#christmas au | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sanccharine · 4 months

Text

blueberry muffins | sn

single parent au, christmas au

pairing: babysitter!sana x single parent!reader

genre: fluff

word count: 7.2k

warning: so sweet it'll rot your teeth ! ew that ryhmed, i'm sorry

summary: when your own life becomes a b-rated hallmark holiday movie (not that you're complaining)

a/n: finally, what was supposed to be last year's christmas fic and the sequel to pizza party! is here !! all thanks to this request !! this was co-written by @eternallyghosting (she wrote three (very important) sentences and the summary, which is easily the hardest part of writing fics) strangely, it was nice writing domestic fluff again and also i gave up on the banner :D also is this happy belated christmas bc this was for last year or is it early bc christmas is in five days ?? anygays, happy holidays !!

The moment the car stopped, a door was being shoved open. You didn’t have to check the rearview mirror to know that your son had sprinted out. Shaking your head, you shifted the gear to park before turning your gaze at your girlfriend.

Minatozaki Sana was a confident woman. Or at least that is what you’ve gathered over the last year. She was never one to hide how she felt; it was she who had made the first move. So to see her eyes glazed over, trained on the raindrops collecting at the edge of the windshield was concerning, to say the least.

“Hey,” was all you uttered, even quiet to your own ears. But Sana was attuned to your voice so she straightened before she turned to meet your gaze.

In the many years that make up a life, a year may be inconsequential. Between those three hundred and sixty-five days many things can happen. You can meet new people, spend time with them and get to really know their likes and dislikes, understand what truly makes and motivates them. During this time, you could gain lifelong friends, whom you instantly sync with only to lose them by the end of the year. Twelve months is enough time to drive you away from your family, to uproot your life and start anew, or perhaps return home to loving arms where everything remains unchanged. A year is a million moments of frustration and tears and happiness, a combination of beginning and endings, and gain and loss. But many years later, those instances would be fleeting at best.

A whole year; a passing moment.

Perhaps that’s why you were pleasantly surprised with how well things were with Sana. Having known each other for almost two years, from kind greetings building up to genuine conversations. The slow build of your relationship, from when you first asked her about her bad day to when she finally asked you out for a coffee date. There was not a moment you regretted, and to think that this was all the result of your son, the last shove the pair of you needed.

Now Sana has moved in, you wake up to her running around your home alongside your son. She’d gone from his babysitter to someone who takes an active role in his life, someone who shapes him to be better. Someone he can learn from, grow with, and rely on, especially when you weren’t there for him.

Simply put, you couldn't be more sure of your decision to be with her. Now, there were only a few more steps.

Without saying a word, you reached for her hand, her fingers interlocking with yours instinctively. “I’m not worried, I just need a moment,” Sana said, the frozen glaze slowly dissipating from her eyes.

Exhaling, you reached out to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear. Silky soft to the touch, even with her constant dyeing. How she managed to maintain the texture remained a mystery. From her natural brown to blinding orange to auburn to back to her brown, you’ve seen Sana’s hair shift faster than the seasons. Though in the dark of the night, your car was only illuminated by the lamppost a meter away, her hair seemed so depthless it was inky black.

Sana leaned into your touch, her eyes fluttering shut as you held her. Just as you were about to assure her, a loud thump on the glass startled you both apart.

“Aren’t you coming?” Your son asked loudly, though it sounded muffled since he had the side of his face and palms pressed flat against the glass. With another slap to the glass, he moved away but not before saying. “Open the trunk, I need to show grandma my chef’s hat and cookbook.”

Sana had gone from clutching her heart to clutching her stomach as she doubled over with laughter. You, on the other hand, had to rest your forehead on the steering wheel to let out a long and exaggerated groan.

“He will be the—”

Your son hit the car twice, yelling. “Trunk, please!”

“Okay, okay, I’m opening it! It’s opening,” you stumbled to find the button. With a huff, you took out your car keys while Sana was still giggling as she got out to help with the suitcase.

Your son had catapulted himself into your father’s arms as you headed up the porch, luggage in hand. Sana followed behind you, not necessarily hiding, but slightly obscuring herself from your parents. Smiling, you extended your free hand to take hers as you reached the door.

“Oh, look who’s home!” your father exclaimed, as he swiftly lifted your son up and placed him on his hip.

“Don’t do that! Who’s going to pay for another surgery?” you said, scowling while your mother slapped at his arm, trying to pry your son away.

“With all that hard work, it will be you, of course,” your father said, before whispering at your son who then burst into giggles after peeking at you.

“Well, if it's all the same, help me out with our bags—”

“Not happening,” your father said before walking into the house.

“Here, let me,” your mother passed right by you and attempted to take the bag Sana was shouldering. Sana tried to decline politely, but your mother wasn’t having it. Soon the bag was in her hands and she took Sana’s hand in hers. Your mother gave you a smile as she guided Sana into the house. “She’s beautiful.”

“I know, Mom,” you groaned, the smile hard to suppress.

Home felt familiar. There was a smell, something you couldn’t pinpoint exactly. Of course, there were notes you recognised. A blend of your mother’s baking and your father’s obnoxious perfumes against the smell of rain. Something you’ve experienced so many times before and have long yearned to return to. As for furniture, nothing seemed to have changed. You spotted a few new frames, photos of your son now competing with numerous photos of yourself. Then one that really stopped you in your tracks.

Your mother, artistic in all of her endeavours, had a growing collage of her favourite photos on a pinboard. You don’t come home often to notice all the small edits she makes, but this one was glaringly obvious. It was a picture that was clearly printed out recently. On normal paper it seemed, it lacked the gloss. It was cut to the shape of the three people in the photo, bordered with orange craft paper and stuck on at the very edge of the board.

It was a picture of you, your son… and Sana.

One night, when Sana decided it was time for her classic bright orange to return, she asked whether you wanted to dye your hair as well.

Of course, in an instant, you answered no. Unfortunately, your son had overheard the question and practically begged you to let him dye his hair. So that night, both you and your son earned a few strands of orange hair that matched Sana.

Almost on instinct, your hand drifted to the spot behind your neck, hiding a few stray strands of fading bright orange hair. When you had sent the image to your mother, you’d laughed at it because your face was barely in it to your mother’s disappointment. In fact, you were showing your back and looking over your shoulder so the orange was peeking through. Sana wore a blinding grin that also matched your son’s, who was pointing at the streak of orange in his fringe. But here it was, printed and cut out and pasted.

The sight invoked a feeling you couldn’t place.

Someone stepped to your right to observe the same picture.

And then Sana turned to look at you, her eyes glassy.

Even if it wasn’t said, you know what this means.

The words were in your mouth when your mother spoke from your left. “I hope you don’t mind me putting up that picture there,” she said with scrunched eyebrows. “I really liked it.”

Sana’s lips twitched upward as she shook her head. “I don’t mind at all.”

Introductions were quite brief, having heard each other quite a bit from you. Besides, you knew once your son tired himself out and was asleep, your parents could really get to know Sana. So, you decided to move your bags up to your scheduled room.

Unfortunately for you, Sana stopped by another door.

Gasping, Sana pushed the door open and took in every corner of your childhood room.

The room was exactly as you left it. Except less messy. No furniture was moved, no posters torn down, no trinkets replaced—it was as if you had never even left.

Sana moved to your study desk, her finger brushing the spines of textbooks that had made your high school years a living hell.

“Did you study a lot?” Sana asked, her voice light as if she were absent-minded.

“Not really, just enough to pass I guess,” Sana sent you a look over her shoulder, head slightly tilted in suspicion before turning her attention back to the desk.

She poked the trophies and participation awards, smiling at your photos crammed to a side before picking one up.

“Someone looks awfully upset here,” she brandished a photo of you standing on a podium, glaring holes at the person in front of you while you gripped your smaller award. “Sore loser much?”

“I deserved first place! You weren’t there, alright?” you rolled your eyes, plucking the photo away from her while she moved towards your bed.

“I can’t imagine you’d ever have such a tidy room,” she chuckled as she took a seat by the foot of the bed, bouncing a little on the comfortable mattress.

“Yeah, well, you have my mother to thank for that,” you smiled, as you leaned on your desk, facing Sana. Watching her.

Perhaps, it was nostalgia. Or exhaustion. Who knows, maybe even the holiday spirit. But you liked staying here, being in your old room, surrounded by things you’ve long forgotten, from a time you don’t particularly miss, but now, with Sana. Someone who promised a new start.

Sana watched you in turn, her lips pressed thin as she suppressed a knowing smile.

Leaning back, she asked. “So, is this where we’ll be sleeping? In your old room?”

Chuckling, you shook your head. “Not a chance,” you jutted your chin at the single bed, “you feel like being crammed into that?”

Sana shook her head as she turned around to feel the quilt, lips quirked up at the shark pattern.

“No, we’re taking the guest room,” you said, walking to your door. From here, you could just about see over the stairway railing and into the kitchen. Both your parents buzzed around your son like moths to a flame, grins on all of their faces. With a soft sigh, you said. “The one that will be coddled, pampered, and spoiled for the next week will be sleeping in here.”

Content for the moment, you turned your attention back to Sana but she was already looking at you. An expression akin to worry was on her features.

“They’ll like me right?”

Sana closed in on herself, hands dragging down the quilt to feel it one more time before folding in front of her stomach. Her eyes darted around the room before settling back on you. You hated seeing Sana like this.

“You don’t have anything to worry about,” you pushed away from your place at the door and took Sana’s face in your hands, helping her to look up at you. “They’ll love you.”

You leaned down, your nose brushing against hers as a chuckle escaped her.

“Just like you do,” she giggled cheekily.

You kissed her to stop her teasing.

“Hmm, sure,” but still, you admitted. “Just like I do.”

Once your son had tired himself out and you had unpacked your things, you decided it was time to put him to bed. With his blue set of pyjamas that matched your ancient shark-patterned bed sheets, he clambered and got under the sheets, tucking himself in neatly. You took a seat by him on the bed, hand reaching out to comb his unruly hair out of his face.

“How are you feeling?” you asked, a bit slowly.

“Good,” your son admitted, “it’s nice to see grandma and grandpa again.”

The muscle in your jaw tensed.

You wished you could visit home often, a long drive or not, it wasn’t too hard to come back home. However, work dragged you away and you didn’t even have time to consider a plan for the weekend. Even now, your ‘long’ weekend as an excuse for a holiday was extended into a week of freedom after you’d lined up your leave days and practically begged for the holidays. There was no shame in it, the end of this year was important. There were big changes ahead.

“Good,” you parroted.

“Grandma loved my hat and said we can bake some treats from the cookbook,” he exclaimed. You nodded as he continued. “I asked her if we could make a cake—a blue one!—like Percy!”

“Like Percy,” you scoffed as you completed the sentence with him.

“She said she knows a trick so the food doesn’t come out green,” he added and you didn’t doubt him.

Ever since his class was given free rein over the library, your son has been reading quite a lot. On top of his fascination with cooking, of course. This was the longest he’s stuck with a hobby or interest, and reading that his favourite character managed to eat special blue food, catered to him by his loving mother, only spurred your son more to mimic it.

With your help, and Sana’s… mostly Sana’s, your son has mastered green pastries, desserts and sweets. Or ogre food, as you lovingly call it. For reasons that you couldn’t guess, no dye seemed to do the trick, perhaps you were buying cheap brands?

“Yeah, I’m sure she does,” you rolled your eyes before pinching his nose, at which he swatted your hand away.

“So which book are we reading tonight?” Sana asked, walking into your childhood home with a book in her hand. You could guess which one it was.

“The Lightning Thief!” your son squealed when Sana held the book up.

“Don’t you get tired of reading the same one again and again?” you asked, watching Sana as she took a seat on the other side of the bed.

“Nope!” your son said, popping the ‘p’ for emphasis.

“Okay, but aren’t you curious about what happens next—?”

“Oh, don’t start this again,” Sana said, as she conspirately shook her head with your son, clearly over your grumbling.

“I’m just saying—!”

“Oh look at the time,” your son pulled up his empty wrist. “It’s bedtime, we only have time to read a few pages, let's get started!”

Scowling, you pinched your son’s cheek and he had the audacity to giggle.

Sana had started reading the chapter you’d stopped on. Her voice was soothing to listen to, even if the story wasn’t too uplifting. Getting comfortable, you curled up next to your son over his quilt and watched his drooping eyes struggle to stay open.

As Sana finished the chapter, she glanced over. A smile tugged on her lips when she found that your son was deep asleep.

With a nod, you kissed him on the forehead and made sure he was comfortable. Following suit, Sana placed a kiss of her own on his temple. The pair of you exited the room on your tiptoes and slowly closed the door behind you.

“I’ll take the book back,” you said, extending your hand out.

Instead, Sana placed a kiss on your cheek, her eyes lidded.

“What was that for?” you asked, surprised but you weren’t complaining.

“Just because,” she shrugged and then handed the book over to you.

“Are you stalling seeing my parents?” you asked with a smirk as your hand came to rest by her neck, your thumb tipping her jaw to face you.

“Not at all,” Sana said with such conviction that if you didn’t know her better, you’d have believed her.

“They won’t take much time, I won’t let them interrogate you. I can tell them we’re tired and we need rest,” you said tilting your head to the side. “Which we do, honestly.”

Sana nodded with a sigh, her eyes shuttered close as she leaned into the warmth of your palm.

You pulled yourself in for a kiss, a gentle one, on her lips. Sana hummed before pushing away.

“I’ll see you in a second,” you whispered. “You got this.”

She nodded and turned towards the stairs. You waited till she reached the bottom of the stairs before making your way to the guest room. Staying for such a short time, there was no need to unpack completely, and for that, you were slightly grateful. That meant you could hide things without anyone being the wiser.

Dropping the book down on the open suitcase, you kneeled to rummage through the clothes. Making sure to lift layers of clothes as it is, you find a small velvet box at the very bottom. The sight of it brought a smile to your face. It can only mean so many things, though you still have some things to complete.

Leaving it in the same room would be a gamble. The guest room was basically empty, anyone would be able to find it. Every other room in this house had someone staying in it or had them frequent it often. Anything moved out of its place would ring the alarm bells, no, you needed to hide this somewhere no one was likely to check.

So you walked back to your childhood room and entered as quietly as you could. Your son was sound asleep. The left door on your cupboard creaked when it opened, but if you applied pressure on the hinges as you opened, it made barely any sound. Locating the bottommost drawer, you pulled up your old clothes and shoved the box at the very back before hiding it under the clothes.

Happy with your task, you exited the room just as stealthily and made your way down to join your family as if nothing were amiss.

Even with the help of your mother, it seems your son had difficulty mastering blue food.

Somehow your mother managed to convince your son from an elaborate tiered cake to a classic sponge cake to plain old blueberry muffins. You’d hoped that maybe you could escape for the day, maybe with Sana, around your old neighbourhood. Unfortunately, you’d been roped in as assistant chefs and taste-testers instead.

Seated on the couch, you watched three of the most important people in your family take a crack at making blueberry muffins which were actually blue in colour. Sana had been assigned mixing duty, which made no sense to you because you knew for a fact your mother had an ancient stand mixer lying around somewhere in the house. Though Sana didn’t seem to share your sense of justice as she was happy to do so.

Your mother was taking her time going through the recipe book and teaching your son her own techniques. The sight helped you recall some of your own moments under her wing in the kitchen, though you were neither as interested nor skilled to be there. Oh but your son, he was completely enraptured. You’ve never seen him in school and struggled to attend parent-teacher meetings, but you guessed this is how he was in class as well. The swell of pride on your chest was an indescribable feeling.

When Sana said that the batter was ready, your head perked up. Leaving your place on the couch, you made your way to the kitchen. Making sure your mother and son were distracted by the oven, you moved behind Sana. You had to be quick!

Rounding one hand on her waist, you placed your chin over her shoulder and at that, she chuckled while snuggling into your side. And then, you struck.

Your free hand’s index finger dipped into the bowl to carry a dollop of aqua-blue batter straight into your mouth.

By the time Sana had realized what you’d just done, you were already out of her reach. Her indignant shriek altered the other two chefs of your crime, though even they couldn’t do much now.

When the muffins had been completed, you were surprised to see they were properly blue. Not some horrid inedible shade of green.

Your first question after inhaling a few muffins alongside your father was to your mother.

“How did you get them so blue?” you asked, staring at the dishes in the sink, looking as if a smurf had been murdered. “We never managed.”

“Well, depends if you bothered to buy the brand I told you to,” your mother showed an empty tube on the counter and you rolled your eyes at the dig.

“I did buy that brand!” you said, moving to pick up and examine the tube… only to find two more tubes hidden, flattened beyond recognition.

“Well, then it depends on quantity,” your mother said as you turned on the balls of your feet, incredulous.

“Is this much dye even healthy?” you asked, already reading the ingredients on the tube.

“Guess we’ll find out,” your mother only shrugged as she looked at her husband, still scarfing down the muffins. You sent your mother another incredulous look but she just laughed at her own silly joke.

As the holiday came to an end, you finally got your chance to spend some time alone with Sana.

Your father claimed he barely got any time to spend with his grandson. Of course, that was a complete lie. With how much time and money he spent, you’d even debated getting your son a gift at all. Though that was out of the question, you and Sana had already set your mind on what it was and had it ordered beforehand. You just had to go collect it.

So your father said he’d take you all to the park. Once there, you let them go their own way. One moment, your son was accompanying your father and the next he was running at the nearest dog, eager to pet it.

