#walked around my kitchen and ate freshly baked bread

[mer-se]

my boy

[matchadobo]

Hello! I absolutely love your work and wanted to ask for a request with Kidd and possibly Killer if you can fit him in! Basically I was thinking something with since Kidd and Killer are from the SouthBlue theyre probably used to being in warmer temperatures, so how about they have a partner who is from the North and absolutely thrives in cold temperatures, wearing regular pants and a shirt and only maybe a jacket if it’s sub temperatures and being able to live off cold foods even when it’s below freezing, meanwhile they’re looking at them like they’re mad crazy because they get chilled and annoyed at even the thought of a snowflake.

KIDD & KILLER; north blue s/o

wc: 955 warning/s: gn reader, all fluff!!

"how are you not cold?" kidd asked, buried in his fur coat. he tightly wrapped it around his burly build, shivering as he approached your tshirt-wearing ass. the cold wind of the wintry, evening air ruffled his crimson locks when he crossed the deck.

"we don't experience this shit in the south, shut yer trap." he rolled his eyes, sitting next to you and shuffling closer for warmth. "you're even having ice cream for dessert for god's sake."

"thought you didn't believe in god." you hooked arms with him, pulling him closer as he nestled in your embrace.

"know what? i'm fuckin' startin' to cuz of this goddamn snow." he scoffed, rubbing his shoulders to feel less frosty. he lied between your legs, head settled on the cushion of your chest. you placed your hand on his hair, you combed the strands between your fingers as you giggled at his remark.

"where's that beanie i got you? the one with cute bear ears?" your hands trailed down to his red ears, warming them up by your palms.

"it looks stupid on me." he rolled his eyes, sighing at the relief of your warmth. "keep your hands there." he told you, a little smile on his lips spreading.

"heeeyy, i made that beanie especially or these occurences!" you pouted, pinching his ears instead. "look at them! their red as hell! so is your nose!"

"that's because you pinched my fuckin' ears!" he protested, sitting up from his comfortable position to ready and argue.

"kidd, name." killer called out from the kitchen, peeking over the doorframe to see you two in a heated argument. "i made bread pudding." he donned a frilly, white apron that had flowers scattered on the surface.

when kidd was almost in your face, ready to kiss you to shut you up, he didn't hesitate to follow the sweet, delectable aroma of the freshly baked bread emanating from the brightly lit room. you did the same.

"you really are the wife in this relationship." kidd gave killer a little tap on the chin before walking past him by the doorframe.

"ah shut the fuck up, kidd." you blurted out, kicking his ass. "you cold, kil?" you tiptoed to place a kiss on his neck, he was wearing the mittens you made him.

"your hands are warm," he pulled you by the waist, hugging you to feel your embrace. "aaah i want to stay like this, name."

"fine by me, i'll eat the goddamn pudding for myself." kidd spoke through a full mouth, munching on the custard-filled pudding.

you and killer laughed a little at the pouting redhead by the counter before walking towards him. killer let you sit by the chair opposite to kidd's as he leaned by the chair of the head of the table. "how is it?" he asked, genuinely observing how you two stuffed yourselves with it.

"phenomenal." you clapped your hands, savoring how the pudding melts in your mouth. "c'mere, taste it!" you raised a spoon while your other hand acted as a support to catch any falling food as you gestured closer to him.

killer took off his mask and ate you offer, he sat by the chair and gave you a smile, satisfied at his craft. "what do you two want for breakfast tomorrow?"

"chicken noodle soup." kidd answered with a tap of his hand on the table. "just any goddamn soup that is hot."

"you, name?"

"oh i'm fine with leftover fruits by the fridge, i'll make a fruit bowl or smoothie bowl or whatever."

they both looked at you like you grew another head. desperately waiting to see if you're joking. kidd had that usual scowl but it was deeper and killer had an eyebrow raised, anticipating your next response to say sike.

"what?" you asked as if what you said was the most normal thing during the cold especially mornings are the coldest. "it's tradition in my village who always gave out cold foods at the start of winter to have plenty of hot foods for january which was the peak of winter. i'm just conserving!"

"you north blue people are somethin' else." kidd shook his head, munching on the pudding some more. "hardcore shit."

"not my fault you're too weak to handle the cold, love." you teased, sitting on his lap as you waited for him to feed you pudding.

"whatcha say?! the fuck are you opening your mouth for? not in the mood right now, name." kidd rolled his eyes, but he sturdied his thigh so you can have a proper seat.

"it's not that!- feed me!" you wiggled in your seat, poking at him to piss him off.

"you can fuckin' eat by yourself!"

killer just watched you two with a tender smile on his face. clutching the mittens close to his chest. "well, we better sleep now. name wants to go skate and snowman building tomorrow, right?"

"yes!"

"it's too cold for this shit!" kidd grumbled. he then carried you to your shared quarters when you start to nag and whine at him for his remark while killer cleaned up. they snuggled to you that night, since you were the warmest. they soon adapted to the cold; now eating fruit bowls for breakfast, cold salads for lunch, cold ramen for dinner, and ice cream for desserts because they kept eating with you. they soon began to see the charm of eating cold, sharing habits with you. kidd begrudgingly for that matter while killer enjoyed seeing you have fun eating cold with them. the crew had begun to surmise that you three are just on some kinda bullshit they can't relate to. because who would voluntarily eat cold foods during winter?

ok first of all, i just researched about the winter times bc i live in a tropical country so i have NEVER experienced snow or winter. i read that january is the peak so if that is wrong, please educate me and lmk what should be written 🥰. i didn't really know what else to put other than what was being asked and some flirtings here and there so this is pretty short 🥺

[how-masterful]

31 Fics Of Fright

Day 14- Witchin’ in the Timelord’s Kitchen

Delgado!Master X Reader

Prompt: Sweet Tooth

Notes: I loved this one. Purely because if I had a magical kitchen i’d do exactly the same thing. The prompts are getting much nicer from here on out. I can’t believe we’re almost half way through!

Warnings: None

A mushroom cloud of powdered sugar exploded into the air, the dust settling back down into the bowl. The TARDIS kitchen was as alive as any other part of the ship, the countertops and work surfaces cluttered with a cacophony of baking equipment and sweet treats, all in various states of production. Dressed candy apples sat on the side, skewers plunged straight into the core, the bread maker whirring with excitement as the dough churned inside. Cupcakes cooled on wire racks, steam floating through the atmosphere, the half-eaten bag of marshmallows seeping out onto the work surface next to the Pumpkin Pie. Sprinkles and tubes of writing icing covered the decorating area of your confectionary chaos, the over humming a low groan as the batch of brownies inside oozed out rich cocoa.

You were positively having the time of your life.

Several timers were secured to the wall, each labelled and ticking away with periods of cooling and baking. You took a sip of your drink, spinning around to place the icing sugar back into the cupboard. You were practically dancing across the kitchen, your messy bat print apron spinning like a tutu with its vintage cut as you glided across the floor.

You hummed happily to yourself, the words of the seasonal songs coming so easy to you. It was your most favourite time of the year, after all. You’d lit up with delight when you’d found out the possibilities of the TARDIS kitchen, the cupboards presenting any item you could possibly require. You hadn’t even stopped to think about where they’d come from- perhaps the old girl had an endless stock cupboard that the Master had filled, and she simply brought you what you wanted. She was the centre of the psychic field, you considered. Or maybe she created the things herself, manifesting them out of thin air. That idea made you smile, the possibility you were baking with stardust, creating the wonderful aromas with magic. You felt like a witch, brewing her potions and forging her poisoned apples. It filled your chest with a grand sense of Halloween warmth. Now you could finally act on all those recipes you’d saved online.

