#anyway.....trying to enjoy my save before the horse pack blows everything up

[softerhaze]

hm. i don't think she likes this dude

[aqua-murphys-law]

i can feel it falling (timber)

Rating: G Warnings: None Summary: A look at what inspired Milo not to give up on the possibility of Zack becoming his friend, the day they first met.

A/N: When I fell back into the Dwampyverse fandom, I foolishly said that I didn’t know if I was gonna write anything for MML. I really should’ve known better. So here’s a little something inspired by @wiz-witch‘s post here!

I wish I’d had it done in time for MML’s 4th anniversary but such is life. Reblogs/comments would be greatly appreciated, and a good response will let me know whether I should write the other one-shot ideas I’ve got. Hope you enjoy! - Aqua

(Click here to read on A03 for extensive tags!)

~*~

Milo approaches the bus stop with a bounce in his step.

It’s been a relatively light morning so far. There was just one bird nesting in his hair when he woke up, and it relocated to the backyard without much fuss. He got through both of his showers without slipping, getting soap in his eyes, or breaking the water system (the second shower was because the garbage disposal spewed breakfast scraps back up at him, but still, that could’ve been worse).

He even gets to the bus stop before Melissa, only a few boys from school present. It takes a couple seconds before he hears shoes scuffling away from him, which isn’t surprising. It’s very rare for him to actually end up on the bus, but when he does, it makes for an… eventful ride. He can’t fault them for being cautious, since it’s looking more and more like it might actually be one of those days-

“What’s that all about?”

That’s an unfamiliar voice.

Milo turns to the speaker. It’s a boy around his age, dark-skinned with frizzy black hair. He’s dressed simply in a yellow shirt and jeans, a red backpack at his sneakers. He’s looking at Milo with confusion, and something akin to concern.

“Oh, you’re new here,” Milo realizes. It’s strange for someone to transfer schools after the start of the semester, but stranger things have happened. He sighs good-naturedly, going on to explain, “I’ve got a bit of a reputation.”

The boy blinks before amusement tugs at his mouth, and he quirks a brow. “So what are you, a tough guy?”

That might be teasing, Milo’s not sure. “Oh, I don’t think anyone’s ever called me tough,” he says. And this is really pressing his luck, but he can’t help being polite and offers his hand. “I’m Milo.”

The boy actually takes Milo’s hand, and smiles when he does it. “I’m Zack.”

Of course, the other boys at the stop immediately urge Zack against it, but Milo isn’t fully paying attention. He instantly commits Zack’s name to memory because if there’s one thing he’s learned, it’s that knowing his classmates’ names helps soften the blow when he accidentally lands them in the hospital for the first time.

Despite the warning, Zack doesn’t let go right away. His hand is warm, and a little bigger than Milo’s. Mostly softer than Milo’s too, but unexpectedly calloused in telltale places, like he plays a guitar of some sort. That’s interesting.

“So what exactly is this reputation?” Zack asks, seeming more curious than concerned now.

Milo tilts his head. “Well, people have used the J-word, but you know what they say. Sticks and stones can damage your vital organs, so always wear body armor.”

The original meaning of the phrase is still implied. As a Murphy, harsh words are extremely low on his list of things to worry about. At least, that’s how he tries to keep it. It’s not that words don’t affect him at all, he just has steps he takes to prepare himself for them, like he would for any other unpleasant event. Just as he wears body armor to protect against physical harm, he protects his feelings under his carefully crafted demeanor.

Lots of people think his cheeriness is default, but in reality, it’s a conscious choice. It’s his emotional armor. Words hurt him less if he chooses to be upbeat and optimistic, rather than let himself despair. That just creates a negative feedback loop, which doesn’t help anything.

Before Zack can inquire further, Melissa shows up to the stop. Milo gets preoccupied by their conversation and forgets that Zack’s still waiting on an explanation until he interjects. But right as Milo is about to elaborate, Murphy’s Law kicks in.

Milo has just enough time to slap his spare helmet onto Zack’s head before they turn and run. And it is both of them; Zack’s taken off without any prompting- he didn’t freeze like so many people do for their first disaster, that’s good. He’s screaming quite a bit, but that’s to be expected. And more surprising is that Zack’s keeping pace with Milo. Not many people can match his speed when he’s going full-tilt like this.

“-wait, why aren’t you screaming?!” Zack demands suddenly.

Milo’s intrigued. Most people who get caught up in his Murphy’s Law don’t have the presence of mind to question why he’s calm while being chased down the street by some devastatingly heavy object.

“I find it doesn’t help,” he answers simply. “Just hurts the larynx.” While he runs and talks, part of him is absentmindedly planning his next move, and he adds, “hand me that bungee, and you’d better hold onto my backpack.”

Milo winds up his throw. Even as Zack exclaims, “Wait, what?” he feels the other boy grab on as instructed, and then they’re up in the air.

Zack maintains his hold while they flip, and when the bungee snaps and drops them on top of the drainage pipe. He’s strong, Milo notes with pleasant surprise. More impressively, Zack doesn’t go careening off of the spinning cylinder- he manages to stay upright beside Milo. That’s a rare skill, for sure. Maybe he’s taken log-rolling classes, for whatever reason. Or, he’s just exceptionally quick on his feet. An athlete, maybe.

“That bungee was definitely defective,” Milo comments, if only to fill the space.

Zack offers no reply, even as Milo sends Diogee home. The pipe takes them through a road barrier, down a rocky incline, through a wooden fence, off of a thankfully low cliff, and into a shallow pit of mud. They barely have time to blink the mud from their eyes before the pipe falls down after them, and Milo tells Zack to scooch over- which he does with little hesitation.

They fit neatly through the center of the pipe, and a wave of mud sends them up to the top.

Zack glances over at Milo, his sudden stillness probably due to shock. “… the J-word wouldn’t happen to be jinx, would it?” he ventures.

Even though he knows it wasn’t used maliciously, Milo can’t stop himself from flinching. He brushes it off with a laugh, though it comes out slightly apologetic. “Yeah, that’s the one.” He pulls himself up onto the rim of the pipe, offering Zack his hand.

Miraculously, Zack accepts his help, and they climb over the edge and drop into the mud below.

Milo wipes his face off with a towel from his backpack. “I have EHML,” he explains. “Extreme hereditary Murphy’s Law. You know, ‘anything that can go wrong, will go wrong.’ Around me.” He studies Zack with a hint of apprehension, the other boy doubled over to catch his breath. He doesn’t look angry or upset or scared, but Milo can’t always tell.

“Well,” is all Zack says. “Alright, then. How are we gonna catch the bus?”

Milo blinks, handing Zack the towel. “Whenever stuff like this happens, the driver usually gives me a few minutes to make it back in case it’s something light. If we hurry, we should be able to get there in time.”

Zack cleans his face and gives the towel back to Milo, brows raised. “Lead the way, I guess.”

Well, indeed. Milo leads the way, and Zack follows.

~*~

Naturally, they miss the bus.

Zack’s definitely in some kind of shock now. He doesn’t even scream when the oil spill in the rock quarry goes up in flames. Milo gently suggests that they go through the woods instead. And then the shock seems to wear off when they’re beset by a pack of hungry wolves.

Shock and panic can interchange remarkably quickly, in some people.

While Milo knows from experience that wolves do, in fact, love peanut butter, Murphy’s Law isn’t yielding anything today. One of the wolves lunges at the same time he tosses the sandwich, and it gets thrown right back, sticking to Zack’s shirt. That elicits a shrill scream from him, and Milo has to fight the urge to cringe. This is not a great first impression, even by Murphy’s Law standards.

At this point, Milo’s pretty sure that the presence of the sandwich has no bearing on the wolves’ desire to attack them, but he grabs a stick and peels it off anyways, if only to try and save Zack’s shirt from being stained too badly.

They escape by scrambling up a tree, but the situation is complicated by the presence of an irate beehive.

A wolf with a beehive stuck on its face is a new one. Luckily, Zack continues to demonstrate remarkable survival instincts, such as ‘dodging when a wolf with a beehive stuck on its face lunges at you’ and ‘running when a wolf with a beehive stuck on its face gives chase.’ He’s keeping up well enough, though he might be starting to fatigue because he lags slightly behind Milo. And he’s still screaming a little, but Milo isn’t holding that against him.

In the end, they don’t escape the wolf so much as they accidentally plunge through an open manhole. But it’s not a high fall, and Milo’s not one to look a gift horse in the mouth. Or, to look a sewer in the open manhole.

Milo lands on his feet in the middle channel, which is fortunately shallow. Zack crashes in right behind him.

“Here,” Milo hands Zack a headlamp from his backpack, “these will help us navigate in the dark.”

Zack’s voice follows him after a moment. “Dude… if and when we get out of here, I’m gonna have to go my own way. No offense, I just can’t handle all of… this.”

Milo’s heart trips inside his chest. He wants to protest that Zack has, in actuality, handled everything just fine. Truly, even Melissa would be impressed, and he’s sure she will be when he regales her with the story later today. But he knows that isn’t the crux of the matter.

“A- all of what?” he asks quietly, his voice wavering slightly despite his best efforts.

The answer is painfully obvious as a raccoon leaps out at him from a pipe, sailing over his ducked head and disappearing into murky sewer water. Milo grips his backpack tighter and keeps walking.

“This cyclone of calamity that follows you everywhere you go!” Zack exclaims in disbelief, his voice echoing in the tunnels. “How do you live like this?!”

Milo supposes this was inevitable. It’s not often that someone gives him a chance- usually it’s something like this, a new kid who doesn’t know any better- but it always ends the same way. He accepted long ago that Melissa would be his only school friend, and he’s okay with that.

Right now, they’ve reached the point where Milo will say he understands and apologize for putting Zack in danger. He’ll get him out of the sewer and part ways, only seeing Zack as much as school demands. Or less than that, if Zack decides to switch schools and get a restraining order. That’s happened before. But really, this is where Milo should ‘cut Zack loose,’ if he’s speaking metaphorically.

Except.

Except Milo doesn’t want to.

It’s a bizarre sensation. He’s never put up a fight before, whenever someone decided he wasn’t worth all the danger associated with Murphy’s Law. He almost lost Melissa that way, and was incredibly fortunate she decided to choose him. Typically, it’s easier for everyone if he just accepts it without complaint, and he doesn’t like making a scene. But this time, every part of him is rebelling against the idea.