Holding hands, you and Sana watched as you made your way through the park. With every step, you were getting further away until you could see your son no more. Suddenly, the velvet box in your jacket pocket weighed you down, as if it had materialized into your jacket out of thin air.

“Not going to lie,” Sana started, “I thought you’d show me more of your old home.”

“Oh, yeah? Like what?”

“I don’t know, something like your old friends? Your old school? Old hang-out spots?” Sana drew on. “Maybe how that high school enemy of yours and how they work at a general store, having never escaped this small town?”

“I don’t know what winter budget film you watched, but that’s not happening here,” you rolled your eyes at her imagination. “Also, what enemy?”

“The first-place winner,” Sana said with a cheeky smile.

“Oh please, I’m not that petty to be thinking about something that happened so long ago,” Sana watched you intently, nodding along almost in a mocking manner. “And besides, they’re a professor at the university across the city, I believe.”

Sana’s grin widened as you just realised what you admitted.

“I wasn’t keeping tabs on them! I just saw a post of theirs recently, alright!” you cried, though it fell on deaf ears.

The most important thing to come out of the walk was your destination. To and back, it was mostly filled with Sana’s inane questions (filled with imaginative scenarios to paint you as some egregious husk of a human, might you add) and you answering them with proper facts and maybe some anecdotes. Sana stopped by the crafts store to collect wrapping paper while you collected your son’s gift.

It was the following series of his favourite books; Heroes of Olympus.

Yes, he has yet to finish the last two books of the current series. And yes, you’d only just berated (teased) him about rereading the first book. But you could just imagine how his face would light up when he sees these books. In fact… you don’t even know if you’ll be reading these books to him by the time he gets to them, which was strange to think about but really, there wasn’t a better gift for your son.

When you arrived back home, your son was taking a nap on the couch, which made it all the more easier to wrap the present for him and get dinner ready.

When your son woke up the table was already set and the first thing he did was take his seat. All eyes were on him, everyone was wearing smiles watching him practically bounce on his seat. He gets to have his dinner, the muffins that he made, and then open his gifts early. Your father, chuckling, ruffled his hair and took a seat beside him.

Dinner, for the most part, was uneventful as usual. That's not to say you didn’t have any fun. You did, you really did. As you ate your meal, you took a backseat in the conversation, observing just how comfortable Sana was alongside your family. She had absolutely nothing to be worried about. Your parents adored her. Almost as much as how much you and your son did.

“So when is it?” your father’s question filtered in and you looked away from your nearly clean plate.

“When is what?” you asked before taking your final bite.

“I asked when are you two getting married?”

Sana had to rub your back so you didn’t choke on your food, or worse, spit it across the table.

“What?” you tip a sip of water. “What do you mean?”

“It’s a valid question, really,” your mother admitted, not really looking at you, but you could see the smile toying at the edge of her lips.

“Yeah, when is it happening?” your son looked up at you, eyes wide and shiny.

“Um…” you turned to Sana for some help. Instead, she took her hand from your back and placed her chin on it, leaning in and expecting your answer as well.

The velvet box seemed to burn in your jacket pocket.

Somehow, you’d managed to get out of that dreadful situation.

Once the plates were cleared and blueberry muffins disappeared. It was time for presents.

As if aware of what he might get, your son gravitated toward the large box set you’d gotten. And you were right.

Nothing could compare to the expression on his face when he realized what he’d gotten.

Without hesitation, he jumped into your arms and thanked you a thousand times. You reminded him that Sana had pitched in as well and he was flying at her to give her the same treatment.

Perhaps, you were petty.

Because you took pride that no other gift earned the same amount of excitement.

The night settled down and your family received one last gift from your mother.

When all of you were out, she’d tidied up the backyard and made hot chocolate.

All throughout this holiday, every moment seemed to be building up to this one.

Under the twinkling fairy lights, you joined your son on the steps to the backyard. He was sitting with his knees up, his hands toying with a small figurine of Poseidon. Sana had bought it for him the moment she laid eyes on it, having thrifted it from some store, you couldn’t help but smile at the memory.

Seeming to be in deep thought, your son watched the sight before him. With steaming cups of hot chocolate in their hands, your parents conversed with Sana. You didn’t know what she said, but it had your father throwing his head back and letting loose a loud snort. Your mother’s eyes crinkled in amusement as she flitted her attention back and forth between them.

Clearing your throat, you began to speak. “Your hot chocolate is turning into cold chocolate, you know.”

You were sure that comment would earn a look from him, but instead, your son moved a hand towards his cup, the figurine still in the other. He sighed and brought the cup to his mouth anyway. But before he could take a sip, you switched out his for your own cup.

“Here, have mine,” you said, carefully placing the warm cup in his hands.

Your son mumbled his thanks and sipped the drink silently, his eyes back on Sana. There was something he wanted to say. You had something you wanted to ask him too. But you decided to wait him out, let him come to you first because you surmised both of you wanted to discuss the same thing.

And so for a moment, on Christmas day, you sat in silence with your son, on the steps to your childhood backyard, sipping warm (and yours, cold) chocolate.

When he was done halfway with his hot chocolate, he placed the cup back down. You followed him. His hands were fidgeting with the figurine again, spinning it round and round, only stopping from time to time to run his index finger over the trident.

“Grandpa was right, you know,” you’ve never heard your son’s voice so small. Wavering, as if he were confused, nervous even. “Why haven’t you asked Sana to marry you?”

He paused to bite his lip while his eyes flitted to the figurine, thumb caressing the figurine’s armour.

“Is it because of me?” he asked. The utterance is almost like an exhale, light but onerous.

It would be so easy to provide empty consolation, that no, it wasn’t anything to do with him. But he knows you too well for that to pass, he’d see right through your attempt. Your son is already quite wise beyond his years, especially at the most inopportune times for you, and was only getting older. For as long as you can remember, it's only ever been the two of you.

Your dates, however rare, come and go. His babysitters, much to his distaste in the beginning, come and go. Having a partner at the start seemed so important, if not to share the burden of caring for a child, then to at least have another figure for your son to look up to. And when you questioned that sort of thinking, you’d figured that all that really mattered was that you were there for your son. With little time as you did have with him in your day, you fought to make time for him. You hadn’t even entertained the idea, that perhaps, you’d date just for yourself. When it came to your son or some romantic dalliance that would never amount to anything real, the choice was easy.

Because at the end of the day, it's only ever been the two of you.

But all of that changed when Sana arrived at your doorstep.

You doubted that neither of you, all three of you even, expected this outcome.

So you understood where your son was coming from, asking this question.

And you decided to be honest with your son, as you always have.

“Yes, in a way.”

Finally, your son turned his full attention to you. His hands were still holding the figurine, but they weren’t fidgeting anymore.

You also turned to face him.

Round eyes had turned sharp, searching for something. Yet his face was a little less expressive, more difficult to read. There were lines of worry decorating his forehead, he seemed older. He’s always by your side, it’s so easy to miss. But this close, on this night, it was obvious. He had grown up.

“Before I asked her, I wanted to ask you,” you confessed. The velvet box that was previously hidden underneath your old clothes in the third drawer of your cupboard was now heavy in your pocket. Your son tilted his head in question. “For as long as I can remember, it has been just you and me.”

You sighed. These words were harder to get out than you’d expected.

“I know you like Sana, and I know she already stays with us, and I know you know how much I love her,” the corner of your son’s lips twitched up a bit. “But there’s a difference between being together and being married. I think it’s a big step. And I don’t want to take that step with your blessing.”

It only took your son a fraction of a second to react. He nodded, eager to say yes.

“Of course, I want this for you,” he said, grinning. “She makes you happy. You make her happy too. And that makes me happy!”

And he was back.

He was giggling to himself as he poked your side with a finger. You rolled your eyes as you tried to brave the tickling sensation.

“But seriously, I want this,” he nodded before turning his attention back to his cup of hot chocolate. He was going to take a sip, but stopped and looked at you. “And… and thanks for asking me.”

“Of course,” was all you could say as both of you went to take a sip from your mugs.

“Ugh!” your son let out an ugly bleh! and frowned. Your parents and Sana turned to look over at you. “This is so cold! Is yours too?”

Your mother chuckled and nodded. From across the yard, she asked. “Shall we go heat them up?”

“Yes, please!” your son stood up and pocketed his figurine. He extended a hand for your cup as well. When you gave it up, he whispered conspiraterly before your mother could whisk him away. “Good luck! You got this!”

And then with a giggle, he’d skipped off into the house.

Your mother stopped at the steps just as you got up and dusted yourself up.

“What were you two whispering about?” she asked with an uptick of her brow as if she hadn’t had her guesses. You shrugged.

“What were you laughing about?” you asked. Your mother glanced back at your father and Sana, then back to you. She shrugged.

“Okay, be like that then,” you said and your mother only chuckled.

Then, she turned back again and called out to your father. “Did you take your tablets?”

“Shit, no!” your father excused himself and rushed over.

“Language!” your mother said as your father zoomed past, though he was more hobbling. Then your mother looked back at you. “She’ll say yes.”

And with that, she followed your father in and closed the balcony door to shut away the cold air.

You turned to Sana. She was already looking at you.

Without a mug, she had nothing to fidget with, so she had her hands steepled in front of her stomach. Her eyes were wide, expectant, as you made your way over.

“Hey,” you said, both your hands finding their place in your pockets. Of course, it was only a front to find the box they were hiding.

“Hi,” she said, the corner of her lips twitching up.

There was nothing left to do. Nothing more you were so sure of.

So instead of stuffing up the moment with unprepared words and emotion, you pulled out the box.

Sana didn’t gasp or squeal or tear up. She just raised her steepled hands to her lips, her cheeks pushed up so high, elated crinkles forming beside her eyes.

You weren't a grand person either. No big dinner, no big celebration, no build-up. You’d considered it, you really had, merely for the sake of Sana. But everything else just felt so unlike you, well, unlike the pair of you. Your start had been so simple, so unassuming, only because there was already so much between you. And everything that had followed, with her, and her with your son, had been the same. Everything just made sense.

But you did think, perhaps, you should get down on one knee.

So you started lowering yourself to the ground as you opened the box. But before you could complete the pose, Sana grabbed you by your collar and pulled you into a crushing kiss.

You surmised that was a yes and smiled into the kiss.

“Come on, come on,” your son was ecstatic, practically shooting off from his seat on the couch. Sana only smiled to herself as she set up the laptop on the coffee table, making sure the camera showed everyone and that she looked all right. “We’re in!”

Handing Sana the mugs in your hands, you seated yourself down and lifted your son onto your lap. Just as you were taking back your mug, a shrill voice shrieked. “Sana!”

Your son giggled while your eyes widened. Because Sana returned the greeting with the same energy. “Nayeon!”

You’ve heard of that one before, Nayeon, and seen photos of her too. Well, you couldn’t remember exactly, Sana had quite the group of friends but when Nayeon’s face appeared along with another person, you just smiled and waved awkwardly.

“Hi! It’s so nice to finally meet you,” Nayeon said politely to you just as another screen popped up. You knew them, the newlyweds!

You parroted her greeting as more screens popped up with familiar faces, but none close. You’ve only heard stories or seen photos. The laptop erupted with voices, none of which you recognized, it was quite overwhelming. Though, Sana had no trouble at all catching the flow of the conversation and laughing along. Your son seemed to follow her, although silently. Someone with the name of Choi Tzuyu housed two people on their screen, they both waved at your son, who responded eagerly.

“I think everyone is here!” one of the women said, her profile name read Jihyo. She was clearly wearing a suit, though her tie had been undone. “Yup, headcount done, everyone is here. How are we moving forward with this?”

“Well, that depends on Sana, really,” a woman from Nayeon’s screen said, she’d just joined the pair that was already there. She was wearing a smug smile, and in response, Sana rolled her eyes.

Both you and your son turned to Sana, expectant.

Grinning at the ground, feigning bashfulness, Sana held up her left hand. And there it was, glinting in the light, your engagement ring.

The audio lagged from how much volume erupted. Someone wolf-whistled, while the others laughed and clapped. You knew people were congratulating you, but you were too busy fending off Sana burying her forehead into your shoulder. Only your son seemed to delight in the revelry.

And then, to your horror, someone yelled. “Show us your ring too!”

Before you could even lift your hand, your son had taken your left hand and held it above his head, showcasing the matching ring!

Someone shrieked again, although this time around the celebration was a bit more subdued.

“Damn, I thought we were all gonna scream again but okay,” the one with the profile name Hirai Momo said, while the person next to them swatted their arm. “What? It’s—”

“Please ignore Momo, congrats on your engagement,” Jihyo said, leaning forward, trying to look right at you. “I know Sana has been excited about this for quite a while.”

“Oh,” was all you could say, as Sana pulled away from you, a blush coating her cheeks.

“We knew this was coming,” the profile Dahyun said, “but I think this is the first child in our little group—hello!”

Your son perked up as all attention was on him. “Hello!”

He was readying himself to be asked questions, to share his interest in cooking with a whole new group of people, though the conversation switched again.

“He’s not the first child, we have children too,” Momo whined. “Look, Boo and Dobby are here.”

And then she continued to make the most obnoxious noise to call over her dogs.

“You did not just compare an adorable kid to your feral dogs,” said the person next to Momo, even though they reached out to a dog themself and picked one up. “I’m sorry for this one, kid.”

Your son didn’t seem to mind, instead, he was absolutely taken with the two dogs in the hands of the couple.

“Then, I guess I have children too,” someone from the profile Choi Tzuyu said and called over another dog too.

“Oh, Tzuyu, you’re back home?” someone asked and once again, the conversation changed.

Smiling at the sight, you were content with just seeing Sana interact with her friends. She’d been pretty adamant about staying with you for this Christmas, and she’d mentioned how horrid the one before had been. It was the reason this group had decided to call this time around.

Then out of the blue, Jihyo asked. “So when is the wedding?”

“Why are you asking? So you can bring that plus-one of yours from last time?”

The call erupted again.

“Right, right, how long are you just going to be attending weddings? When are you going—”

“Jeongyeon, I’m going to stop you right there, you’re giving me traumatic flashbacks to my mom,” Jihyo said, holding up her hands. “And, that plus-one was a one-time thing, I’ll probably never see them again.”

“They’ll probably be there for Sana’s wedding, let's be honest,” even the slightest mention of your wedding had you sweating. Sana seemed to notice.

Muting yourself, Sana turned to you. “They’re going to go at this for a while, thanks for agreeing to meet them… they’re basically family to me.”

“Yeah, no, of course,” you said, placing a quick kiss on her cheek. You ignored the one who whistled again. You were muted, not off-camera. You tried not to display your embarrassment. “I’ll get this one ready for bed then.”

Your son was pouting, but Sana just nodded. “I’ll finish up this call, and we can finish up your favourite chapter.”

At that, your son’s smile returned.

“Come on,” you said, picking him up and giving him a boost to land across the couch. You took the empty mug from Sana’s hand and left as she re-entered the conversation as if her little pause never occurred.

“Mina! Ask Mina, she’s single too—!”

“But we’re here to talk about you, Jihyo—!”

“What do you mean? You just got engaged!”

Their voices faded with every step you took away from Sana, your son in tow.

Maybe it was the end of the year, maybe it was the communal holiday spirit, but every Christmas, you found yourself reminiscing about past memories. Watching your son take his first steps, to watching him become confident in his own skin, you were glad he was surrounded by people who loved him as much as you did. And now, that permanently included Sana. These holidays have changed so many things, all of which you were so deeply grateful for.

Surged with a wave of emotion upon reaching the threshold of your childhood bedroom, and unable to suppress your elation, you grabbed your son by the hips and lifted him into the air. You were sure the sound of his surprised giggles would stay imprinted in your mind for many more Christmases to come.

any feedback is much appreciated.

a/n: first and foremost, i am so very sorry dear anon for getting this to you almost two fucking years later ;-; and second, happy percy jackson day !!

tagging: @someone-who-likes-broccoli

#mala's collection #sanccharine #sana x reader #twice x reader #sana imagines #twice imagines #sana fluff #single parent au #christmas au #blueberry muffins

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goldenamaranthe-blog · 4 months

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All I Want for Christmas Is....

Yang: (clinging to the door frame for dear life as an unknown entity pulls her away)

Sun: (nails screeching across the floor as he's pulled by the tail by the same entity, finally catching the doorframe)

Jaune: (crying and screaming like a little girl as he's being dragged through the building like a ragdoll by the same entity as Sun and Yang)

Yang & Sun: (grab Jaune just as he's about to fly passed the doorway)

Jaune: (holding on for dear life) Thanks, guys!

Yang & Sun: Don't mention it!

Ruby: (from the couch and watching the scene unfold) What's going on?

Neptune: I have no idea, but it's funny. (munches popcorn)

Blake: Should... should we do something?

Weiss: We don't even know what has them.

Emerald: (Walks in) Oh, Santa must be gathering all the materials he needs to deliver presents.

RNBW: Say what now?

YSJ: (struggling to hold on) People....have....got to stop....asking for....attractive, heart of gold, golden retriever personified blondes for Christ- (slowly disappear from view) -maaaaaaas!

Ruby: Uh.... Blake, Neptune, aren't you guys right here?

Weiss: And your partners just got spirited away because someone else wished for them from Santa?

Blake & Neptune: (leap from their seats with their weapons drawn) OH, HELL, NO!!! (give chase)

Blake: Get back here with my blonde, Fat Man!!!