“Are you intending to open a bakery, my dear?” 

You twirled around once more, bowl and spatula in hand, to the Master standing in the doorway to the kitchen. He was watching you with a fond expression, his eyebrow raised in a typical fashion at your antics. You smiled, beckoning him over with your elbow as you mixed the batter together.

“I see you weren’t merely being hypothetical when you said you’d been inspired this morning.”

You’d convinced the Master to join you on a morning stroll, the air crisp and fresh as you walked through the crunching leaves and morning dew. You’d pulled the timelord towards an old bake shop, sitting outside on the wrought iron tables as you drank coffee and ate freshly baked pastry. Your eyes had widened at the glorious treats you could see the bakers removing from the oven for the day, dreadful inspiration twisting with you. You had all the time in the world with the Master, and more than likely a kitchen with the ability to store baked goods and keep them as fresh as when they were made. It was a dastardly combination indeed.

“When have I ever started something and not finished it?” You replied, pausing your stirring to point the spatula in his direction. He’d already quirked his lip up into a knowing smirk. 

“Don’t say a word. C’mon, you’re a scientist. Baking is chemistry, is it not?”

You placed the bowl upon the kitchen island, sliding it across the worktop towards the Master. He caught it with one hand, halting its journey. A timer began to beep upon the wall, with a push of a button you’d silenced the noise and struck the objective from your notepad. You leant down towards the oven, opening the door to reveal the perfectly baked brownies, oven mitts at the ready. The air swam with the potent scent of chocolate, your mouth practically watering as you lifted the tray to the cooling rack next to the cupcakes. You brought the now cooled cakes towards the middle island, a smile upon your lips as you saw the Master had actually begun stirring the icing.

“You’ve always had a talented proclivity for this, haven’t you? I still remember your generosity during my imprisonment.”

Ah, the prison cake. The memory was highly sentimental to the both of you- you’d had some leftover batter once, enough to make a small cake. At the time, the ‘thing’ between yourself and the Master was unclear, but he’d been nothing but kind to you, and you’d done the same in return. It wasn’t a grand gesture, simply a small moment of thinking of him as you’d slipped the small baked good through his food hatch. You often joked it was your baking skills that had persuaded him to come and offer you companionship as soon as he’d broken out of UNIT holding.

“You were no match for my red velvet. I’ll make a sweet tooth of you yet, Master.”

“With the scale of this endeavour, my dear, I may have no teeth left to sweeten.”

You laughed softly, taking the bowl from the Master’s hands. Your fingers brushed together, his skin warm against your own. You thanked him for the help, turning to produce a fork and a small plate with a mangled, ugly cupcake. It had spilled over in its casing, the chocolate chips having risen to the surface. It looked not unlike the side of an asteroid. It certainly wouldn’t garner a Paul Hollywood handshake.

“Well, he looks rather unfortunate.” The Master mused, observing the desert.

“That's the best part of the rejects. This is the one you get to eat before you start to ice.”

The Master nodded, elegantly taking the fork and pulling a chunk of fluffy cake from the wrapper. He brought it to his lips, cupping beneath it with his other hand to spare any falling crumbs.

“Testing your experiment on others. Well done, my dear.”

“Just eat the cake!”

You bit your lip in anticipation as the Master took the mouthful, secretly crossing your fingers behind your back. You knew he always found your creations delightful. But each presentation still brought you anxiety at the idea of him turning up his nose.

The Master chewed, placing the fork down delicately onto the work surface. He licked the corner of his mouth, before looking at you with a small smile. The Timelord took the cupcake on the plate in hand, observing the cake liner it had been made in. Cartoon monsters dancing across the perimeter, with big letters asking, ‘Trick or treat?’

“I do believe the answer is treat, my love.” He teased, before peeling back the wrapper and taking a bite out of the cake. 

You felt your heart swell with happiness, before another timer began to chime. There's more where that came from, you thought, the bread maker coming to a standstill. You watched the Master muse over the cupcake wrapper, inspecting the cartoon monsters. You supposed he must have seen a few in his lifetime that looked similar.

He ate another bite, smiling down at the cupcake. He must have truly liked it.

“Treat indeed.” He murmured after his bite, before going in for another.

[myearts-uwu]

Bakery AU!

Pairing: Claude x Felix

Featured characters: Claude, Athanasia, Felix, Lily (at the very end of it)

Genre: Fluff. Just... it’s pure fluff in here.

This was supposed to be a single one-shot but I somehow decided to turn it into a short fic that has... two or three parts?

It’s just an adorable AU!

"York's Bakery...," Claude read out the sign displayed above the front door of the cozy-looking bakery. He hummed in disinterest. He was not exactly a huge fan of going out to buy bread or random pastries at a random bakery, let alone a bakery that had been opened for less than three months.

However, since his daughter was the one who asked if they could visit this new bakery together one day during the weekend, he had no choice but to say yes to her favour. It warmed his cold heart when her eyes lit up before smiling at him after he said that.

Why must he be such a softie for his daughter?

"Waa..."

Upon hearing the shaky breath of awe, Claude looked down and noticed the seven-year-old girl staring at the bakery with awe. Her small and chubby hand was holding onto the pinky finger of his left hand loosely.

"You seem to be excited to come here, Athanasia," he commented nonchalantly with a stoic face. He was not the best at showing his true emotions. However, his daughter knew that he was being entertained by her. "I still don't know how you've heard about this bakery, though."

Athanasia just giggled. "Oh, I always see it every day when the driver drives me to school, papa!" she answered. Of course, he wouldn't know about that small fact considering that he had never personally driven her to school. As the CEO of Obelia's Enterprises, he had to go to his office early in the morning. "And since the driver has been to this bakery before, he told me that this bakery's pastries are to die for! Es... Especially the chocolate muffins!" she exclaimed.

"Hm, I see...," Claude mumbled before ruffling Athanasia's soft blonde hair. Compared to the colour of his hair which was a more golden colour, her's leaned more on the lighter side. "Well, let's see if what Mister Han said is true and the pastries here are indeed 'to die for'. Let's go, Athanasia. We don't want to keep standing here, do we?"

Athanasia nodded and skipped towards the front door, tugging her father by his hand. Some random passersby noticed the father-daughter duo and either smiled or chuckled at the adorable scene in front of them.

Claude was about to push the door open but his own daughter had beaten him to it. She had let go of the blond's hand for a few seconds just so she could both of her hands around the door handle. As soon as she pushed the front door open, there was the sound of a small bell ringing.

Ding!

"Welcome to York's Bakery!"

The person standing behind the counter greeted the two newcomers with enthusiasm. Claude stole a small glance at the worker and the only thing he took note of was the messy bright red hair. As well as that large grin on his face that could make anyone's heart melt.

Besides that? He didn't look all that interesting to him.

All he could give the man was a curt nod for he was not someone who enjoyed talking to people.

"Hello!" Unlike him, Athanasia was a total ball of sunshine. She smiled back at the worker and waved at him. The man just chuckled and waved back.

"Why, Hello there, young lady," the man behind the counter said. "How may I help you on this wonderful afternoon?"