He really, really doesn’t want to lose Zack. Zack, who’s fast and strong and quick on his feet. Zack, who has good instincts and knows how to trust them. Zack, who willingly followed Milo all this way despite knowing about his EHML. He doesn’t come across people like Zack every day.

Right now, it’s just him and Zack in a dark tunnel. There’s no one else around to worry about, no judgmental looks or scolding words. No one to tell Zack that he shouldn’t be around Milo. So maybe, this time, Zack can really decide for himself. Maybe, deep down beneath the knee-jerk fear reaction, he feels what Milo does, and knows that leaving would be the wrong choice.

Maybe Milo can fight for this.

So instead, Milo asks, “How do you live like that?”

Zack’s voice is hesitant. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Milo turns around, frustration nipping at him because it’s always so hard to put these things into words, “you wanna live like those other kids? They took a bus to school today. A bus! Does that seem like more fun to you?”

That really doesn’t say everything he means. It doesn’t say ‘I think you’re amazing and destined for so much more than an ordinary life’ or ‘I feel better with you by my side so please don’t go.’ But none of that comes easily to Milo, so it’ll have to do.

Zack stops and thinks about it. Really thinks about it. Milo holds his breath.

“Hm. Alright,” Zack says simply. He hops over the middle channel, landing next to Milo on the other side. Closer than most people are willing to get if they don’t have to. He shoves his hands in his pockets and looks at Milo expectantly. “Where to next?”

Milo is almost stunned by the sheer relief that washes over him, but he pushes through it. “Well, there’s a loose grate up over here to the left,” he says, turning around to resume walking. “I’ve been here before.”

“Of course you have,” Zack says, and it actually sounds fond.

Milo’s heart is running now, though he’s not sure why.

~*~

As they scramble their way through the construction site, Milo can’t help but think that they make a good team.

He knows he’s letting himself get too attached, too quickly. At the end of this, Zack could very well change his mind. Or maybe tomorrow, or after a week. Maybe his tolerance of Murphy’s Law has a limit. He wouldn’t be the first.

But they’re incredibly in-sync, for having just met not even a half-hour ago. They don’t even speak as they navigate the various hazards together. Zack seems to be relying on his instincts and cues from Milo, and they escape unscathed, floating down the river on the detached bed of a dump truck.

After they avoid the wolf (again) and Milo sends Diogee home (again), Zack climbs over to sit next to him, leaning back on his arms. His hand is close to Milo’s knee, close enough that their hands would be touching if Milo put his down. And the way Zack’s looking at him right now… his heart’s acting up again. Maybe he should get checked for arrhythmia.

“You know,” Zack starts, “I don’t know if it’s the adrenaline talking, but I’m starting to feel like we can handle anything that comes our way.”

If that’s how adrenaline makes Zack talk, Milo certainly doesn’t mind it. It’s not often that someone else is doing the reassuring, unless it’s Melissa or his family. And the confidence Zack says it with is an incredible thing. Even if it is just adrenaline.

Of course, now that Zack’s gone and said something like that, Murphy’s Law can’t resist the opportunity, and a massive tidal wave appears out of nowhere to carry them out of the river and straight off the edge of a cliff.

This time, Zack doesn’t scream. They plummet silently for a couple seconds before he turns his head towards Milo, almost casually, and says, “Well, maybe not anything…”

Milo would laugh at that, but then they faceplant onto the dome of an alien spacecraft and suddenly have other things to worry about.

~*~

Somehow, they end up at school on time and unscathed.

Zack thinks he might not have fully processed everything yet, because he feels… surprisingly okay. Considering what happened. But really, it seems silly to freak out and make a huge deal out of it when they’re both perfectly fine.

Aside from missing lunches, that is, but the redhead sitting in front of him- who he recalls as Melissa- has that covered. They don’t have time for formal introductions before the teacher comes in and begins class, but context clues tell Zack that she’s Milo’s only friend. And from what he can piece together, she orchestrated a betting pool to ensure they’d have something for lunch in the event theirs were destroyed.

So she’s either psychic, or stuff like this happens often.

That gets filed under ‘things to think about later,’ next to everything else that just happened. Right now, he has to focus on getting oriented to his new school. Which is… actually pretty boring, compared to this morning. Meeting his teachers, figuring out his schedule, finding his locker… it’s crazy to think he was stressing about this stuff just last night.

He gets strange looks here and there, and catches a few murmurs of, “Someone better warn the new kid” and “Wonder how long that’s gonna last” that make him… oddly indignant. He doesn’t like the feeling that his new classmates are judging his choice to stick by Milo.

He also doesn’t like the attention he’s attracted from Melissa. She’s nice enough, but he catches her staring at him sometimes, this intense look in her eyes, like she’s trying to puzzle something out, and it gives him the creeps.

Someone remind him not to get on her bad side…

If something’s up, Milo’s oblivious to it. He’s happy to help Zack around to their classes, and never falters under the stares or whispers or occasional small mishaps that occur. And they are small; nothing else that happens that day can compare to their crazy morning.

Which is perfectly fine by Zack. No complaining here.

The relative calm gives him a chance to actually get a good look at Milo- something that was neglected in all the terror. He’s deceptively average at a glance; pale, brown hair, brown eyes. An ever-present smile on his face. His outfit’s a little odd; shorts, sweater vest, loafers. And Zack quickly finds out that Milo’s backpack isn’t just a regular school backpack that happens to contain a random assortment of items.

Milo wears it nonstop throughout the day, never stashing it under his desk or in his locker. Not even during lunch. That also gets filed under ‘things to think about later.’

Along with the fact that Milo has a lot of scars. Like, a lot.

Zack remembers the conversation at the bus stop, but in the light of day it’d been easy to overlook. Milo’s so pale, the faint marks don’t show up that much until they’re under more contrasting light. And again, they aren’t running for their lives, so Zack can take the time to notice the dozens of scars on Milo’s arms, knees, and face.

Some are small pockmarks, some are lines of varying thickness, some are patchy blotches. Some of them look surgical in nature, while others Zack can’t even begin to speculate about. After their morning together, it’s not hard to imagine why Milo’s acquired so many scars in his short life, but it’s… sobering, to say the least.

Today wasn’t the rule. Milo gets hurt a lot. Like, a lot.

And so Zack’s starting to think this morning was actually really lucky, all things considered. Part of him wants to reconsider his decision. Not so much out of fear that he’ll get hurt, but because he’s not sure he can handle seeing Milo get hurt.

But then Milo catches him staring once. Their eyes meet briefly before Milo’s cheeks flush and Zack looks away, his stomach flipping like it did when they were freefalling together, and he already knows he’s in for the long haul.

~*~

Melissa doesn’t get a chance to speak to Milo alone until lunch, when Zack excuses himself to the bathroom and their little three-person table becomes its usual two-person table.

Milo, who had been excitedly recounting the morning’s events for her, suddenly falls silent as soon as Zack’s out of earshot. He looks up at her apprehensively, fidgeting with his hands, and Melissa already knows what’s on his mind before he says anything.

“So, uh, what- what do you think of him?” he asks quietly.

Melissa tilts her head, considering. She hadn’t thought much of the guy at the bus stop, simply recognizing that he was a new kid and thus didn’t know not to stand that close to Milo. She’d been surprised to see Zack stuck with Milo through all that happened, and seemed none the worse for wear.

“It sounds like he handled himself well,” she concedes.

Milo nods enthusiastically. “Yeah, he really did. I was very impressed.”

“I can tell,” Melissa says, amused.

Milo laughs sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. Is that a blush? “I just, I know we haven’t really hung out with other people in… forever. I didn’t mean to have this whole adventure with him, without you, it just happened.” His expression sobers. “And- and I like him, and I think he’d be a good fit for us, but if you don’t, then just say the word. I’ll understand.”

Then he gives her that little smile of his, the one that’s sad at the edges like he’s already expecting a certain answer and has resigned himself to it. The one he uses whenever he’s apologizing for some Murphy’s Law related incident. The one that makes her want to shake him and say, “It’s not your fault, you deserve better.”

Over the years, some people have tried to stick around Milo just for the spectacle of it. A chance to see what the deal with the ‘disaster kid’ was (particularly back when Diogee was allowed to accompany Milo to school as his service dog). They didn’t care about Milo as a person.

And worse, Milo never caught on. He really thought someone was giving his friendship a chance, and was crushed when they inevitably decided it wasn’t worth the risk.

It only happened a handful of times before Melissa established herself as “someone you do not want to cross” and people were too scared to try it anymore, but it took a toll on both of them. Milo’s convinced that he’s destined to go through life alone, with no one but Melissa at an arm’s length away.

And Melissa’s instantly suspicious of anyone who shows an interest in Milo. Admittedly, she might’ve jumped the gun a few times, and chased off potential friends who could’ve actually had good intentions. After all, some people genuinely did try to be his friend, and just couldn’t handle Murphy’s Law. Mostly new kids like Zack. But whenever someone who already knew them started getting closer, Melissa’s defensiveness quickly deterred any further advances, before she even knew whether they were sincere or not.

Those are acceptable loss margins in her opinion, if it meant Milo didn’t have to suffer another heartbreak.

But she knows he’s lonely. More than others would think, and probably more than he’s willing to admit to himself. The two of them are close, but one person can’t be someone’s whole world. He’s always wary of putting too much on her, so she knows there are holes she isn’t filling.

If she’s being honest, it might be nice to have someone else around to help handle the Murphy mayhem. From what she’s heard, Zack is plenty capable- and that’s without any prior experience. She could do worse for someone to take under her wing. Plus, she hasn’t gotten strange vibes from him yet, regarding Milo. He seems genuine.

And Milo really seems to like Zack. Probably more than he’s willing to admit to himself.

So much so, in fact, it speaks volumes that he’d break this budding friendship if she asked him to. It scares her, sometimes, how much of Milo’s heart she seems to hold. They’ve won each other’s trust and loyalty a thousand times over since they first became friends, but all she really did in the beginning was show him some basic kindness. That’s all it took for him to decide he was devoted.

The wrong person could really abuse that.

… Zack better not be the wrong person.

“He’s in,” Melissa decides.

The way Milo’s face lights up almost makes all her worries go away.

Almost.

Zack will have to watch himself around her. If she gets a single whiff of any funny business from him, he’s done, and she’ll make him regret ever switching schools.

But even Melissa has to admit, the soft way Zack looks at Milo when he returns to the lunchroom and Milo happily waves him over makes her think she probably doesn’t have anything to worry about.