Neptune: That is MY muscle, monkey, boytoy!

Santa: Ho-Ho-Holy Fuck!!! Bring it on, children! I'll put both of you on the naughty list!

RWE: (blink) Uhhhh...

Penny: (suddenly being levitated passed the window, stiff as a board) Hello, girlfriend Ruby! Goodbye, girlfriend Ruby!

Ruby: Hey! That one's mine! (lock and loads Crescent Rose and gives chase)

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kookwashere · 5 months

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A december kind of love

paring: reader x jungkook, wife/husband

sum: you and jungkook have been married for almost a year and this is your first christmas coming up together as a newly married couple, how will you both spend the start of your holiday season?

warnings: cute nicknames, smut later on in story (big dick jk and unprotected) explicit language, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of oc's trauma (r*pe and abuse), story in lowercase on purpose, please keep these in mind.

teaser:

the mistletoe, the little piece green plucked from nature decorated with holiday berries and a bow, hanging in front of a door.

you're arms were wrapped around his neck, his hands resting on your waist, staring in each others eyes in the doorway.

"it's a mistletoe, pretty girl, you know what that means?" he asked, his voice soft.

"of course i know what it means, what about it?" you whispered to him.

he leaned in and kissed your plump red lips. "you know, i've dreamed about spending this holiday for you for as long as i can remember." he said while pulling back

you smiled and played with his hair while looking into his eyes, "it's going to be a good season, huh?" you said.

"the best." he said while leaning in once again to kiss you under the mistletoe.

coming december 1st

#jeon jungkook #jungkook #jungkook oneshot #jungkook au #jungkook:smut #jeon jungkook smut #bts smut #bts #jungkook drabble #jungkook x you #bts romance #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfic #christmas au #boyfriend jungkook #jungkook love #jungkook husband #husband jungkook

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artymcartistskeletons · 4 months

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I love this goofy lil guy Dunno if one of these exists, either way, now Outer has an ugly sweater too :]

Made him more accurately sized this time lmao

#xmas #christmas au #sans undertale #sans #undertale #outer sans #outertale sans #outertale #christmas #xmas party au #christmas party au

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esther-dot · 4 months

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MODERN AUs

tis the damn season 5k by @wildflower-daydreamer

Every year, Sansa comes back to her small hometown of Winterfell for Christmas. And each year, she and Jon fall into their old routine for her short stay. This year would be no different. Okay, maybe a little different. Inspired by the song 'tis the damn season by Taylor Swift. corresponding gif

Mistletoe Merriment 4k by @geekprincess26

Theon Greyjoy loves kissing pretty girls, so naturally he loves breaking out the mistletoe and spiked punch every year at the Starks' annual Christmas party. And every year, the girl he kissed the prior year shows up with an awesome new boyfriend - every girl except for Sansa Stark, who ends up with slimy, pathetic gits. Theon will have to go to ridiculous lengths, not to mention risk the legendary wrath of Jon Snow, in order to get Sansa the boyfriend she deserves. But he'll do it, because Theon Greyjoy is a loyal friend - and he'll never let a stupid sprig of mistletoe get the better of him.

When the Grinch Met the Redhead 1k by @yenstarkofrivia

the one where Sansa likes to sing Christmas songs at 3am and Jon is a miserable Grinch

merry and bright 27k by @cellsshapedlikestars

ex-child star Sansa Stark is in desperate need of money and takes a role in a Hallmark Christmas movie, filming in the mountain resort town of Wintertown, Vermont. There, Fire Chief Jon Snow is on set to oversee safety regulations. Sansa hates Christmas and she hates small towns, but a casual fling with a rugged local fireman might be just what she needs.

four 5k by @cellsshapedlikestars (I've reread this fic many times)

She had never put Jon and Christmas together, but now she thinks she'll never be able to separate them. or, four Christmases, three midnight excursions, two angry siblings, and one boy at the center of it all

Be My +1 47k by @vivilove-jonsa

Seven months after she attended a wedding with her brother's work colleague (and gave him a tipsy, unrequited kiss when he walked her to the door), Sansa Stark finds herself in the unenviable situation of desperately needing a date for her prep school reunion at a ski resort which will also be attended by her ex-boyfriend/boss's son, Harry Hardyng and her Former-BFF/Frenemy, Margaery Tyrell.

The Best Christmas Present (Is You) 3k @foreverreadingbeautifulbooks

Every year the Starks and honorary Starks spent the week of Christmas in the most northern of the lodges they owned. No guests were allowed to visit the lodge during that week and it was the one time a year where no one in their family was allowed to work. Everyone hung out, played in the snow, skied, baked, ate lots of food, and simply enjoyed being together. It was refreshing to spend so much time with her family since she felt like she’d barely seen them this last year. But, if Sansa was honest, after five days of hanging out with them nonstop, she’d been looking forward to spending a little bit of time by herself. Every year on Christmas Eve, while her mom and dad picked out the tree, Bran would play chess with their neighbor’s son, Lyanna - who was notorious for buying gifts at the last minute - went shopping, Arya and the rest of the boys would challenge each other to skiing contests, and Sansa would take that opportunity to have her own private holiday celebration indoors. She would warm up some hot chocolate, turn up her Christmas playlist, and snuggle down in some blankets to wrap all of her Christmas presents. But not this year. This year she was stuck with Jon Snow and his broken ankle.

the perfect gift for christmas for me would be 5k

“Be my boyfriend,” Sansa says. Jon's eyebrows raise, and she amends, “My fake boyfriend." or, Sansa, Jon, and fake dating for the winter holidays.

Christmas Carriage Ride 1.5k

Jon Snow has grown tired of his holiday job driving a horse-drawn carriage around the streets of Chicago. Then Sansa shows up, and Jon sees the city through new eyes

#LockedinLovers 8k by @amymel86

the one where Sansa and Jon are locked in a big ol' department store over Christmas because of a convenient snow storm

The Nightmare Before Christmas 3k by @ladysalvatore3

Sansa Stark was far from being perfect; she occasionally forgot to put the lid back on the toothpaste, she was constantly arriving late to places, she didn’t know how to change a tire or had any idea of what path her life was going to take, but there were three things that Sansa was absolutely sure about. She loved to write. Christmas was the best holiday ever. She hated Jon Snow.

'Tis the Damn Season 4k by @justhereforfandomandfriends

Four times Jon doesn’t ask Sansa to stay, and the one time he does. Sansa Stark was sneaking out of her childhood bedroom to sleep in Jon Snow's bed. If you'd told teenage Sansa, she'd have laughed in scorn (but she’d have flushed too). Twenty-nine year old Sansa was almost used to it. By now, it was practically a tradition, and there was nothing Sansa loved more than holiday traditions. corresponding moodboard

when the snow falls and the white wind blows 10k

Sansa Stark and Jon Snow had never been particularly close, but since her brother died and the two moved to the same city they have been spending more time together. Sansa tells herself Jon sees her as the little girl who lived in the house beside his. Jon tells himself Sansa sees him as nothing more than her brother's best friend. But when the two are snowed in on the way back home for Christmas, their thoughts change.

Shamelessly Un-christmas 3k by @jade-masquerade

After Jon denied her a kiss under the mistletoe last Christmas, Sansa tries to make amends.

A Tale of Two Christmases 2k by @jade-masquerade

A Christmas gift mix-up involving a special sweater brings Sansa and Jon together. corresponding fanart by @grrmartin

all i want for christmas is you...to tell everyone we're together 2k by @ben-barnes-is-my-husband

It's Christmas and all Jon wants is for he and Sansa to be public with their relationship.

Who's coming to you tonight? 1k by @kissed-by-circe

“So you want me, me and no one else, to dress up as Nikolaus and bring wee-“ his mind scrambles as he tries to remember the boy’s name, because Arya only uses pet names for him, and he doubts that her sister named her child Woolfling, Dr Snuggles, or Baby-Bear, “wee… Ar- Artos some candy, and tell him that he’s been naughty?” Arya forces Jon to play Nikolaus for her lil nephew, and somehow forgets to mention that singlemom!Sansa is really really hot

Lights 7k by @charmtion

Two years ago, Arya turned up on Jon and Sansa’s doorstep and left after a single, soul-aching conversation. Now they are gathered back together for a Stark family Christmas, where old wounds and new secrets threaten to collide.

Door to Door Delivery 2k by @hilarychuff

A drabble inspired by my While You Were Sleeping (1995). Jon walks Sansa home during a Chicago winter.

The Spirit of Christmas Gifset by @aureliacamargo

All I Want for Christmas Jonsa vid by @aerishe

FOLGERSCEST INSPIRED

(yes, that commercial prompted Jonsa content which makes me laugh so it gets a special shout-out!)

Perks of the Queen 5k by @intothecest

After years in his exile in the Night's Watch, Jon Snow finally answers a summons to Winterfell from his sister, Queen in the North, just in time for a festival. Gifts are exchanged, long-simmering feelings percolate up, and, oh yes, coffee has come to Westeros.

The Best Part of Waking Up 5k @jillypups

After a long stint up in Alaska doing manly things, Jon Snow comes back to the Stark family home where he spent nearly all of his childhood, where he called the Stark kids brother and sister. But things change after a few years go by.

Gifset by @cindy-clawford

OTHER

Light in the Darkest Days of the Year Little Women AU/historical AU 9k by @sibyldisobedience

Winterfell was a handsome old house of modest proportions, that had once seen better days. Its green shutters and gables had faded to a dull grey. Its stone walls could use a new coat of whitewash. And its family, the Starks, had once been counted amongst the most distinguished in Wintertown — a small, sleepy hamlet, just north of the bustling port city of White Harbour, where it was as likely to snow in the summer as not. But despite this dreary description, Winterfell was the happiest little home in the neighbourhood. Even on the darkest, coldest days of winter, the little grey house radiated warmth and light from its frosted-over windows, like a beacon.

Fairy Lights and Mistletoe 3k Hogwarts AU, by @maybetwice

Sansa has every intention of going to the Yule Ball with Jon, even though he isn't sure why.

Shine Your Light on Me 2k canon verse @thatgirlnevershutsup

Let's celebrate a Northern holiday with Sansa and Jon! Think about a Hallmark Christmas movie set in Westeros, and you're on the right track.

A Stark Solstice 1.5k canon verse @ritzintherabbithole

It’s only fitting, she thought, that fresh snow should blanket the land around Winterfell today of all days. It is pristine, virgin white snow, seemingly pure, but Sansa know knows the kind of monsters that hide in the cold and her time spent in King’s Landing cured her of any instinct to trust appearances.

A midwinter night's dream 2k canon verse

After the Long Night, Sansa fears winter more than ever. How will her new born daughter survive a winter that might last for years? But magic is gone from Westeros, and soon it becomes clear that every season only lasts for a few moons. Though winters are still brutal, there is always an end in sight. And every year on the darkest day of them all, the Starks in Winterfell have a feast.

Festive Jonsa Edit

Christmas Is Here Gifset and Merry Christmas Gifset by @tiny-little-bird

PRE CANON - WESTERN - FAIRYTALE - REGENCY - LITTLE WOMEN - SEASON SIX - ANNE OF GREEN GABLES - THE GIRL IN GREY - FREE CITIES - FAIRYTALE PART II - POLITICAL MARRIAGE - SALTY TEENS

#jonsa #jonsa fic #holiday au #christmas au #modern au #dot fic list

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callmevexx · 4 months

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Obitine Christmas AU💕🎄

Merry Christmas! ❤️

#satine kryze #star wars #obi wan kenobi #obitine #the clone wars #obi wan x satine #star wars fan art #duchess of mandalore #christmas au #duchess satine kryze #duchess satine #duchess satine fan art #my artwork #fanart #ewan mcgregor #cate blanchett #obitine fan art #obitine art

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ibenology · 5 months

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lokius Klaus AU where Loki is sent down to a freezing norwegian town on earth by Odin to learn to be humble and while trying to get back he meets toy-maker Mobius and together they learn about love and family

#loki #lokius #loki x mobius #mobius m mobius #klaus movie #klaus netflix #christmas au #can you tell I watched Klaus today #Jesper reminds me so much of Loki it’s insane #for Klaus and Mobius it’s mainly the eyebrows LMAO

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chordsykat · 5 months

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Toki is not going to miss an opportunity to give Nita Claus his Christmas List. :3

...This rabbit hole is getting deep. Hold my eggnog. We're going in:

Dec 5

Dec 6

#christmas au #mtl #metalocalypse #mtl oc #toki wartooth #nita nirvana #my art

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lambiewrites · 4 months

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Child!Reader gets adopted for Christmas. Just imagine it, their sitting there on the couch and everyone is like, “oh did Santa bring you what you wanted?” And their all happy-ish but their also like, “oh but I didn’t get a family for Christmas but that’s okay :) “ THEN BOOM!

Someone pulls out adoption papers! 😭😭😭😭😭 shut up, I’m so soft rn

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haeggi · 10 months

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the gift and the gifted | myg ✓

➔ pairing: top student!yoongi × top student!reader

➔ genres/warnings: highschool!au, christmas!au, holiday!au, romcom!au, rivals to lovers, enemies to lovers, fluff, angst, suggestive themes (but there's no smut, woops), also yoongi wears glasses bc my babie is so cute and hot when he wears one, lots of cussing prolly, some jokes may be offensive, reader and yoongi basically wants to strangle each other's necks bc yes.

➔ word count: 12.9k

➔ synopsis: you were always at the top; girls envied you and they aspired to be like you, and you got guys swooning at your feet. but there was always a particular individual who followed your footsteps. min yoongi. everywhere you were, he always shadowed you. he always came in second to you, and just like you, he also had become the primary cause of ladies getting diagnosed with erotomanias (metaphorically, of course). but everything crashes downhill when your roles are suddenly switched; he ends up at the top, and you below him. how messed up could that be?

or alternatively, christmas was just around the corner, and all it takes are the midterms (which will be a piece of cake to you) before the semester ends. however, the christmas news you receive that year was one of the worst gifts yet. let's say, it went catastrophic because the gift came in the form of min yoongi, your biggest rival.

notes: this is my first ever tumblr ff ajshssk. it's raw and unedited, so expect a lot of grammar mistakes.

───❝˖✧★✧˖❞───

According to statistics of an unknown source, a lot of experts believe that the global population is composed of between 2% to 6% of gifted children. Such child prodigies are blessed with naturally high inborn intelligence. They perform significantly at complex levels compared to peers.

You belonged in the 2 to 6% of that category. At the fresh age of two, you were able to read novels that are typically for adolescents. You also already knew how to write children stories, your imaginations constantly spreading as if you were using a hex in your mind, expanding your thoughts into a whole new wide level.

Yes, that was indeed a Marvel reference.

Oh, you started watching the series by the time you were three, by the way. Whenever your parents kissed you goodbye to report to their jobs, you would bake pancakes while standing on a stool because you were still too tiny to reach the top of the kitchen counter. Afterwards, you would waddle into the living room, turn on the TV, and bask into a three-hour Marvel movie.

You would also laugh at the adult jokes that were made that even most adolescents wouldn't get, yet there you were, being a couch potato, sipping on maple syrups while giggling at the scenes.

And by the time you were four, you knew all your basic math. You could also spell complicated words already such as pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis (man, I literally had to copy-paste that from Google, smh). You also have memorized all the countries of Asia and Europe, and the parts of the human's and plants' cells—not just the mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell basic and overused shit.

But most importantly, you definitely had attitude problems. You had a blunt tongue and a sharp wit.

"I don't want to go to school," your five-year-old-self whined burying your small head further into the pillow. "I don't need to," you add, muffled.

"Honey," your mother sighed, inviting herself in your bedroom. She knew how much you despised it whenever someone crossed your personal space, yet you were too whine-y to even fight your mother. "I know that, but you still need to. The world is too big for everything to fit in your brain—"

"Are you calling me small?" you grimaced, exhuming your head from the pillow and whipping it at your mom's direction. "Mom, you know how much I'm sensitive when it comes to my height!"

"Yes, dear, I apologize—"

"I don't wanna hear it, mom! My decision is final, I don't wanna go to kindergarten!" you yelled, albeit your voice was muffled because you stuffed your face into your pillow again.

"Kindergarten?" your mother repeated. "Y/N, I never said anything about enrolling you to kindergarten. I was planning to apply for your acceleration for elementary—"

"Mmmooommmm!" you groaned, almost sounding like a wolf, but to your beloved mother, you just sounded like a pup. "Leave me alone, please! I know my geometry, I can solve the area of a rectangle, a square, a decagon. Even a gazillion-gon or whatever! And I know how to use similes, metaphors, hyperboles, and ironies!"

"Clearly," your mother muttered under her breath. "With how sharp your tongue is, I'm not even surprised."

The woman flinched when a soft piece of fluff landed before her feet. It was one of your stuff toys, Mr. Bear-able.

She resisted the urge to massage her temples, catching what her daughter was implying. "Alright, fine. I'll leave you alone. But if you ever change your mind, tell me."

"I don't do do overs, mom," you retorted, suddenly having the appetite to get out of bed. You waddle towards your desk, plopping on the seat with your back turned to your mother. "Now, if you excuse me, I have a lot to do."

"Of course," your mother responded. "Come down for dinner at seven. Don't. Be. Late," she warned.

"Yes, mother," you stressed the last word.

Hearing the door shut close, you released a sigh of relief, finally grateful for the time of peace.

But, unfortunately, for gifted children, peace was a state they rarely achieved.