Claude gave the man a warning glance and he immediately tensed up. A sign for him to not act so close around the little girl. Times like these made Claude grateful that he had a natural resting bitch face. After that, he acted as if nothing had happened and picked up a tray to put the baked goods he planned on getting on.

Besides the one worker available in the bakery, Claude noticed upon entering the building the strong aromatic scent of freshly baked bread. It tingled his nose slightly due to how heavenly the smell inside the bakery was.

"Uhh... I heard that the chocolate muffins here are to die for! And I wanted to try one!" Athanasia told the man. She walked towards the front counter and pressed her face against the glass of the display case. "Whoa... you have a lot of delicious-looking desserts here."

"Hmm... they do cater a lot of baked goods here," Claude mumbled to himself as he picked out random bread he and his daughter would eat as light snacks. Sausage rolls, croissants, baguettes, buns, egg tarts, cookies... They were really selling a wide variety of baked goods. He grabbed the pair of tongs and started to do his own business.

The worker laughed at Athanasia's adorableness. "They're all freshly made, you know? Well, except for the cakes since we usually have them chilling in the refrigerator overnight." He looked around before winking at her. "But that's a secret between us, alright?" he said in a whisper.

'Someone seems to like that counter worker,' Claude thought when he heard his daughter laughing out loud. He stood in front of a tall basket made from rattan that had baguettes in it. 'Hmm... Athanasia would most definitely eat an entire long baguette as a snack in one sitting... I'm just going to get it for her.'

"You're funny, Mister!" Athanasia exclaimed while taking her hand out towards him. "My name is Athy and that grumpy man who's picking out the baked goods there is my papa!"

"... Grumpy?" Claude turned around and looked absolutely offended by how Athanasia introduced him to a random stranger. Him? Grumpy? Sure, he was not a huge fan of social interaction but that did not mean that he was entirely grumpy.

It only made him even more annoyed when the guy was laughing with her.

"Now, Miss Athy. It's rude to call your own father grumpy," he told her before gently holding her small hand to shake it. "My name is Felix, by the way. If you were wondering about my name, that is."

"Oh, I already knew what your name is," she said before pointing on the nametag that was pinned to the beige apron Felix wore.  "It's written on that nametag thingy."

"... Oh, I actually forgot that I had my nametag on me," Felix stated in slight embarrassment. He scratched the back of his head. "You have good eyes, Miss Athy."

"Athanasia."

The girl turned around to look at her father. "Yes, papa?"

"Have you picked out everything you want yet?" Claude asked while smirking. After placing the tongs in their original place, he put his free hand on his waist. "You don't want to return home without those muffins and cupcakes and cookies you were talking about before coming here now, do you?"

"Eh?! But papa, there's just so many things that I wanna try here!" Athanasia cried out. Her eyes darted around the baked goods inside the display case. "Ahh, I really wanna try those chocolate muffins... but the chocolate chip cookies look so good... Oh, but... but look at those macarons! And- And those chocolate bars with dried up fruits..."

Felix looked down at the indecisive girl and looked up at Claude. He laughed weakly. "I assume that your daughter has a strong liking to chocolate?" he asked.

"She's addicted actually," Claude answered before placing the tray on the front counter. He was going to have to pay for all these twice if Athanasia was still deciding on what she should get. "She actually had one of her teeth pulled out at the dentist last year because of a bad cavity. She kept denying that her tooth wasn't aching... but she always teared up whenever she ate anything."

Felix snorted while Athanasia looked at her father as if he had betrayed her. Which, in a way, he did.

"Papa, you promised you won't talk about that to anyone," Athanasia whined with a cute pout. She humphed. "I'm not going to talk to papa anymore!"

"Is that so?" With a calm expression on his face, Claude pulled out his wallet. "Well, good luck paying for all those desserts, then."

"Papa!" she whined again, earning more laughter from the man behind the counter.

He may not look it, but Claude knew how to be humourous... occasionally.

"M-My, you two are quite a hilarious duo," Felix commented while wiping away a tear from laughing too much. He went to the cash register to collect the blond's payment. The girl would eventually tell them what she wanted soon enough.

Claude looked around the bakery while Felix placed the baked goods he paid for into a large paper bag. "Are you the only one working here?" he asked, trying to make some light conversation even though he was not the best when it came to starting one.

"Oh, heaven's no. I'm way too inexperienced to be left working at a bakery all alone," Felix answered with a smile. "There are more people working here, believe it or not. The owner of the bakery, Lilian, is usually working behind the scenes in the kitchen. The same goes for the other ladies working here. Since I'm not that good at baking anything, I'm in charge of the front counter. Greeting customers, making sure everyone is content with the bakery's atmosphere, making sure no one steals anything from here... the usual stuff."

Felix was indeed a talker.

"... Uh-huh," was Claude's awkward response.

"Mister Felix! Mister Felix!" Athanasia called out.

Felix and Claude looked at the little girl. "Hm? Found something you like, Miss Athy?"

"... Can I get a chocolate muffin and those chocolate chip cookies? They look really tasty?"

"Of course. Oh, one moment, Sir."

"Take your time."

Claude looked at Felix who knelt down to grab a muffin as well as scooping out the cookies before putting them in separate smaller paper bags. When Athanasia approached him, he petted her head. "I thought you'd buy the whole bakery because of how indecisive you are when it comes to food."

"But papa, if I do that, then what will they sell afterwards? I don't wanna ruin their business!" Athanasia grinned innocently.

"... Well, isn't that nice of you?" Claude responded sarcastically.

Felix couldn't help but chuckle at them. "Here're your cookies and muffin, Miss," he said as he leaned forward to give the small bags to the girl after calculating the whole price of everything with the cash register.

"Yay!" Athanasia snatched the paper bags from Felix's hand. She immediately opened the bag with the cookies and pulled one out before munching on it.

Claude sighed. "Athanasia, can't you just wait for a few more minutes?" he asked her sternly. "At least eat the cookies once I'm done paying for everything."

"But... But papa. These cookies are amazing!" Her jewel blue eyes sparkled. There were a few cookie crumbs on her lips and her chubby cheeks were puffed out after eating more of the tasty snack.

Claude's shoulders dropped. "Athanasia... You're dirtying the floor with those cookie crumbs."

Felix had to stifle his own laughter. "That's okay, Sir. I can clean that up afterwards. Besides, your daughter here is obviously enjoying those cookies immensely, right Miss Athy?"

"Mhm!" Athanasia nodded her head, mouth still full with cookies inside.

Well, it was painfully clear to Claude that this worker was already smitten with his daughter... Which he couldn't really blame him for that. Even he had to admit that his daughter was a complete natural at manipulating people with her cute looks and personality.

Claude sighed and was preparing to pull out his money. "How much does everything cost... Felix?"

"That will be... exactly 13000 won."

Claude widened his eyes slightly. "... That's a pretty low price for this much we're getting," he muttered. "Especially for how high-quality everything looks."

Felix thought he had misheard something. "Low price? I... don't mean to be rude but that is a pretty high price. Not to mention that you're buying this many baked goods at once..."

"Papa could have bought everything inside this bakery if he wants to!" Athanasia chimed in. "Because papa is a big boss at a big company! A CEO!"

... Claude had to make a mental note for himself to remind him to teach Athanasia that she should not give out random personal information about either of them to strangers once they return home.

He was expecting Felix to pry more information about him being a CEO out of either him or Athanasia.

But instead, he just acted as if he didn't hear anything.

