that there was finally time for you to ask her questions, you turned to face her. You pursed your lips at the sight of her stony visage, face still so beautiful that it made your sketches of her look like nothing.

Mikasa has been ignoring you the past few weeks. You noticed that it was only when Eren was around. You looked away at the thought, heart-pounding that maybe Mikasa finally realized her feelings for the green-eyed boy. You never fail to notice how she was constantly hovering around the boy, reminding him of the schoolwork he was missing or his forgotten lunch. It always squeezed your chest too hard.

You tried reaching for her hand, only to be swatted away. “Mika,” you whispered brokenly.

“Do you like Eren?”

Oh, so that was it.

You schooled your expression in a blank one, licking your lips in nervousness. She wanted to make sure there was nothing between you and Eren so that she can finally tell him her feelings. “Why are you asking that?”

“Stop answering my questions with another question.”

You had enough of this. “Then what do you want me to say?”

Mikasa threw her hands up in the air, shrugging her shoulders in disbelief. “I don’t know! Your honest answer, I guess. It seems to me like you do like him. With you, all cuddled up with that long-haired idiot every single day. Is it the long hair? Do you like people with long hair? If that’s the case, I’ll grow my hair! Just give me a few years at most.”

You looked at her in confusion and frustration. “What are you talking about, Mikasa?”

She flinched. You never called her by her full first name. It was always Mika for you. She was always Mika for you. You were the only one allowed to call her that aside from her parents. Mikasa turned abruptly, taking you by surprise as she placed both of her hands on your arms, firmly grasping them to make you meet her desperate eyes. “I’m just making sure that you don’t like him because...” She faltered, not knowing what to say next. Is she even confessing to you right now? Years of pent-up feelings beginning to rise and overflow because of the stars gradually appearing in your eyes. Her mouth was running on its own and she was beginning to feel the shame bubbling in her stomach.

“Because … Eren is not the only one who looks at you like you placed the stars in the sky. He’s not the only one wanting to keep you warm on a cold day. He’s not the only one experiencing euphoria whenever you’re around.” She blinked away the tears building in her eyes.

“He’s not the only one in love with you.”

“You are so dense, you know?”

“What?”

Mikasa reeled back but your hands finding their way on top of hers stopped her from backing away any further. Now, you were the one looking at her like she created the entire universe in front of your eyes. You were looking at her like she’s the first snowflake making its way on top of your nose. You were looking at her like those times you were inside your treehouse, under the fairy lights hung on the walls. You were looking at her as if she was euphoria personified. Because she is. Mikasa is so breathtakingly ethereal, your surroundings becoming more transparent by the minute as you focused on her. Gently transferring your hands on her cheeks, you pulled you close until both of your foreheads were tenderly pressed against one another.

“It’s you.”

Her breathing hitched.

“It has always been you, Mikasa Ackerman. Since that day you rejected my kiss when we were fourteen.”

Tears became more prominent in both of your eyes.

“Not Eren or anybody who was rumored to be going out with me.”

She closed her eyes tightly.

“I’m in love with you.”

Mikasa opened her eyes, revealing the entire cosmos you adored.

“I love you and only you.”

It’s not a dream, the two of you sharing your first kiss that was more than what the movies described.

> they never believed we'd really fall in love

Mikasa was twenty when she had the courage of telling the entire world you’re the love of her life.

“Oh, my God, I knew it!” Sasha screeched inside the café you and Mikasa chose to have your group study session. Most eyes inside the café turned to your table since Sasha planted her hands on your table with enough force to attract attention. You laughed nervously and apologized to some of the people inside the café but the brown-haired girl still showed no signs of sitting down. You can see Mikasa placing a hand on her forehead, sighing at the third member of your trio. Sasha, however, was experiencing the milestone of a lifetime. She flickered her gaze between you and your girlfriend, eyes sparkling in obvious excitement and adoration. “And thank God you two finally got together! I had to endure Mikasa moping around during high school.”

“We are dating for two years now,” Mikasa dryly stated. “We didn’t get together recently.”

You placed a gentle hand on hers, smiling at the black-haired girl before turning to Sasha. “We tried keeping our relationship a secret for two years but judging from your first statement, it seems like we couldn’t conceal it that well.”

Sasha finally sat down, picking up her fork with some unattended carbonara on her plate. “I had a hunch. Well, not only me, Connie and I. Ever since I got to know you, [Name], I always admired your friendship with our Mikasa here.” She pointed her fork at you and Mikasa. “Yes, Mikasa treated all her friends in some special way. For me, she tells me not to eat too much.” Mikasa eyed Sasha’s plates of lunch. “For Armin, she tends to be gentler, I mean, you know Armin, softest boy on the planet. For Eren, she’s like his mother.”

“Somebody has to do it.” Mikasa rolled her eyes, making you laugh. “He never listens to Carla any more.”

“But for you, missy,” the brown-haired girl leaned forward with a teasing smirk, “Mikasa becomes all of these. Who would’ve ever thought that that childhood friend story circulating between you and Eren became you and Mikasa instead?” She leaned back and shrugged. “I never liked Eren for you anyways.”

“Same,” the black-haired girl simply stated, taking a bite of her pizza before offering you some. “I heard you wanted this café’s pizza.”

“Thanks,” you murmured, taking a bite of the pizza Mikasa was holding in front of you. “Annie’s right, the pizza in this restaurant tastes amazing.” You felt your girlfriend’s thumb brushing at the corner of your lips, wiping the pizza sauce smeared there.

The brown-haired girl sitting in front of you two squealed with hands covering her mouth. “You two are so cute together!” Yours and Mikasa’s face flushed, making Sasha gush again. The gray-eyed girl sighed deeply, placing her head on your shoulder to cover her red face, making you laugh at how adorable your partner is. “Wait, have you talked about this to your parents?”

You and Mikasa looked at each other, that Thanksgiving dinner flashing through your minds at the moment.

You were supposed to be enjoying the scrumptious feast your and Mikasa’s mothers prepared but you and your girlfriend were too stiff to participate in the casual talk flittering the table. The previous night, Mikasa opened the idea of telling your parents that you were dating each other. At first, you disagreed because you have seen how this would affect Mikasa. There was a time where some old woman looked at you two while you were on a date, yelling that you two should break up and find some man instead of finding comfort with the same sex. The black-haired girl nearly broke down when you arrived at your shared apartment and you reassured her that their opinions shouldn’t matter as long as you have each other. But now, these are your parents, of course, their perception of your relationship will always matter. Those worries soon vanished when your fathers rejoiced, the negative thoughts replaced with tears of relief rolling down on your and Mikasa’s cheeks.

“It’s about time, you know,” your dad smiled.

“We were supposed to place a bet but we were scolded,” Mikasa’s father sheepishly admitted.

“You shouldn’t bet on the girls’ relationship!” Mikasa’s mother replied, her playful expression turned soft when she turned to you two. “Don’t ever think we would go against this. We have been watching you two grow up and we always knew that there was a possibility that you’ll come into terms with your feelings for one another.”

Your mom perked up with glee visible on her face. “So … when’s the wedding?”

You shared a laugh with the love of your life. “They’re planning a wedding as we speak.”

“Make me one of your bridesmaids please!”

“I think you’re suited to be [Name]’s maid of honor instead.”

“Hell yeah!”

> we were sitting at our favorite spot in town and you looked at me, got down on one knee

Mikasa was twenty-three when she knew you are the constant in her life.

Graduation was only a few months ago and you have never felt so happy in your life. Gone were the days slumped in front of your laptop way past midnight trying to perfect your thesis papers. Gone was the day where caffeine was the only thing keeping you going during exams. Gone were the days you had laboratory periods that span the whole half of the day. All the stress was piling up on your shoulders the past four years, molding themselves in a huge ball that made you think you carried the entire world as Atlas did. Now you got your degree and you were ready to settle with the person driving the car with ease along the road leading to your neighborhood. As you stared at her side profile, you smiled, knowing that she has been in every part of your life, in your downtimes and zeniths brought by your achievements. You vaguely remembered how the car stopped in front of Mikasa’s house, the two of you immediately making your way towards their backyard.

Years of care were seen in her mother’s flower and vegetable garden but the only thing that took your breath away was the treehouse she surprised you with when you were both eleven. You blinked at the pristine condition of the small castle in the canopy of green, your smile pulling on the corners of your lips. “I can’t believe it’s still here.” A hand made its way on the small of your back, its warmth seeping through your French chiffon floral dress. You looked up at Mikasa, her casual ensemble of her gray suit and white shirt sending your heart in a frenzy. You pulled on her collar, your lips meeting hers in a slow dance, her hand on your back transferring around your waist.

When you pulled away, Mikasa placed her forehead against yours, her breath tickling your face. “Let’s visit our castle, shall we?”

The inside of the treehouse was still the same as ever. Aside from the thick layer of dust covering every surface of the small abode, it still gave the same feeling when you first laid your eyes on it. The knick-knacks you and Mikasa placed were still in the same position as you left them. The star projector you brought when you were thirteen was placed in the middle of the treehouse. You made your way to it and a sea of stars filled the crevices of the treehouse after gently turning it on. A myriad of purples and blues painted themselves on the ceiling, swirls of galaxies accompanied the constellation map you knew by heart when you were a kid. You faced Mikasa, only for your breath to hitch at the sight of her kneeling on one knee on the dusty floor. The first thought coming to your mind was how the dust would cling to her gray slacks. But that quickly erased itself when Mikasa tenderly presented a small velvet box.