───❝˖✧★✧˖❞───

Ten years later, you are now enduring the third year of high school. And ten years ago, you swore to yourself that you wouldn't step foot into a school. Ever. Yet here you were, standing in the middle of the hallway, flooded with lots of people your age. Jocks and cheerleaders mostly flocked the lockers, some of which are busy slamming each other against each one, their faces all over each other.

It was a disgusting sight to you, but you are used to it now. You know not to pry into their business and scream at them to stop the eff out. One, because you were simply lazy—or rather, conserving energy is the right term. Second, they weren't worth your precious time.

Yes, it was your third year in high school, but also it was only your third time attending school because for the last seven years, you had been cooped up within the four walls of your bedroom. You never stepped foot out the door, except when you ate. You were either sleeping, writing, or just aimlessly scrolling on Twitter and Tiktok.

It had gotten to the point where your mother barged into the room with your father following her like a lost puppy, because he didn't want to deal with you because he was either 1) really, really afraid of you or 2) he just didn't really want to deal with an untamed animal that was in the form of you. Yet, he followed your mother to your room because 1) he was definitely still more afraid of his wife more than of his daughter and 2) he probably wants to witness your demise.

And you did get your demise. You got an earful from your mother. She had confiscated your phone, pulled you out of your room and locked the door. She was getting sick of you acting around as if you were the boss. As if you were the adult.

Yeah, you definitely had (still have, by the way) attitude problems.

And the only condition that your mother had so that you could gain access back to your room and phone is if you enrolled at school, got a degree, and a decent job.

So here you were, in the very hellhole you didn't want to end up in.

On the bright side, you are still a gifted child, and hell did you demolished everyone in your path. Academically, of course. Consistently, you were the overall top one of your batch from first year to second year. You were always the top scorer in examinations. You were also literally destroying your teachers' careers, which basically made almost everyone love you. Almost.

You got guys begging for your attention, wanting to take you out on dates. You also got girls envying you, wanting to be you. And also, of course, you had haters.

And most significantly, you had competition.

He was always there, wherever you were. You were on the list of top scorers, and underneath your name, just right next to it, was his name printed. You were the overall top one, and below you, just beside you, was his name written.

You were the first, and he always came in second.

Your eyes were literally burning in crimson when you saw him entering your line of sight. His jet black hair was neatly styled as usual, his pale skin was glowing underneath the fluorescent lights, his eyes were adorned with round-rimmed glasses, accentuating his clever ambience further.

It made your blood boil; the way he was just calmly walking through the crowd of students. He didn't even make an effort passing through the bodies because people made way for him. Of course, they would. He is the fucking student council president, for hell's sake!

Your arms are crossed, still staring him down as he greeted and bowed to those who smiled at him. Oh, how badly you wanted to rip his mouth off of his face and smack it to the first girl you see because she would definitely pay you at least ten years worth of your life, then you can finally ditch school, maybe disappear off the surface of the map and enjoy a life of solitude in probably an abandoned island, sipping on mojito, or maybe the mountains to enjoy the fresh air of nature because the air down there smelled like pieces of shit—

"Y/N," he singsongs, his gravelly voice reaching your ears.

You didn't notice that you had been standing at the middle of the hallway for quite a long time now because he, along with a few of the other student council members trailing behind him, was now in front of you. You notice everyone's eyes are on you two. Everyone knew of the rivalry you two have. And you also knew that they are totally anticipating a war to happen.

"Yoongi," you say, your tone honeyed with a hint of passive-aggressiveness.

"How was your weekend?" he asks, tilting his head slightly.

Oh, he is definitely enjoying the attention. Just so you wait, I will rip your fakeass smile—

"It was okay!" you chirp, faking a laugh. "I hope yours was too."

Yoongi hums, fixing his glasses that had slightly slid down, exposing his feline eyes for a fleeting moment. "Fortunately, it went more than okay to me," he says with a pompous smile.

Your verbose response is a forced smile, hoping that he will take the hint that he will leave you alone now, because you knew what he was referencing to. The recent weekend, both of your families had dinner together. Unfortunately for you, your parents and his parents are very well-acquainted with each other. Mr. and Mrs. L/N, and Mr. and Mrs. Min's relationship was founded through a business partnership. Despite that, the relationship between the four adults ensued into a deeper level.

Alas, the same couldn't be said with the two offsprings. While their parents considered each other close friends, you and Yoongi acknowledged the other as each other's nemesis.

Everything between you and him always ended up to become a competition. A competition to see who gets on the other's nerves the quicker.

That was why on that particular Saturday night, in a fancy restaurant booked by Yoongi's parents, underneath the rectangular marbled table, you used the advantage of wearing heels that time to sink one of your stilettos on one of his leather shoes when he taunted you. Afterwards, he made a scene, instantly pointing a finger at you when his mother worriedly asked what happened. You promptly defended yourself, saying that it was an accident and that you didn't notice his foot immediately. Then, your beloved mother scolded you in front of them to be more careful because it was bad manners; and that you should act like a proper lady in a five-star Michelin restaurant.

Luckily, he starts to leave you, but only after making up an excuse. "Well, I'm a bit late with my duties, I can't waste time any longer. So, I'll see you later."

He attempts to walk past you, but you had enough time to recover from his pettish outro. As he takes the first steps, you mislead him by moving aside. Then, you slide your foot forwards, miniscule. You watch as his own bumps into yours and in a span of a second, he trips, albeit he regains his balance quickly to your dismay. You almost pouted since he didn't meet the floor with his face.

His calm composure cracks a tiny bit, his eye twitching as he looks at you, his expression now displaying irk. He expected everyone else to look at you as if you were the culprit, but unfortunately, for his part, no one noticed because it is too crowded in the hallway for anyone to catch what you did. Instead, they all had their gazes at him. Some of them awkwardly smiled, while others began to whisper.

Nevertheless, Yoongi ignores them. He stands up straight, fixing the collar of his shirt before waltzing away with his group trailing behind. Unlike earlier, he was tramping, eager to flee the scene and rendering you into a fit of hushed and inconspicuous giggles.

Not today, Snow White. Not today.

───❝˖✧★✧˖❞───

You are stuck in another hour of a boring lesson. You lazily spin a pencil around your fingers, with one hand supporting the weight of your chin as you stare outside the window of your classroom, observing the varsity soccer players attempting to score goals.

You unconsciously snicker when one of the players falls on the grass, catching the attention of your math teacher. It took two calls of your name before you faced her, scowling when she says, "Since you seem so confident, not listening to my discussion, will you please be so kind to solve this on the board?"

You raise an eyebrow, looking at her as if saying 'Are you serious?' The teacher doesn't falter, however, and you sigh vexatiously, standing up from your seat and idly ambling across the aisle. You feel the stares of your classmates piercing at your back but you don't waver. Upon reaching the front, you take the marker from your teacher, whose face was still etched into a frown at the behavior you are showing.

You solve the polynomial equation with ease, not even pausing to think. And when you encircled your final answer and turned to return your teacher's marker, she was gaping at you. Smirking in victory, she tells you to return to your seat. And for the rest of the lecture, she doesn't bother you anymore.

After school, you went straight out of the campus, as if the air inside the building had been suffocating you that you even release a long sigh of relief. Frankly, you thought that you had wasted another day because you didn't learn anything new from any of your subjects. All that was discussed, you already know those concepts since you were ten years old.

And now, you wanted to throw a tantrum at your mother when you get home.

You head for the gates of the campus, and as if you didn't have enough on your plate, a car comes revving near you, and before you knew it, it blocks your path, making you abruptly halt your steps. You instantly recognize the model of the vehicle. The driver's door opens and a familiar black bob of hair is revealed. You don't even try to hide your irritation when Yoongi approaches you.

"Get in the car," he demands, opening the passenger door right in front of you.

You don't listen. Instead, you comment, "Nice calculations there. Which theorem did you apply that made the passenger's door end up in front of my face? Show me your scratch papers."

He rolls his eyes, clearly not having your shit. "My mom called me and told me that your mom told her to tell me that I'm dropping you off at your house because your mom is worried that you'll be off somewhere else again and cause trouble, so she wants to make sure that you're not going to do anything stupid again—"

"Hold your horses, Eminem." You flail your hands in front of him. "First of all, drop the your mom tongue twister. Second, I'm not coming with you. Who knows? You might be plotting my death. And third, stop talking to me because people might think that we're friends."

Without waiting for Yoongi's response, you swaggered around his Hyundai Sonata, heading for the campus gates. Relief washes over you when you don't hear the annoying honking of his car. He had left you alone for now.

Besides, how worse could your day get any further?

───❝˖✧★✧˖❞───

Your bag drops to the floor once you have registered the sight of your mother guffawing at a joke he said. They were both too occupied in their conversation that they only sensed your presence when you make a beeline for the stairs.

"Y/N," your mother calls, and you stop in your tracks, one foot mid-air. You curse lowly, not being able to even make it for the first tread.

You put on the fakest smile you could muster, making sure that it was discernible that you didn't want to have to do anything with the two most exasperating persons in the room.

"Aren't you gonna join Yoongi and I for snacks?" she says, rendering you to fist your hand. It took a lot of strength from you not to swing a punch at the said male. He was clearly enjoying this. He absolutely knew that you were getting reprimanded again once he leaves the premise.

Your smile twitches, almost cracking but you stay firm. "Sure, I will. Mother." You deliberately stressed the last word. A warning gaze is given to you by your mother.

Smirking lightly, you don't tiptoe anymore, seeing that it was useless. You pull the chair across where Yoongi sat, purposely making the wood screech against the floor. Your mother winces slightly that made you smile triumphantly.

As if nothing had transpired, your mother began to speak. "So, Yoongi here told me that you refused to get a lift from him. You do know that that's basic manners."

"Yes, and you told me not to accept anything from strangers," you deadpan. Your mother's eyes widen in horror, instantly sending Yoongi an apologetic gaze.

"Oh, Yoongi, I'm so sorry about my daughter. I think she meant that she didn't want to a burden to you."

Yoongi waves his hand, a cheeky smile painted on his lips. "It's alright, Mrs. L/N. I get what you mean. I absolutely understand where Y/N is coming from."

Your head was beginning to ache from the exchange that was occurring between the two people you weren't entirely fond of. Before your mother could respond to your nemesis, you cut in.

"Why is he even here, mom?" you demand. Your mother chuckles awkwardly, looking back and forth between you and your enemy.

"Well," she starts. "Your midterms are nearing alongside the weather that is starting to cool off. I invited Yoongi so that you two could study together and maybe consider this as a bonding moment for the two of you—"

You don't let her finish, abruptly standing up from your seat, already shooting daggers at the woman who birthed you.

"Mom, I don't need a study buddy. I can clearly study fine on my own. In fact, I don't need to because I know everything and I assure you that I will ace my midterms just like I've had for the past two years."

Mrs. L/N frowns at your response. "Y/N, if you please, will you stop with the bratty attitude? We have a guest and the least you can do is act accordingly!"

You are certain that your blood had reached its boiling point. "No!" you raise your tone, unbothered by the fact that your rival is literally witnessing the argument that is transpiring right now. What irked you more was that he is probably enjoying the scene unfolding before him. "You're just doing all of these because you know how much I despite it! I hate it, mom. And I absolutely harbor all of the ill feelings you can name towards him!" You point at Yoongi, who is calmly watching you with an unreadable expression on his face.

As far as you know, only your parents knew that you loathed Yoongi. That was why you were always comfortable expressing it even in their presence. But whenever his parents were at the scene, that was when you could control your temper, and suppress your irritations, which is why now, you were exploding once again.

"Y/N—!"

"I'm not hearing it," you proclaim, already making way towards the stairs. "Chit-chat with him for all I care. Just leave me be."

You stomp upstairs, making sure you slam your bedroom door shut. Smoke was literally smothering out of yours ears and nostrils as you grabbed the nearest book you had from your shelf and throw it with all your might at the other end of your room. Then, you march towards your bed, falling on it face-first and releasing your screams, muffled by your pillows.

You are so angry and infuriated, mentally wrecking Yoongi with all the curses you could think of. After what seemed like hours of disparaging him in the form of talking to your long-time best friend, Mr. Bear-able, you feel your throat become dry. It is parched and you feel the need to gulp down a gallon of water with how much saliva you used.

Annoyed that you had to leave the comfort of your room to get a glass of water downstairs, you wonder if Yoongi had already left. You check outside, raising the blinds of your window. Then, you grimace, seeing the familiar vehicle parked in front of your house.

Why was that son of a half-troll still here?

You really didn't want to go down and see him, but your throat was literally begging for your thirst to be quenched. You try to weigh the pros and cons, with the cons definitely outweighing the former, but you were still too thirsty. It was sending you to the brim of annoyance so you had no choice but to step out of your room.

Your ears try to hear for movements and conversations, but when you don't, you thought that maybe they were in the backyard. You sigh in relief, albeit too early because when your feet touched the floor of the first floor of your house, you almost lost your balance upon seeing the devil himself standing by the stairs' handrails. The balusters did the job of concealing him because his face is already adorned with a smirk.

"Why the fuck are you here?" you demand. "Where's mom?"

"Out," Yoongi simply answers, sipping on his iced Americano.

"Why?" You cross your arms, raising an incredulous eyebrow at him.

"She felt bad about your tantrum—" he explains nonchalantly. "—so, she insisted to take-out dinner."

"Why didn't you just come with her? That would save us both the case of fighting—"

"I offered to stay and look after you in case something happens, although your mom was still really worried for me in case you might pull something against me. But I assured her that I would be fine." He blinks as if his response was a normal one.

However, you don't buy it, narrowing your eyes and taking a defiant step closer to him. "What are you scheming this time? Wasn't it enough for you that you got to witness me getting reprimanded?"

Yoongi doesn't seem affected because he stands his ground, his eyes reciprocating the determined gaze you were giving him.

He doesn't answer you, and he breaks your eye-contact, looking at something behind you.

"Hey, I asked you a question—"

"It's snowing," he cuts you off.

Mildly confused and musing a what, you turn around to check what he was looking at. And then you see the first fall of snow of the year. Immediately, you feel the chilly breeze of winter prick your skin.

Eyebrows still furrowed, you only move when Yoongi scurries off towards the heater, turning it on. After a few seconds, the cold that you instantly felt is replaced by warmth. Still, you were on edge, because Yoongi was acting really... weird.

You watch him with judgment in your eyes as he makes his way towards the dining room. That's when you see study materials sprawled on the table; Stabilo highlighters with their caps off, arrow sticky notes pasted on top of pages of the textbooks, reviewers spread all throughout the space of the table. He had been clearly studying for midterms. You were disturbed that he had shamelessly claimed territory on your dining room.

You feel the bile crawling up your throat, you are cognizantly displeased at the way Yoongi was acting. You march towards the room, where he was busy organizing his notes.

"Hey!" you squawked. "Will you stop walking around as if this is your house?! And... can you stop that? You're acting weird..." you trail off when Yoongi doesn't even snap at you. He only looks at you as if you were the strange one in the room.

You roll your eyes, opting to get your glass of water from the kitchen instead. If the damn bitch won't respond to you properly then you won't bother to waste your time.

Closing the refrigerator, with one hand holding the pitcher, you jump the second time that day, caught off-guard by your rival standing behind the door of the refrigerator.

"Jesus Christ, Yoongi!" you yell. "I will literally smack you in the face with this pitcher!"

"Huh," he muses. "That's really weird."

"What?" you say in disbelief. "Don't call me weird when between us, you're the one that's acting weird. Fucking leave me alone, for fuck's sake."

"Yeah, exactly." He remains unfazed by your threats. "Strangely, I don't feel anything towards you right now."

"Of course you don't," you scoff. "You hate me. Hello? Have you suddenly become stupid or something?"

Seemingly lost in thought, Yoongi replies, "No, I mean like I literally don't feel anything right now towards you. I don't feel like I hate you right now—"

"Yes, I hear you. Now can you shut the fuck— wait what?" You pause and do a double take on what he just said.

What did he say? That he doesn't hate me right now?

"Look, I don't know what the fuck it is your scheming right now, but I just want to tell you to drop your crap, because I don't believe a single word you're uttering right now," you say, pouring water on a glass. You take a sip before resuming. "Stop saying bullshit, because I won't fall for it."

"I'm not telling you bull right now." He raises both of his hands in surrender. "Ugh, whatever. You probably have the mental capacity of a lizard for you to understand even if I explain—"

"Take that back right now," you threaten him. "Have you forgotten that you always come second to me? Don't get too cocky, you still don't know who you're messing with. It's been three years, you should know now that you can't beat me."

"Whatever you say so, Megamind." He fixes his glasses before returning to the dining room. You warily watch him go back to studying before you climb up back into your room.

Even though you were already inside, you still felt uneasy because of how peculiar Yoongi acted just a few minutes ago.

───❝˖✧★✧˖❞───

The gray cement road is replaced with the ivory snow, concealing everything underneath it. It's now the month of November, which meant that your parents are busy preparing for the holidays. That also meant that you had to help them too to your dismay.

You are sitting on your house's porch, a stick in your hand while doodling on the snow. Meanwhile, your father is occupied in attaching the Christmas lights on the gutters of your roof.

He calls your name, and you oblige. You step foot out into the snow weather, bits of frost coating your hair. You crane your neck up the ladder.

"Can you pass me the other string of lights?" he requests, pointing at the said lights sprawled on the snow. You grab it off the floor, taking the end of it. You spin it like a lasso before unleashing it towards your father, who catches it with ease. He laughs, "Nice one!"