"Well, even if your father is a CEO of a large company, if he's able to sell out the entire bakery, I'm sure my boss would pass out from shock," Felix joked before pushing the large paper bag with everything Claude bought inside. "Funny story, she actually did end up passing up from shock after we were given our first ever large cake order for a wealthy child's birthday party."

"Well, I sincerely hope she won't end up passing out if more people end up ordering cakes and other pastries from this bakery," Claude responded. "She might have to go to a hospital if that happens a lot."

... Was that supposed to be a joke or something?

Claude cleared his throat from how awkward he suddenly felt and looked down at his wallet to pull out the exact amount of money he needed to pay for everything. "I'm... not that good when it comes to making jokes," he admitted.

"... Oh, that was a joke?" Felix asked.

Athanasia shook her head in disapproval. "Papa, you're terrible at making jokes. This is why people either think you're a serious grumpy man or a socially awkward man."

'When and where did she learn to be so sassy to her own father?' Claude wondered, trying to act calm.

"... Here's the money." He tried to ignore the quiet stare from Athanasia and gave the money to Felix. When he looked at him did he realise that this was the first time they made proper eye contact with each other.

For the first time since coming here, Jewel blue eyes met up with warm grey ones face to face.

Felix froze up all of a sudden, confusing Claude. He tilted his head. "Felix, are you alright?"

A few seconds later, Felix blinked multiple times before realising that he was still at work. There was a faint blush on his face and he smiled nervously. "A-Ah! My apologies," he apologised as he accepted the money. "I was... genuinely stunned at your eyes. I'm sorry if that sounds weird."

Ah, his eyes. It was considered a rare condition and the only people who had it were people in his family. The jewel blue eyes were always associated with the people within the Obelia family. His ancestors, his father, his older brother, his niece, his daughter...

Basically, they all had jewel blue eyes. The reason why? No one had any idea.

"It's alright," Claude reassured Felix. "I'm used to people being surprised by my eye colour."

"Oh, I see... Well...," Felix's words trailed off before putting the money inside the cash register. He then gave him the receipt with a warm smile. "Well, I just thought that your eyes remind me of sapphires somehow. It's nice."

"... Okay then?"

Well, this was a bit awkward.

"Papa, papa!"

"Hm?" After noticing the hem of his shirt being tugged down, Claude looked down and saw his daughter holding out a singular chocolate cookie in front of him. "... Athanasia, you know that I don't like desserts."

"But you might like it! You never know if you hate it unless you try it, papa," Athanasia told him in an as-a-matter-of-fact voice. That sort of statement sounded really weird when it's coming from a seven-year-old child. "The cookies are so delicious! Please, papa? Just one..."

Claude stared at her blankly before looking at Felix who shrugged his shoulders.

'... At least be glad that there are no customers inside other than us,' he thought begrudgingly before going down on one knee so he could be at the same eye level as Athanasia. He opened his mouth and his daughter happily fed him the single cookie. He then stood up and slowly munched on the sickeningly sweet and crunchy snack.

...

...

...

"It tastes... alright, I guess," Claude mumbled, his voice slightly muffled by the cookie in his mouth.

"See? What did I tell you? I knew you'd like it!" Athanasia said proudly with her arms folded across her chest.

Felix smiled at the girl's energetic demeanour. It seemed to Claude that he was wondering how such a small ball of energy came from someone who looked like he'd rather stay at home all day.

"Your relationship with your daughter is adorable, sir," Felix commented.

"It's Claude."

"Pardon?"

"My name. What? Since you did give my daughter your name and my daughter gave hers to you, might as well join in to not feel so left out, right?"

"O-Oh... Mister Claude?" Felix tried to say his name.

"Just drop the 'Mister'. Judging by your appearance, I wouldn't be surprised if we're around the same age," Claude told him.

"... As you wish... Claude... Ah, I'm sorry but it does feel a bit embarrassing for me to call you so casually like that when this is our first time meeting, haha!"

'... Hm. That's weird," Claude thought while he silently stared at the red-haired man who was running his fingers through his hair. For a moment he thought his heart skipped a beat. It was most likely his own mind playing tricks on him.

"If that's the case, then feel free to add in 'Sir' before saying my name," Claude said casually. He looked at his wristwatch and knew that it was time for him and Athanasia to leave this bakery. Annoyingly for him, his older brother Anastacius and his daughter Jennette were coming over soon in the evening and he had to... mentally prepare himself in order to deal with his brother.

"Well, Felix. We'll be taking our leave for today," he said before calling out Athanasia who was looking at the desserts in the display case. "Athanasia, it's time to go. Remember, your cousin is coming over."

"Okay!" Athanasia exclaimed before rushing towards him. She almost tripped but fortunately, she managed to grab Claude's shirt in time to prevent herself from falling. Giggling, she turned around and waved at Felix. "Goodbye, Mister Felix! It was nice talking to you!"

"Bye-bye, Miss Athy." Felix waved back.

Claude pulled the front door open and was about to leave the bakery but he stopped in his tracks when he heard Felix calling him.

"Sir Claude?"

"Hm?"

Claude turned his head around and looked at Felix with a surprised expression when he smiled warmly at him. A smile that would make anyone feel comforted just by looking at it.

"I hope you have a wonderful day. And please come again!" Felix said. It was something he'd say to every single customer who'd leave the bakery.

But there was something about the way he said that made it sound like he was actually looking forward to seeing Claude again.

And for some reason, Claude felt a bit... flattered by that.

"... Of course," was all he could say before leaving the bakery with his daughter. After the door closed behind them, the father-daughter made their way to his Mercedes-Benz.

The trip to the car was quiet. Athanasia was happily munching on her chocolate muffin while Claude was deep in thought about something.

"... I suppose we can make time to visit the bakery from time to time every Saturday...," Claude mumbled, still deep in thought. 'That Felix guy is quite an amusing fellow to be around.'

"Eh?!" Athanasia looked up at her father in complete shock.

That was obviously wonderful news for the girl because she really loved the snacks there.

***

Ten minutes had passed since Claude and Athanasia left the building.

"I heard a lot of laughter coming from here," Lily said as she came out of the kitchen to check up on her employee and close friend. Felix was busy sweeping the floor with a broom to get rid of the cookie crumbs on the floor. The brunette smiled and placed her hands on her hips. "You're whistling. Did something good happen to you just now?"

Felix slowly turned his head around to look at Lily. There was a goofy smile present on his handsome face. "If you consider a pretty man coming in here with his cute daughter and he's like... really pretty that you can't stop staring at him as a good thing? Then yes, something good did happen."

"... Ah, so you're in love with a customer. That's a first."

Felix chuckled to himself. "Ahh... I really do hope that they come here more often soon."

[shirophantomvox]

Hold My Hand- Illumi x Reader

OMG thank you! My first international fan! Thank you for this wonderful prompt! This was requested by @illucilfer .

Summary: Today’s story takes place in a 1950s diner by a frequently used Interstate; Interstate 95. We know this dinner for its delicious hamburgers, hot dogs, milkshakes, and jukebox records, but every night one Patreon never returns home. A few men who were angry about your recent arrest have shot you both. As you both stare at each other exchanging mental signals, everyone around you tries to help you to the hospital. Y/N is narrating the story. I seem to have fewer grammar errors that way. FYI, Bold and italicized font will reference a thought or flashback.

Story Navigation

Let’s get started!