“You made me believe in love, magic, myself, and the universe,” Mikasa whispered things meant for your ears only. “The way you love me and the way I look at you makes life worth living. Every single minute I’ve spent with you, I wanted to stop time to preserve it in my memory. I wanted to swim in your divine because I swear, you are the best thing that has ever happened to me. I promise to give you everything to make you the happiest woman in the world. I’ll still look at you like the stars that shine no matter how many years go by. You deserve the very best, someone who will back you up without limits, let you grow without borders, and love you without end. So, [Name],” she opened the small box, revealing the most beautiful piece of jewelry — a golden band with a sparkling diamond at the center of smaller gems shaped like stars, at the sides of the huge gem were crescent moons, “will you let me be the one?”

You were crying now, you never thought that this would happen.

The woman of your dreams was kneeling in front of you and there was only one answer that will seal your fate with hers.

“Yes, Mikasa, always and forever.”

> we'll rock our babies on that very front porch

Mikasa was twenty-five when she wanted a small family with you.

“How about using Eren?”

“Mika, why would you suggest that!”

“I mean, he has the hots for you.”

“I can’t believe you’re selling me to one of our friends.”

“Don’t leave my side. Here’s a kiss as an apology.”

“You’re lucky I love you, Mika.”

“And I love you, too.” Mikasa paused, turning the laptop to you as she opened the tab for one website she found. “How about adopting a toddler?”

You looked at a website displaying one of the orphanages in the city, chest filled with butterflies at the next step in your life with Mikasa.

“I think that’s a perfect idea, Mika.”

“I think so, too, Mrs. Ackerman.”

#aot #new aot writing blog #aot x reader #attack on titan #snk #snk x reader #mikasa #mikasa ackerman x reader #shingeki no kyoujin x reader #rorywrites

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poodlejoonas · 3 years

Text

Dad!BC AU - the moms

So wow-ihateithere and I (because for some reason Tumblr won’t let me directly @ you) have been tossing out so many amazing ideas for the BC dad AU lately that we’ve thought of pretty much every scenario under the sun. One idea I’d like to throw in here is the group that is the moms who make up their own personal wolfpack. Since they’ll be brought in as stand-alone characters soon, it would be better to have a basic introduction for each and how they know/interact with each other.

(Under the read-more for length)

Joel - Emilia (”Millie”) Hokka - The absolute baddest bitch you will meet on this planet. She's a 5′1″ sweetheart, but if you lay a single finger on her kid, her husband, her BC brothers and sisters, or any of her nieces and nephews, she will become the human embodiment of that one line from “Wolfpack.” You know the one. She’s gone viral before for Joel needing to hold her back from fighting the mom of a kid who’s bullying Enkka at school, and literally watching this tiny woman become a human hurricane at the drop of a hat was enough for this kid to immediately leave him alone. From then on, kids at school know not to come after Viktor Hokka because his mom doesn’t play around. Why would she? After all, she dedicated 18 months of her life to trying to become a mom, and anyone who dares to come after her baby needs a running start to get away from her.

Sometimes even Joel has to hold her back from doing something she probably should regret but wouldn’t if it involved her family. He knows better than to cross a line with her. Then there are other times when they work together to be the shadiest power couple on earth, like when Aleksi’s ex-girlfriend Laila slanders him in the media for talking about taking custody of their son from her. If Joel comes home pissed about something, she’s the first one to jump on board with whatever plan he has to get his point across. She would totally have a stan account on Instagram dedicated to her called “milliehokkasupremacy”. And Joel loves his wife so much that he would eat every bit of this shit up. When she tells someone off, he writes down what she says and turns it into the lyrics of Blind Channel’s next single.

In short, Millie Hokka is 100 percent That Bitch™.

Bonus bit because this idea made me laugh: (in the comments section of a post slandering BC) @milliehokka: Bitch you better take this shit down before I puncture your fucking tires @joelhokka: She's my better half ❤️

Joonas - Kirsten Porko - Kirsten’s one of the quiet BC moms, and a hell of a lot more tame than Millie. But she has her shining moments every now and then, like when she was wondering why Millie took Joel with her knowing that she could’ve easily beaten that bully’s mom’s ass without him. She has the patience of a saint, being married to Joonas and raising two (soon to be three) kids with him. But she adores every minute of their chaotic little family. Since Sohvi was the first of the BC kids, the guys were quick to show up in support of her and Joonas. She was also pretty lonely until the others started dating their wives, and she was more than happy to have more friends to bond with.

She does the most to mother the rest of the kids when they need it. They love to come to their house because Kirsten will have a fresh pan of cookies ready for them. They also like hanging out with Joonas, but Kirsten is a fun aunt on her own. She’s typically the first to show up when one of the other moms tosses out a cry for help in taking care of their kids, especially when they’re newborns and the guys are away on tour. Kirsten’s total aesthetic is the absolute opposite of Joonas’s: she’s bubbly and wears nothing but pastel dresses and soft fabrics. A lot of people wonder what a “nice girl” like her is doing with a punk rocker like Joonas, until you see them interact and know that they’re crazy in love with each other and their kids. She’s the unassuming type, but she loves pranks as much as her husband and kids; she’ll play along whenever there’s a really good one and sometimes she can totally outdo them.

Niko - Jenna Moilanen - Jenna is Millie’s co-conspirator and partner-in-crime. If Millie needs someone to back her up and Joel’s trying to talk her out of whatever she’s thinking about doing, Jenna is the first to show up on the scene. She’s very much Niko’s type - she has just as many tattoos as him, several piercings, and hair that changes color depending on her mood. She’s naturally a blonde but you almost never see her as one. A lot of people tend to pass judgement on her abilities as a mom based on her appearance, but both of her and Niko’s kids adore her (especially their daughter Lahja) and they grow up happy with their loving parents. She’s a fantastic cook and works as a head chef at a five-star steakhouse, and she’s always willing to come home and cook for her family as well. She and Millie are the two shortest of the group, and it’s hilarious because they are both absolute spitfires.

Jenna has the best intuition when it comes to deciding who is trustworthy and who isn’t. There’s no “leader” in the group, but most of the others trust Jenna when someone gives her a bad feeling. She would be the one to raise the alarm on Laila years before she and Aleksi ever break up, and Laila would find the absolute worst way to end up on Jenna’s shit list. In her time with the group, Laila does nothing to help take care of the rest of the kids or try to fit in with the group. One day, when Leevi cries because he needs something, Jenna spots an annoyed expression out of the corner of her eye coming from Laila. It takes an intervention from God to stop Jenna from ripping her apart on the scene. The most important thing to note about Jenna: she calls her closest friends “bitch” affectionately. The moment it stops being affectionate, there’s no turning back.

Olli - Kaarina Matela - The quietest and calmest of the BC moms. She perfectly matches her husband’s energies, which is why they parent their daughters so well. She was definitely more calm than him on the day they learned they were having twins, and still is to this day. When he was panicking about their pregnancy scare, she was still managing to stay collected somehow (but just as relieved as he was). She’s very much like a suburban soccer mom type, but far from being a Karen because she’s aggressively kind to everyone around her, including hardworking people. And Olli just adores her so much, sometimes he doubts if he even deserves her. She’s always the first to remind him that there’s no one else she would rather be with.

Kaarina is the arts and crafts kind of aunt. During the summer, she likes to have the kids come over for day camp style hangout sessions where they mix in time outside with craft activities. She’s the reason why Olli’s stage outfits have been so cool lately, because she’s got a perfect eye for colors and is super skilled at hand-stitching patches. If the kids need anything repaired, they’ll know to go to Aunt Rina first because she’ll either make it as good as new, or turn it into some sick artwork. All the moms get along but she and Kirsten vibe together the best. They get together and plan the summer activities for the kids, which involve Rina planning the crafts and Kirsten baking for, and with, them.

Tommi - Marja Lalli - Marja is unique in her position as a BC mom because she joined the group when her son Miikka from a previous relationship was already almost 4. For a brief time, she was worried about herself and Miikka feeling left out of the group dynamic that was already there, but they were so quick to invite her in as one of them. A lot of it had to do with her being friends with Jenna since elementary school, and Jenna knew that the sisterhood would be more than happy to accept her. She and Niko help set her up with Tommi because they both know he would love her and accept Miikka as his own. She’s chill and reserved, but she’s still a ton of fun to be around. Along with Kaarina and Kirsten, she’s one of the level-headed moms and is typically the voice of reason for a lot of things (especially when it comes to trying to contain Millie and Jenna’s tempers).

The rest of the moms were thrilled when she told them she was pregnant with Anna, but constantly concerned and fretting over her when she was on occasional bed rest. If Tommi couldn’t be with her, it was one of them coming over to help take care of her and Miikka. Marja’s health showed the caring side of the sisterhood of the BC moms, how they are willing to take care of each other in sickness as well as celebrating the good times and defending each other from drama. Even months after Anna is born, they still come over from time to time to see if there’s any way they can help.