You roll your eyes before returning to your earlier position. You begin to scribble again as your mind wanders off somewhere else.

For the past few weeks, you had noticed that something became different. And it was all because of a particular person who was supposed to be the hell of your life. Instead, it seems like he had now become pacified, and he decided that you weren't worth his time anymore.

A part of you feels extremely offended and infuriated because you feel that Yoongi doesn't see you as a menace anymore; that he was now confident that he can easily defeat you; that he doesn't see you as a competition anymore. Another of your part feels concerned and peculiar—as if something is missing. You don't feel the adrenaline pulsating through your veins anymore whenever you saw Yoongi.

When you crossed paths, he would only give you a smile of acknowledgement and then leave before you could even tell him a snarky comment.

Oddly, it was affecting you more than it should be. You were starting to think that maybe this was one of his tactics for you to get distracted. If it was, it was unfortunately working, and you were getting vexed as each day passed by.

You wanted Yoongi to lash out on you. You wanted to feel his anger radiating towards you. You wanted him to feel threatened. You wanted to be the one with the upper hand.

But instead, you were feeling none of those from him. It was rendering you to madness because even though you wanted to deny it so bad, you couldn't get him out of your mind.

And maybe, just maybe, you thought that something different was also brewing inside you.

───❝˖✧★✧˖❞───

November flew by in a blur and before you even knew it, you only had two weeks before midterms. You and your mother were busy setting up the Christmas tree. She was busy handing you the ornaments and garlands, and directing you where to place them.

"There," your mother says. "A little bit up. Nope, down. Nevermind, put it up again."

You groan in annoyance. "Mom, can you please make up your mind? My arms are starting to sore."

She gives you a sheepish smile from below. You feel goosebumps pricking your skin, disturbed by your mother's expression. It was the first time you saw that kind of smile from her.

"You're creeping me out," you say.

"Oh, it's nothing," your mother tells you. "It's just... recently I've noticed how you seem at peace now unlike before. It's nice..." she hesitates a bit but when she sees you only looking at her and listening intently, she finds the courage to express to you, "It's nice that we're finally having a mother-and-daughter bonding experience since... I don't know, maybe since you were one?"

You laugh. You actually laugh genuinely at what she says. You climb down the ladder, dusting your hands on your sweater. Peace. A word that its meaning which you know, but don't know what it feels. It is a foreign feeling and peculiar. Only then when your mother notices it you realize that maybe that was the right word you were looking for to describe your interiority right now.

But as soon as you take cognizance of it, your mother crashes it when she lets you know the news.

"Yoongi's family is having dinner with us on the Eve," she informs you, and your smile stiffens. "I expect that you'll be on your best behavior."

She looks at you expectantly, and it was enough to let her know that you aren't fond of the idea because you say,

"I'd rather be a Christmas feast to a cat, honestly."

───❝˖✧★✧˖❞───

"To be honest, I'd rather feast on a mouse, mom," Yoongi says when his mother informs him their plan for the evening of Christmas Eve.

She laughs heartily. "Why would you say that, dear? Is it because of Y/N? Are you still uptight around her because of her gift?"

Yoongi shudders at the mere mention of your name for some unknown reason that he couldn't decipher. He denies it, shaking his head.

Then, her mother's eyes sparkled. She leans forward and whispers, "Then... have you gotten fond of her? You seem to be more nervous than before, Yoongi. Whenever we spend time with the L/Ns, you always seem so determined, and you look forward to spend time with their family. Why do you seem so uneasy now?"

"Err, it's not that, mom." Yoongi tries to distract himself by sipping on his iced Americano, but that doesn't ease his nerves. He regrets ordering his usual drink on the cold season because his shivering is amplified. "It's just... midterms' soon, and I'm just stressed, I guess."

"Stressed?" His mother repeats. "That's the first time I've heard that word from you, dear."

"Is it?" Yoongi chuckles awkwardly.

Mrs. Min emits another lighthearted laugh. "Yoongi, I know you more than anyone else. Don't even deny it, you have taken quite a liking for the L/Ns' daughter, haven't you?"

Yoongi gapes at his mother's proclamation. He immediately shakes his head vehemently. "Mom, that's ridiculous. Of course, I haven't. She hates me." At the last sentence, he resisted the urge to roll his eyes. But his bitter tone doesn't come unnoticed to his mother.

"Does she?" she innocently asks.

"Yeah." Yoongi sighs, pressing his lips into a thin line that resembled a bracket. It was a habit of his whenever he feels displeased. "She hates the mere sight of me, mom. And we compete for the first place, every time. She hates the fact that I'm always second to her because she's threatened that I might overthrow her anytime! It's annoying to be honest. But now, I'll just let her have her way. I'm just going to focus on studying for midterms. She's not worth my time, anyway."

Of course he was half-lying. He wanted nothing more but to continue this rivalry you two had. But these days, he had been in conflict with his inner self. He didn't want you having your way, he wanted to conquer you. But also, another side of him is troubling him. He didn't want to continue fighting you any longer for some reason. Yoongi doesn't know if he simply got tired of it or if it was because of something else that he couldn't pinpoint.

Either way, he didn't want to interact with you for the mean time. He had to figure whatever the shit was happening to his brain. Had he finally lost it?

───❝˖✧★✧˖❞───

You were serene as usual when midterms ended. You can't help but feel pride swelling on your chest as you listened to your classmates' complaints and sighs of regrets because they had a lot harder time getting through each question of the exams than you did.

But somehow, there was something missing; the thrill. Your mind wanders to your nemesis, wondering how he did in his exams.

When you were all dismissed, the hallways are instantaneously filled with students, celebrating their triumphs and the fact that they were now free from school. Instinctively, you try the look for a familiar midget with black bob hair and round-rimmed glasses.

And when you do see him, a smirk makes its way to your lips. You march confidently to his way. He doesn't notice your presence until you blocked his way, causing him to look up from his phone to acknowledge you.

"Hey, Potter," you drawl, playing with the ends of your hair. He rolls his eyes at the nickname you call him.

"What do you want?" he straightly gets to the point. You raise an eyebrow, a bit caught off-guard by his question.

That was a good one because yeah, what the hell did you want? Why did you approach him in the first place?

Yoongi unintentionally saves you from the embarrassment. His feline eyes narrow and he smugly smiles. "Oh, are you concerned about how I did well in my exams? Are you perhaps... threatened?"

You scowl, pointing a finger at him. "Don't get so brazen. I'm just here to tell you not to feel too self-assured. I know what you've been up to lately. You've been trying to distract me by not acknowledging my presence for the past few weeks. You think that that's all it takes for me to back down? Nah-uh. Nice try, Yoongi, but try harder."

"Oh?" He raises an eyebrow, fascinated at your assumptions. "So, that's what you've been presuming." Then, he shrugs, "Look, doll, I don't know where such thoughts of yours suddenly came from, but I'm just saying that that sounds like a you problem. I'm not doing anything, but it seems like you're turning into one of them, having delusions about me."

You cringe and sneer. "You can't be serious, Yoongi. Now, you're the delusional one!" The way he was smirking victoriously made you want to slap the mocking smile off of his face.

You decide to end the interaction, curtly pivoting on your heels and strutting away from Yoongi, whose piercing eyes never left your figure until you disappeared from his line of sight.

In the back of his mind, he is contemplating. He ponders if you were right. For the first time in his lifetime, he was considering what you said.

Meanwhile, you were stomping on piles of snows. You were furious at the lack of energy Yoongi was showing you. He really seemed like he didn't give a damn anymore about you. He was so laid-back and relaxed and that made your confidence dwindle a bit, wondering what had he pulled from his sleeves.

Your mood remains sour the whole time you walked home. People who passed by you probably thought that you were releasing dragon breaths if not for the freezing weather.

You were basically tramping on the floor of your living room, immediately catching the attention of your mother, who scampers out of the kitchen to check out the commotion. She sees you muttering incoherent words to yourself and you only stop when she gets your attention.

"Did something happen, Y/N?" she questions. "Why are you in a sour mood? Did something happen with your exams?"

"No, mom!" you immediately answer. "In fact, I aced the exams, I'm certain! You don't need to worry about anything. It's just that—" you abruptly stop. Your mother looks at you, waiting for you to continue but you don't.

Frankly, you're confused yourself, suddenly wondering why were you so worked up. You didn't have to worry about anything, you were a hundred percent confident that you did outstandingly in your exams.

"Y/N?" Your mother's voice pulls you out of your trance.

"It's nothing!" you exclaim. "Just tired. I'm going to my room, if you don't mind." You start going up the stairs. "Call me if you need help." Your voice echoes in the first floor.

Mrs. L/N blinks, finding your behavior strange lately. Yet, she shrugs it off and goes back to working in the kitchen.

───❝˖✧★✧˖❞───

"Y/N, please stop harassing the carrots," your mother says. "They did nothing to you."

You stop cutting the vegetable, noticing that indeed, the whole carrot was now mashed. You sigh, not realizing that you've been cutting angrily.

"If you're not in the mood, I can cook myself. You can go on and set the table instead."

You don't argue, abandoning the knife and mashed carrots before making way towards the cabinets where your mother kept the utensils for special occasions.

It was finally the day of your impending doom. Christmas Eve. Dinner with the Min family, and honestly, you didn't know what to feel. The last time Yoongi visited was when you and your mother had an argument right in front of him. It was also the day everything changed. You wonder if the argument that transpired traumatized him, rendering him to madness. Or maybe he was diagnosed with a disorder.

There I go again. Why the hell am I even thinking about him? Focus at the task at hand, Y/N—

You reach out for the stack of plates but one of them slips from your grasp, clattering and breaking on the floor. Your mother jumps, and she starts to scold you as you bent down and picked up the broken pieces.

"Y/N, seriously, what is going on with you?" she exclaims. "You've been so out of it!"

You sigh, fluttering your eyes close for a moment. When you open them, you wince, suddenly feeling blood rushing towards your index finger. You look down and see rivulets of ruby spilling out of your skin.

Mrs. L/N notices your trance and she follows your gaze. Her eyes widen and she gasps, instantly ushering you to rinse your wound and put a band aid on it.

You obey, grabbing the opportunity of ephemeral peace. In the bathroom, you dab the small laceration with Betadine, before wrapping it up with a band aid. Then, your ears register the sound of muffled voices coming from the other side of the door.

It didn't take you long to realize that the Min family has entered your residence. And that meant, Yoongi was also here. Your last interaction with him was at the school hallway, where you two had a small argument about which one of you was the delusional one. It was an awkward one, to be honest. It didn't feel like your previous fights.

You slap your forehead with your wounded hand, wincing and mentally cursing yourself because of your stupidity. It was ironic, to be frank. You were gifted with an incredible high IQ, but your EQ was equivalently low.

After a few minutes of attempts to calm yourself down, you finally step out of the bathroom, sauntering towards the living room to make your presence known. Mrs. Min acknowledges you, giving you a peck in the cheek. You awkwardly stand before her as she compliments your crown braid hairstyle and the baby blue turtleneck dress that you wore, matched with a pair of flats because you didn't do well in heels in cold weathers.

Her attention pans towards your father, greeting him with the same enthusiasm and you finally felt like you could breathe. But that's when you see him too.

Yoongi is standing in the sidelines, observing the interaction between the four adults. He is obviously avoiding your eyes but you don't notice it, of course. He could literally feel your burning stare on him that he was starting to feel his legs buckle.

However, all those went over your head. You pay heed on his outfit. He didn't seem... too bad. You acknowledge that he has a sense of fashion. He is wearing a pair of beige slacks, complimenting his skin tone. The black leather belt that hugged his waist is a contrast to his white button up long sleeve, a cream-colored knitted vest resting on top of it.

When you look at his eyes, you find him already staring at you. Clearly, he had completely failed avoiding at looking at you. You two continued to have a staredown when Mrs. Min calls the attention of the two of you.

"Y/N, Yoongi! Take your seats. Let's bless the food and eat!"

After dinner, the four adults in the room began to chat with the company of champagne and whiskey. Meanwhile, you and Yoongi were tasked to do the dishes. So, as much as to your disappointment, you were stuck with him. He soaps the dishes while you rinsed them. The situation was awkward because you two were enveloped in a uncomfortable silence. The only sources of sound between you were the voices and laughters coming from the living room.

Earlier, your mother had warned you to be in your best behavior for the umpteenth time, and you don't even fight her on it because 1) you didn't have the energy to engage in a war anyways and 2) Min Yoongi had been passive so you actually had no reason to go into a fit of rage. But still, there is a slight disappointment in you because of the lack of interaction you were having with the said boy.

It was like he had gone mute. To you, it's irksome but also, you were starting to feel concerned. However, your pride was more essential to you, so you don't ask Yoongi what has been bothering him lately because 1) he's your nemesis, you aren't supposed to care for his well-being and 2) it might be a part of his grandmaster plan of plotting your demise.

After drying your hands, you don't bother to wait for Yoongi. Passing by the adults in the living room, you silently exit through the front door to get some fresh air.

As if finally freeing yourself from constriction, you inhale the scent of snowflakes and exhale through your nose, an icy breath leaving your lips. You don't notice the front door opening once again. You don't notice the pair of footsteps padding against the soft snow. You only notice it when the footsteps stop beside you.

You turn your head slightly and see Yoongi, who's looking straight ahead. Cautiously, you take a step to your right to increase the distance between you two.

He notices instantly because he scoffs, "I'm not going to bite you."

"I was just making sure," you reason out. "Why are you here, anyway? Did your mom tell you to? You can drop the act now."

He looks at you in disbelief. "I didn't come out here because I was told to. I came here on my own accord."

You frown. "You're legit scaring me now. Will you stop it already?"

This time, Yoongi doesn't let his gaze leave your face. He is intently looking at you, as if scrutinizing every movement you made. Instinctively, you tuck your chin inside the collar of your turtleneck, hoping that it would shield you from his piercing eyes. It doesn't work out.

"I'm not doing anything, Y/N," he says calmly. "It's you who's overthinking—"

"Oh, stop!" You wave your hands at him. "I'm not stupid, Yoongi. You thought I wouldn't notice the way you're acting differently around me now? You don't seem to have that fiery eyes on me every time we talked. It's sickening, almost like you're mocking me."

A silence envelops the two of you, and you feel your cheeks reddening, partly because of the cold but mostly because of the boy who stood beside you.

"You know," he finally speaks. "It's not that difficult to admit to yourself that you missed me."

This time, you have the strength and courage to actually look at him dead in the eyes. "Are you planning to major in slapstick comedy? Because if yes, then I say go for it. Undoubtedly, you'll be the valedictorian just like you always dream of."

He snickers, tilting his head lightly as he reciprocates your incandescent gaze. "You're funny," he tells you.

"See?!" you exclaim. "This is what I mean! Why aren't you arguing back?" You stomp your foot.

He blinks, finding your question dumb. "Because I simply don't want to?" he answers albeit unsure of it himself.

You cross your arms and emit a scoff. "Sure, you do."

"Look," Yoongi starts. "If you're expecting me to argue with you, I won't. I already told you before, a few months ago, I don't abhor you as much as I do before."

"Why?" you ask and this time, he scoffs.

"Why?" he repeats. "For a person like you with immensely high IQ, you suck at reading the room."

Before you could protest, he interrupts you, making sure that your attention was only on him. He takes two steps towards you, decreasing the distance between your bodies.

"Y/N, I may be the bad guy but I'm not a bad guy," he says. "To be honest with you, I, myself, am confused too. I don't strongly loathe you these past few months and I've been questioning myself why either. But—"

He stops and you furrow your eyebrows in confusion.

"What happened to your finger?"

His question catches you off-guard, rendering you to caress the covered part of your skin. You flinch slightly when he holds your hand, raising it to get a proper look on it. His face scrunches and for the first time, you feel something somersaulting in your stomach. You didn't know if you liked it or not, but it was certainly making you feel discomfort.

When you start to feel overwhelmed, you pulled away from his touch, placing your hand to your chest. "I-I'm fine," you stammer.

"Are you sure?" he worriedly asks.

"Yes, I am!" You didn't mean to yell at him but you couldn't help it. He has been making you feel lots emotion. He was confusing you, and the more and more time you were out here with him, the more you were driving to madness.

"You know," he smirks. "If you could stop yelling at me for a second, I could show you much more fun and productive uses for that mouth of yours."

You gape at him, and you start walking backwards when he begins to take defiant steps closer to you. Every time you stepped back, he takes one towards you too. As your back hits the cold exterior walls of your house, you gasp lightly when Yoongi encages you between the walls and his arms, his hands falling on either side of you.

Light snow pelted on both of you but that isn't the reason why you flinch. The reason is because he leans close, increasing the proximity of your faces.

"Yoongi—" you begin to protest but he doesn't let you.

His forehead touches yours and you yelped slightly at the way he is treating you right now. His eyes flutter shut and he speaks in low manner that had you trembling in your position.

"Y/N, you're absolutely driving me crazy," he murmurs. "Like I said, I'm so confused too. My heart and mind are clouded because lately, you've been occupying my thoughts. I loathe the way you bewitch me whenever you use your sharp tongue against me. I despise how you can easily get under my nerves but also it satisfies me whenever you attempt to put me in my place, when you give me a taste of my own medicine."

He pauses, fluttering his eyes open. He leans away slightly, the warmth emanated from his forehead leaving you instantly.