The leaves have turned bright yellow and orange, fluttering every second to the ground. I could hear little children a while away laughing and playing in the community park; throwing up the leaves, jumping into piles, and throwing them at each other. The smell of freshly baked donuts brightened everyone’s mood. All you had to do was take one bite and your face would brighten and crack a smile. Dining at Cupid’s Kitchen will always have your heart and interest.

Interstate 95 was always heavy with traffic during this time of year. The folks of Dallas celebrated mulch annually. The “Mulch Fest” was a street fair that stretched 1.5 miles to the east that contained music, drinks, farmer panels, homemaker Q&A, and other activities that southerners enjoy. Illumi and I are only here because of an unfinished assignment. We have worked night and day for countless days trying to catch Jack “Da Hamor” Gilberton, but he was nowhere to be found. Eventually, I allowed my anger to get the best of me and made the executive decision to take a day off. I barred Illumi from searching, tracking, or any form of hunting for our target. The life of a bounty hunter and an assassin can thrill, but it can drive you insane if you allow it.

Ironically, Illumi and I both enjoy fall. It is perfect for cuddling (although he acts as if he’s too good to cuddle), wearing creative hoodies, going to pumpkin patches, and attending apple orchids. I tend to “lose my cool” when we have dates there. When I was a child, my family did not go on trips like these because they were over an hour away from our home and I had 5 siblings. But once I made money for myself, I made it my mission to go to one at least 5 times out of the year. Illumi enjoys the different fudge, hot cider, and candy apples. He almost broke a tooth on one!

“Say cheese snag-a’-tooth!”

“Stop it. It’s not funny!”

“It is! Could you imagine if you lost your two front teeth? You’d look almost adorable as you did in the 1st grade!”

“How did you know about that?”

“Duh! It happens to everyone, but your mother showed me the pictures, of course.”

“Curses!”

Illumi’s sweet tooth is just like Killua’s; both have a weakness for chocolate. Except, Killua will admit defeat while his older brother keeps denying it.

Cupid’s Dinner has been in Dallas for over 55 years. A black woman established it in 1945 by the name of Mary-Lou Benson. Since then, Mary’s family has been running the shop, making sure all of her customers are happy with the service. During the turn of each season, Cupid’s Dinner gives its customer's food options based on the season. The fall options include donuts, candy apples, different flavored cider, fudge, and hot coffee specials. As much as everything looked appetizing, I could not order it all. Our server, Little Ben, placed our drinks in front of us and handed us the menu. I could tell he was happy with his line of work, just as I was to be with Illumi.

“You all take your time. I’ll be back in five.”

Ilumi glanced on both sides of the room, scanning for Jack Gilberton, already forgetting the agreement we established.

“Illumi, what are you doing?”

“Huh?”

“You keep looking around like you’ve seen Da Hamor. Eat your donut and relax, sweetheart.”

“I cannot relax. I must stay on alert.”

“If I can relax, so can you. It’s not that hard.”

“Fine. If I die, it’s on your head… literally.”

The jingling bell rang almost every second when a customer walked in. It was a joy to everyone's ears; the spirit of Mary Lou-Benson was alive and well. An overwhelming feeling of love seemed to have overtaken the diner. After examining the bistro for quite some time now, each customer had been using their cellphones at the table instead of chatting with their families. Many traditional families hated that about this generation but they should be open to new traditions forming. Illumi dislikes using cell phones or tablets at the table unless we use them for missions. He has emphasized how rude it is to be surfing the web about utter nonsense while someone is speaking. This is a pet peeve of his, something I’ll never step on his toe about. Although I think that is overdoing it, I respect it.

Little Ben served our table quickly, leaving us with two dishes of a classic chicken sandwich, kettle chips, one chocolate, and vanilla milkshake. Milkshakes were my weakness; I nearly foam at the mouth when I see one. When I found out that Illumi had NEVER had a milkshake, I almost fainted.

“No. I’ve never had a milkshake.”

“Huh? You’re missing out, pal.”

“What’s the big deal? Isn’t it frozen milk?”

“Not just frozen milk. You can add many flavors, toppings, and whip cream!”

“Well, then. You’ll have to show me sometime.”

We thanked Little Ben for his service as he clocked out for the day.

“I have to admit these sandwiches look very appetizing.”

“You can say that again!”

Before I nibbled on my sandwich, I wanted to take a moment and adore the man before me; Illumi Zoldyck. A man full of mysteries, professionalism, skill, and talent. His enormous eyes were immersed in the large pieces of chicken in between the sourdough bread. He licked his index finger vigorously; allowing the homemade honey mustard to drip enough from the bread to the plate in between licks. Just the sight of him actually relaxing for once has blown me away. For once, Illumi Zoldyck could be himself and I had the privilege to witness it.

“Um… why are you staring at me? Do I have food on my face,” he asked; violently wiping his mouth off with a provided cloth napkin.

“Oh! Ha, ha; no reason. I wanted to see your reaction after drinking your milkshake. That’s all.”

“Why? It’s just a drink.”

“Whatever you say, babe.”

“Babe? What happened to LuLu or Illumi-Lu?”

I gasped and pretended to be surprised… although I was a little.

“I did not know that you liked those pet names. I assumed it mortified you.”

“Who told you that? That never rolled off my tongue. “What I said was” — He bent closer to the table and to me; glancing both to the right and left to ensure no wandering ears were around — “I prefer Illumi-Lu to be said in the bedroom and LuLu when we’re alone, like how we are right now.”

“Aww…. ok,” I yelled in excitement.

“Don’t blow it out of proportion, alright?”

“Yes, sir.”

As we ate, Illumi hummed along to the tune that played a few times on the restaurant's jukebox. Illumi and I were born in the mid-90s, but listening to 50s music was a part of his aesthetic. I was told that he had an “old soul” which sounds romantic at first until you realize how men were during that era. His raging temper was a noticeable toxic trait, but it has drastically improved. Nonchalantly sipping on his milkshake and then eating more of his chips, he grazed the soft part of his left hand over mine as he continued to hum.

“What’s the name of this song? You seem to know it rather well.”

“Put your head on my shoulder, a famous song from the 60s. I heard my parents sing it once and since then, they have addicted me to it. Do you like it?”

“Yes, in fact, I love it. All of this is—”

“A surprise to you? Well, enjoy it while it lasts because once I find Jack Gilberton, this side of me will hide for a while.”

“Understood.”

Damn! I was just feeling connected to him again!

The music swelled; everyone seemed to be happy. Not an evil spirit insight to disrupt this beautiful moment. For once in my life, my raven-haired beauty actually held my hand tight, stole a few of my barbecue kettle chips, and gazed into my eyes harmlessly. His lips brushed against both of my hands, ever so lightly placing kisses on both sides of them. Illumi’s gentle smile warmed my heart as my lingering thoughts of hope stayed intact.

The welcoming bell jingled again. Two men in black leather jackets, stone-washed blue jeans, and tattooed all over their arms came into the diner. The men seemed to be bikers who had just left their own “spot” but one thing struck me as they continued to walk towards the staff. They both wore sunglasses when the sunset for the day. Not to mention that the lights were not dim in the diner and the moon was as bright as ever. The second man had his eyes glued in my direction. My heart beat faster as I wondered if Jack Gilberton had found us. Could you imagine?