Probably.

~*~

[cutaepatootie]

Holidays of Bread and Wood

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

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

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

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

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

* * *

Every start is difficult.

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

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

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

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

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

Still, every start is difficult for you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah.”

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

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

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

. . .

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

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

“Hmm,” she mumbles. “Not everyone.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He’s old?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Will you find him? You don’t know.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Again, no one answers.

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

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

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

In the middle of the room, there is a worktable full of untouched pieces of wood. All sorts of carpentry tools are displayed around the room.

Maybe the man is a carpenter? That’s why he lives in the woods? Because he has easy access to trees and wood?

You walk closer to the shelves, appreciating the different shapes and creatures.

“What are you doing in my house?” a voice echoes around the shed all of the sudden, startling you and causing the sack of bread to slip from your hands.

You turn around quickly, coming up with different excuses for your rude behavior.

“H-hello,” you stutter, fear filling your whole body. “I’m Y/N, the new baker of the –“

“I didn’t ask who you are,” the man interrupts you, taking a step inside the shed, a step closer to you. “I asked what you were doing in my house.”

“I’m sorry, didn’t mean to come off as rude. I was just walking around the place, saw this shed and the door was open…”

“So, you see an open door and you walk inside the place, even if it’s the place of a stranger?”

“Oh, n-no, I… I just…” words die in your mouth and your cheeks turn red. You are sure the man hates you by now and think you’re completely stupid.

“You what?” he urges you.

You lift your gaze to stare at the man standing by the door of the shed and you frown. Well, man? He looks like he’s your age more or less. His voice isn’t thick and raspy at all as you had pictured it would be, he doesn’t have a thick beard covering his features and he definitely doesn’t look hermit-like or scary as Lucrecia told you. He looks younger than you had pictured him to be, and definitely more delicate and… Well, handsome. Such a contrast with his harsh words.

“Do you have difficulties answering questions?” he says, raising his voice a bit and starting to lose his patience.  

“No, I’m sorry,” you say, shaking your head. “I’m Y/N the new baker in town. As a welcome gift I wanted to give you some of my bread.”

“I don’t like bread.”

“You haven’t tried mine.”

“I don’t want to try yours,” he answers, holding your gaze without even blinking once.

You narrow your eyes. Alright, you entered his house without his permission, but now he’s being plain rude towards you. You already apologized!

“Alright,” you nod your head, grabbing the sack that had fallen on the floor. It is full of small wood shavings. “I entered in here without your consent, and I am sorry for that. I came here with my best of intentions, didn’t mean to offend you. But you didn’t have to treat me so poorly. I’ll leave now, with my bread since you don’t wanna try it.”

“Alright.”

“Good,” you say, narrowing your eyes.

You wait for him to say something else, and when you see he isn’t going to do so, you stroll towards the door and walk past him. On the outside, you turn around and look at him once again. He’s staring back at you.

“Nice figurines, by the way. Such a shame you don’t wanna be nice to your neighbors, I’m sure they would buy all your work for a good price.”

“They’re not on sale.”

“Such a shame too. Goodbye.”

And with that, you nod once again and walk towards your carriage. You’re not someone who gets angry easily but the way he spoke to you and how he treated you… Maybe he’s not some old man, with thick beard and a scary face, but he’s just like Lucrecia told you he would be.

He’s still staring at you when you climb on top of your carriage and spur your horse, walking the same path of dirt you followed towards his hut.

. . .

“Don’t frustrate yourself sweetie,” Mrs. Gah says. She’s one of your everyday clients, a nice old woman who owns a flower shop not far from your bakery. She says the scent of your freshly baked bread makes her flower bloom happily. “It has always been like this since he first moved in here. We haven’t even seen him around town. We just know he lives here because some people cross him when they go to the woods to get wood.”

“I’m not frustrated, Mrs. Gah. “I honestly don’t care that he didn’t want to try my bread, what makes me angry is the way he treated me. I just wanted to say hi!”

“You know what?” she says. “His loss. He will regret not having tasted your bread, believe me. If he hadn’t rejected that bread, I wouldn’t be here eating the most delicious nut bread I’ve ever tried.”

You can’t help but smile at the old woman’s words. It’s not worth it being so down because some stranger was rude to you. His loss.

“Thank you, Mrs. Gah,” you laugh.

The neighbors of the small town soon make you forget about your encounter with that rude man. Christmas is just around the corner – tomorrow, actually – and you have lots of bread to prepare. These holidays, everyone wants to have some of your bread at their table.

You spend entire days locked in your kitchen, trying new recipes and trying to improve your usual ones.

To you, Christmas Holidays smell like freshly baked bread, opened windows from which the winter air seeps carrying scents of pines and snow. It has always been like that, ever since you have a memory to turn to.

“Oh, crap,” you protest as you get the bread out of your stone oven.

It is just as uncooked as it was when you got it into the oven.

You click your tongue and open the wooden door behind your big stone oven. You shake your head, reprimanding yourself for not having noticed it sooner, when you see you’ve run out of wood.

You go to the pantry where you keep all your ingredients and wood, only to realize that there isn’t any wood either. How come you didn’t think of having extra wood for the holidays?

It is 24 of December, six a.m. in the morning. Clients will start arriving soon and you don’t have any single piece of bread.

You would go to the usual place where you buy wood, the house of a farmer who collects loads of wood and then sells it to the neighbors, but this early you’re sure it is closed.

You will have to take care of the problem yourself.

Without thinking about the cold and how sleepy you still are to go into the woods for some wood, you grab your coat, some axe you had lying around there and start your way towards the woods

The axe is heavy and you haven’t picked wood since you were little and accompanied your father into the forest in summer.

You don’t plan on getting too deep into the forest, since you just need a few trunks for today, but you don’t know the paths around the forest too well and when you realize it, you’re lost.

You sigh loudly, a white puff of air leaving your lips.

“Calm down, Y/N, it’s still early and you can find your way out of here.”

You haven’t brought your horse either because of your plans of not going too deep into the forest. The thought doesn’t help yourself to calm down at all.

The only thing you can do now, given your circumstances is at least take advantage of the situation and pick as much wood as you can.

The few first blows with the axe are pathetic – and you try with a bush, not even a tree. Your hands and arms are strong from kneading the bread dough, but you don’t have the technique, nor the knowledge to pick wood properly.

After some minutes – maybe more – you finally gather a decent piece of wood.

Wiping away the sweat from your forehead, you stare proudly at the piece of wood lying on the ground. The first one, of many more you are going to need.

“You won’t even be able to light a small fire with that,” a voice says, echoing through the open space of the forest.

You let out a loud shriek, letting your axe fall on the ground.

You turn around, searching for the owner of that voice. When you focus your gaze in the place where the voice came from, you see the carpenter with his dark cloak and equally as dark clothes.

“Oh, Lord,” you say, bringing a hand to your chest. “You scared me! What’s wrong with you appearing in places all of the sudden?”

“The first time you were in my shed, and now you’re in my forest.”

“Excuse me? This is not your forest,” you laugh, turning around once again and picking your axe from where it fell on the ground.  “This is the town’s forest.”

The man laughs sarcastically. “No, it isn’t,” he says. “You trespassed the limits of my property a few kilometers away.”

He points with his chin behind you.

“Well, if this is your property, you should have it delimited with a fence or something.”

He shrugs. “I don’t need to do that, no one goes that deep into the forest.”

You sigh. He’s kicking you out, again.

“Alright, you don’t need to say more. I’ll pick my things and leave your property. I got lost searching for the best wood.”

“What are you doing in here, chopping wood on your own?”

“Today’s Christmas Eve and people want to buy my bread for their family dinners, but I have no wood at home nor at the shop, so I can’t bake bread! Which means I’ll ruin their celebrations!”

“You think you will ruin their celebrations because they don’t have your bread? Is it that good?”

“You would know if you had tasted it when I offered you some,” you answer, arching a brow.

He sighs and takes off the hood of his coat, letting you see his face fully for the first time.

His features are round and soft, a big nose that sits well in the middle of his face, puffy cheeks, almond-shaped eyes, thin lips, dark hair, pale skin… He looks straight out of a fairy tale.

“Let me pick some wood for you,” he says, walking towards you.

You grab your axe with more strength and take a step back.

“No, I can do it myself.”

“Yeah, I can see,” he mocks, pointing at the small piece of wood lying on the floor next to all sort of branches.

“Why would you want to help me, anyways?” you frown.

“Because if I help you, you will get out of my forest sooner.”

You narrow your eyes, you knew he had second intentions, and that those second intentions had something to do with getting rid of you.

“Alright, but first, you teach me. That way I can do it myself the next time.”

“You don’t buy wood from that poor old farmer in town?”

“Yeah, but it’s too early, the man has to get his good sleep.”

The man scoffs and holds his right hand in front of you. You stare at it with a deeper frown in your face.

“Give me your axe,” he ends up saying after a few seconds of silent confusion.

“Oh, yeah, right,” you nod, handing him your axe. “Be careful, it was my dad’s axe.”

He plays with the axe in his hands. “Well, I’ve seen worse axes I must admit.”

You roll your eyes and watch him walk towards the nearest three. It has some cuts where you’ve hit its truck with your axe. Seeing that, he raises his brows and stares at you.

“I’d love to see you baking bread, smarty-pants.”

In his lips, something similar to a smile appears.

“Your technique is not that bad, you’re pretty strong from how deep the cuts are, but you’re not hitting the trunk in the right angle. You can’t cut wood in a right angle; you have to do a 45 downwards angle like this…”

He throws his arms backwards and then, slams the axe in the trunk of the tree with all his strength. The movement is quick and sharp. He mimics that movement a couple more times until a good piece of wood detaches itself from the rest of the trunk.

You look at it with a satisfied expression on your face.

“I must admit it looks like a good piece of wood for my stone oven,” you say, nodding your head.

The man throws a proud smirk your way.

“Except others, I don’t mind appreciating other people’s work when it’s well done.”

The smirk disappears from his face and, instead, he rolls his eyes. Good, he was starting to get too cocky.

“Alright, your turn now,” he says, giving you the axe.

You grab it in your hands with strength.

“Focus on the trunk and don’t think about it too much, just hit it with the axe.”

You nod your head and mimic his previous movements, throwing your arms behind you.

“In this angle,” he says, grabbing your elbows and relocating your position. You tense up for a moment, his touch unexpected and somewhat warm.