Aleksi - Laila Pekkanen (later on, marries Hanna Kaunisvesi) - So this one is a bit complicated. For about three years, Aleksi was in a high-profile relationship with Laila Pekkanen, a producer who worked with him on a solo single before joining BC. They meet again a couple years later and begin a relationship that last for about three years. But it was far from loving, as they were just in general not good for each other. A few weeks after their break-up, Laila calls Aleksi while he’s in the studio to break the news to him that she’s pregnant, which sends Aleksi into total emotional turmoil because he thought they were being careful. Of all the guys, he’s the most careful with avoiding this kind of thing, but it was her who missed one too many days of her birth control. They’re barely on speaking terms, but they agree to try to stay cordial until Aleksi can take full custody of the child himself. She admits to having no maternal instinct and wants nothing to do with the baby.

Here’s where it gets messy. Aleksi finally decides to break his silence on the matter and announces via Instagram that he will be a father and raise his son on his own. He does his best to tell his side of the story without dragging Laila down. But she takes it personally and goes on the radio to try to attack Aleksi, feeling like she’s being treated like a villain and a bad person for giving up her child. She feels like she’s being “exposed” in thinking that Aleksi publicly acknowledging their son’s existence would ruin her career, because she’d been trying everything possible to cover it up. It becomes a major feud between her and her team, and Aleksi and the BC team, but more industry people can back him up as a stand-up guy than they can come to her defense. She nearly ends up having Noah prematurely, and yet Aleksi still shows up in support, more so for their son than for her. When Noah is born months later, she refuses to hold him and immediately cuts off all contact with Aleksi.

Aleksi raises Noah alone and learns to support his son when he’s later diagnosed on the autism spectrum. Noah is semi-verbal and partially communicates with sign language. He uses sign in situations when he meets a stranger, and Aleksi respects his intuition when someone makes him uncomfortable. Noah has separation anxiety from losing his mom at a young age, so Aleksi refuses to date for years because he doesn’t want to bring a revolving door of strangers around him. But then he meets Hanna, who makes an almost instant connection with him. He’s hesitant to make a decision about a long-term relationship with her until he sees how well she works with Noah. She’s one of the first people he opens up to - mostly because of her experience as a child psychologist - but the moment that seals the deal is when Noah calls her “mom” for the first time (in sign to his cousins). Fans and people he works with can’t help but notice that Aleksi is so much happier with Hanna than Laila. And as much as he would like to have a baby with her, he’s happy having Noah and wants to invest his energy into ensuring his happiness. But Hanna understands, because she’s an angel and only wants the best for her family.

#blind channel #dad!blind channel #no idea what else to tag this as lol #this is a lot more fun than making them all reader inserts #i love writing reader inserts but it'll be nice to see them interacting with each other

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pleasewriteusernamehere · 3 years

Text

ok so we know liet lived at poland’s house for a bit to help recover from the soviet era but what if for some soviet torture reason or bc he has nightmares abt russia’s house and needs help grounding himself, poland starts waking him up with random facts about themselves only they would know to reassure liet that it’s actually him

like he tried to wake liet up the first or second morning he’s back with “hey, sleepyhead, wake up. it’s poland, don’t worry, you’re okay”, but lithuania just curls up tighter into a ball and tries to protect his head, and it makes poland worry but he brushes it off, because maybe he’ll need a couple of days, until like the fifth time the same thing happens. poland asks about it and liet kinda explains what’s up with him, vaguely, so thst poland understands but he doesn’t have to think too much about russia

and the next morning, he hears poland’s voice - he still flinches whenever he’s touched unless he’s warned first, so shaking his shoulder is out of the question - being really soft, going

“hey liet, its me, poland. you learnt to play the lute when we were kids to try serenading me, and you like making your own jam and thank god you do because you have way too much of it on toast and your hair always gets in your face in battle but you’re also worried that it might be bad luck to tie it back so you can never decide what to do with it”

and liet’s finally reassured and probably starts crying fuck it, bc he can wake up feeling safe for the first time in decades (cue cuddles and adorable fluff and “on the note of jam on toast, I brought you breakfast in bed, sorry the jam’s store bought”)

the facts are sometimes about liet, sometimes poland, sometimes their childhood or relationship

the next morning it’s

“wake up, it’s poland, my favourite food is pierogi and I find it easiest to read printed documents on pink paper and one time I dropped my ring in a river and you jumped in to get it back for me and afterwards we had to swap clothes so you wouldn’t get in trouble and you looked really good in my clothes but I didn’t say anything about it”

it’s soft, and ends with one/both blushing and “I love you”s but most importantly lithuania knows he can’t be hurt and he’s with someone that cares about him, and that poland was actually listening to a lot of the stuff he hadn’t seemed to be

one morning it’s “... and I learnt to be a winged hussar because I thought you’d think I looked cool and...”

later that day, liet looks up from his coffee and goes “po, you really became a winged hussar to impress me?”

in return there’s a soft and embarrassed “maybe... did it work?”

later, when lithuania’s back on his feet more, they start doing it for each other and it becomes a kind of ritual, a way of showing the other how much they appreciate them and getting them to wake up in a pleasant mood, or to tease each other

liet will use “you love baking and you’re amazing at cookies and cakes but you can never successfully do banana bread no matter what recipe you use”

the next week it’s “hey liet, you deliberately let latvia beat you in chess one time and it’s eaten you inside ever since because he keeps beating you for real now”

a month later, far too early, there’s a “wake up poland, you said that the next meeting you went to you wanted to be exactly four minutes and twenty seconds early than estonia so you’ve been planning on getting there at 9:25:40am for the last 3 weeks”

one day, it’s “morning liet, it’s poland, when we first met, you were wearing a really frilly coat that you looked super uncomfortable in and I realised that I was seriously, properly in love with you when you came up behind prussia in that war and I’ve been trying to work out how to best say this for a long time, and I can’t get it right, but I want to marry you”

I’m so so sorry it’s 2am and I can’t stop thinking about ✨them✨

(a lot of the ideas about them as kids are from the fantastic @kyuhu, who does incredible lietpol and hetalia art! the rest is either canonically stated or my own dumb headcanons)

#hetalia #hetalia headcanons #aph lithuania #aph poland #lietpol #me narrating this annoying ass blog like

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parkersbliss · 4 years

Text

Quarantime | Avengers

Pairing: None! Could be Peter Parker X reader

Type: Headcannon

WC: 1.2K

Warnings: Language

A/N: Will probably turn this into a mini-series with imagines, headcanons, and all that good stuff bc I’m of school till April 15th. If you want to be tagged see here.

Masterlist

(not my gif)

When New York first announced the quarantine you thought this could be a good bonding experience with the team.

You couldn't have been more wrong.

Five days in and all anyone did was scream at each other.

Tony was annoyed because, and I quote, "It's a virus, my suit is made of iron for christ's sake!"

Peter was out of school for the next three weeks and somehow that boy had already completed all his homework for the next month.

Nat and Wanda spent their days in the kitchen baking, which prompted a lot of taste testing and lying on your part.

Bucky, Steve, and Sam spent their time either sparing or playing competitive cards.

At first, the whole team loved the idea of passing time with cards

and then it got a little too competitive.

"Draw two Tony."

"Very funny, Cap. Why don't you draw two, Romanoff."

"I think I'll pass," As she laid down another draw two cards.

Sam chuckles, "oh no little miss, not today."

Bucky doesn't say anything just gently places his draw two on the table and looks to Peter.

Peter is sweating as he places down his own draw two, it passes onto Loki.

He places down his own green draw two.

"How do we know he's not cheating?" Tony slams down his cards on the table.

"For all we know that could've been a red four!"

The room murmurs in agreement and Loki shrugs, "you don't."

Tony glares at him from across the table but turns his attention toward Thor.

Thor frowns, shuffling through his cards before slamming his fist down. He draws from the pile only to reveal another draw two, he smirks and places it down onto the others.

"you've got to be shitting me," Steve mumbles, rubbing his forehead.

It came down to Hulk, he glared at everyone at the table. "No fair, I don't have any."

"Well, buddy draw," Tony picks up the stack of cards and begins counting. "Draw sixteen."

Hulk frowns and slams both fists down onto the table, it flips over and you calmly step out of the way.

"Woah, woah buddy," Sam said.

"Hulk mad!"

"AND there goes another game of Uno."

Thor and Loki were in charge of grocery shopping because as gods they weren't susceptible to the virus.

You always made sure to provide a shortlist composed of everyone's needs and yet, they always managed to get extra.

One week they came back with a lobster.

"We said toilet paper guys!" Tony said, staring at the lobster in Loki's arms.

"That's what I told my imbecile of a brother, but he insisted we rescue the creature," Loki replied, looking down at the crustacean and grimacing.

Everyone turns toward Thor, "he looked so lonely..."

"they're for cooking," You deadpanned.

"NO!" Thor screamed, snatching the lobster out of Loki's hands and running off.

To this day you weren't sure what happened to the lobster.

Or the time they bought six too many Capri suns.

"Why in god's name did you buy six boxes?!"

"We wanted to try all the flavors."

"He wanted too, I did not second that."

Peter and you, however, were thrilled, you two lived off of them.

It was the only thing you two drank sometimes.

"AW YEAH!!" You shouted, high fiving Peter.

Steve sighed, "Great, they'll be bouncing off the walls with sugar now."

Or when Natasha asked for flour and they brought back flowers.

"I asked for flour, not flowers!"

Thor stared at her confused, "but they are both flowers, no?"

"ones used for baking and the other for decoration."

"Well, the flowers are a nice gesture!"

"Thor, we are in a worldwide pandemic! Flowers aren't helping anything."

"Get better soon?"