"There is no other plausible explanation for this except for the possibility that... I have been harboring feelings for you for quite awhile now, Y/N." He exhales softly, as if a huge weight has been finally lifted off of his shoulders. "And it's not what you're thinking of. It's the opposite of it."

The world stops for a moment, the snowflakes stop falling, and the time stops ticking. You only hear his soft breaths that had never sounded so calm up until this moment.

"I like you, Y/N." He shows you a coy smile. "And right now, I'm surrendering to you. You can continue to hate me if you want, but it won't change my feelings for you."

Your heart is hammering against your chest wildly, and you only hope that Yoongi isn't hearing how loudly it was beating against your ribcage. As the silence between you two continues to prolong, the harder it was for you to formulate a coherent response.

A buzzing sound slices the still atmosphere and you usher Yoongi to check his phone. He does, sighing in dismay. You warily watch him as he opens his messaging app. You awkwardly stand before him as he scrolls through his chats.

His expression morphs into perturbation. The lump that had formed in his throat getting harder to swallow. You notice his adam's apple bob up and down and you start to wonder what happened.

Then, his eyes leave the screen, searching for yours. When your gazes collide, the confidence that he had a few minutes ago was now gone, replaced by anxiousness.

"I think..." He says reluctantly. "You need to see this."

He hands you his device and you impassively check out what he saw. Then, the blood drains from your skin, your own expression alters to skepticism first, then turns to perplexity once you double take on the image viewed on the screen.

At first, you didn't know what to feel. Your mind going haywire for a fleeting moment. You felt even worse when you look up at Yoongi because his emotion was anything but jubilance. In fact, he rather looks like he was in agony.

But you don't care about that. Your anger only rises, traveling through your veins. At that very moment, standing before your own rival, you were beyond humiliated and enraged that he witnessed your downfall, the scarlet ink being the proof of it.

Top Performers for This Year's Midterms

1. Min Yoongi

2. L/N Y/N

───❝˖✧★✧˖❞───

The Christmas jingles resonating all throughout the suburbs was unnecessarily aggravating you more than it should be for the reasons that you are making it sound like Christmas is mocking your once exuberant mood a few days ago, and because you didn't like the gift and news you received that night.

Despite the freezing weather's attempts to cool you down, it was heightening your fury instead. Four days after Christmas Eve, you kicked the sheets off yourself and impulsively decided that a walk in the suburbs will be a great idea so that you can finally turn your sour mood into a sweet one.

Alas, it fails miserably. You are still trampling on snow piles as your fervent eyes scan the shops in the sidewalks, desperately trying to look for something that can finally extinguish the fires within you.

But when you reach the end of the street, the tall buildings of stores turning into festive bungalows, and decorated apartments. The worst of all is the duplexes, because the decorations of both similar-structured houses have conjoined Christmas embellishments, letting everyone who passes by know that the two families living inside are more than acquaintances.

It stupidly reminds you of your family's current situation with them. More specifically, your situation with him.

When you finally reach the comfort of your bedroom, contradictory, it doesn't feel comforting at all. Everywhere your gaze lands, they remind you of him; of the fact that he had finally conquered you; that all your hardwork that year were for nothing.

Shutting your eyes close, you begin to recite the numbers of pi, pacing around your room. It was something that you always do when you're stressed.

"...190914564856692346034861045432664821339!" When the door of your bedroom creaks open, you couldn't help but yell nine, as if threatening the one who dares to interrupt your attempts to keep yourself level-headed.

You were about to glare but instead, you were surprised to see your father, peeking through the crevice of your door. You notice that he's slightly anxious because, well, you were screaming numbers.

A sigh escapes your lips and you shuffle towards the door, opening it wider. Your father takes this as a sign that he was invited in your room.

Your relationship with your father is very much uptight and timid which is why between him and your mother, you're less angry at him. At times though, you didn't know how to act around him because you feel like you don't know him. You never bonded with him. Except for that time you were helping him out with connecting the Christmas lights on your roof's gutters.

After that fleeting moment, the bond was gone, as if a scissor magically appeared to cut the strings between you two. You don't hate him for it, but sometimes, you wonder and daydream possible moments where you could actually bond without that suffocating rope forcedly tying you two together.

You wonder if in the past, in the years when you were still full of innocence, purity, oblivious of the histories of the ancient world; when you still didn't know how to count one to three; when you barely knew how to lift a muscle and take the first steps towards your father.

Had he ever squat down before you, his face full of sunshine, and encourage you to come to him with open arms? Tell you that you could do it! That you could make it to the heartwarming embrace of your father's arms?

But the more you try to dig any sort of memory from your lobes, nothing resurfaces. And you were back with the reality that, maybe, he didn't need and have to do all of those.

Because as far as your memory traveled back, you had been completely fine on your own. Maybe, you taught yourself how to walk, think, say your first word.

Because, you were gifted.

And now, as the years go by, you realize that the gift you have, may be also your curse.

It's a tightrope with both ends holding you up, urging you to keep on walking. A gift and a curse on either end, shouting at you—

Stop standing around!

The rope's about to break if you don't start moving another step!

What has gotten into you?!

You used to do this so effortlessly!

"Y/N."

The call of your father's soft voice pulls you out of your trance. You suddenly realize that you had been standing by the door stupidly and your father is looking at you with worry creasing his mature features.

"Oh," you say. "My bad."

You shut the door then turn your back towards your father. You amble towards your desk, attempting to fix the sprawled mess on it by carelessly shoving the scratch papers in your bin, keeping your ballpens and pencils in your pencil case, the zipper loudly being the only source of sound slicing through the deafening silence.

"Sorry about the mess," you say. "I've been busy."

"On your holiday break?" your father asks, chuckling lightly. The sound faintly makes your lips form into a small smile. But as soon as it came, it disappears.

"Yeah, well, I'm growing older. And that means the more I age, the more my ability to suck in information rusts."

Your father doesn't reply after that, so you continue to clean up your desk wordlessly. Once you had nothing to pick up and throw and keep anymore, you finally turn back around to face your father.

He's sitting quiety on the foot of your bed, and you take heed of the small box he's fiddling with his hands. The box is covered with red wrapper, with flurries of snowflakes as pattern.

He notices that your attention is on him, so he stands up from your bed and approaches you in a relaxing manner yet you can catch on the slight cautiousness along it. You decide not to mention anything about it.

He hands you the little parcel, and you accept it wordlessly, opting to wait for him to speak first.

He does. "I wasn't able to get you any gift on Christmas, and I hope I'm not too late. I had a bit of a hard time picking one, but I made sure I thought about it. Hopefully, you'll like this small present."

"Thanks, dad," is your only verbose reply.

He nods and after contemplating a bit, he decides to leave you to it. In your own solitude once again, you scrutinize the small box, tossing it lightly every now and then to guess what it was. You feel movement from inside, like a flow of something liquid.

Your curiosity makes you rip the wrapper apart and it didn't take long for the gift to make its apparition.

The gift is simple like its size, but to you, it holds a lot of meaning. It's a snowglobe, but the inside is what makes it unique. No, Santa Claus isn't there inside nor were the nine reindeers that pulled his sleigh—even the sleigh itself is absent. Rudolph isn't there which makes you slightly pout but it doesn't last long because staring back at you from the other side of the glass is a small girl with Iron Man's arm around her. He is almost hugging her but his other arm remains at his side.

You shake the globe in your hands, chuckling at the bits of snow encompassing the small figures inside.

Indeed, it reminds you of something. You and your father.

But for the first time in forever, you aren't longing. Rather, you are contented.

───❝˖✧★✧˖❞───

It is still snowing a week after New Year. Nothing much happened. You only had a family dinner, watched fireworks, and jumped around because of your belief that you would grow taller if you do so.

But after the first day of the year, things went back to normal. The only difference is the relentless snow pouring everywhere.

Oh, and classes are resumed.

Miraculously, you don't feel as much anger as you did a few weeks ago. You don't know if it's because it's a new year so you just suddenly feel like oh, fuck it, it's been a long ass while, I should chill the eff out.

Weirdly enough, you expected to be really infuriated when your feet leads you to the bulletin board and scan it. You see your name, beside the number two. It sinks in to you of the reality that you're now second but oddly, you don't feel the particular element surging through your veins.

You thought everything's going well so far. And you must have a curse because every time you thought that all is well, that's when the real torrential typhoon arrives.

Tornados hit everywhere, and instead of rainshowers, you see hails vehemently falling on yourself. It hurts so much more than rain, but you had to get through it anyways. Or else, you would die getting shot by mere ice. It was gonna be embarrassing if your soul sees your grave with the words 'Cause of death: ice' engraved on your tombstone.

So, you make sure that you are under control when Min Yoongi does his usual entrance, greeting the student body with nods and smiles. It's slightly different now though, because some of them greeted him back with congratulations.

You resist your eye wanting to twitch when Yoongi's gaze finally lands on you.

A year ago and a year before that, you would always see his eyes fiery and intense, trying to get under your nerves with a mere eye contact. Now, however, his eyes hold on anything but anger. The sight of him doesn't infuriate you for the first time, but it does provoke you for another reason that you were afraid to unravel.

You desperately want to bury what you're feeling six feet below, because as much as you loathe it, you can't help but trail your mind back to that particular night when he had declared his feelings for you.

"I like you, Y/N."

Was that even possible? Was it possible, at all, to grow feelings for the person who constantly tormented you for the years you've known them? You couldn't wrap your mind around it, no matter how smart you are, it seems like you couldn't find any plausible explanation for such circumstances.

Not even when the devil himself is only three inches away from you, did you successfully come up with a conceivable reason.

Yoongi greets you but you don't respond. The crowd was anticipating what would your response be, and you refuse to give them the satisfaction. Instead, you walk past him, not even sparing a glance to any of the spectators. You also drown out their whispers, making you want to yell at them 'Why whisper when I would still hear it anyway, dumbos?'

You don't utter a single world, opting to force to smother the flames instead, maybe bury them deep within your ribcage, lock it with a key and throw it in the Altantic Ocean, hoping that it will land on the Titanic where no one could ever take it. Not even you.

───❝˖✧★✧˖❞───

You spent the whole day in school cocooned in your hoodie, attempting to take naps despite of the loud voices of your teachers and classmates. But you only end up being wide awake, your eyes open, your face on the desk, seeing nothing but black. You succumb in yourself in the trenches of your own thoughts, and you finally drift off.

You don't know how long you've fallen asleep, but your consciousness slowly enters your systems, causing you to become suddenly aware of your surroundings. Unlike a few minutes—or hours—ago, the ambience is silent. Too silent.

When you open your eyes and move your arms slightly, your brows furrow in confusion when the darkness remains. You have no idea if your sense of hearing had heightened in the span of your sleep or if the sound is just extremely loud because you can hear someone breathing, as if they were just beside you.

Squinting your eyes, you brace for the brightness of the world to blind you, but you still see nothing.

You rub your eyes to adjust your sight in the dark. And you finally realize that it is night time. The stars are awake, looking down on you as they twinkle. The moon is round, as if it is luring you to spill your secrets.

Most importantly, you finally process the presence beside you. The main sound source of breathing.

Min Yoongi.

When you look at him, he's already staring at you. It reminds you of that certain night once again. Come to think of it, the situation you both are in is similar. It's night time again.

"What are you doing here?" It's you who breaks the silence. Your voice is slightly hoarse so you clear your throat.

"I could ask you the same." Yoongi shrugs. He leans on his desk, propping his elbow and resting his chin on his palm.

"I fell asleep," you merely say.

"I figured," he replies. "But you slept through your classes? Even after it ended?Huh, I never took you for a deep sleeper."

"It's because of the weather." You grit your teeth, starting to feel annoyed at the exchange you're having with your nemesis.

Your bitter tone, however, doesn't come unnoticed to Yoongi.

"Why are you grumpy? Shouldn't you feel better after a nap?"

"You could say that I woke up on the wrong side of my desk."

He lets out a laugh at your response, and you furrow your eyebrows and frown because your intention wasn't to make a joke.

"Is that your awkward way of flirting with me?" He gives you a coquettish smile.

Your face distorts into disgust. "You're ridiculous."

"What?" Yoongi tilts his head. "You said you woke up on the wrong side of your desk, which is the opposite of where I am. Do you think you would've been in a less sour mood if it was my face you saw first?"

You mentally kick yourself for being slow. Moreoever, you also curse lowly because your heart stopped beating for a fleeting moment.

You also can't contain your irritation any longer. You grimace, making your vexation perceivable to the boy who sat beside you.

"You're really getting on my nerves," you say. "This was your goal all along, right? To deter me away from focus. This was your grandmaster plan all along. To get ahead of me. Well, guess what?" You abruptly stand up from your chair, the furniture screeching against the floor. The eerie sound reverberates through the whole room yet Yoongi doesn't flinch.

"Congratulations, Yoongi," you seethe. "Congratulations for beating me! Did you have fun distracting me? Also, cut the crap, will you? You weren't here because you wanted to set a romantic mood, and maybe try again in making me fall for you, yes? No, you don't have to go through all that bullshit. Not at all. Because right now. Right here, I am giving you the full permission of mocking me! Tada! Isn't this fun? It's all going well for you, isn't it, hm?"

You were now leaning forward, your face right in front of him. You gathered that much of your confidence because you already knew it would be your last. Because the following days, you would probably be drooping in humilation.

However, Yoongi stays put in his seat, his eyes void of any emotion you could decipher. He only looks at you. The silence envelopes the both of you again, and you were losing every bit of patience you had left within you.

But the silence breaks as soon as you acknowledge it.

"Has anyone ever told you how beautiful you are?"

Yoongi's question-declaration cuts you deep. Your breath hitches and you feel like someone had taken your lifeline.

"Wha—"

"You know," he speaks again. "For all the years I've known you, I always thought that even if we were in an apocalypse; if we were the last humans on earth, I would rather date a zombie that have myself associated with you. It was always easier that way, right?" He pauses, looking briefly at you before shifting his gaze at the silvery scenery outside. "It was easy... but now, it's difficult to think that way. Because in all my life, I have never even considered, thought about falling for you."

At the last word, his eyes meet yours and a thousand galaxies can be seen in his irises. You can see your own reflection in his eyes, unsaid words starting to spill out the more stars his eyes consumed.

"Your brutal words used to be my melodies, because whenever I hear you utter words of hatred at me, they become my symphonies. I was always satisfied having successfully gotten into your nerves. But now, they're like bullets to me. Your wicked words are curses to me. Whenever you express your loathe, they come across as daggers now. But they also bewitch me in some way, because I know that you don't vehemently hate anyone else as much as you hate me."

A soft wind kisses both of your skin, serving as the temporary rest between the overwhelming tension between you.

"But I can't help but think..." He moves from his seat, standing up from it and you are forced to stand properly as well.

He takes a step closer to you. "That maybe, just maybe, we are on the same boat."

"That maybe, the reason you're getting so worked up on me right now is because you feel the same way." Another step closer.

"That maybe, I'm not going insane. That this is all totally normal for me to feel." Another step closer.

The back of your knees hit the teacher's desk, and you yelp slightly at the familiar proximity of your bodies. The night of Christmas Eve haunts you back, but oddly, it doesn't asphyxiate you. Rather it dawns on you in a soothing manner, but also in a way that the weight of the world on your shoulders becomes a bit bearable.

The eventual arrives upon you and it hits you like a meteor plunging on the earth's surface, burying itself deep within the soil so that it becomes a part of the planet. Everything started to make sense to you at this very moment; why you cared so much about how well Yoongi did in every exam you took; why it seems that everything he does gets under your skin; why everything he says stuck to you the most, etching on your mind and it becomes a mantra in your head.

It had always been him. You had always loved that fucker, even more this moment of realization. And it terrifies you now more than anything. You wanted to incessantly succumb yourself under denial, but you knew you would only feel worse than you already are.

You can't push him away any longer, because the more you do, the more your world collapses, and sooner or later you will find yourself underneath the heap of rubble you created yourself. That no matter how vehement you scream for help, nobody will come to you.

But in the depths of your abyssal thoughts, you finally conjure the image of your worst enemy; the one who pulls you out of the demolished building; the one who embraces you and whisper you sweet nothings.

You unconsciously sought Yoongi in all seasons because he have always been the one who saw you; he's the cold wind that caresses your cheeks, the storm that torments you, the sunlight that blinds you, the water that pours on you so that you'll bloom.

And now, the autumn leaves that delicately descend on your palms, and you nuzzle your nose against his, the warmth emanating from him instilling in yours.

His lips ghost over yours, and he whispers, "Tell me to stop. And if you don't... I will take that as your indication that you're returning my feelings."

Yoongi's lips are soft when he brushes it against yours a few times before he presses deeper. His lips are sweet when you taste him the first time in your tongue. His kiss is deliberately and painfully slow but he fills you to the brim, taking in all of your cold breaths. His touch is gentle and tender, stroking the soft skin of your nape as he searches for an angle that can fully quench his desire for you.

It was nothing like you ever imagined, because you never did. Only in this moment, did you let your mind wander to dangerous territory. Your fantasies getting vivid as each second passed by as he drinks in your breathless exhales, strokes your hip lovingly.

Your eyes are still fluttered shut when the warmth of his mouth leaves yours, and you suddenly feel empty. When you open them, his beauty greets you and your eyes that once held fervid flames are extinguished into something much more gentle and fond.

That's all that it takes for Yoongi to know what you truly feel about him.