He notices it and takes some steps back, his hands disappearing from your elbows.

“Alright, I’m ready,” you say, eyes focused on the tree trunk.

“Go ahead then, hit it.”

You nod and, with all the strength you can muster, you hit the trunk with force. Retreating the axe is hard, and you almost fall on your butt doing so, but you’re not one who gives up. So, you deliver another three blows to the trunk of the tree until a decent piece of wood falls from it.

“Not bad,” the man says from behind you.

“Not bad at all!” you say, satisfied with the result. “Now, I just need to fill this entire sack with pieces like this,” you say, pointing at the huge – and empty – sack behind you.

The sun seeps through the foliage of the tall pines and other threes when you fill the entire sack. You’re sweating, completely out of breath. The man looks like he isn’t doing any better than you.

You took turns to chop pieces of the trunk, and so, both of you are equally as exhausted.

“I’m gonna go home and grab a glass of water,” he announces as you close the sack with a bow.

“Okay, I’ll go home too. Oh, and thanks for the help.”

He shakes his head and stares at you in silence for a couple of seconds.

“Do you want to come to my house and drink some water too? You look tired,” he offers, startling you a bit.

“You’re being kind to me? I think that’s a bad sign, I should go home then.”

He rolls his eyes and grabs the sack of wood, starting to walk in the opposite direction from where you are facing.

“Don’t be silly, you need a glass of water. I’m not that evil to let you die of thirst in the forest.”

“Hmm… I don’t know if I should believe your words.”

You follow him through the path he himself had drawn towards his hut over the snow.

“What’s your name, by the way? You already know mine because I introduced myself.”

He stays quiet for some seconds, as if pondering if he should answer your question or not.

“Jungkook,” he ends up saying.

“Jungkook,” you nod. “Well, Jungkook, you were incredibly rude to me the first time we saw each other. You could have kicked me out of your house more nicely. But, today you have helped me a lot, so thank you for teaching me how to cut wood.”

He looks startled by your words, but hides the emotion from his face as soon as it arrives.

“D-don’t thank me,” he stutters. “It was pathetic seeing you cut those tiny pieces of wood.”

As his hut comes into view, you catch something you didn’t see the first time you went there. The front of the house is full of wooden tanks, most of them filled with grass and other vegetables that didn’t look too appetizing.

“What’s with all those tanks?” you ask, pointing at them with your head. “Do you have a deer as a pet or something?”

He looks at the tanks and remains quiet, leaving the sack full of wood on his doorstep.

“You have a deer as a pet?” you ask, this time serious.

“No,” he sighs. He opens the door of his hut and motions for you to walk inside. “Reindeers.”

“Reindeers?! I had heard about people who had pigs, even goats as pets but… Reindeers? Oh Lord.”

Jungkook shrugs and closes the door behind him. His house smells just like his shed did, of pine, wood and humidity. Somehow, the scent makes you feel comfortable and relax.

“You want some tea?” he asks from the kitchen.

“Oh, yeah, tea would be nice, thank you,” you answer, standing in the middle of the living room, not knowing what to do.

Every table, every piece of furniture is made of wood, and it looks like it has been made by him.

“Are you a carpenter?” you ask after some seconds.

Jungkook appears with two empty mugs and two plates. He places them on the coffee table by the sofa.

“More or less…” he hesitates. “I’ve never sold any of my pieces, but yeah, you could say I’m a carpenter.”

You nod your head and keep looking around you. The place looks cozy, the fireplace in front of the couch lit, the fire dancing happily.

“Impressive,” you murmur.

Suddenly, an idea pops in your mind.

When Jungkook comes back to the living room with a teapot and pours the tea inside each mug, you start talking.

“Hey, I want to offer you something.”

“More bread?” he asks, arching a brow.

You roll your eyes. “You wish, I’m never offering you my bread ever again,” you take a pause to drink from your mug. “I see you like reindeers, I don’t think you have them as pets because they’re wild animals and very stubborn ones, very difficult to tame. I don’t know why you want to feed them and make tanks for them, but if you keep giving them grass and old vegetables to eat,  they’ll move to other mountain.”

Jungkook narrows his eyes. “What do you want with that?”

“What I’m telling you is that I know one things reindeers like, and it is bread.”

He frowns. “Bread? Why would you know that?”

“Because my grandfather was a farmer and my mother taught me everything she had learn from him about animals.”

“And why would reindeers like bread?”

“What? Why would humans like bread?” you mock him. “We both have taste buds, alright? They’re animals with good taste.”

Jungkook arches his brows.

“Where do you wanna go with that?”

“Okay, here comes the deal. I give you the old bread I haven’t sold during the week so you can give it to the reindeers, and you provide me with wood in exchange.”

“Didn’t you buy wood from that man in town?”

“Yeah, but I like how you cut the wood better, it will fit perfectly in my stone oven. What do you say? I think we both end up winning with that deal.”

“And how am I going to give you the wood?”

“The same way I’ll give you the bread. I have a horse and a carriage, I can bring bread every Sunday, and you can give me wood instead. My carriage is resistant, it will keep up with the weight and the journeys.”

Jungkook takes a sip from his mug, pondering over the idea you presented him.

You arch a brow, a bit impatient. It’s a good opportunity to obtain good quality wood – which is essential to make good bread – and to get to know him better. You’re not gonna lie, he intrigues you. You’re a really open person, so used to moving and knowing new people, that it’s part of your personality now. The fact that he’s so closed off and distant, makes you want to know everything about him and make him your friend.

“Are you even thinking about it?” you say after a couple of minutes.

“Alright, alright, it does seem like a good proposition. But, if the bread thing doesn’t work, we’ll stop.”

“It will work,” you nod, remembering your mother’s words. “If there is one animal who is good for transporting things during winter, it’s the reindeer. But they are really stubborn and difficult to train, so give them once piece of bread per day, and they’ll be all yours.”

“Another thing, I really appreciate my loneliness, so you’ll only stay here for as much as the exchange lasts every Sunday.”

“I’m okay with that, I have no time to waste either,” you shrug. It’s not the truth, though, you want to spend time with him and get to know him, but you’ll have to be slow, the same way you have to be slow gaining a reindeer confidence. Oh Lord, are you comparing Jungkook to a reindeer?

“Then, the deal is sealed,” Jungkook nods.

You nod and finish your tea in one gulp.

“I have to go now; clients will be waiting and I haven’t baked one single row of bread today. See you next Sunday, business partner.”

He remains serious as he watches you laugh at your own words.

You don’t think too much about it, you’ll end up warming his heart, just like a slice of freshly baked bread warms your body in the morning.

“Oh, I forgot,” you say before exiting the hut. “Merry Christmas Jungkook.”

. . .

On Christmas day, you watch the kids play with their new toys from the inside of your shop.

A hot chocolate in hand, you bask in the beauty of the morning. Sun shining, snow melting on the ground, birds chirping and flying around happily.

You’re happy. With your lifestyle, with what you do and what you will do in the future.

. . .

The next Sunday, you gather all your remaining bread from the week and put it in a big sack.

You prepare your carriage, your horse and start walking towards the woods. You hope you don’t get lost, but since snow has melted, the dirt path is clear.

Jungkook is already waiting for you when you arrive. He has a pile of wood by his side, more than you expected and more than you probably need for a week.

The exchange is simple, just like the following exchanges.

You give him the bread, and he gives you the wood. Polite words are exchanged, and you can see the boy starts looking more relaxed around you, but nothing else happens.

Life keeps going on, you keep waking up at 5 a.m. to make bread, open the shop and close it by the end of the day with a huge smile on your face.

Snow melts completely, trees grow green leaves once again, flowers bloom, green grass cover the paths that lead to Jungkook’s hut, and a reindeer or two start appearing by his hut, going to his hand-made tanks to eat your bread.

One Sunday morning you arrive to the hut with your carriage full of bread. It is Autumn and soon, it will be a year since you came to town.

Jungkook isn’t waiting for you like he usually is. Instead, he runs to you as soon as you appear, shouting something about reindeers and hurrying up.

“You need to hurry up!” he is beaming, you have never seen him looking so happy and thrilled.

“Alright, alright, calm down, you’re gonna frighten Twinkle,” you say, coming to a stop and hopping off your carriage.

“Come on, give me the bread, we have to fill the tanks quickly.”

“Why? What’s going on?”

“Reindeers! A lot of them! C’mon, grab a sack and give me the rest, we need to fill the tanks before they go away.”

You quickly grab one of the sacks and hand him the rest and follow him towards the clear in which he placed the tanks. At least ten reindeers are in there, sniffling inside the now empty tanks.

You open your mouth in surprise, you had never seen so many reindeers together.

“C’mon! Fill the tanks!” Jungkook tells you, already filling one himself.

When all the bread is poured inside the tanks, the both of you walk away from the clear to a place where you can still watch the reindeers eat without startling them or making them uncomfortable.

“They’re beautiful,” you gasp. You had seen a reindeer before, but never ten in the same place, and so big!

“Yeah, they are,” Jungkook says with a smile on his lips.

You decide to not say anything else, letting him bask in the happiness of the moment.

. . .

After that day, the reindeers go to that clear every single Sunday without fail, and you and Jungkook stay there to watch them eat.

You start closing the bakery on Sunday, deciding it’s not bad to take one day to rest.

You and Jungkook speak about the reindeers, putting a name to each one and deciding which trick you’re going to use to distinguish each one of them. Then, the conversation about the reindeers turn into conversations about your weeks, and the conversation about your weeks turn into conversations about your life.

You’re used to meeting new people every now and then, so it’s not difficult for you to open up to someone. When he asks about your life, you answer happily, telling him about all the towns you lived in, the adventures you lived and the people you’ve met.

After some weeks of exchanging facts about your life and anecdotes, you realize you’ve told Jungkook everything about yourself, but you still know few things about himself.

Turns out your second Christmas Day in town is Sunday, and as you do every Sunday, you visit Jungkook’s hut with your carriage full of sacks of bread.

As you’re watching the reindeers eat from their tanks, Jungkook hands you something.

It is a small rustic bread made of wood.

“Merry Christmas,” he says, smile small as he waits for your response.

You play with the small wooden bread in your hands, and then stare at him.

“I didn’t bring you anything,” you say, cheeks turning red in embarrassment.

Jungkook shrugs. “You didn’t need to. You’ve helped me a lot this past year, I know this might look like a stupidity,” he says, pointing at the clear with the reindeers in it. “But to me, it’s not. So, thank you.”