You and Peter spent your days Tik Toking, much to everyone's dismay.

"Week one of our quarantine in the avengers compound," You said solemnly to the camera.

"Thor bought six boxes of Capri suns! And a lobster!!" Peter yelled from his place on the couch.

"Tony is slowly losing his mind..."

"Hey Steve, look at the camera!!"

"you guys should be doing homework."

"Ok boomer," Both you and Peter snort.

"what?" Steve asks, confusion written all over his face.

He wasn't exactly caught up with everything.

"And this is my uncle Bucky, he's way cooler than yours! Does your uncle have a metal arm?" You sass the camera as Bucky flexes his metal arm.

"Look at those muscles!" Peter gapes, running his hand along the smooth vibranium.

"Not sponsered by wakanda tech."

"Hey Peter, we should do the quarantined crew!" You suggest after watching another friend give their best slow-motion poses.

"You're a genius, (Y/N)!!"

You and Peter ran around the tower filming everyone's best poses.

Peter had switched into his Spidey suit and did a backflip over the couch.

That took a few takes because you kept tossing pillows at him after he landed.

Tony removed his Iron Man mask and Peter kept shouting encouraging words the entire time.

"Yes, work it!! Yes, Tony! What a quee-"

"I think he gets it, Peter."

Steve caught his shield after much convincing

Clint drew back his box

Nat did a roundhouse kick

Wanda just flexed her powers

Hulk fist-bumped himself

Thor flipped his hammer

Loki, being the sass god he is slowly put his helmet on while flipping his cape

Bucky, of course, flexed his metal arm while Sam got into a heroic pose, his hands on his hips and everything.

and you gave the camera a wink with some finger guns

you guys owned that hashtag for the rest of the year

Of the many creations in the kitchen, Kale muffins were the worse

"Kale muffin?" Wanda offered.

"Uh, sure?"

She eagerly shoved one in your mouth.

"I reall-mpshorkgorigaesjrf"

you choked.

"What is it bad?"

"NoOoooO. In fact, I'll take another."

You gave it to Peter.

It's safe to say he never looked at you the same

Tony had officially lost his mind and made at least 20 mini-robots

Every day there was a new one.

And frankly, they were not nice.

"Mr. Barton, is there a problem?"

"My coffee is just a little hot, it's no big deal."

"Please let me."

The robot took the coffee and proceeded to blow on it to cool it down.

The coffee ended up on Clint.

that really woke everyone up

You and Peter went around and gave them all googly eyes

At one point you guys tried to play Wii sports

"TAKE THAT YOU BITCH"

"STEPHAINE I SWEAR IF YOU CATCH MY TRIPLE-"

You attempted tennis with Nat and Clint

Although the game was virtual, that did not stop them from hitting each other with the remote.

"OUT OF THE WAY!"

"YOU WANNA GO"

Bowling between Tony and Steve was like watching two headless chickens fight

"SPARE!"

"say spare one time and I won't spare you."

"let's go popsicle."

Baseball between Bucky and Sam was always interesting

"don't say it, don't say it."

"OUT!"

"AW, HE SAID IT!"

"Single!"

"I know that! I left my girl back in the 1900s!"

Hulk, Thor, and Loki did boxing.

Like Nat and Clint, the game was virtual, but their punches were not.

"OW YOU LITTLE-"

"AHA THE GOD OF THUNDER REINS SUPR-"

"Hulk smash."

You and Peter sat back and filmed it all for your youtube channel

Episode Five: Season one of Quarantime with the avengers

All and all you guys did love the time together

Just not that much

but with school out till mid-April, you'll just have to get used to it

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mfingenius · 5 years

Note

Hey, idk if you’re taking prompts rn, but I was wondering if you could write something where Draco was raised by Sirius, or Sirius and Lupin? Like Narcissa gives baby Draco to Sirius bc she doesn’t want him raised by death eaters (or maybe doesn’t want him raised by an abusive Lucius if it’s a no Voldemort au), and it’s drarry with Draco having a protective dad au? This is def in part inspired by your Weasley!Draco fic that I’m obsessed w rn 😬

“Draco,” Sirius says.

“No.” Draco says firmly.

“Draco,”

“Dad, I swear to Merlin-”

“Leave him alone, Sirius,” Remus laughs from the kitchen, where he’s baking cookies. “When he’s ready to admit it to himself, he will.”

“I don’t need to admit anything to myself!” Draco says, face burning. Sirius is sitting upside down on their couch, grinning brightly at their son. “I don’t like Harry!”

“Yes, you do,” Both of his dads say, Remus much more calmly than Sirius.

“Come on,” Sirius rolls his eyes. “You’ve been moping all summer!”

Draco’s face heats further.

“I wasn’t moping!” He defends feebly, pulling at the frayed hem of his jumper. He’s wearing soft pajama bottoms and a jumper Harry gifted him when they were twelve. It’s been four years, and it still fits him too big.

“Oh, you were so definitely moping,” Sirius rolls his eyes with a smirk. “You spent hours waiting for his owl-”

“Did not!” Draco exclaims.

“Here, try this.” Remus has come into the living room holding a tray of cookies, and he hands Sirius a small piece and Draco another; he took it up as a way to relax before the full moon when they adopted Draco. He seemed to have a special radar for whenever Remus was in a bad mood, and he cried like mad - which did not help at all - until it got better, leaving him no other option but to find something that made him happy quick.

“It’s good,” Sirius says immediately, mouth full. “More?”

“No,” Remus says, putting the tray on the counter and sitting on the couch next to his husband. “They’re for my students.”

Draco gives his father his best imploring look. “I’m your student.”

Remus throws him an amused, exasperated look. “My summer students.”

He teaches Defense against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts; in the summers, he teaches art and science in kindergarden. Sirius is the coach of the Quidditch Little League year-round, has been for years now, since he opened the kindergarden. He does it in the summer, too, since they have a summer camp.

Draco’s spent the better part of the mornings helping them take care of the kids, since Harry and his parents had gone to a holiday in Rome. The afternoons, he’s been spending at Hermione’s house, and the weekends with his uncle Regulus in his tattoo parlour.

He’s the best tattoo artist in magical England, and though both of his dads have tattoos of their own, they haven’t given him permission to get one until he’s eighteen. Draco’s anxiously waiting.

“No fair,” Draco pouts.

Sirius mirrors the pout. “We’re your husband and son, and you don’t want to give us cookies? Cruel, Moony, plain cruel.”

Remus rolls his eyes fondly at their antics, and summons two cookies from the kitchen to give to them, which immediately makes them smirk. “You’re both spoiled.”

Neither Draco nor Sirius bother denying it.

“Come on,” Remus says. “You need to get ready for tonight or we’re going to be late.”

Sirius hums and stands, making his way to their bedroom; they’re invited to Fleur and Bill Weasley’s engagement party - Draco can’t go because it’s in a bar he can’t get into, since he’s underage - and Draco’s planning to spend the night watching muggle films on their telly. The only reason they have one is because they live in Muggle London - Draco’s never particularly understood why - and, although he can imagine the city to be more boring than magical ones, it’s his home.

Remus follows Sirius down the hall. Draco begins to flip through their film collection, and he’s trying to choose what to watch tonight, when the bell rings.

Draco frowns; he’s not expecting anyone - he’s literally in the oldest clothes he owns - and neither are his dads, that he knows of. It must be Alex, looking for their cat again. They’ve only had the cat for three months, but Draco’s already made friends with Alex because of how often it’s gotten lost.

“I haven’t seen Mrs. Fluffington, Alex,” He calls while he opens the door; insead of staring at Alex’s pale face and lavender hair, he finds himself staring at a deep red shirt.

“I’m not Alex,” He freezes momentarily at the voice, before looking up - and up, and up - and straight into Harry’s handsome face.

He looks him up and down a few times.

“This is fucking ridiculous,” Draco says, irritated.

“Watch your mouth,” Sirius says as he passes by, which make’s Draco’s face twist in embarrassment. He hadn’t thought before speaking.

Harry laughs.

“It’s not ridiculous,” He says. “It’s normal.”

“It’s not normal to have grown half a meter over the summer!” Draco says. He’s not used to having to strain his neck to look up at Harry; he’s not used to having to look up at Harry at all. He’s always been shorter than Draco is!

“It’s not my fault you haven’t grown at all,” Harry says with a cheeky smirk. Draco’s cheeks heat, and he sticks his tongue out at Harry. “Isn’t that the jumper I got you when we were twelve?”

Draco wrinkles his nose - he’d pleaded Harry wouldn’t remember that the second he’d opened the door - and says, “No.”

“It is,” Sirius says, from inside. “He sleeps in it.”

Draco turns beet red and Harry grins smugly.

“When did you get back anyway?” Draco asks, dying to change the subject. He moves out of the way, and Harry takes that as the invitation that it is and walks in. “And why didn’t you tell me?”

“This evening,” Harry says. Draco shuts the door behind him while Harry greets Sirius and Remus. “I thought we could have a movie night. My parents are going to Bill’s and Fleur’s party, too.”

“Of course,” Draco swallows.

He wants to go change, but it’s a bit pointless now; plus, it’s not like Harry’s never seen him in his pajamas. They sleep at each other’s regularly, but now… well, Draco hoped that if Harry came back from a month without seeing him and Draco looked dashingly good - he has no idea how he hoped to achieve that, if his entire closet is made up of soft jumpers and muggle jeans, except for his dad’s old leather jacket - maybe he’d magically develop a thing for him, like Draco most definitely has for him.