Put your head on my shoulder

Hold me in your arms, baby

Squeeze me oh-so-tight

Show me you love me too

I am used to coming in contact with enemies on my hit list, but given Jack’s criminal history; I felt like I may not survive his attacks. Illumi will survive, but just barely. Both men approached the checkout, crowing over Little Ben’s sister. She was a short woman but full of might, and I could tell by the shakiness in her voice she was frightened. I wanted to step in so badly, but I didn't want to blow my cover just in case it was, in fact, Jack Gilberton. After I assume, ordering food, both men stood by the entrance, blocking it from others from entering and leaving. The sound of their old, beat up-lighters crackled as one lit a joint and the other lit a cigarette. This horrid smell ruined the atmosphere because they were not in a designated area and it drowned out the lovely aroma of the food being served.

“If you gentlemen would like to smoke, you need to go outside. There is no smoking in here.”

“What? You think you’re better than me because you don’t smoke?”

“Huh? I never said that, sir. I asked for you to go outside. Not all of our customers can deal with it.”

They did not move a muscle. The sound of their mucous laughter made everyone’s stomach turn. They laughed at the young girl and called her many slurs. Little Ben’s sister didn’t flinch, nor did she cry; she remained still, staring at the men. I had just enough of their obnoxious behavior.

“If you do not leave, I will call the police.”

“The hell you won’t.”

Put your lips next to mine, dear

Won't you kiss me once, baby?

He drew a gun from his left side. He aimed it at Little Ben’s sister and demanded that she emptied the drawer. She refused. Her stone, iron will reminded me of Illumi; no matter the circumstance, they remained intact, determined to fight until the end. Bravery is always encouraged, but too much will cause your life to be taken away. Little Ben’s sister grabbed a fake till that they kept under the real one and threw it at both men. Fake money fluttered everywhere in the small diner, mimicking confetti. Gunshots rang in all directions as the imbeciles recklessly shot, aiming for Little Ben’s sister. Everyone threw themselves on the ground to avoid being shot, but luck cannot spread itself throughout an entire room of people. A young child, an older man, and another worker were shot in their lower leg. Blood reflected from the ground as it continued to seep. Ignoring injured civilians is a jackass move and continuing to deny the fact would prove that the oath I pledge to meant nothing. Sure, bounty hunters must remain hidden, but if someone is injured, I must help them.

The child was lying lifeless on the polished marble floor. He would not respond to my shaking or my silent whispers. When I rolled him over, my heart broke into a million pieces. This child had no chance of survival; a few bullets struck his chest, one just inches away from his heart. A tear rolled down my cheek.

“Why must the good die young,” I whispered to myself.

“... Because snitches get stitches.”

Before I could gain sight of who stated this utterly corny response, I felt an overwhelming amount of pain in my lower back. It felt like a million tiny needles were jabbed so far through my skin that they entered my intestine. I could still hear, but my body would not move. I tried and tried, but my brain would not signal my legs.

Move! Move, damn it!

It’s odd; I could hear myself talk, but my body would not move at all. The sound of another thudding body made my mind jump. My heart had already been pounding enough to try to resuscitate my organs to move, but a familiar semi-blurring sight of none other than Mr. Illumi Zoldyck cleared my sight. My brain went wild. I didn’t know if Illumi died or if he became paralyzed, but one thing is for sure. We finally made eye contact that felt special; something I hadn’t felt since the day I met him. Our contact felt like magnets; an unbreakable bond. Suddenly, my icy hand felt warmth around my palm and fingers. Illumi simultaneously fell in a way that connected our hands. Our unbreakable bond, the warmth of his fingers laying on top of mine, and the gaze we shared somehow made me feel like it was just the two of us alone. I could hear his thoughts loud and clear; thoughts that came from the heart.

“Please help me. Before it’s too late, LuLu,” I cried, thinking I was going insane. “I don’t want to leave if it means leaving you behind.”

“I’m not going anywhere. Not without you.”

“Please! I want to live a life. Life as a bounty hunter, build a support system to our children, and a good lover is all I want to be.”

“You are a warrior and so am I. We have been through worse. This is nothing.”

Mere eye contact is all we need to exchange wandering conversations. The bond that we’ve created is something so strong that I haven’t realized it until now. The warmth emitted from his loose grasp seems to lose its effectiveness. It blurred my vision beyond recognition, leaving Illumi as a near figment of my imagination.

“Oh no. I guess this is it.”

My vision darkened. Illumi was slipping away as my lingering thoughts almost made my heart give out from exhaustion. I was ready to accept my fate, but it seemed like fate had other plans. My vision was still darkening by the second, but my sense of touch remained there. Smooth fingers outline my arms, torso, and chest. I heard muffled voices yelling and screaming about calling for assistance, but I didn’t care if they came or not. I made peace with my life’s end. Bit by bit, my breathing slowed down, but my sense of touch remained heightened. I felt a rubber glove touch my face and neck, examining it for any damage.

The jukebox continued to play Illumi’s favorite song, Put Your Head on my Shoulder. I remembered the day I laid my head on his shoulder; boy, what an endearing moment that was. It was something I took for granted, something I should have savored, for I never knew that this moment would have happened. The song grew muffled by the second verse. That verse repeated every time I tried to force myself to take what felt like my last gaze at my raven-haired beauty.

Just a kiss goodnight, maybe

You and I will fall in love (you and I will fall in love)

-FIN.

A/N: Since you’ve made it to the end, I’ll say something. The reader did not die in the end. They were later revived at the hospital.

[wondersofdreaming]

Shades of Blue

Characters: Henry Cavill x female reader

Word count: 1.872

Warnings: Lots of fluff. Lots of emotions. Lots of feelings. Making love. NSFW!

Author’s note: @jolly-polly​ and I were discussing about the Greek Islands, and how much I loved the culture, the food, the people, the ocean and so forth. So she told me to write a cave scene, and I in turn challenge her to write a cabin scene ;)

I do not own any characters in this short story, except the reader who is a figment of my imagination.

Thank you so much to @radaofrivia​, my angel, who send me lots of pictures, ideas, advice, sounds of the ocean, and lots of encouragement to write this piece.

MASTERLIST

Feedback is appreciated.

The yacht was rocking slowly side to side, a soothing motion that was lulling you to sleep, together with the sound of water splashing against the tall cliff. Seagulls were diving into the azure ocean for fish or trying to steal each other’s catch. You could hear your friends swimming happily close to the shore, their laughter reaching your ears, making you smile widely.

You were laying on one end of the yacht, absorbing the sun’s rays and just enjoying your holiday in the Mediterranean Sea, when a large shadow blocked the warm light. You took off your sunglasses and shrieked when the brisk ocean water started dripping on you.

“Henry! That’s cold!” You told your boyfriend laughing as he pulled you up. His smile shone brightly through the shadow he cast and bent down to give you a gentle kiss.

“Come swim with me, my love,” he tried to coax you. His abs were glistening in the sun, his wet hair curling, and his cerulean eyes challenging you.

“How can I say no, when you give me those puppy dog eyes?

”You stand on the tip of your toes to kiss his nose, then wiggled out of his grip.

“The last one in the water is a slowpoke!”

Henry’s sweet laughter could be heard as he ran after you. You dove into the clear blue sea, enveloped by the cold refreshing liquid. You opened your eyes and watched an explosion of bubbles happening next to you. Henry’s grinning face came out of the foam and swam towards you. He wrapped his muscular arms around your waist and with a few kicks of his strong legs, he broke to the surface, gasping for air.