“Well, thank you, then,” you smile. “I’ll put it on one of the shelves at the shop.”

As soon as you arrive home, you get the wooden bread from your bag and place it on the shelve that decorates the entrance of the bakery. It is usually full of flowers and other plants, but now is filled with Jungkook’s wooden bread too.

. . .

The next Sunday, you show up at Jungkook’s house with the usual sack full of old bread and an extra sack – smaller – with some of the bread you baked on Saturday.

“What’s this?” he asks.

“I know you don’t want to taste my bread,” you say, quoting the words he told you the year before. “But I thought since you gave me one of your pieces of art, I would give you one of mine.”

“You call your bread art?”

“Of course,” you smile.

After pouring the bread into the tanks and greeting the reindeers, instead of staying there and watching them as you usually do, you go to Jungkook’s hut and sit at the table in his kitchen. You display the different varieties of bread in the middle of the table, as if it was a tasting.

“Alright,” you say. “You’ll try a piece of each one of them, and, in the end, you have to tell me which one is your favorite.”

He tries your bread, smelling each one of them and playing with the pieces you give him in his hands.

He closes his eyes, ignoring every sense that isn’t the taste.

In the end, his favorite one ends up being the nut bread, and you laugh, because you knew from the beginning that he was the nut bread type of person.

. . .

In the end, Jungkook warms up to you.

Well, he warms up to you, or he warms up to your bread, you still don’t know. The fact is that he looks more relaxed and friendly with you, and you finally get to know the man that hides behind the mysterious man who lives in the mountains and never visits the town.

Word spread around town that you and the man in the mountains are friends, and neighbors start looking at you with harder gazes. But you don’t mind, because the man who hides behind that mysterious man in the mountains is a kind man, boy at heart, whose eyes hide thousands of stars and dreams. Who laughs so brightly, it can melt snow. Who sings to the reindeers when he thinks you’re not paying attention. Who feels lonely and express himself through the things he carves into wood.

And somehow, you find yourself warming up to you during Spring, and Summer, and Autumn, and then Winter again.

He starts reminding you of bread, of wood, of pine and snow.

Sundays are a sacred day to you because it’s the day when you see him and get to know another tiny piece of him.

. . .

You spend your third Christmas day in town with Jungkook.

You smile as you remember how shy he looked when he asked you if you wanted to spend the day with him.

“Hmm… Do you any plans on Christmas Day?”

“Yeah, waking up at 5 a.m. making bread, selling it to the people in town, eating by myself and going to bed early. Truth is that I don’t do anything special on Christmas Day, what about you?”

“More or less the same. I carve something that has to do with Christmas – I know, pathetic – eat and then go to bed. Santa doesn’t visit me since I moved here.”

You laugh. “What are we? A pair of octogenarians? Mrs. Gah is almost ninety-years-old and her plans on Christmas Day are funnier than ours.”

“What if we spend it together this year? You know, we can eat at my hut, play some chess… I made a chess board and figurines last week.”

You find yourself answering him with the quickest “yes” you’ve ever given.

. . .

“Didn’t know you made wine,” you say, taking a sip from you glass.

He shrugs. “Some years I do, some I don’t. This year I found some grapes in the forest so I sued them to make wine.”

“It’s tasty,” you hum. “It’s been years since I last tried wine.”

A stomach full of good food, a glass of wine in your hands, two nice rounds of chess filled with laughter… What else could you ask for?

Maybe it’s the wine that pushes you to finally ask the question you’ve been answering yourself for weeks. Maybe it’s not. You end up asking it anyway.

“Why reindeers?”

“Hmm?” Jungkook asks, taking a sip from his own glass of wine.

“Why do you like feeding reindeers and not… Razorbacks, for example.”

You laugh at your words, but Jungkook turns serious. The cracks of the fire are the only sounds that fill the hut.

It looks like you’ve touched a delicate subject. 

“If you don’t wanna tell me that’s right…”

Jungkook places his glass on wine on top of the table and focuses his gaze on the empty dishes on it.

“No, I wanna tell you,” he nods his head. “I want you to know.”

He stares at you and a wave of electricity shots through your body.

“I met Luna when I was six and she was four. She came new to the village I was from and we soon became good friends. It’s just like any other story, honestly, we grew up together, explored the world together, fell in love… Typical thing. The only thing that wasn’t common about us was her…” his gaze darkens, voice turns sad. “Luna was so special, so kind and wonderful, that the world had to compensate all that somehow. She was sick, ever since she was born, she was always sick. Every winter she would fall sick, lock herself at home and wouldn’t go out until the snow had melted and the trees had started to turn green again.”

He pauses. You let him have a moment of silence.

“It had been like that ever since she was a child, every year worse than the previous one. And still, the only thing she hated about falling sick every winter was missing the Christmas Holidays and the reindeers playing in the snow. She loved them. During the days when she was still not as sick, we would go to a lake in the outskirts of the village that was always full of reindeers in winter. We would watch them and try to pet them. We never got to pet them, though,” he lets out a small laugh.

“When we had enough money saved, and everything in our lives planned, we moved here. I had heard that there were loads of reindeers in this mountains, and bought this piece of land. I had always been good at making things with wood, so I made this cabin for the both of us. She loved it, I had never seen her look so happy.”

“It’s beautiful,” you murmur.

“Thank you,” he says, smiling softly at you. “We lived in here for some years, she still fell sick every winter, but at least, she could see the reindeers playing in the snow from her window.”

He makes another pause. This one is longer, feels thicker and heavier.

“One winter, she fell really sick, like really, really sick. It had been worse than I had ever seen. Fever, Vomits. Deliriums. I contacted a doctor, but he could do anything. Luna died before the snow melted that year.”

You bite your lower lip. You hadn’t thought about that story, you had always thought Jungkook simply liked reindeers. Just like he liked wood.

“Ever since then, I’ve stayed there because… I have nowhere else to go. I tried to feed the reindeers, make them as happy as they made her. But all I’ve done is lock myself away from the world, become bitter and carve everything she ever loved in pieces of wood.”

“Those wood figurines, are they all for her?”

He nods with his head. He leads you to his shed, lights a candle and shows you every little piece and figure he ever did. From a reindeer, to a moon, to an apple tree.

You see the longing in his eyes as he explains every little figure. How much he would have loved to gift them to his Luna.

“That’s why I feel so grateful for all the help you have given him. You have no idea how happy you’ve made me.”

You stare down at his lips for a moment. It would be so easy to reach out to him and discover how goof they would feel touching yours…

But no, it’s not the moment, nor the place. You’re not even sure if he’s fully ready to say goodbye to his Luna.

So, instead, you take a step back and shake your head with a smile on your face.

“Don’t thank me, I’ve always been happy to help you, and now, even more than I now it’s for a beautiful cause. I’m sure Luna loves what you’re doing for her wherever she is.”

You stare at him as he places the wooden figure of a reindeer back on the shelf.

You’re not sure if you will be able to smell wood every again without the image of Jungkook caressing his figures delicately coming to your mind.

. . .

And time keeps passing, but this time, it seems as if it passes slower.

You don’t know if it’s because you know that this is your last year in town and that, when winter arrives, you’ll be packing your things and finding new places to discover, new people to meet, new stories to tell… Or if it’s because you’ve found a place that feels like home.

Yeah, home, a permanent place. A safe place. A place to come back to. A place to grow old in.

For you, making bread had always been your home, that’s why you never cared too much about moving to a new place and all that. But now, making bread is not enough.

You find your home in the morning breeze that seeps through the window of your small kitchen as your kneading bread, the special scent of the town filling your nostrils. You find your home in the smiles of children like Marcela, in the conversations with people like Lucrecia. You find home in every Sunday, packing your things and putting them on your carriage. You find home in feeding the reindeers and then watching them eat happily.

You find your home in Jungkook.

You feel safe around him, you feel happy, comfortable.

Maybe that’s why time passes so slowly now. Because you feel safe, and happy, and comfortable, and every other good feeling.

But even if it passes slowly, it passes, and winter arrives.

You already told people in town that you would move when you arrived, so they all know it’s their last winter with you. But somehow, you never found the courage to tell Jungkook.

At first, you thought he wouldn’t care, on the contrary, if you went and never came back. Better for him.

Then, you just forgot about it, forgot about the fact that you would have to part soon and say goodbye.

And now… You just can’t find it in you to tell him you will leave and probably never come back.

But you know you must tell him, you can’t just disappear without saying goodbye. Not to him.

So, on your last Sunday with him, two weeks before Christmas Day and one before moving away, you tell him.

You go to his hut and there he is, smile wider, eyes brighter than ever before. Waiting for you.

You grab your sack full of old bread and Jungkook rushes to help you. The sack is heavy, but today your heart feels heavier.

You’ve fallen in love with Jungkook, just like you fell in love with bread the first time you saw your mother making it, kneading it with her bare hands.

You follow your routine, pouring the bread into the tanks, watching the reindeers eat. You try to keep up with the conversation, acting normal. But the truth is, that you can’t, that your mind is elsewhere.

“Are you alright?” Jungkook asks. “You’re too quiet.”

You bite your lower lip. He’s giving you an opportunity to tell him. You can’t miss it.

“I need to tell you something, Jungkook.”

He becomes serious immediately, eyes pierced on yours.

“Alright. Go ahead.”

You clear your throat and look away from him.

“I’m moving away.”

“What? Moving away? But you came here just… Three years ago.”

“I know,” you nod with your head. “But… I only stay three years in each place. I’m a nomad, just like my parents.”

You can feel Jungkook’s stare on you.

“I thought you just liked to visit places, not that you… Didn’t have a permanent home. And you’re telling me now? When are you going?”

You gulp. “Next week.”

You stare at him just in time to see the hurt in his eyes.

“Next week… You had three years to tell me and you’re telling me that you’re moving away next week now?”

You shake your head. “I’m sorry, I know this is not how it should have been done… But there’s no way back now.”

“No, there’s not.”

He takes some steps away from you, hurt written all over his features, making your stomach churn each time you stare at him.

“Please, forgive me Jungkook, I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“Well you did, making me trust you and open up to you just for you to throw it all away by disappearing?”

You gulped loudly.

“I wasn’t thinking about the future when I was getting to know you. All I was thinking about was how happy I was when I was with you.”

Jungkook keeps his eyes on yours for some seconds.