It is hopeless now; Harry has already realized he’s just the same old Draco.

“Well kids, we’re heading out,” Sirius claps Harry on the back and then kisses Draco’s cheek. Remus does the same. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“There’s nothing you wouldn’t do,” Draco tells him.

He hears Sirius’s laughter even after they close the door.

“So,” He says, awkwardly.

“How was your summer?” Harry asks, sitting on the couch, cross-legged.

“Fine,” Draco says. “I helped my dads at the Kindergarden. How was yours?”

“Rome was gorgeous,” Harry says. He’s grinning. “I brought you something.”

“Oh?” Draco hopes he doesn’t sound as nervous as he feels. He walks over to the couch and sits across from Harry stiffly.

“Yeah.” Harry says. He searches his pockets, and then hands Draco a small box. “Open it.”

Draco looks wary as he does so, but, when he does, his expression turns to amazement.

“Harry,” He says. “What is this?”

He’s looking up at the cieling, where thousands of tiny stars are shining, some brighter than the others.

“They were selling them in Rome,” Harry says. “Look at that,” he points to a set of specially shiny stars. “That’s Draco. The constellation. I thought you’d like it.”

Draco stares at him, eyes wide.

“If you don’t, I can take it back,” Harry says nervously. “I mean, I can’t, but I can keep it. I didn’t want to - is it too much?”

Draco swallows. “No,” He says. “It’s perfect. I love it.”

I love you.

Harry grins. “Good. What are we watching?”

As he reads film titles out loud, Draco swears to himself he’s going to work up the nerve to tell Harry how he feels about him.

Some day.

———————–

Send me a Request :D

If you enjoyed this, please consider buying me a kofi

Masterlist: [1] [2]

Commissions

#drarry #fanfic #mine #wolfstar

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cutaepatootie · 4 years

Text

Holidays of Bread and Wood

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

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

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

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

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

* * *

Every start is difficult.

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

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

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

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

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

Still, every start is difficult for you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah.”

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

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

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

. . .

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

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

“Hmm,” she mumbles. “Not everyone.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He’s old?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Will you find him? You don’t know.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Again, no one answers.

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

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

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

In the middle of the room, there is a worktable full of untouched pieces of wood. All sorts of carpentry tools are displayed around the room.

Maybe the man is a carpenter? That’s why he lives in the woods? Because he has easy access to trees and wood?

You walk closer to the shelves, appreciating the different shapes and creatures.

“What are you doing in my house?” a voice echoes around the shed all of the sudden, startling you and causing the sack of bread to slip from your hands.

You turn around quickly, coming up with different excuses for your rude behavior.

“H-hello,” you stutter, fear filling your whole body. “I’m Y/N, the new baker of the –“

“I didn’t ask who you are,” the man interrupts you, taking a step inside the shed, a step closer to you. “I asked what you were doing in my house.”

“I’m sorry, didn’t mean to come off as rude. I was just walking around the place, saw this shed and the door was open…”

“So, you see an open door and you walk inside the place, even if it’s the place of a stranger?”

“Oh, n-no, I… I just…” words die in your mouth and your cheeks turn red. You are sure the man hates you by now and think you’re completely stupid.

“You what?” he urges you.

You lift your gaze to stare at the man standing by the door of the shed and you frown. Well, man? He looks like he’s your age more or less. His voice isn’t thick and raspy at all as you had pictured it would be, he doesn’t have a thick beard covering his features and he definitely doesn’t look hermit-like or scary as Lucrecia told you. He looks younger than you had pictured him to be, and definitely more delicate and… Well, handsome. Such a contrast with his harsh words.

“Do you have difficulties answering questions?” he says, raising his voice a bit and starting to lose his patience.

“No, I’m sorry,” you say, shaking your head. “I’m Y/N the new baker in town. As a welcome gift I wanted to give you some of my bread.”

“I don’t like bread.”

“You haven’t tried mine.”

“I don’t want to try yours,” he answers, holding your gaze without even blinking once.

You narrow your eyes. Alright, you entered his house without his permission, but now he’s being plain rude towards you. You already apologized!

“Alright,” you nod your head, grabbing the sack that had fallen on the floor. It is full of small wood shavings. “I entered in here without your consent, and I am sorry for that. I came here with my best of intentions, didn’t mean to offend you. But you didn’t have to treat me so poorly. I’ll leave now, with my bread since you don’t wanna try it.”

“Alright.”

“Good,” you say, narrowing your eyes.

You wait for him to say something else, and when you see he isn’t going to do so, you stroll towards the door and walk past him. On the outside, you turn around and look at him once again. He’s staring back at you.

“Nice figurines, by the way. Such a shame you don’t wanna be nice to your neighbors, I’m sure they would buy all your work for a good price.”

“They’re not on sale.”

“Such a shame too. Goodbye.”

And with that, you nod once again and walk towards your carriage. You’re not someone who gets angry easily but the way he spoke to you and how he treated you… Maybe he’s not some old man, with thick beard and a scary face, but he’s just like Lucrecia told you he would be.

He’s still staring at you when you climb on top of your carriage and spur your horse, walking the same path of dirt you followed towards his hut.

. . .

“Don’t frustrate yourself sweetie,” Mrs. Gah says. She’s one of your everyday clients, a nice old woman who owns a flower shop not far from your bakery. She says the scent of your freshly baked bread makes her flower bloom happily. “It has always been like this since he first moved in here. We haven’t even seen him around town. We just know he lives here because some people cross him when they go to the woods to get wood.”

“I’m not frustrated, Mrs. Gah. “I honestly don’t care that he didn’t want to try my bread, what makes me angry is the way he treated me. I just wanted to say hi!”

“You know what?” she says. “His loss. He will regret not having tasted your bread, believe me. If he hadn’t rejected that bread, I wouldn’t be here eating the most delicious nut bread I’ve ever tried.”

You can’t help but smile at the old woman’s words. It’s not worth it being so down because some stranger was rude to you. His loss.

“Thank you, Mrs. Gah,” you laugh.

The neighbors of the small town soon make you forget about your encounter with that rude man. Christmas is just around the corner – tomorrow, actually – and you have lots of bread to prepare. These holidays, everyone wants to have some of your bread at their table.

You spend entire days locked in your kitchen, trying new recipes and trying to improve your usual ones.

To you, Christmas Holidays smell like freshly baked bread, opened windows from which the winter air seeps carrying scents of pines and snow. It has always been like that, ever since you have a memory to turn to.

“Oh, crap,” you protest as you get the bread out of your stone oven.

It is just as uncooked as it was when you got it into the oven.

You click your tongue and open the wooden door behind your big stone oven. You shake your head, reprimanding yourself for not having noticed it sooner, when you see you’ve run out of wood.

You go to the pantry where you keep all your ingredients and wood, only to realize that there isn’t any wood either. How come you didn’t think of having extra wood for the holidays?

It is 24 of December, six a.m. in the morning. Clients will start arriving soon and you don’t have any single piece of bread.

You would go to the usual place where you buy wood, the house of a farmer who collects loads of wood and then sells it to the neighbors, but this early you’re sure it is closed.

You will have to take care of the problem yourself.

Without thinking about the cold and how sleepy you still are to go into the woods for some wood, you grab your coat, some axe you had lying around there and start your way towards the woods

The axe is heavy and you haven’t picked wood since you were little and accompanied your father into the forest in summer.

You don’t plan on getting too deep into the forest, since you just need a few trunks for today, but you don’t know the paths around the forest too well and when you realize it, you’re lost.

You sigh loudly, a white puff of air leaving your lips.

“Calm down, Y/N, it’s still early and you can find your way out of here.”

You haven’t brought your horse either because of your plans of not going too deep into the forest. The thought doesn’t help yourself to calm down at all.

The only thing you can do now, given your circumstances is at least take advantage of the situation and pick as much wood as you can.

The few first blows with the axe are pathetic – and you try with a bush, not even a tree. Your hands and arms are strong from kneading the bread dough, but you don’t have the technique, nor the knowledge to pick wood properly.

After some minutes – maybe more – you finally gather a decent piece of wood.

Wiping away the sweat from your forehead, you stare proudly at the piece of wood lying on the ground. The first one, of many more you are going to need.

“You won’t even be able to light a small fire with that,” a voice says, echoing through the open space of the forest.

You let out a loud shriek, letting your axe fall on the ground.

You turn around, searching for the owner of that voice. When you focus your gaze in the place where the voice came from, you see the carpenter with his dark cloak and equally as dark clothes.

“Oh, Lord,” you say, bringing a hand to your chest. “You scared me! What’s wrong with you appearing in places all of the sudden?”

“The first time you were in my shed, and now you’re in my forest.”

“Excuse me? This is not your forest,” you laugh, turning around once again and picking your axe from where it fell on the ground. “This is the town’s forest.”

The man laughs sarcastically. “No, it isn’t,” he says. “You trespassed the limits of my property a few kilometers away.”

He points with his chin behind you.

“Well, if this is your property, you should have it delimited with a fence or something.”

He shrugs. “I don’t need to do that, no one goes that deep into the forest.”

You sigh. He’s kicking you out, again.

“Alright, you don’t need to say more. I’ll pick my things and leave your property. I got lost searching for the best wood.”