“You cheated,” he accused you, but his teasing eyes and grinning lips were telling you, he didn’t mind that you had won the impromptu race.

“I did no such thing,”

“How about a consolation prize for the loser?” He pouted.

An amused look spread on your suntanned face as you went to meet his full lips. Even while he was using a lot of strength to hold you both above water, he kneaded your ass and took over the kiss. He was like a starving lion, hungry for anything you would give him. What he didn’t know was that he already owned you, body, heart, and soul.

His tongue touched the rim of your lips, seeking entrance to your warm mouth. You opened up to him, trusting him to keep you from drowning. The tip of your tongue moved to touch the roof of his mouth. You felt the vibrations of his moans through your entire body. One large hand palmed the back of your head, deepening your coupling.

“Oi! Lovebirds! We’re going to get something to eat, are you coming?” One of your friends yelled from the shore.

Henry’s lips spread as he smiled into yours. He slowly moved away, pecking your well-kissed lips one last time, before turning his attention to your friend.

“No thanks, mate. We’re good.”

“We are?” You asked him. His signature panty-melting smirk gave you a hint that he was hungry for something other than food.

“I have something special planned for us,” he whispered, licking the shell of your ear. A quiver went down your spine in anticipation of what was to come.

You swam towards the yacht. Henry helped you out of the teal coloured ocean.

“Stay here, we’re going to the shore in just a minute.”

He went into the bedrooms and collected a waterproof rucksack. His large hand wrapped around your smaller one as you dove back into the Aegean Sea, swimming the short distance to the beach.

Your friends waved at you from the bar, sending you cheeky smiles. Henry pushed you gently the opposite way.

“Henry, where are we going?” You asked, keeping up with his long strides.

“It’s a surprise. I promise you’ll love it.”

After a few more minutes of walking, Henry stopped and put his large palms over your eyes.

“Take a few steps until I say stop,” Henry told you. You giggled and took a cautious step, not knowing what was in front of you except sand. He guided you a little to the left, into the ocean until the water reached your knees. You then wadded through the waves for a few metres before Henry told you to stand still.

“Are you ready?”

“Yes!”

Henry’s chuckle made you smile. You had gotten goosebumps from the excitement. Henry removed his hands. You blinked a few times, trying to adjust to the very bright sun.

The scene in front of you made you start to tear up.

“I got a little help to set this up,” Henry leaned his chin on your shoulder, wrapping his arms around your torso.

“I love it, babe. Thank you,” you told him and kissed his scruffy cheek.

Smiling, he led you to the laid out black and blue blanket that had been set up with a picnic basket, a bottle of champagne sat in a bucket of ice, and a single red rose lay on top of an envelope.

You opened and read the card out loud:

“Have fun, lovebirds 😉”

A burst of laughter escaped your lips. You set the card down and handed the cooled bottle to Henry.

The bubbly liquid spilt over his hands when the cork flew up in the air. You quickly held up the two glasses for him to pour in the champagne.

Henry fed you fresh Vietnamese spring rolls, Scotch eggs, blueberry muffins, scones, a large variety of chocolate-covered fruits, different cheeses and loaves of freshly baked bread.

“When did you have time to make all of this?” You asked curiously while biting into a Scotch egg. The yolk was soft and gooey, just the way you liked it, and the crumb was crispy and bursting with flavour.

“Most of the food is from a restaurant in town, but the Scotch eggs and scones I made on the yacht, while you slept in this morning,” he told you and took a large gulp of the golden wine.

“How sneaky of you. That’s why the kitchen was so clean when I got up.”

“Well, I had to clean the mess I made, so you wouldn’t become suspicious.”

“Very clever of you, Mr Cavill.”

The grin on his handsome face hinted on more surprises to come.

“You’re hiding something, my love. Out with it.”

Henry ate the last bite of the food, before he stood, dusting some sand off his trunks.

“I do have something I want to show you,” he held out his hand, helping you up. You helped him pack the blanket and empty champagne bottle into the rucksack. The rest was shoved into the picnic basket.

Henry intertwined your fingers together as you walked further down the beach, which was getting narrower and narrower. Henry put the rucksack and picnic basket down and waded into the clear water when there was no more sand to walk on.

You would follow him to the end of the earth if it meant being with him forever. When the ocean reached your chest, he picked you up and swam to the other side of the rocky wall.

A large entrance to a cave loomed over your heads as Henry inched closer. You could hear the waves hitting the cavern walls, it made the eerie-looking grotto less intimidating.

“Oh my gosh, Henry. How did you find this?”

“We sailed past it yesterday,”

“Huh, I didn’t even notice. Someone was distracting me by walking around in nothing but these tight swimming trunks.”

Henry laughed and paddled into the cave. The sea went rapidly from light cyan to midnight blue. The light couldn’t reach that far inside, but your eyes swiftly adjusted to the dark. A tiny island sat in the middle of the grotto, and it looked like the rocks there were moving.

“Look, Henry! It’s turtles!”

It was quite the sight, as the turtles moved to make room for the two of you. The surface of the island was flat and smooth. You sat at the edge with your feet in the water, shivering a bit from the cold air inside the cave.

“Come here, my angel.”

Henry manoeuvred you into his lap. You felt his rising excitement beneath your bottom. His lips grazed your exposed shoulders. A fire was slowly building up inside you, as his lips explored your chest, removing your bikini top.

His nimble fingers moved between your bodies. It felt as if he was touching you everywhere and nowhere at the same time. You burned for him, wanting his soft touch at your most intimate place.

“Henry…” you whined.

“Patience, darling. All good things come to those who wait.”

You huffed out an annoyed groan. But two could play the dirty game, so you moved your fingers into his hair, massaging his scalp, pulling gently at his curls, while you clashed your lips to his. The grunts that left his lips made you grind your pelvis to his groin. His eyes turning to a dark sapphire colour.

In one swift move, he had you on your back. The surface of the island cold, but you didn’t care. All you wanted was Henry. He whispered words of love in your ear as he made sweet passionate love to you. Your moans echoed through the cavern as you moved as one being. The sound of the water splashing in the background. The turtles jumping into the ocean to give you space. Your bodies moved as fluidly as the waves.

All your senses were heightened, but they were concentrated on Henry. Tears of joy and tears of ecstasy from the intense emotions that were welling up inside you ran down your reddened cheeks. Henry kissed them away, drinking the salty sea pouring from your lust-filled eyes.

It felt like an eternity had passed that you had spent forever in the cave, but only a moment had gone by. Time had stopped while you two devoured each other in a passionate pairing.

As the waves crashed against the island, so did the ecstasy burst inside your satisfied body. You fell into the abyss of euphoria together. You were panting as if you had just run a marathon.

Sweat mixed with salty seawater dripped down your back. Henry moved to lay down next to you, pulling you on top of him. He kissed your forehead lovingly, telling you how much he loved you.

After you caught your breath you put your bikini back on, even made Henry help you tie the ends together. You jumped headfirst into the indigo water and out into the horizon dipping sun. A turtle swam past you, gracing you with its fin.

Henry dove beneath the waves to swim after it and you followed him. More turtles joined your little swimming party as you danced with Henry in the waves. The sky had gone from cornflower blue to shades of orange, red, pink and purple.

“Thank you for today, handsome. I do have one request before the day is over.”

“Anything for you, sweetheart.”

“You just rocked that tiny island, do you think we can make the yacht rock too?”