“If you’re so happy with me, stay here. Don’t go.”

Jungkook words feel heavy as he lets them go. They held more meaning than it seems. The both of you know it, but you’re not going to acknowledge, because that would mean letting go of the rest of the things you know.

“I can’t, Jungkook,” you shake your head. “This is who I am, this is what I am. Without this, what would I do? My parents did this, and I’ll do it for the rest of your life.”

“Then, you’re not that happy when you’re with me.”

You shake your head again. “You don’t understand… I’ve spent all my life going from one place to another, what will I do if I stay rooted in one? I don’t know how to live like that without feeling asphyxiated.”

“I do understand, Y/N,” Jungkook says. Sad eyes staring into yours. “You’re the kind of person who goes to places, turn them into theirs, fill them with memories of them. Make everything smell like them, taste like them… Make everyone fall in love with them. Just for them to disappear, leaving a huge void in the place they were. Luna was like that too.”

Your eyes fill with tears. You don’t remember the last time you cried – probably when your parents died – so used to laugh all the time and show others your brighter side.

“I-I…” you stutter.

No coherent words come to your mind. You’re left blank after Jungkook’s words. His words reminded you of your parents. The huge void they left in you when they died, the memories of them, the love you had for them… Are you the same?

“I wish you good luck, hope you finally find a place to call home someday.”

And with that, he turns around and starts walking towards his hut, facing his back to you the entire time.

You don’t run after him.

You don’t call his name.

You don’t tell him that, without him, you will never be able to find a place to call home.

You don’t look for him during the next week.

Instead, you start packing your things, saying goodbye to the neighbors. To Marcela, who cries and hugs you and whom you gift a box full of your cinnamon breads. To Lucrecia, and Mrs. Gah… Everything feels like all the other times you moved from a place you had used to call home for three years. You feel nostalgic and sad, but also excited for what’s about to come.

When you think about Jungkook, though, anything feels like the other times you moved to a different place.

You can’t leave the town without letting him know how important he’s to you. How much he feels like home. He is more than enough for you to stay, but you’re too coward to admit that to yourself – written in a letter feels less real. You tell him that he reminds you of all the good things you love in life, of bread and wood and Christmas Holidays.

You tell him that you love him.

You tell him that, maybe someday, you will see each other again.

You write all that in a letter and leave it stuck on his front door.

You never receive a response for that letter, though.

. . .

The day you leave, a row of neighbors wait for you in the center of town to tell you their final goodbye.

You thank everyone, a kind smile on your face. This time, the smile doesn’t reach your eyes.

It’s such a familiar scene to you that it’s part of your unusual routine by now.

You get on your carriage and check that all your belongings are packed in it. You’re doing just that, when the crowd separates, and a man dressed in all black clothes appear. He carries a heavy-looking sack with him.

The people gasp, and you let a soft: “Jungkook?” escape your lips.

He hops on the carriage, grabs your face wit both hands and presses his lips against yours. Your eyes widen, and the crowd lets out a loud gasp.

“W-what?” you stutter once you part the kiss.

“I haven’t been able to answer your letter, I’ve been busy packing my things.”

“Packing your things?” you ask. “What do you mean, Jungkook?”

“You told me I’m your home, the place you want to go back to every time. It wouldn’t make sense to stay in the hut when you’re my home too.”

Your eyes start filling with tears.

“I’ve lived in there for years, lonely, thinking I was doing it for Luna, when I was doing it for myself. Because I was scared of the outside world. Just the opposite of you. You love the outside world so much… I think it’s time to let myself see all that… By your side.”

Those tears that fill your eyes, begin rolling down your cheeks.

“Are you sure, Jungkook?”

“I’m more than sure.”

This time feels like all the other times you moved from a place you had used to call home for three years, except for the fact that you will be accompanied by someone who reminds you of holidays of bread and wood, reminds you of home.

* * *

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

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

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

Every December now feels like a man you know. A man who loves hugging you tightly from behind every morning as he watches you knead the bread dough. A man who kisses you and it feels like fireworks are exploding inside your body. A man whose laugh sounds like happiness. A man whose eyes shine like a thousand starts locked inside a small jar.

Every December now feels like Jungkook and the wooden figurines he carves on the back of your bakery as you take care of the shop, like Christmas Holidays and the bread you make together before sitting at your small table and eating dinner together.

Every December now feels like Jungkook, feels like home. And you’re happy, because you know it’ll stay like that for a long time.

[arthurs-wife]

Is there any way you could do something with a future female reader? Maybe she gets gets sent back in time or she brings Arthur to the future 🤷‍♀️ you're choice fam.

(i might have gone overboard, this was an amazing prompt, thank you so much!)

You had found a time in your busy schedule to take a moment to yourself. Work and school, your family, that guy who kept pestering you at the library, it all melted away for a few moments as you lay out in the middle of the greenway. The sun shone down on you happily and you felt the grass beneath your legs.

Truly though, the universe couldn’t afford to bring you a few moments peace. The air to your left suddenly warped like old wood and through it came a horse, a man riding it as fast as he could. They streaked across the greenway and you stood up slowly, following them intently. The man seemed to realize he wasn’t where he ought to be and stopped, you could hear his deep voice echo through the field.

You shoved your glasses into your hair and saw him spin around, spotting you and waving an arm. He called at you faintly and you raised an arm to meet him, starting towards him.

You met in the middle and saw the man up close. He looked disheveled and extremely out of place.

“S’cuse me miss,” he greeted in an accent you didn’t recognize, “can you uh, tell me where we are?”

“We’re in Florida,” you said slowly, “I take it from that rip in space time back there that you’re not where you thought you were?”

“Where’s Florida?”

“Southern-most state,” you replied.

“I was just in Lemoyne,” he muttered, wiping his brow and looking around again.

“Lemoyne?” you scoffed, “what are you from the 1800s?”

“Is this not the 1800s?”

“Florida hasn’t been called Lemoyne since 1912,” you said, putting a hand on your hip.

“What year is it now?” he asked, surely he wasn’t looking forward to the answer.

“2019, my friend.”

“Well ain’t that just a damper on my day.”

You looked back at your car then to the man again.

“Can I bring you back to town with me?” you asked, “I’m not sure what you can do about your horse though.”

“Well where’s yours?”

Oh boy.

“I have my own ride,” you tried to explain, “if we want to get anywhere we’ll have to take it.”

The man considered before jumping down and smacking his horse on the rear and sending her away.

“She’ll find me again,” he assured you, “let’s get to this ride of yours.”

You led him back to your car and opened the door for him. He hesitated a moment, walking around the car and taking it all in.

“This a stagecoach?” he asked.

“Sort of,” you cocked your head, “just without the horses. And the whips. Anyway, come on, get in.”

He clambered in and shut the door, waiting for you to get in and start the engine. He put out his hands instinctively when it roared to life and you put yours on his knee. You both looked at it for a moment before settling back down.

“Sorry,” you said, “my name is y/n.”

“Arthur.”

You shook hands. The engine puttered away and you sat there for a moment.

“I’m not even sure where to take you man,” you looked at him.

“Well,” he thought for a moment, “I just jumped 120 years ahead of my time and there’s nothing saying I won’t get ripped back in an instant. Show me what the future of civilization looks like. Show me it’s worth it.”

You shrug and start driving away, bumping down the road until you hit asphalt. Arthur is stock still in his seat, holding onto the door.

“The ‘oh, shit’ bar is right there,” you say.

“The what?”

You motion to the handle above his door and he grabs it.

“Mind if I put on some music?” you ask.

“I’m curious to see how anything works right now,” he laughs, “go on, show me.”

At the red light you take out your phone and pull up Spotify, plugging your aux cord in and putting on some music. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G0sEclM9JRw

You were pretty out in the sticks but Arthur watched your every movement, taking your phone and inspecting every inch of it. He was full of questions and kept asking you how the car worked, how the streetlights worked, how was the music coming from your phone to the car?

You eventually made your way into civilization and Arthur was glued to the window.

“What’s that place?”

You looked and he was pointing to the mall.

“It’s like a general goods store,” you explained, “but for shit you don’t need.”

“Can we go?”

“Sure, but we’re getting you changed.”

He looked down at himself.

“What for?”

The mall wasn’t as crowded as usual which was good. You told him to leave the hat in the car and follow you.

He really was a fish out of water. You entered a department store and he looked around in awe.

“How’s it so cold in here?” he asked.

“AC,” you said and stopped yourself, “air conditioning. Blows cold air through those vents.”

You pointed and he looked.

“I’ll be damned.”

Shopping was far too fun. You spent too much time dressing him in different outfits and finally settling on a pair of jeans with a black button up shirt.

“You clean up nicely,” you said, eyes lingering too long on his butt, “want to get your hair done?”

“You don’t like it?” he said, turning around to face you.

“Personally I like the long hair,” you said, motioning for him to come with you, “I just didn’t know if you were, like, able to cut it.”

“We can’t,” he said sadly, shaking his head, “scissors weren’t around in 1899.”

You narrowed your eyes and looked at him. He smirked and you shoved him with a shoulder.

Clothes acquired you set off again, keeping an eye out for things you thought Arthur would like. Your afternoon adventure with a cowboy was proving to be one of the most interesting times in your life.

“Oh, I have to take you here!” you turned quickly into a parking lot and found a space, “sorry, I’ll cool it with the swerving.”

“I have no idea what you just said,” Arthur grumbled, exiting the car and following you, “what is this place?”

“This is Publix,” you motioned and the doors opened automatically, fascinating Arthur to no end, “best grocery store on earth.”

Arthur marvelled at the amount of produce, fresh meat, liquor selection.

“What’s this stuff over here?” he motioned to the section of organic items.

“Oh we’re doing this thing now where everything has to be organic,” you said, picking up a bundle of bok choy, “we got tired of all the chemicals.”

“There weren’t no chemicals back in my day.”

“Oh you’re right,” you agreed, “but since your time, we started mass producing, throwing chemicals in our food and it scared us so now we’re back to doing things your way. Full circle.”

“I guess.”

“Come on, I’ll get you a Pub sub.”

“A what?”

You hoped you weren’t overloading the man with everything as you watched him try and eat the entire chicken tender sub, but he looked so amazed at how one person could eat such a big portion.

“Tastes funny,” he said, chewing thoughtfully, “is that the chemicals?”

“No I got you the organic kind,” you smirked.

He chuckled but ate the whole sandwich anyway.