“What are you doing in here, chopping wood on your own?”

“Today’s Christmas Eve and people want to buy my bread for their family dinners, but I have no wood at home nor at the shop, so I can’t bake bread! Which means I’ll ruin their celebrations!”

“You think you will ruin their celebrations because they don’t have your bread? Is it that good?”

“You would know if you had tasted it when I offered you some,” you answer, arching a brow.

He sighs and takes off the hood of his coat, letting you see his face fully for the first time.

His features are round and soft, a big nose that sits well in the middle of his face, puffy cheeks, almond-shaped eyes, thin lips, dark hair, pale skin… He looks straight out of a fairy tale.

“Let me pick some wood for you,” he says, walking towards you.

You grab your axe with more strength and take a step back.

“No, I can do it myself.”

“Yeah, I can see,” he mocks, pointing at the small piece of wood lying on the floor next to all sort of branches.

“Why would you want to help me, anyways?” you frown.

“Because if I help you, you will get out of my forest sooner.”

You narrow your eyes, you knew he had second intentions, and that those second intentions had something to do with getting rid of you.

“Alright, but first, you teach me. That way I can do it myself the next time.”

“You don’t buy wood from that poor old farmer in town?”

“Yeah, but it’s too early, the man has to get his good sleep.”

The man scoffs and holds his right hand in front of you. You stare at it with a deeper frown in your face.

“Give me your axe,” he ends up saying after a few seconds of silent confusion.

“Oh, yeah, right,” you nod, handing him your axe. “Be careful, it was my dad’s axe.”

He plays with the axe in his hands. “Well, I’ve seen worse axes I must admit.”

You roll your eyes and watch him walk towards the nearest three. It has some cuts where you’ve hit its truck with your axe. Seeing that, he raises his brows and stares at you.

“I’d love to see you baking bread, smarty-pants.”

In his lips, something similar to a smile appears.

“Your technique is not that bad, you’re pretty strong from how deep the cuts are, but you’re not hitting the trunk in the right angle. You can’t cut wood in a right angle; you have to do a 45 downwards angle like this…”

He throws his arms backwards and then, slams the axe in the trunk of the tree with all his strength. The movement is quick and sharp. He mimics that movement a couple more times until a good piece of wood detaches itself from the rest of the trunk.

You look at it with a satisfied expression on your face.

“I must admit it looks like a good piece of wood for my stone oven,” you say, nodding your head.

The man throws a proud smirk your way.

“Except others, I don’t mind appreciating other people’s work when it’s well done.”

The smirk disappears from his face and, instead, he rolls his eyes. Good, he was starting to get too cocky.

“Alright, your turn now,” he says, giving you the axe.

You grab it in your hands with strength.

“Focus on the trunk and don’t think about it too much, just hit it with the axe.”

You nod your head and mimic his previous movements, throwing your arms behind you.

“In this angle,” he says, grabbing your elbows and relocating your position. You tense up for a moment, his touch unexpected and somewhat warm.

He notices it and takes some steps back, his hands disappearing from your elbows.

“Alright, I’m ready,” you say, eyes focused on the tree trunk.

“Go ahead then, hit it.”

You nod and, with all the strength you can muster, you hit the trunk with force. Retreating the axe is hard, and you almost fall on your butt doing so, but you’re not one who gives up. So, you deliver another three blows to the trunk of the tree until a decent piece of wood falls from it.

“Not bad,” the man says from behind you.

“Not bad at all!” you say, satisfied with the result. “Now, I just need to fill this entire sack with pieces like this,” you say, pointing at the huge – and empty – sack behind you.

The sun seeps through the foliage of the tall pines and other threes when you fill the entire sack. You’re sweating, completely out of breath. The man looks like he isn’t doing any better than you.

You took turns to chop pieces of the trunk, and so, both of you are equally as exhausted.

“I’m gonna go home and grab a glass of water,” he announces as you close the sack with a bow.

“Okay, I’ll go home too. Oh, and thanks for the help.”

He shakes his head and stares at you in silence for a couple of seconds.

“Do you want to come to my house and drink some water too? You look tired,” he offers, startling you a bit.

“You’re being kind to me? I think that’s a bad sign, I should go home then.”

He rolls his eyes and grabs the sack of wood, starting to walk in the opposite direction from where you are facing.

“Don’t be silly, you need a glass of water. I’m not that evil to let you die of thirst in the forest.”

“Hmm… I don’t know if I should believe your words.”

You follow him through the path he himself had drawn towards his hut over the snow.

“What’s your name, by the way? You already know mine because I introduced myself.”

He stays quiet for some seconds, as if pondering if he should answer your question or not.

“Jungkook,” he ends up saying.

“Jungkook,” you nod. “Well, Jungkook, you were incredibly rude to me the first time we saw each other. You could have kicked me out of your house more nicely. But, today you have helped me a lot, so thank you for teaching me how to cut wood.”

He looks startled by your words, but hides the emotion from his face as soon as it arrives.

“D-don’t thank me,” he stutters. “It was pathetic seeing you cut those tiny pieces of wood.”

As his hut comes into view, you catch something you didn’t see the first time you went there. The front of the house is full of wooden tanks, most of them filled with grass and other vegetables that didn’t look too appetizing.

“What’s with all those tanks?” you ask, pointing at them with your head. “Do you have a deer as a pet or something?”

He looks at the tanks and remains quiet, leaving the sack full of wood on his doorstep.

“You have a deer as a pet?” you ask, this time serious.

“No,” he sighs. He opens the door of his hut and motions for you to walk inside. “Reindeers.”

“Reindeers?! I had heard about people who had pigs, even goats as pets but… Reindeers? Oh Lord.”

Jungkook shrugs and closes the door behind him. His house smells just like his shed did, of pine, wood and humidity. Somehow, the scent makes you feel comfortable and relax.

“You want some tea?” he asks from the kitchen.

“Oh, yeah, tea would be nice, thank you,” you answer, standing in the middle of the living room, not knowing what to do.

Every table, every piece of furniture is made of wood, and it looks like it has been made by him.

“Are you a carpenter?” you ask after some seconds.

Jungkook appears with two empty mugs and two plates. He places them on the coffee table by the sofa.

“More or less…” he hesitates. “I’ve never sold any of my pieces, but yeah, you could say I’m a carpenter.”

You nod your head and keep looking around you. The place looks cozy, the fireplace in front of the couch lit, the fire dancing happily.

“Impressive,” you murmur.

Suddenly, an idea pops in your mind.

When Jungkook comes back to the living room with a teapot and pours the tea inside each mug, you start talking.

“Hey, I want to offer you something.”

“More bread?” he asks, arching a brow.

You roll your eyes. “You wish, I’m never offering you my bread ever again,” you take a pause to drink from your mug. “I see you like reindeers, I don’t think you have them as pets because they’re wild animals and very stubborn ones, very difficult to tame. I don’t know why you want to feed them and make tanks for them, but if you keep giving them grass and old vegetables to eat, they’ll move to other mountain.”

Jungkook narrows his eyes. “What do you want with that?”

“What I’m telling you is that I know one things reindeers like, and it is bread.”

He frowns. “Bread? Why would you know that?”

“Because my grandfather was a farmer and my mother taught me everything she had learn from him about animals.”

“And why would reindeers like bread?”

“What? Why would humans like bread?” you mock him. “We both have taste buds, alright? They’re animals with good taste.”

Jungkook arches his brows.

“Where do you wanna go with that?”

“Okay, here comes the deal. I give you the old bread I haven’t sold during the week so you can give it to the reindeers, and you provide me with wood in exchange.”

“Didn’t you buy wood from that man in town?”

“Yeah, but I like how you cut the wood better, it will fit perfectly in my stone oven. What do you say? I think we both end up winning with that deal.”

“And how am I going to give you the wood?”

“The same way I’ll give you the bread. I have a horse and a carriage, I can bring bread every Sunday, and you can give me wood instead. My carriage is resistant, it will keep up with the weight and the journeys.”

Jungkook takes a sip from his mug, pondering over the idea you presented him.

You arch a brow, a bit impatient. It’s a good opportunity to obtain good quality wood – which is essential to make good bread – and to get to know him better. You’re not gonna lie, he intrigues you. You’re a really open person, so used to moving and knowing new people, that it’s part of your personality now. The fact that he’s so closed off and distant, makes you want to know everything about him and make him your friend.

“Are you even thinking about it?” you say after a couple of minutes.

“Alright, alright, it does seem like a good proposition. But, if the bread thing doesn’t work, we’ll stop.”

“It will work,” you nod, remembering your mother’s words. “If there is one animal who is good for transporting things during winter, it’s the reindeer. But they are really stubborn and difficult to train, so give them once piece of bread per day, and they’ll be all yours.”

“Another thing, I really appreciate my loneliness, so you’ll only stay here for as much as the exchange lasts every Sunday.”

“I’m okay with that, I have no time to waste either,” you shrug. It’s not the truth, though, you want to spend time with him and get to know him, but you’ll have to be slow, the same way you have to be slow gaining a reindeer confidence. Oh Lord, are you comparing Jungkook to a reindeer?

“Then, the deal is sealed,” Jungkook nods.

You nod and finish your tea in one gulp.

“I have to go now; clients will be waiting and I haven’t baked one single row of bread today. See you next Sunday, business partner.”

He remains serious as he watches you laugh at your own words.