───❝˖✧★✧˖❞───

The blanket of snow dissipates, replaced by the freshly-bloomed flowers, coating the once melancholic pavement. Flocks of birds fills the void, the leaves rustle, and the world seems a whole lot livelier than before.

Furthermore, you are much more in a state of tranquility.

Spring break arrives sooner than you expected, and you are once again free from the bars of school. Lately, however, you don't deem that place like a prison anymore. It had become much more bearable and breathable for you to step foot on it.

One, because being at the top doesn't matter to you anymore (partly because you had a recent discovery that you pretty much enjoyed being at the bottom, if you know what I mean). Two, because you decided that you're going to use your gift in a much more calmer way, where you won't have to stress too much about your grades, as long as you continue to do well in every aspect of your academic performance.

And three, because you look forward for the rendezvouses your boyfriend plans every single week day.

Stolen kisses in empty classrooms and janitors' closets, discreet hand-holdings in crowded public spaces such as the cafeteria, playful banters in the hallways to put on a show for everyone to see, the thrill of getting caught whenever things got a little bit too heated between the two of you in the darkness of storage rooms.

Yeah, while everyone else still thinks you're each other's rivals, you two have a secret relationship taking place in the premises, right under their noses.

Yoongi and you had no problem about it at all. You two came into a mutual agreement that you were going to keep this rivalry thing going on only for the sake of the adrenaline rush pumping through both of your veins at the thought of your schoolmates possibly finding out what has been transpiring between the two of you.

You've never understood the meaning of love and hate until now. They are two emotions, not entirely the opposite of each other, but they belong to both sides of a coin. The coin wouldn't exist without the other. That's why you worry less about the future that awaits you, because it's Yoongi.

Yoongi had seen you in your worst and so did you had seen his. There's that fine line that exists between the both of you of love and hate, which is why you think that indifference is the opposite of love instead. Because with indifference, you don't give a damn about that person. That isn't the case for you at all on what you feel towards Yoongi.

He is the psychedelic drug you never want to stop drinking. It feels overwhelming at times, but you feel good. And you make sure to return the favor when the coin lands on your side.

Once again, he pulls you out of your reverie, intertwining his fingers with yours. He keeps your hands in the pocket of his coat, while you blush underneath his stare. He walks ahead slightly, pulling you along with him. You don't know where he'll take you on your umpteenth date, but you let him do as he pleases to you.

Yeah, this feels all right.

Maybe, you don't mind him being at the top at all. As long as it was always you who follows behind him.

261 notes · View notes

sanccharine · 4 months

Text

the way everyday goes | ty

christmas au

pairing: tzuyu x gn!reader

genre: fluff

word count: 7k

warning: again so sweet it'll rot your teeth ;-;

summary: your bank account may be crying, but that doesn't matter when you spend money on the people you love most

a/n: this year (last years rip) christmas fic, would anyone believe me if i said everything was ready to be posted ?? i just got lazy, i'm sorry HAFGDHSKFH thanks to @eternallyghosting my human spelling and grammar check but ngl tho, i wrote this fic very weirdly, so expect some things to not add up, but yeah !! happy new year !!

When Tzuyu opened the door to her studio, she seemed the furthest thing from happy to see you. Though that was often the expression she wore when dealing with the likes of you.

You, on the other hand, wore a wide grin, shaking a large bag of chips in one hand and a bottle of iced coffee in the other.

She was dressed in her usual garb. The one she wore when she locked herself in her room for an ungodly amount of days. An extra large sweatshirt that fell to her thighs with matching sweatpants in black colour. The only indicator of her tension is the frayed hem of one corner, no doubt picked at the seam while she reads all of her essays and articles and textbooks.

Tzuyu was unamused, but you were used to that. No harm done. Scoffing at her deadpan look, you shoved your way into her small house. When she didn’t step to the side, your back clipped the door frame, while all she did was watch you with her owlish eyes.

“Good morning,” you said, throwing another grin at her over your shoulder as you made your way straight to her study desk. Tzuyu had barely moved, holding the door open and just watching you run around her home as if it were your own. “Come on, why do you look like that? Catch!”

And you threw the chips packet at her.

Your smile only widened as Tzuyu watched the packet fly across the distance between you and let it fall to her feet. She looked at the packet and then at you and then back at the packet. With a sigh, she closed the door behind her.

You expected as much from her and shrugged. “Have fun with your crumbs,” you said, observing her study desk.

“Oh, I will,” she mumbled and bent down to pick up the fallen treat.

Exams are over. Results were coming out soon for the semester. And best of all, your holidays have started. The campus is closed for a whole week until New Year’s, truly there was nothing to frown at. Yet, there you stood scrutinising Tzuyu’s desk.

Her laptop is open on some unit site, codes and words that meant nothing to you. Her notebooks were strewn open with loose sheets, all highlighted and annotated with multicoloured pens. Sticky notes infiltrated every part of your vision. It overwhelmed you. Though, you supposed a student like Tzuyu could only function as such.

“What—What is all…” you gestured loosely at her table, “this?”

Tzuyu, still at her place in front of the door, tilted her head to the left as she opened the chips packet. Her blank stare was just a touch away from a glare as she decided not to grace you with a response.

You were used to her tricks. Same as she was to your taunts.

“You know the semester is over right, like, you can rest now,” you say, but Tzuyu scoffed.

She made her way towards you and headed to the cupboard behind. But not before offering you some of her chips, you tipped the crumbs into your mouth.

“I have to prepare for postgrad,” she said, “you know that.”

“Oh, what postgrad?” you asked, feigning cluelessness but Tzuyu just sent a scathing glare over her shoulder. “Do you mean the postgrad that starts in September of next year?”

“Second week of October,” she said, as she pushed hangers out of the way as if they’d personally offended her.

“Oh, even worse,” you sighed dramatically, throwing your arm over your forehead though she didn’t turn having seen this routine so many times. “That’s what? Only like a year’s worth of time—”

“It’s only ten months.”

“Oh sorry, only ten months, that’s truly so little time,” you said, purposely standing in her way when she turned to lay out her pick on the bed. Tzuyu liked to visualize her clothes.

“That time will pass in a flash—get! Get out of my way!” she shoved you to the side and walked to her bed before continuing. “Before you know it, the semester will start and you’ll be wondering how you’re already behind on assignments.”

That was such a fatalistic belief that only a student like Tzuyu can hold. Even when she, herself, has disproved such thinking.

“Yeah, but you did promise to take a break for a while,” you said, a bit of seriousness slipping in but you caught yourself. Shrugging exaggeratedly for effect and took a moment to consider. After a pause, you clapped your hands together. “Like how we said we’d go out and celebrate today! Remember that?”

“Can’t say I do. Is that why you’re up so early today?” she said as she moved back and forth pulling out pieces to complete her outfit. Tzuyu then returned to her cupboard, shuffling something around in there. You’d say that she was trying to figure out how to complete her look, but knowing her, she’d probably planned her outfit for the day.

You looked at your wrist, there was no watch. “Yeah, getting up before twelve was a real struggle,” you said and you moved right by her as she finally picked out a manuka winter coat. She ignored the way you clung to her side, though you didn’t miss the small smile she wore. Donning a smile of your own, you continued. “But you know those are the sacrifices I make for our relationship.”

“Oh, is that right?” Tzuyu asked, following along with your playacting.

“Oh yeah, I’ve been waiting all week for this day. All month even, you could say. Just for this, this very special, oh-so-jolly day. All only to get some time to spend with you, my—” You had just opened your arms to cage Tzuyu from moving around but she’d stopped you with a hand to chest.

“It’s not that serious,” her words were clipped but she was smiling. “Calm down, now.”

“Now, why would I do that?” you asked, arms still outstretched, you jutted your chin at them, waiting for your hug.

Tzuyu rolled her eyes but still relented.

She giggled when your arms closed around like how a claw machine would around a toy. And similarly—

“Don’t—” her words ended in a squeal as you lifted her up and spun her around, a little wobbly on your feet just to mess with her.

You dragged her down to her bed, crumpling her perfectly set up clothes on the way, and burst into giggles. All the while Tzuyu grumbled her distaste at being lifted up while struggling to get away from your hold.

“Stop laughing!” she shrieked, pushing herself away as giggles escaped her lips as well. “Seriously, seriously! I’ll go get ready, let me go now!”

You just hummed and rolled away as she hurriedly got off the bed. She straightened herself up before tugging at her clothes from beneath you. All you did was watch her, a cold sensation climbed up your arms.

“You’re unbelievable,” she was flushed when she said it, but grinning ear to ear as she made her way to her bathroom.

By the time the pair of you had reached the bus station, you had finished both the packet of chips and your bottle of iced coffee. Swiping her card quickly, Tzuyu made her way to the back of the bus and picked a two-seater. This early in the morning and this far out of the city, there was barely anyone on the bus. She shuffled herself next to the window just as you took a seat next to her.

The bus had already moved from the station when Tzuyu pulled out her phone and earphones from her pockets. Without even looking at you, she handed you the left earphone after putting the right one on. When you accepted, she pressed play and leaned back with her eyes closed.

You watched her for a second, a reprieve from when she wasn’t studying you back. You heard a chime somewhere in your vicinity, but you didn’t turn away, your stop wasn’t up until a while.

Tzuyu often looked perfect.

Of course, that was simple to say because she was beautiful. There was no doubt about it.

But it wasn’t so surface-level. It bled into how she carried herself and practically built her facade.

She’d said it herself.

“Repetition leads to routine, and practice leads to perfection. It’s monotonous but it brings order. They set a standard,” she paused. “And that’s something I can’t afford to give up.”

Granted, when she had uttered those words you’d found her in the same awful set of lockdown-sweats. A manic look in her eyes and her hair was frizzy from having a hand run through it so many times. She’d stayed up all night writing her draft of an essay that was worth nearly fifty percent of her grade. She’d barely eaten, surviving on instant black coffee and cereal bars.

In those types of moments, she reminded herself of those words. She repeated them when her motivation dipped beyond recognition and staring at her screen made her eyes dry up. She had a sticky note of the same words written in a hasty scrawl in her line of sight, just above where her laptop sat, so it was always on her mind. She’d apologise because she was not one to bite her tongue, but she’d tell you the same words. And sometimes it motivated you, seeing her excel, you wanted that for yourself too. But most of the time, the weight of working so hard crushed you straight into the ground.

It was worrying but she never really let herself stay down. And maybe, that’s where you came in.

When she’d tired herself out, you’d bought her dinner to make sure she had a proper meal before she slept for a whole day. You provided the snacks when you both holed yourselves in the library. You dragged her out by planning days such as this. You were her reprieve.

And by that time, you’d figured her out.

You saw her past the perfection she so delicately manufactured. Past the painted nails. Past the crisply ironed dress shirts. Past the curious gaze.

It wasn’t as if she completely removed her imperfections. If you knew where to look, you could find it. The fraying insides of her cuffs from picking at the threads. The flimsy collar barely holding its shape after being pulled at for so long. The flyaway strands that came undone when she played with her hair. They were always there, always humanizing her. You just needed to look at her long enough to know they existed.

When you saw the muscle in her cheek twitch, you were brought back to the sensation of the moving bus, rumbling beneath you. She knew you were watching, but decided against confronting you about it. The thought brought a smile of your own as you picked up your phone to check when you needed to stop the bus.

That was your duty. Your role in this relationship. One you took with pride.

Tzuyu was comfortable enough to let herself take a step back and allow you to drag her wherever you’d planned, no questions asked. The entire day was scheduled on your phone, even allowing for late buses and trains. You’ve travelled enough on public transportation to account for this sort of thing.

So that's how the trip to the central business district went. From bus to subway, from station to station, and one line to another—Tzuyu stuck by you.

Her earphones, still connecting you. Your hand, always holding hers.

You knew this city like the back of your hand. That happens when you spend nearly four years travelling back and forth, finding part-time jobs, going out, and attending events.

Yet you were still noticing new things from time to time.

As soon as your train stopped in the main district, you headed straight for the restaurants to load up on snacks. You still had time to kill before you needed to go where you needed to be. So you let Tzuyu drag you around, gawking at books she wants to read, playing around with fabrics of sweatshirts she already owned, but most importantly, you bought her almost everything she asked for when it came to food.

Though she did threaten to leave when you first proclaimed loudly at the counter. “Don’t worry, anything for my pretty princess.”

That was how you ended up holding two special collectable bubble tea cups, a take-away bag filled with free samples, and an inviting half-eaten honey cake which the pair of you left for later since it was too sweet.

From time to time, you pestered Tzuyu to take photos of you. Although she whined about it, once the camera was up, she was striking a pose. Her, always so prim and proper, and you, always with your arm above her or around her or holding her. Always gazing at her.

“Tell me you didn’t,” though you weren’t facing her, you could imagine her gawking.

“Well, I kinda did,” you shrugged, before throwing the clerk a smile as he went in to grab your shoes.

“How much was this—”

“I told you, money is not a problem! Anything for my sweet little schnookums—oi! That actually really hurt!” you leaned on the counter, a groan escaping you as you held the bicep that was harassed. “Unbelievable, unbelievable!”

Tzuyu just stuck her tongue out before grabbing her own shoes and heading in.

“Real mature,” you grumbled with a smile as you grabbed your pair of shoes and followed after her.

You’d dumped all your belongings except your phone into a locker and took a seat by Tzuyu to put on the ice skating shoes. For some reason, the fit was never perfect. Sometimes it felt like it was biting into your toes, or placing pressure on your ankle, but then it felt too loose when you tried to stand. While you were doing and undoing the laces, you missed the way Tzuyu just watched you with a smile.

With a groan, you tried again, hoping to get it down this time. “Honestly,” you looked up for a second at the rink. “I didn’t expect it to be this packed.”

“Oh, you’re telling me you didn’t expect one of the biggest ice rinks… in the city… to be busy… on Christmas Eve?” Tzuyu asked, her voice dripping with more derision with every statement.

“Okay but is it really Christmas Eve if it is, like, eleven in the morning?” you asked with a sigh as you finally finished tying your shoes.

“The whole day is the Eve,” she sent you a look as she stood, not wobbling at all on her blades. “And it’s almost two.”

“Is it?!” you asked, pulling out your phone. She was right!

Not according to schedule, but you expected as much. You could work with this.

“That’s fine,” you said and pocketed your phone before trying to get up. Tzuyu’s hand was already in your vision, and without hesitation, you took it. “Thanks.”

When you were stable, she let go.

“Okay, you can do it,” and with that, she took two steps and was on the rink already merging with the moving crowd that circled the border.

“Chou Tzuyu, are you serious?” you screamed, even getting some looks, but you weren’t bothered.

Even with the crowd, and the blaring Christmas tunes, you could hear her laugh once you spotted her. Tzuyu had her head thrown back, eyes crinkled close, and her right hand gripping the railing so she didn't double over and eat ice shavings. If she wasn’t having so much fun, you’d have been mad at her for laughing at your expense.

Tzuyu moved along but slowed down a bit so that you could catch up. It’s not as if you’ve never skated before, you have. After all, you were the one to book this outing. You just hoped you would be a little bit more graceful. Of course, after a few rounds, the lack of practice and confidence will disappear, but for the moment, you longingly stared at the children gleefully making circles in the middle of the rink with their penguins.

“Oh, come on, let go of the railing,” Tzuyu taunted, skating smoothly by your side, while you were hunched over the railing, basically walking on ice. “Come on!”

“Yeah, I don’t have a death wish,” a child giggled as she passed around you with a penguin aid. You’re sticking next to the railing too, kid!

“Why did you book this if you’re not even going to skate properly?” Tzuyu had the gall to pout.

“Because it’s in theme! Winter, holidays, snow, Christmas—!” you let out an ugly squeal as the blades slipped from underneath you. For a moment, you flailed. You imagined you looked like those cartoon characters just as they teetered off a cliff, hands winding around like a propeller to stop themselves from plummeting. Thankfully, the railing was your shining knight in armour and your wayward legs had stopped fighting you.

Tzuyu had stopped skating. But once you looked back at her, both elbows over the railing while huffing and puffing, she just broke out laughing. Maybe you’d admire how free she looked when she laughed like that if you weren’t glaring at her. While she did that, you pulled yourself into a standing position.

“I’m fine,” you huffed out as you were standing and facing the rink again. “Thanks for worrying, by the way.”

Still chuckling, Tzuyu came closer to the railing. And then she did something insane.

Pushing herself with one foot, she spun around and came to a stop in front of you.

When did she have the time to learn all of that?

“No need to show off.” Tzuyu rolled her eyes as she extended her arms.

“And no need to be killjoy,” she retaliated before jutting her chin at her hands. “Come on, take it.��

You made quite the show of how much you did not want this, though it was hard to suppress your smile. She shared the expression when you took her help. With a nod, she pushed off and moved backwards, pulling you with her.

When she tugged you close, you let out another yelp, and she had to press her lips thin to not burst out laughing again. She moved slowly, helping you find your footing on the ice while you navigated her away from bumping into people. Maybe if you weren’t so busy with maintaining your balance, you may have taken your chance to press a kiss on her nose, only to watch her scrunch her eyes shut and blush to her ears.

Once you’d done a round like that, Tzuyu decided to be brave and pushed herself back to your side. Although she was still holding one of your hands, leaning down, she picked up pace and so you followed her. Before you knew it, you were skating again. Like you used to, the few times you visit. Right by her side, competitions and bets came up, but at the end of the rounds, you were just finding ways to hold Tzuyu’s hand again.