You were sitting on your car’s hood outside of a CVS after buying Arthur a pack of cigarettes that he was thoroughly enjoying.

“What’d you say these were?” he asked, inspecting the pack.

“Cowboy killers,” you said.

“How about that.”

He started coughing, a massive fit that ended with some blood on the ground. You patted his back, concerned, but he waved you off.

“I’m afraid I’m not long for this world, darlin’,” he said, “although I do find it amusing that the creator thought to show me the future of this damn world before I die.”

“What’s wrong with you?” you asked.

“I have tuberculosis,” he said mournfully, “pretty bad case, the doc told me.”

“Do you remember what year it is?” you asked, getting up to walk across the street, “come on, I have an idea.”

The clinic was also thankfully empty, it seemed like the universe picked today for you to save this handsome cowboy’s life.

“Hi,” you said, approaching the counter, “this is my brother and he’s not on my insurance but I think he has TB. Can you help?”

“Tuberculosis?” the nurse said, deadpan.

“Yeap.”

“Insurance?”

“Can you just put it on my tab?”

“No.”

“Fine,” you huffed, “out of pocket it is.”

The wait wasn’t long and you two watched Jurassic Park. He had so many questions.

“You know you’re a pretty forward thinker for someone from your time,” you finally said, “it’s not a bad thing, I’m just surprised.”

“The gang I run with tries to be as accepting as possible,” he said, “but things aren’t looking too good for the minorities. Does it get better?”

You wish you could tell him different.

“I’m sure in another 120 years it’ll be better.”

“Mr. Morgan?”  

The stone faced doctor called you back and you followed her to the room.

“Nurse says you have TB, huh?”

As a response, Arthur coughed his entire lung out.

“Okay,” the doctor said, pulling a cover over her face and handing you one, “I’m going to do a TB skin test on you and see what it does.”

She put a small needle in his forearm and he winced.

“Come back in 24 hours to see the results and we’ll go from there, okay?”

“24 hours?”

“That’s how long the test takes to show if there’s TB in your system.”

“In the meantime,” she said, pulling out a pad, “I’m going to give you this prescription for Isonaizid and rifapentine, you’ll take each one once a week for three months. Sound good?”

He nodded and took the paper, and you led him out of the room. Out in the waiting room, you pointed to your car motioned him to wait by it.

“Can you send me the bill please?” you asked the nurse, “here, I’ll give you my address.”

Back at the car Arthur shook his head as you approached.

“It’s that easy?”

“Not always,” you said, starting the car and heading to the pharmacy, “I think they just took pity on you.”

Arthur near fainted when the clerk asked for $300 for the drugs.

“I’ll just put it on my credit card,” you said, pulling it out and swiping.

“Do I even want to know?”

“Not unless you want to stay in the future for the next two weeks while I explain it.”

“Can we go back to that field now?” he asked back in the car, “as much fun as this was I miss the open space. It’s too crowded here.”

You nodded and headed back, taking the scenic route and passing trees, farms, dilapidated old houses held up more with charm than brick.

“So you all can cure all diseases like that now?” he asked.

“No, there’s still stuff like cancer, mental illnesses, auto-immune disorders,” you listed, “that we just kind of have to live with. We’re also still pretty horrible to black people and women and disabled folks. And we’re still at war with pretty much everyone.”

“You’ve had 120 years for christ’s sake,” Arthur laughed, “what the hell y’all been doing?”

“Making money, I guess.”

You turned off your car at the field and got out, fully appreciating the crisp air and open sky, even moreso now.

“So what do you think,” you asked, “is all this civilization worth the hype?”

He looked at you sadly and down at the antibiotics in his hand.

“Do you think it’s worth it?” he retorted.

You didn’t know.

The air behind you ripped again and Arthur’s horse trotted up. He put the antibiotics in his bag and held out a hand.

“Thank you for saving my life, y/n.”

“Weren’t nothin’,” you tried and he gave you a look. “Take care of yourself, Arthur.”

He nodded at you and mounted his horse, trotting off to the rip and looking back at you. He raised an arm and you waved back before he disappeared completely. He was gone.

You weren’t sure why but you spend a good amount of time crying in your car after that. The sight of his hat, still on the floorboard, made you laugh and you put it on.

Fastest cowboy in Florida.

[b-lightwalker]

The Hylian Child Chapter 3

Previous: Chapter 2

Next: Chapter 4

Disclaimer: The Legend of Zelda does not belong to me

Link, now a young voe of ten, sat outside under a tarp with Tangela, who decided she wanted to be a merchant and left her position as guard. She sold arrows and was quite the expert of making them, making her perfect for the position. She also taught Link how to make them, which came in handy since he practiced with his bow a lot. A glance around and she noticed how many foreign vai were in town, keeping note of how many looked like they would need arrows.

Today will another profitable day, she thought with a smile.

She was then snapped out her thoughts when she heard Link hiss in pain. She turned her head and saw him shaking his hand. Her gaze softened as she reached for a bandage and cloth and carefully cleaned the cut Link received from the small carving knife. Once his cut was taken care of she started cleaning the blood-stained knife.

“That’s odd,” she heard one vai say.

“I thought boys weren’t allowed in town,” another said.

“No, that’s voes.”

She couldn’t locate who was talking, but she knew the foreigners were referring to Link. Voe weren’t allowed in town and Link would be voe soon. She heard these things being said by foreign vai far too many times. She remembered talking to Ender and Lisha about dressing Link up so he could look like a vai once. The conversation ended with Kyra mocking Link, Link going back upstairs to his room, and a big fat no from Tori. After that idea was thrown out the window, Ender decided it would be best to leave Link be and let him wear his usual clothing, which was currently being fixed. Link managed to get a tear in it. So today, Link was wearing a peach shirt with ¾ sleeves, brown capris, and light brown shoes. The clothing was breathable but not nearly as breathable as most standard Gerudo clothing.

I wonder if we have any Gerudo voe clothing. If we do, Link can wear it, and he’ll be more comfortable, Tangela thought.

Link let out a bored sigh and shielded his eyes from the harsh glare of the desert sun. It was then that he felt something wrap around his neck, he knew most would usually panic, and that he should be, but he knew it was his 13-year-old sister Kyra. He shot a glare her way, which she combated with a smirk and a light punch to the arm.

“Come on, pipsqueak,” one of her many terms of mockery. “Vaba wants us. And to that, I say sarqso. We’re getting out of this goddess-forsaken sun.”

Link released an irritated sigh, getting up to follow his sister. As he entered the house, he noticed how tidy everything was. Now a clean house shouldn’t be new to him, Tori cleaned the house everyday, but this time there was a new atmosphere surrounding it. He found himself marveling at how the multitude of vases and antiques looked so new, when they were probably older than time itself.

Tori turned to face her grandson and granddaughter and smiled. “Vasaaq, Kyra. Vasaaq, Link.” She walked outside to a tarp. She sat down and patted two spots next to her for the pair to sit. They hesitantly joined her and rested in the tarp’s shadow. “Soon, you’ll start training to become a soldier,” she looked at Link.

Link nodded with a smile. He’s watched his aunt train many times, and always told her that he wanted to become a soldier like her.

Kyra scoffed, “Like there’s even a spot for a Hylian.”

Tori ignored her and continued, “And when you do, Link, your sister will help you with the basics. The same way Lisha helped her. You see, we Gerudo stay close, and we always try to help each other. Even though—”

“Vaba, Link isn’t—”

“Even though we aren’t the same.”

Kyra huffed and crossed her arms, pouting.

Link found a grin growing on his face but didn’t have enough time to get rid of it before his vaba turned towards him, causing him to release an awkward chuckle.

“I want—no, I need you two to take care of each other, support each other, and love each other, like the siblings you are.”

“Link isn’t my brother,” Kyra hissed, “He never was and he never will be,” she glared at Link and scowled.

Link looked at his sister in shock. Sure, he knew his sister wasn’t his biggest fan, but hearing her say that hurt. He forced himself to hold back tears and dropped his head, propping his arms on his knees.

Tori rubbed Link’s back and looked back at Kyra, “Young vai, apologize to your brother.”

“For what? Telling the truth?” Kyra stood up and pointed at Link, “He doesn’t belong here.”

“Kyra,” Tori snapped, “that's enough!”

Kyra grumbled and stormed away. Link wanted to curl up into a tight ball and start crying but instead rested against his vaba’s side.

“Don’t listen to her, Link,” Tori cooed, “I think you belong. You’re just as Gerudo as anyone else here.” She stayed quiet for a moment before saying, “Unfortunately, she won’t be the only one who will put you down. You’ll meet tons of people who will make you feel like you’re not good enough. And when that happens, I want you to remember that the Goddess chose you specifically to be saved from the cruelty of the desert. Surprisingly, most foreign vehvi aren’t shown the same kindness you were. Do you understand, Link?”

Link nodded hesitantly and looked up at Tori before looking at the floor and messing with rug they were sitting on. Link then sighed, “Vaba,” he started.

She looked his way and gave a small hum to show she was listening.

“Can you tell me why the Goddess chose me?” he muttered. “And how you know?” Now he sounded like he was challenging her.

She let out a short chuckle, “Am I really that bad at hiding secrets?”

Link nodded.

“Well, I suppose your curiosity is fair for your age. Here’s the deal, I'll tell you some now, and as you get older, I’ll explain it more.” She looked over in the direction Kyra stormed off in, “Just so you know, Lisha is going to make you responsible for bringing Kyra back home.”

“…Yeah, I know.” To Link, it didn’t make sense why he was sent him to retrieve his sister, but he did it anyway.

“Don’t worry, we’ll still talk about this, but in a more private location.”

“Come on, Link. Put your back into it!” Kyra, now 20-years-old, barked at her younger brother.

Link, the 16-year-old in question, was currently sparring one of the best Gerudo soldiers who wasn’t a commander. She was tough, and much bigger than him. He only stood at 5 feet 2 inches, while she stood at the average height, for a Gerudo anyway, of 8 feet. But that wasn’t going to stop him, he kept pressing on. He dodged another one of her blows and attempted to attack her and succeeded. He hit her side with the side of his sword which knocked her off balance. This gave him the chance to trip her and knock her down. She fell and before she could get back up the tip of Link’s sword was resting just above her throat.