You don’t think too much about it, you’ll end up warming his heart, just like a slice of freshly baked bread warms your body in the morning.

“Oh, I forgot,” you say before exiting the hut. “Merry Christmas Jungkook.”

. . .

On Christmas day, you watch the kids play with their new toys from the inside of your shop.

A hot chocolate in hand, you bask in the beauty of the morning. Sun shining, snow melting on the ground, birds chirping and flying around happily.

You’re happy. With your lifestyle, with what you do and what you will do in the future.

. . .

The next Sunday, you gather all your remaining bread from the week and put it in a big sack.

You prepare your carriage, your horse and start walking towards the woods. You hope you don’t get lost, but since snow has melted, the dirt path is clear.

Jungkook is already waiting for you when you arrive. He has a pile of wood by his side, more than you expected and more than you probably need for a week.

The exchange is simple, just like the following exchanges.

You give him the bread, and he gives you the wood. Polite words are exchanged, and you can see the boy starts looking more relaxed around you, but nothing else happens.

Life keeps going on, you keep waking up at 5 a.m. to make bread, open the shop and close it by the end of the day with a huge smile on your face.

Snow melts completely, trees grow green leaves once again, flowers bloom, green grass cover the paths that lead to Jungkook’s hut, and a reindeer or two start appearing by his hut, going to his hand-made tanks to eat your bread.

One Sunday morning you arrive to the hut with your carriage full of bread. It is Autumn and soon, it will be a year since you came to town.

Jungkook isn’t waiting for you like he usually is. Instead, he runs to you as soon as you appear, shouting something about reindeers and hurrying up.

“You need to hurry up!” he is beaming, you have never seen him looking so happy and thrilled.

“Alright, alright, calm down, you’re gonna frighten Twinkle,” you say, coming to a stop and hopping off your carriage.

“Come on, give me the bread, we have to fill the tanks quickly.”

“Why? What’s going on?”

“Reindeers! A lot of them! C’mon, grab a sack and give me the rest, we need to fill the tanks before they go away.”

You quickly grab one of the sacks and hand him the rest and follow him towards the clear in which he placed the tanks. At least ten reindeers are in there, sniffling inside the now empty tanks.

You open your mouth in surprise, you had never seen so many reindeers together.

“C’mon! Fill the tanks!” Jungkook tells you, already filling one himself.

When all the bread is poured inside the tanks, the both of you walk away from the clear to a place where you can still watch the reindeers eat without startling them or making them uncomfortable.

“They’re beautiful,” you gasp. You had seen a reindeer before, but never ten in the same place, and so big!

“Yeah, they are,” Jungkook says with a smile on his lips.

You decide to not say anything else, letting him bask in the happiness of the moment.

. . .

After that day, the reindeers go to that clear every single Sunday without fail, and you and Jungkook stay there to watch them eat.

You start closing the bakery on Sunday, deciding it’s not bad to take one day to rest.

You and Jungkook speak about the reindeers, putting a name to each one and deciding which trick you’re going to use to distinguish each one of them. Then, the conversation about the reindeers turn into conversations about your weeks, and the conversation about your weeks turn into conversations about your life.

You’re used to meeting new people every now and then, so it’s not difficult for you to open up to someone. When he asks about your life, you answer happily, telling him about all the towns you lived in, the adventures you lived and the people you’ve met.

After some weeks of exchanging facts about your life and anecdotes, you realize you’ve told Jungkook everything about yourself, but you still know few things about himself.

Turns out your second Christmas Day in town is Sunday, and as you do every Sunday, you visit Jungkook’s hut with your carriage full of sacks of bread.

As you’re watching the reindeers eat from their tanks, Jungkook hands you something.

It is a small rustic bread made of wood.

“Merry Christmas,” he says, smile small as he waits for your response.

You play with the small wooden bread in your hands, and then stare at him.

“I didn’t bring you anything,” you say, cheeks turning red in embarrassment.

Jungkook shrugs. “You didn’t need to. You’ve helped me a lot this past year, I know this might look like a stupidity,” he says, pointing at the clear with the reindeers in it. “But to me, it’s not. So, thank you.”

“Well, thank you, then,” you smile. “I’ll put it on one of the shelves at the shop.”

As soon as you arrive home, you get the wooden bread from your bag and place it on the shelve that decorates the entrance of the bakery. It is usually full of flowers and other plants, but now is filled with Jungkook’s wooden bread too.

. . .

The next Sunday, you show up at Jungkook’s house with the usual sack full of old bread and an extra sack – smaller – with some of the bread you baked on Saturday.

“What’s this?” he asks.

“I know you don’t want to taste my bread,” you say, quoting the words he told you the year before. “But I thought since you gave me one of your pieces of art, I would give you one of mine.”

“You call your bread art?”

“Of course,” you smile.

After pouring the bread into the tanks and greeting the reindeers, instead of staying there and watching them as you usually do, you go to Jungkook’s hut and sit at the table in his kitchen. You display the different varieties of bread in the middle of the table, as if it was a tasting.

“Alright,” you say. “You’ll try a piece of each one of them, and, in the end, you have to tell me which one is your favorite.”

He tries your bread, smelling each one of them and playing with the pieces you give him in his hands.

He closes his eyes, ignoring every sense that isn’t the taste.

In the end, his favorite one ends up being the nut bread, and you laugh, because you knew from the beginning that he was the nut bread type of person.

. . .

In the end, Jungkook warms up to you.

Well, he warms up to you, or he warms up to your bread, you still don’t know. The fact is that he looks more relaxed and friendly with you, and you finally get to know the man that hides behind the mysterious man who lives in the mountains and never visits the town.

Word spread around town that you and the man in the mountains are friends, and neighbors start looking at you with harder gazes. But you don’t mind, because the man who hides behind that mysterious man in the mountains is a kind man, boy at heart, whose eyes hide thousands of stars and dreams. Who laughs so brightly, it can melt snow. Who sings to the reindeers when he thinks you’re not paying attention. Who feels lonely and express himself through the things he carves into wood.

And somehow, you find yourself warming up to you during Spring, and Summer, and Autumn, and then Winter again.

He starts reminding you of bread, of wood, of pine and snow.

Sundays are a sacred day to you because it’s the day when you see him and get to know another tiny piece of him.

. . .

You spend your third Christmas day in town with Jungkook.

You smile as you remember how shy he looked when he asked you if you wanted to spend the day with him.

“Hmm… Do you any plans on Christmas Day?”

“Yeah, waking up at 5 a.m. making bread, selling it to the people in town, eating by myself and going to bed early. Truth is that I don’t do anything special on Christmas Day, what about you?”

“More or less the same. I carve something that has to do with Christmas – I know, pathetic – eat and then go to bed. Santa doesn’t visit me since I moved here.”

You laugh. “What are we? A pair of octogenarians? Mrs. Gah is almost ninety-years-old and her plans on Christmas Day are funnier than ours.”

“What if we spend it together this year? You know, we can eat at my hut, play some chess… I made a chess board and figurines last week.”

You find yourself answering him with the quickest “yes” you’ve ever given.

. . .

“Didn’t know you made wine,” you say, taking a sip from you glass.

He shrugs. “Some years I do, some I don’t. This year I found some grapes in the forest so I sued them to make wine.”

“It’s tasty,” you hum. “It’s been years since I last tried wine.”

A stomach full of good food, a glass of wine in your hands, two nice rounds of chess filled with laughter… What else could you ask for?

Maybe it’s the wine that pushes you to finally ask the question you’ve been answering yourself for weeks. Maybe it’s not. You end up asking it anyway.

“Why reindeers?”

“Hmm?” Jungkook asks, taking a sip from his own glass of wine.

“Why do you like feeding reindeers and not… Razorbacks, for example.”

You laugh at your words, but Jungkook turns serious. The cracks of the fire are the only sounds that fill the hut.

It looks like you’ve touched a delicate subject.

“If you don’t wanna tell me that’s right…”

Jungkook places his glass on wine on top of the table and focuses his gaze on the empty dishes on it.

“No, I wanna tell you,” he nods his head. “I want you to know.”

He stares at you and a wave of electricity shots through your body.

“I met Luna when I was six and she was four. She came new to the village I was from and we soon became good friends. It’s just like any other story, honestly, we grew up together, explored the world together, fell in love… Typical thing. The only thing that wasn’t common about us was her…” his gaze darkens, voice turns sad. “Luna was so special, so kind and wonderful, that the world had to compensate all that somehow. She was sick, ever since she was born, she was always sick. Every winter she would fall sick, lock herself at home and wouldn’t go out until the snow had melted and the trees had started to turn green again.”

He pauses. You let him have a moment of silence.

“It had been like that ever since she was a child, every year worse than the previous one. And still, the only thing she hated about falling sick every winter was missing the Christmas Holidays and the reindeers playing in the snow. She loved them. During the days when she was still not as sick, we would go to a lake in the outskirts of the village that was always full of reindeers in winter. We would watch them and try to pet them. We never got to pet them, though,” he lets out a small laugh.

“When we had enough money saved, and everything in our lives planned, we moved here. I had heard that there were loads of reindeers in this mountains, and bought this piece of land. I had always been good at making things with wood, so I made this cabin for the both of us. She loved it, I had never seen her look so happy.”

“It’s beautiful,” you murmur.

“Thank you,” he says, smiling softly at you. “We lived in here for some years, she still fell sick every winter, but at least, she could see the reindeers playing in the snow from her window.”