When you realized that the rink’s Christmas playlist had looped, you decided it was time for a break. For you, at least. Stopping at a corner near the entrance to the rink, you leaned on the railing as you watched Tzuyu make easy rounds around the rink, even daring to skate between people. Like any other person, you picked out your phone and started filming her fly across the rink.

There was one particular move where she skated backwards and manoeuvred into a slow spin that made her laugh when she executed it perfectly. However, she’d almost run over a child who barely reached her knee in the process. Instantly, she was on her knees on the ice, even though the kid kept shaking her head to convey that she was fine. That was how you had another video of Tzuyu, skating hand in hand with a little girl as she taught her how to do a little circle.

You were on the seats with your shoes already in your hands when Tzuyu plopped herself down next to you.

“Happy?” you asked, tilting your head to watch her.

The grand clock chimed to mark the start of a new hour.

She nodded, eyes scrunched close again as she grinned. “Very.”

By the time you’d collected your things and finished up the rest of your leftover snacks, it was already time for dinner. You made your reservation just in time. When you entered the restaurant, the first thing the maitre d’ did was judge you. Well, you couldn’t be sure of what was going through his head, though you're sure he wasn’t supposed to stare at you for so long.

Granted, you and Tzuyu had sprinted the last few steps because it started snowing hard, and were huffing and puffing like some steam engine.

“Welcome,” his voice pitched high before he corrected himself and tried again. Instead of bursting out laughing, you and Tzuyu just shared an amused look before following him.

He guided you through the main lounge of the restaurant and to the private rooms you’d booked. Most places had flashing lights, a horrifying mixture of green and red covering every surface to get in the spirit. However, you loved how this restaurant had decorated the places. The whole place was dimmed, so only the fairy lights by the curling and candles on the tables twinkled. Each table had its own bouquet with flowers you couldn’t name, some adorned with miniature ornaments and some with paper-crafted reindeers and bells. Dinner plates, champagne glasses, and table mats had little accents of red and green, nothing too daring.

You supposed such simple elegance was expected of a high-end restaurant, but that also meant their clientele was of a different calibre too. Most of those at the tables were couples in expensive clothes and greying hair. Some seemed younger, but even they held an air of authority that you doubted you held as you trudged your way through the place.

Not that it mattered though. The waiter introduced the pair of you to your room and informed you how you could ring for help before closing the door behind him. With just you and Tzuyu in the room, you made yourselves comfortable.

Tzuyu pulled up the menu while you shrugged off your coat and hung it over your chair. “Are you sure we’re in the right place?” she asked before turning the menu and showing off the price of the dishes.

“Well, seeing as my name was on their list and they haven’t kicked us out. I think, yes,” you replied and picked up a menu for yourself. “Order anything. Whatever you want.”

You said a bit more genuinely than the last few times you did.

“Are you sure?” Tzuyu asked, still scrutinizing the prices.

“Of course,” you nodded, scanning for a dish that was worth the price. “My treat, remember.”

Tzuyu’s (and your own, really) inhibitions about the price had disappeared once you had your first bite. The food was absolutely divine. The pair of you had ordered two different dishes and then swapped halfway through, and then ordered one more dish and a dessert to end it with.

Tzuyu was scraping the bottom of her bowl when you asked her. “What do you think about marriage?”

The scraping stopped.

You’d have laughed at the little smudge of chocolate by her lip if her eyes weren’t so wide.

“Like, you mean, us?” she asked slowly.

A small chuckle escaped you as you moved the ice cream around in your own bowl. “No, like, in general.”

“Is this about Sana?”

That was the name of the second person in Tzuyu’s ginormous friend group who had gotten married over the summer. You never really knew the woman personally, or any of her friends really, but you’d heard enough about them and visited two weddings to know what they were like. And especially how much they mattered to Tzuyu.

“Sure, I guess,” you shrugged and Tzuyu returned to her dessert, although much slower this time around. “I don’t know, it just feels so daunting, you know?”

Tzuyu waited in silence.

With a sigh, you continued. “They’re so young and they got married,” you admitted.

It wasn’t just Tzuyu’s friends. You’ve heard stories within your own lectures, of people discussing marriage plans and getting engaged and dream weddings. And if not that, they were settling down, in relationships that seemed to promise security more than momentary pleasure. You’re not one to give that sort of thing too much thought, but you’d be a liar if you said you’ve never thought about it.

Tzuyu studied her bowl, apparently, there was still quite a bit of dessert left. “They know what they want…”

That was a simple enough answer.

Did you know what you want?

Your hand stopped spinning your spoon around as you studied Tzuyu.

Bells. That’s what you heard when you looked at her. Not like the deafening sirens you set as your morning alarm or the jingles you’ve been hearing all day. A soft melody filled with dulcet notes, building as your heart rate increased. It must be a sound you’ve heard before if your mind can come up with it… right? But you just couldn’t place the sound, it didn’t sound like any song you’d heard and if it was, you wouldn't recognize it.

You heard it every time you glanced at her, it arose in the strangest of moments. The pair of you had just pulled an all-nighter, the sky was losing darkness and turning into a dreamy blue, and when you turned to Tzuyu, you found her face pressed onto her textbook. She was out cold, the right side of her face completely smashed and her mouth hanging open as she slept. You had to clasp a hand over your mouth from laughing at yourself and waking her up.

And then you heard it when she first made instant noodles her way for you and added a concerning amount of cheeses. Then, it was when she suggested visiting a new cafe in the city and you’d agreed without question. Or when she’d bought you a random trinket from a street vendor solely because it had reminded her of you. So many trivial moments, filled with a soundtrack of your own making for your very own love story.

Because it was one. There were no two ways about it.

People often say falling in love is magical, perhaps that holds some truth to it. The fluttering in your stomach that you couldn’t differentiate from nervousness, the beating of your heart hammering away as if it were to burst, the shiver that runs up your neck, that same sense of suffocation you feel when you’re out of breath. How gooseflesh rises on your skin, but you feel so warm inside. And when you look at her, it's a sensation of relief that you feel. The tinge of positivity when she looks back at you, a twinkle in her eyes to let you know you weren’t the only one feeling this way.

You wanted to ask her and you have asked her.

Were you supposed to do something right now? In the moment? What would happen if we didn’t address it? How could we plan anything? How many times could we tell each other that it’s not fear? That we’re not scared? You’re not scared? But you are, you really are. It was overwhelming.

Are we falling behind?

She’d always denied it.

And she was right, of course.

But it didn’t always feel like it.

There were only a handful of people you considered true friends from your university. Not because they’d done anything to you or whatever, some people just click and stick with you forever and some don’t. It was simple. It was normal. And the former was true of Tzuyu.

It was so true, sometimes it brought tears to your eyes when you thought about it in the middle of the night. It really is so overwhelming just how much you felt for her. Perhaps this was love, or it was something else, you’ve never felt at this intensity before. You really couldn’t name it. And that might sound strange but it was true, nothing could really encompass what you felt, or heard even, when you looked at her.

“What are you looking at?” Tzuyu’s voice broke you from your reverie.

Your mouth made the shape to enunciate the word.

“And don’t say, you,” Tzuyu groaned as she pushed her bowl away, she’d finished her treat.

She knew your tricks all too well. You’ll need to change it up.

“Don’t freak, but there’s a bug on your—”

“What?” Tzuyu freaked out. “Where? Where is it? Tell me!”

Freezing up, all she could do was glare when you just chuckled. “I was wondering if I should just slap you to hit it,” Tzuyu’s eyes widened and you couldn’t help your laughter. “Or just leave you at its mercy and run, I didn’t want its attention on me–”

“Just get it off!”

“–but you know, sudden movements and things. I can’t die, I have too much to live for—” she shrieked your name, pleading as her hands gripped the table. “Okay, okay, come here.”

Gesturing for her to move forward, you leaned over the table to wipe away the smudge of ice cream by the corner of her lips. The smudge was long gone, so she should have guessed so was the 'bug' but you just held her chin. You, watching her. And her, watching you.

Having lingered long enough, you pulled your hand back with a smile.

“Thanks,” she mumbled after clearing her throat.

You just nodded before showing her your bowl of melted ice cream. “Do you want to finish this off too?”

“Yes, please,” she said, “but I also have something for you.”

You tilted your head in confusion, every single plate on her side of the table had been wiped clean. What did she have to give you?

You were just about to voice those words when she pulled out a small package from underneath the table. A gasp had barely left your lips when she spoke.

“It’s not a ring.”

“I’m heartbroken.”

“I’m sure you are,” Tzuyu placed the package next to your bowl and took the ice cream. “Open it.”

Following orders, you opened the package and you started second-guessing her claim of this not being a marriage proposal. Of course, you knew it wouldn’t be, you’d talked about as much. But you guessed somewhere you’d like to hear such news.

You sent her a glance when you felt the velvet inning of the box, though she just shook her head.

What was in there, when you opened the box, was a necklace.

A loud snort escaped you that you had to clasp a hand over your mouth.

When you looked up, Tzuyu was shovelling ice cream into her mouth but still grinning. She was doing anything to avoid looking at you.

The necklace barely matched its packaging. The first thing that caught your attention was an amulet, it was discolored and its design eroded, by wear that you could barely make out what it used to be. But you knew. And you remembered.

Four years ago, during some university-wide event, the amulet had caught your attention on some stall. But at the same time you’d reached for it, so had Tzuyu. The bells. That’s where you could track them back to. Some busking artist that had been performing at the time, providing a melody that you’d come to associate with Tzuyu herself and the love you have for her.

Tzuyu had been very adamant about having the amulet, and you, well you couldn’t care less. So you’d said the opposite and asked her to buy you the very expensive, very sugary, glazed doughnuts from the foodtruck down the line. And she’s just said yes.

And then you talked. You exchanged your numbers. And the rest well, was history.

Tzuyu never came around to wearing the amulet, and one night she admitted that she only bought it for its aesthetics, but could never find a moment to properly wear it. And if she did, she found herself wrapping it around her wrist so she could play with it when class was boring. The same night you admitted you just used the necklace to get yourself free doughnuts. From then on, she made it very obvious to wear it whenever you were around.

And now, it has returned to you. Having lost all of its aesthetic appeal.

“Oh this, this is priceless,” you said, giggling and tugging it from the box, already putting it on. “Thank you.”

“I thought you’d like it,” she said, finishing the last of your ice cream. “Now, where’s my present?”

You know she was asking to be cheeky, but you still entertained her. “Oh, like the whole day I planned and spent with my hard-earned money wasn’t a present?”

The train ride back was longer than you’d expected, but it gave Tzuyu some time to nap. Once again, you were connected by your hands and her earphones, as she lay her head on your shoulder.

Seeing as how late it was, buses would take longer to make their last rounds. Which is why you left Tzuyu at the bus stop, so you could quickly rush to the general store behind it and get some more snacks. Hot chocolate seemed like the right choice at a time like this, the perfect ending to the day. The scene would be magical, being seated together at a bus stop, illuminated by a warm lamppost, surrounded by flecks of snow as you sipped on hot chocolate. But also, you were craving more ice cream. Dealing with a cold will be your future you’s problem.

So you grabbed two cones and a hand warmer and swiped your card.

The streets seemed empty, even though it wasn’t even that late. Well… by a student’s standard, it wasn’t that late, seeing as it was nearing eleven in the evening, perhaps it was late.

“I got our snacks,” you said, holding up a cone in each hand. Tzuyu just chuckled as she took one from your hand. She struggled for a moment to peel off the wrapping with her gloved hands, but when she did, she bit a large chunk of the ice cream, and you just gawked in awe.

The bus had arrived by the time you finished the cones. Just as your stop arrived, Tzuyu’s music stopped. Someone was calling her.

“What time is it?” she asked, pulling out her phone, you missed the caller’s name.

“Like, almost midnight,” you said, getting up and guiding her out as she answered the call.

“They’re an hour early—”

“Tzuyu-ah!” Sana’s voice shrieked into your earphones, you had to pull it out. You thanked the bus driver and wished him a good night, ignoring the way he squinted at you.

“Do you still want to go—” Tzuyu just threw a thumbs up as she matched Sana’s voice in greeting.

Letting her catch up with her friend, you guided her to the park you often visited, usually near midnight like tonight, and always at the children’s playground to the small swing set.

When you helped Tzuyu into her seat, so engrossed in the call, she started taking the seat as soon as the swing hit the back of her legs, she'd have landed flat on her back had you not helped her into the seat.

“It’s nice to see you again,” you looked up to see Sana’s son wave at you.

“Oh, oh, hey, kid,” Tzuyu sent you a look over her shoulder as you made sure she was not going to slip off the seat. “It’s good to see you again! How’re you doing, kid?”

“I’m good, how are you?” he asked, and you parrotted the same answer, a little breathy from slouching over.

“Sit down, will you?” Tzuyu pretended to groan, pushing your face away from her shoulder.

The seat was made for children, so it was very very low to the ground and tiny. You had to balance yourself on your things to not flip over the seat, a moment's distraction and you could be swinging from your knees. Holding on to the chains, you pushed yourself close to Tzuyu so your face was on camera again.

“No, seriously, how are you?” you asked again to get past the surface-level answers. “What have you been up to?”

With a wide grin, he started speaking about a recipe he had just mastered and while he did more of Tzuyu’s friends joined. Most of which you were familiar with now, having met them at two weddings and conversed with some over calls. Though you were most glad to see Sana’s son again. You’d only met him face to face once. It was at Sana's wedding during the summer. Both you and Tzuyu had been taken with him when you first met him last Christmas. Tzuyu had taken you back home with her last year, and you finally got to meet her beloved dogs, and so had Sana’s son. He’d remembered to even ask about Tzuyu’s dogs during the wedding, you spent the better part of the event showing him the videos you had.

Ever since you’d gotten him a gift, he’d grown quite fond of you both. Now usually, it was tradition to get gifts mostly for those to be wed, but you and Tzuyu had instead decided to gift their son. You’d heard how much he loved the Percy Jackson books much like you had, so you decided to buy him the Kane Chronicles. thankfully he hadn’t read or gotten them yet. Besides, seeing as both you and Tzuyu were neck deep in student debt and as broke as they come, you weren’t really in a place to buy the newlyweds a washing machine.

Tzuyu waved to others, while you kept him talking. “Have you read the Kane Chronicles yet?”

The boy had an affinity to reread the same book over and over again, even if he wasn’t completed with a series. At the wedding, he’d been attached at the hip to the Son of Neptune, which was understandable. But also, the next two books are easily the best of the series.

“I did start them!” he said, eagerly leaning away from the camera before bringing the second book in with him. “I really like it,” he said, flipping through some pages and turning the book to show it. You didn’t have the heart to tell him it was too blurry to see anything but a blank white page. “But it’s not as fun as you said it would be, I still like Percy Jackson better than this series.”

Oh.

Now, you’re at a stage in your life where you didn’t go around picking fights with children, though you will say it was a difficult urge to ignore. But something about appreciating children having different opinions from you or whatever.

“Um, yeah, no, I—”

“Please, don’t pick a fight with a child,” Tzuyu said with a groan and the call erupted with a cacophony of laughter. You’d missed when everyone had joined. You had been hogging the call.

“I wasn’t going to! The kid had the right to his own opinions,” you said, looking scandalized but then mumbled under your breath. “Even if it’s wrong.”

Tzuyu shoved you with a smile and you let the swing take its original spot. With a smile of your own, you let Tzuyu catch up with her friends, only waving and greeting people when she turned the phone to face you. After some wishes of Merry Christmas and farewells, the phone call had been cut. With every passing year, it was harder to meet, even during holidays when everyone was supposed to be free. In-person meetings seemed like a faraway dream, and planning a call seemed just as hectic, but somehow Tzuyu’s friends found a way. But you know Tzuyu ached to meet her friends again, some time where it wasn't a life-changing event that brought them together or where disaster didn’t strike. Just to be with them for a moment.

You hadn’t even realized you were pushing yourself towards her, let alone kissing her on the cheek. Only when your swing recoiled back to her place and Tzuyu let out a small noise in question, did you realize what you’d done.

“What was that for?” Tzuyu asked, her hand caressing the place where you’d kissed her.

“I don’t know actually,” you said wistfully. “Just because.”

Tzuyu hummed in acknowledgement as blush coloured her cheeks. You thought maybe she’d chastise you, even as a joke. But then, she did something shocking.

Her hand pulled on your swing chain and pulled you close.

It wasn’t the smoothest kiss. Your noses bumped into each other and the angle was wrong, but none of it really mattered because soon both your hands went to hold her as close as possible. She giggled into the kiss, no doubt, shyness creeping in as she comprehended what she’d just done.

If it were up to you, maybe you would’ve stayed there until sunrise.

Unfortunately, your leg, which was strained to hold you in place, slipped just as Tzuyu gently pushed you away. While you swung sideways, Tzuyu hid her face in her hands.

A giggle from her earned from you. And before you knew it, the pair of you were laughing, hunched over and swinging lightly.

Many things are changing, but your days will be all the same. Especially with Tzuyu by your side. And she wasn’t leaving your side any time soon.

any feedback is much appreciated.

a/n: people really need to read kane chronicles, its literally perfect but yeah, hope you enjoyed this ! again happy new year !!

tagging: @someone-who-likes-broccoli

#mala's collection #sanccharine #tzuyu x reader #twice x reader #tzuyu imagines #twice imagines #tzuyu fluff #christmas au #the way everyday goes

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