“Link wins,” Urbosa, the new chief, cried out. A mixture of cheers and groans followed the announcement. Link exhaled as relief replaced the adrenaline rush he was just feeling. He helped the Gerudo onto her feet and congratulated her despite the fact she lost. He then walked to his family. One of the vais obviously being the opposite of patient.

“Nice job,” Lisha said, “For a Hylian,” she added.

Kyra forced herself to stifle a giggle.

“Lisha, please,” Ender snapped, “I thought you were over this.”

“You should be saying that to Kyra. But will you relax? The one time I’m messing around and you get on my case. Besides, it was obviously Kyra.”

“Hey!” Kyra exclaimed.

“Hay’s for Hylian horses, sis,” Link countered like a young vehvi. He enjoyed being around his family much more now, even though he lost a loved one. A little before his vaba died, he noticed his aunt and sister stopped holding prejudice against him. Which they apparently stopped doing a few years before Tori died, he just hadn’t noticed.

“But you’re one of them.”

“So?”

“You did well, Link,” a voice commented.

Link immediately turned around to see who it belonged to. The voice belonged to Chief Urbosa. He nodded in respect of her and her compliment.

“You know, with you being one of my best soldiers, I want you to be my escort to Hyrule Castle next week. Is that okay?”

“Yes, Chief.”

“Good. You’re going to need to pack enough supplies for two weeks and some. The trip to the castle is longer than you think.” With that said, she walked away.

“Lucky,” Kyra said when they made it back to their house. “You’re not even 17, yet you get to go with Lady Urbosa to meet not only the king of Hyrule, but the princess and the other Champions as well.”

Link stayed quiet for a moment before saying, “Maybe…maybe she sees something in me.”

“What’s there to see besides a sunburnt Hylian?”

“Kyra,” Ender scolded.

“I’m just saying,” she said quietly. She caught a glance of Link as he sat down on a floor cushion and started reading a random book. “…I just don’t see what’s so special about him.”

“It’s okay, Kyra. Besides, Link doesn’t know what Lady Urbosa sees in him either. You two are on the same page.”

“I guess.” She sat down on the sofa behind her brother and gave him a half-hug. “Just don’t forget that you’re representing the Gerudo, even though you’re Hylian.”

“And don’t forget your manners,” Lisha blurted from the kitchen. “You’re meeting the king and princess of Hyrule.”

“Yeah, that too. But what are we gonna do about your clothes? I’m not sure it’s appropriate to go greeting the royal family wearing Gerudo voe clothing.”

“Well, we don’t exactly have any Hylian voe clothing,” Link commented.

“True. But we need to think of something.”

“Kyra, relax. If I’m representing the Gerudo, that means I have to wear my tribe’s garb with pride.”

“Fine,” Kyra relaxed, forcibly pushing all her weight on her brother. “I’m just worried. Gerudo and Hylian relations are shaky.”

“And they always have been. I know.”

“I’m just scared of what will happen to the Gerudo if the royal family learns we raised a Hylian as one of us instead of returning them.”

“There’s nothing to be afraid of, sis. Besides, Vaba wouldn’t want us worrying. So be strong, sis. Be strong, for Vaba.”

“Only if you promise to be.”

“I promise.”

“No, you need to Gerudo promise.”

“All right, all right. I, Link, a Hylian raised to honor Gerudo ways, promise to be strong for my vaba, my family, and my tribe. And if I fail to keep this promise, may Nabooru haunt me ‘til the end of my days.”

“Okay, I believe you.”

Link shook his head and rolled his eyes, “Well, since I’ll be leaving soon, there are some things I need to do.”

“Like packing,” Ender suggested.

“I’ll do that later.”

“No, you’ll do that now.”

Link knew it was now an order and put his hands up in defeat and walked upstairs to pack.

[yearofpauli]

Life in a Holiday -town

So, for the past month we have been living and working in a little town all the way up the top of the north island, called Kerikeri. We weren’t planning coming all the way up here for more than a small visit, but as sometimes happens in life; one email changed all of our plans. During Christmas-holidays when we were still in Wellington, we made a quick visit to a library where I checked out couple of job-sites just to see what was going on there.. A cute little ad caught my eye in which a small town holiday park –owners were looking for energetic couple to help them out. The ad was so interesting that I decided to send them a short application telling about us and what we had been doing for the past few months.

We didn’t hear anything back and I kind of forgot the whole application. We made our roadtrip around the north island, visiting friends near Auckland and checking out Rotorua’s volcanic activity. But me and my boyfriend were both getting a bit tired living in campsites and packing and upacking our things all the time so we decided to find a place where we would be looking for work and flat for a while. We ended up in Tauranga – a medium-sized city in the north/east coast of the north island and started checking out some flats to rent out. We had just decided to take a room in a sharehouse when I received an email from the owners of this holiday park asking whether we would like to have a chat about the job. After a small pondering we emailed back to the owners and said that we would like to hear more about the work. After couple of phone calls with the owners we decided to jump in the car and drive about 6 hours to the town where we are now and take the risk to see how it would be; anyway we didn’t really have anything to loose since we hadn’t found work yet anywhere else. And as it happened, we started working the next day! Month later and I still couldn’t be happier about our decision; in fact we have decided to skip our other winery-harvest work that we were meant to start in the middle of March and instead stay here until the end of our time in New Zealand.

 I consider myself super-lucky right now; I work in a relaxed reception-job with nice colleagues and customers and a big bonus of the job is our little cabin –accommodation right by the river with all the comforts that you could ask for. As the town is right at the top of the north island, we live in a subtropical “winterless” area where the climate is mild and fairly warm all year round – right now very warm actually as it is the middle of the summer here! I was even wondering if it ever rains here as we only got our first rain about a week ago in the middle of the night; by the morning the sun was shining again as if there had been not a single cloud in the sky at all.. I am sure we won’t get such a good weather until the end of our time here but I have to say that it is a nice change to the beginning of our time in this country (in Christchurch), to the times where I remember shivering inside our flat and waiting for one non-rainy day so that we could see some nice places around the area.

 Our life right now in Kerikeri is pretty relaxed and simple. My normal work day includes waking up in the morning to do a little jog/yoga for half an hour before work (well, I’m already making it sound better than it really is; I don’t get up every morning to do this even though that is my goal, but still at least 2-3 times/week), have a cup of coffee and breakfast and go to work (which is about 3 minute walk away). We work quite long days but have a long break in between and there is a bit of variety for the content of the days as some days we help with the housekeeping if its busy, sometimes we drive the seasonal workers, who live in the park, to work and back, prepare their lunches, help with the office work besides the normal reception work. Some days after work I jump in the river for a swim, especially after really hot days and few days a week I do some studying. Even though I never saw myself as a language person, I have always wanted to speak at least three languages so I have started studying German with a RosettaStone –language program which I have nothing bad to say about! Studying with this program is more fun than anything else! I felt like I needed my own little project besides the work (which is not too demanding) and something that would be useful for me in the future too, so there we go.. I’ll see how much I will keep up with my study this time, though I will try my best and what’s a big plus; I have my own private local teacher right at home! In the evenings we always cook ourselves and lately our dinners have been often including fish since my boyfriend has started his own hobby which is spearfishing – and this is also very good area for that as there is a lot of underwater life in the sea here. What I also really appreciate now is sleeping in a real bed – in the end we spent almost 2 months sleeping in camping sites on top of thin blow-up mattresses. Even though at the beginning I had problems sleeping in a soft bed, now I sleep like a baby, though it is true that I could get up a bit earlier on the work days..

 On our days off, we have been exploring the areas around Kerikeri. Last weekend we went all the way up to the top of New Zealand, a spot called Cape Reigna where the Pacific ocean and Tasman sea (the sea lining the west coast of the north island) meet. Cape Reigna doesen’t have much else than an old lighthouse – in fact we had trouble even finding a place to buy a bottle of water or food – but we managed to find a very quiet long beach by the ocean where we could run to the sea without any clothes (since we forgot our swimwear) as there was no-one around!

Today we have just come from a visit to a nearby bay, called Matauri Bay which is a bit busier beach with a holiday park right next to it (but again no shops, cafes or anything to buy drink or even a snack!). The bay was interesting because right by the other end of the beach is lined up dozens of quite long-term looking “temporary” dwellings such as campervans, big tents and wooden huts. You could see that most of the people have lived there at least a year or perhaps even years; one of the huts even had a horse tied to it right by the beach!

I like the town we live in also because this tiny place actually boasts several quite exotic restaurants and cafes which I wasn’t expecting since most of the towns here up north are pretty plain, only including couple of fish and chip –shops, Macca’s and overpriced cafes.

 Here, however, we have already tried some amazing Mediterranean -vegetarian and non-vegetarian food, including the (mediterranean) café’s speciality which is eggs fried in a super –hot salsa served with amazing home-made cheese, pita bread and salad topped with yummy herbs. Last weekend we tried some very-reasonably priced local Indian fine-dining and I decided to be adventurous and try some delicious-sounding Punjabi-style lens-stew. We also ordered some lamb vindaloo and as the waitress asked us whether we would like these dishes hot or medium, we decided to play it safe and order them medium-spicy. Despite our ‘safe’ choice, we were delivered some extremely hot sauces – which, don’t get me wrong, I absolutely loved – but once again I got a reminder why I try to avoid certain foods, such as very spicy stuff, as I woke up the following night with a very unpleasant burning sensation in my stomach. Anyway, not more about my stomach –troubles, heh, there are still a few Thai-European restaurants that I really want to try but perhaps one of those restaurant-visits I’ll save for my birthday which (oh my..) is in about 4 weeks again!

 Obviously, when it comes to our current life, this is not a totally normal situation since we don’t really know many people here, and right now to be honest, the only people we know are from a very different age-scale than us (the people who we work with). But I have to say that I don’t mind! I know that we only have a couple of months left here and otherwise we have everything that we need around us. I can’t wait to see my friends and relatives again but right now, my plan is to enjoy the relaxed life with its river dips, yoga and study-time and suck as many sunrays I can, inside me, hoping that the sunlight and D-vitamin -reserves will last until far over the next winter which I will be spending in a lot colder and darker surroundings..

We have also started to make a bit of new plans for our return-trip to Europe. As we both have seen quite a lot of Asia and are not overly –interested to stop there again so soon, we might be returning back home over the other way and at the same time check out some new areas around North-America! Mexico is at the moment definitely on the must-see list but there are still few other options too.. In about 3 and half months I’ll be back in Europe, and this time for a while, I can barely believe it but I am happy to be back after so long. So see you soon!