He makes another pause. This one is longer, feels thicker and heavier.

“One winter, she fell really sick, like really, really sick. It had been worse than I had ever seen. Fever, Vomits. Deliriums. I contacted a doctor, but he could do anything. Luna died before the snow melted that year.”

You bite your lower lip. You hadn’t thought about that story, you had always thought Jungkook simply liked reindeers. Just like he liked wood.

“Ever since then, I’ve stayed there because… I have nowhere else to go. I tried to feed the reindeers, make them as happy as they made her. But all I’ve done is lock myself away from the world, become bitter and carve everything she ever loved in pieces of wood.”

“Those wood figurines, are they all for her?”

He nods with his head. He leads you to his shed, lights a candle and shows you every little piece and figure he ever did. From a reindeer, to a moon, to an apple tree.

You see the longing in his eyes as he explains every little figure. How much he would have loved to gift them to his Luna.

“That’s why I feel so grateful for all the help you have given him. You have no idea how happy you’ve made me.”

You stare down at his lips for a moment. It would be so easy to reach out to him and discover how goof they would feel touching yours…

But no, it’s not the moment, nor the place. You’re not even sure if he’s fully ready to say goodbye to his Luna.

So, instead, you take a step back and shake your head with a smile on your face.

“Don’t thank me, I’ve always been happy to help you, and now, even more than I now it’s for a beautiful cause. I’m sure Luna loves what you’re doing for her wherever she is.”

You stare at him as he places the wooden figure of a reindeer back on the shelf.

You’re not sure if you will be able to smell wood every again without the image of Jungkook caressing his figures delicately coming to your mind.

. . .

And time keeps passing, but this time, it seems as if it passes slower.

You don’t know if it’s because you know that this is your last year in town and that, when winter arrives, you’ll be packing your things and finding new places to discover, new people to meet, new stories to tell… Or if it’s because you’ve found a place that feels like home.

Yeah, home, a permanent place. A safe place. A place to come back to. A place to grow old in.

For you, making bread had always been your home, that’s why you never cared too much about moving to a new place and all that. But now, making bread is not enough.

You find your home in the morning breeze that seeps through the window of your small kitchen as your kneading bread, the special scent of the town filling your nostrils. You find your home in the smiles of children like Marcela, in the conversations with people like Lucrecia. You find home in every Sunday, packing your things and putting them on your carriage. You find home in feeding the reindeers and then watching them eat happily.

You find your home in Jungkook.

You feel safe around him, you feel happy, comfortable.

Maybe that’s why time passes so slowly now. Because you feel safe, and happy, and comfortable, and every other good feeling.

But even if it passes slowly, it passes, and winter arrives.

You already told people in town that you would move when you arrived, so they all know it’s their last winter with you. But somehow, you never found the courage to tell Jungkook.

At first, you thought he wouldn’t care, on the contrary, if you went and never came back. Better for him.

Then, you just forgot about it, forgot about the fact that you would have to part soon and say goodbye.

And now… You just can’t find it in you to tell him you will leave and probably never come back.

But you know you must tell him, you can’t just disappear without saying goodbye. Not to him.

So, on your last Sunday with him, two weeks before Christmas Day and one before moving away, you tell him.

You go to his hut and there he is, smile wider, eyes brighter than ever before. Waiting for you.

You grab your sack full of old bread and Jungkook rushes to help you. The sack is heavy, but today your heart feels heavier.

You’ve fallen in love with Jungkook, just like you fell in love with bread the first time you saw your mother making it, kneading it with her bare hands.

You follow your routine, pouring the bread into the tanks, watching the reindeers eat. You try to keep up with the conversation, acting normal. But the truth is, that you can’t, that your mind is elsewhere.

“Are you alright?” Jungkook asks. “You’re too quiet.”

You bite your lower lip. He’s giving you an opportunity to tell him. You can’t miss it.

“I need to tell you something, Jungkook.”

He becomes serious immediately, eyes pierced on yours.

“Alright. Go ahead.”

You clear your throat and look away from him.

“I’m moving away.”

“What? Moving away? But you came here just… Three years ago.”

“I know,” you nod with your head. “But… I only stay three years in each place. I’m a nomad, just like my parents.”

You can feel Jungkook’s stare on you.

“I thought you just liked to visit places, not that you… Didn’t have a permanent home. And you’re telling me now? When are you going?”

You gulp. “Next week.”

You stare at him just in time to see the hurt in his eyes.

“Next week… You had three years to tell me and you’re telling me that you’re moving away next week now?”

You shake your head. “I’m sorry, I know this is not how it should have been done… But there’s no way back now.”

“No, there’s not.”

He takes some steps away from you, hurt written all over his features, making your stomach churn each time you stare at him.

“Please, forgive me Jungkook, I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“Well you did, making me trust you and open up to you just for you to throw it all away by disappearing?”

You gulped loudly.

“I wasn’t thinking about the future when I was getting to know you. All I was thinking about was how happy I was when I was with you.”

Jungkook keeps his eyes on yours for some seconds.

“If you’re so happy with me, stay here. Don’t go.”

Jungkook words feel heavy as he lets them go. They held more meaning than it seems. The both of you know it, but you’re not going to acknowledge, because that would mean letting go of the rest of the things you know.

“I can’t, Jungkook,” you shake your head. “This is who I am, this is what I am. Without this, what would I do? My parents did this, and I’ll do it for the rest of your life.”

“Then, you’re not that happy when you’re with me.”

You shake your head again. “You don’t understand… I’ve spent all my life going from one place to another, what will I do if I stay rooted in one? I don’t know how to live like that without feeling asphyxiated.”

“I do understand, Y/N,” Jungkook says. Sad eyes staring into yours. “You’re the kind of person who goes to places, turn them into theirs, fill them with memories of them. Make everything smell like them, taste like them… Make everyone fall in love with them. Just for them to disappear, leaving a huge void in the place they were. Luna was like that too.”

Your eyes fill with tears. You don’t remember the last time you cried – probably when your parents died – so used to laugh all the time and show others your brighter side.

“I-I…” you stutter.

No coherent words come to your mind. You’re left blank after Jungkook’s words. His words reminded you of your parents. The huge void they left in you when they died, the memories of them, the love you had for them… Are you the same?

“I wish you good luck, hope you finally find a place to call home someday.”

And with that, he turns around and starts walking towards his hut, facing his back to you the entire time.

You don’t run after him.

You don’t call his name.

You don’t tell him that, without him, you will never be able to find a place to call home.

You don’t look for him during the next week.

Instead, you start packing your things, saying goodbye to the neighbors. To Marcela, who cries and hugs you and whom you gift a box full of your cinnamon breads. To Lucrecia, and Mrs. Gah… Everything feels like all the other times you moved from a place you had used to call home for three years. You feel nostalgic and sad, but also excited for what’s about to come.

When you think about Jungkook, though, anything feels like the other times you moved to a different place.

You can’t leave the town without letting him know how important he’s to you. How much he feels like home. He is more than enough for you to stay, but you’re too coward to admit that to yourself – written in a letter feels less real. You tell him that he reminds you of all the good things you love in life, of bread and wood and Christmas Holidays.

You tell him that you love him.

You tell him that, maybe someday, you will see each other again.

You write all that in a letter and leave it stuck on his front door.

You never receive a response for that letter, though.

. . .

The day you leave, a row of neighbors wait for you in the center of town to tell you their final goodbye.

You thank everyone, a kind smile on your face. This time, the smile doesn’t reach your eyes.

It’s such a familiar scene to you that it’s part of your unusual routine by now.

You get on your carriage and check that all your belongings are packed in it. You’re doing just that, when the crowd separates, and a man dressed in all black clothes appear. He carries a heavy-looking sack with him.

The people gasp, and you let a soft: “Jungkook?” escape your lips.

He hops on the carriage, grabs your face wit both hands and presses his lips against yours. Your eyes widen, and the crowd lets out a loud gasp.

“W-what?” you stutter once you part the kiss.

“I haven’t been able to answer your letter, I’ve been busy packing my things.”

“Packing your things?” you ask. “What do you mean, Jungkook?”

“You told me I’m your home, the place you want to go back to every time. It wouldn’t make sense to stay in the hut when you’re my home too.”

Your eyes start filling with tears.

“I’ve lived in there for years, lonely, thinking I was doing it for Luna, when I was doing it for myself. Because I was scared of the outside world. Just the opposite of you. You love the outside world so much… I think it’s time to let myself see all that… By your side.”

Those tears that fill your eyes, begin rolling down your cheeks.

“Are you sure, Jungkook?”

“I’m more than sure.”

This time feels like all the other times you moved from a place you had used to call home for three years, except for the fact that you will be accompanied by someone who reminds you of holidays of bread and wood, reminds you of home.

* * *

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

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

Every December now feels like a man you know. A man who loves hugging you tightly from behind every morning as he watches you knead the bread dough. A man who kisses you and it feels like fireworks are exploding inside your body. A man whose laugh sounds like happiness. A man whose eyes shine like a thousand starts locked inside a small jar.

Every December now feels like Jungkook and the wooden figurines he carves on the back of your bakery as you take care of the shop, like Christmas Holidays and the bread you make together before sitting at your small table and eating dinner together.

Every December now feels like Jungkook, feels like home. And you’re happy, because you know it’ll stay like that for a long time.

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