[cerealchewer]

Makoto had had a long day at work. As soon as the door closed behind him, his footsteps lead to the couch and he let his body slump down on the soft pillows. Makoto loosened up his tie and soon a white cloud of hair appeared in his sight. Pale cold hands wrapped around his waist and a kiss was planted on Makoto's face. "You look tired" a man's voice said. Makoto then let out a sigh and ran his fingers through his hair as the lanky man sat next to him. "Well, I am.. I had a lot to do today and I even missed my bus so I had to wait another tiring 30 minutes when I just wanted to go home already" the brown haired man huffed and the white haired one giggled. "Bad luck huh? How ironic!" he said and squeezed his hands that were placed around Makoto's waist. "N-Nagito!" the shorther one blurted out, heat rising up to this face as he grew conciousness over the softness that had gathered around his waist. He had been stressed lately and had resorted to calm his nerves by eating, snacking during his shifts, going to the nearby store when he had free time and letting the boring everyday mess slip by his mind. He just wasn't aware that his boyfriend had also noticed it. Nagito then got up with a smile and stared at Makoto's slightly flushed face for a while before he did a turn. "I was just making some food for you. It's soon ready, so maybe it's good that you came late!" Nagito said with a carefree tone and made his way in the kitchen and Makoto looked at the man walking and talking with his hands as he explained. Nagito was a very expressive person, though his thought process was sometimes a bit difficult to untangle.

"Good huh..?" Makoto asked quietly, more to himself as he heard a twisty noise escape from his stomach. Well, atleast he would be able to fill it up sooner. As absurd as Nagito's brain was, Makoto still appreciated his optimism, even if the man sometimes got run over by it instead. Nagito always assures he's fine even when terrible things happen, and that worries Makoto's heart. He just wanted good for his boyfriend, and for him to be independent and find the motivation to fight every bad thing from his past. But in the end, he was just his boyfriend. That couldn't fix everything Nagito has been through. Makoto shook himself from under the dark cloud of his thoughts and convinced himself it wasn't the time for that. He pulled the table near the couch closer and soon Nagito returned with multiple plates, placing them in front of the brown haired man. Big plate of creamy potatoes and rice, there was white bread, which smelled freshly baked, and for dessert there was a big slice of cake that especially caught Makoto's eyes. Nagito came closer, whispering "There's more in the fridge" as he saw Makoto practically drooling over the soft spongy cake piece covered in whipping cream, topped and with strawberries. It had even chocolate drizzles on the top. Makoto had already picked up a fork in some primal instinct, ready to dig in, but he glanced at Nagito who was just sitting there with a nervous smile of a sort on his face. "You're not eating any?" Makoto said, starting to shovel food in his mouth as he saw Nagito's expecting expression. He probably wanted Makoto to taste and give his opinion on it afterall. He did, hum and push more food into his mouth which Nagito took as a positive response. "No.. I don't need to, I already ate earlier" he said and Makoto turned his gaze back to Nagito. His cheeks were full and puffy like a chipmunk's but his brows had furrowed in doubt at Nagito's sentence.

"I-I promise! I wouldn't lie to you, would I? Afterall, you're so amazing and I'm confused already as why you'd be with me in the first place.." Nagito said, his speech quickening in speed and trembling a bit, as his words grew a bit negative. As they always did when he talked about himself.

Makoto stopped chewing for a while, gathering more food to his fork. "I trust you of course, but sometimes it can be hard.. if you know what I mean" the man said and put a forkful of food to his mouth, followed by another one and he leaned back with a sigh. Nagito almsot forgot to respond as his concentration and eyes were consumed by the bump growing under Makoto's shirt and straining his buttons a bit. "Oh- that time? Yeah.. well, I have been taking my meds after that.. after all, my life does have a some purpose, I've learned" Nagito said and then inched closer to the man, grabbing the fork from his hands and placing the plate on Makoto's lap, and taking more food on the fork.

Makoto's eyes widened as Nagito forwarded the fork near his mouth.

"Serving you. That is my purpose" Nagito said, his eyelids slightly dropping over his eyes a he gazed at Makoto like he was some sort of god. So much respect and love emitted from Nagito's eyes and Makoto could only stutter out "The what now-" before the fork was shoved in his mouth. "You have the job in this house, I'm jobless because of my mental health. You're loved and praised by everyone, and I disgust everyone that sees me. I truly honor you and your will to let a dirty street dog like me live in the same house, so please. Let me serve you as the superior you are!" Nagito's widening smile and unstable breathing was making Makoto's insides twist and as he had swallowed, he grabbed Nagito's bony wrist and and looked him in the eyes. "You might think that way, but I will always see you as an equal. So, do what you want to do, as you deserve happiness as well, Nagito" Makoto said slowly, making sure Nagito would understand. The white haired man nodded, taking a better position as Makoto opened his mouth for a second bite.

After a plate, a second, a third one, practically inhaling the bread, came the cake and Makoto's breath grew laboured. His stomach pressed to the poor buttons standing weakly on top with every inhale. Skin showed from between and Makoto had been shifting his positions with a sigh and scrunching, uncomfortable manner filling up his face. Nagito had gotten a boost of energy and made sure to encourage Makoto to get more and eat real good as he deserves it. Makoto knew he was trying to avoid talking of the subject before, but he knew that his words had sparked a bit of happiness inside, which made letting go and letting Nagito do what he wanted even easier. Usually Nagito seemed like he wanted to say or do things, but he probably had been repressing it, thinking Makoto wouldn't like it. Seems like today had been the breaking point, for him.

And Makoto's shirt. As Nagito has taken the cake piece and Makoto sluggishly took bites, swallowing dryly and eyelids growing heavy, he suddenly had heard a bing and felt a sudden release on his strained belly. He looked down, seeing the bulging pile of flesh sitting on his lap. The buttons at the bottom were undone and one even broken, fell on the floor. Makoto felt his face flush in shame as he looked to the side to avoid Nagito's gaze. He unbuttoned the two top ones, letting himself completely free of the shirt and looking at the plate on his lap move to the side and Nagito's long legs making the way to sit on his pillowy ones. Makoto's gaze ran around the room as he felt those cold long fingers ran around his stomach, feeling the flesh and pressing on it. After all the food, it had become stout and full, some softness still placed under the gut. Nagito's voice surprised Makoto. "And how I thought you couldn't get any prettier" Nagito's low voice rung in his ears and Makoto looked back at his boyfriend, caressing his full stretched out belly and lifting his eyes up to Makoto. They were still full of admiration, and Nagito even reached out his other hand, petting Makoto's hair. "You're doing so good. You probably could take the rest of the cake too right? It's only a piece anyway.." Nagito's voice had changed into something Makoto hadn't heard before. It was loving, but slow and oddly.. sultry? He had come to the conclusion that Nagito really did enjoy this, in a special way. Makoto was a big boy, he could handle this!

The shorther man opened his mouth as the taller one grabbed the fork again, putting soft spongy cake inside Makoto's mouth. His hand was caressing and making the other boy feel better so he wouldn't sit there in pain. Nagito felt his heart throbbing and hands shaking in sweat as he looked at Makoto's chubby cheeks slowly chewing, his soft chest, bulgeoining full stomach stretched to his thighs, which also had been expanded, and spread apart a bit so his heavy tummy would feel better. Piece by piece, the fork scraped and empty plate and Nagito moved it back to the table, stacking it to the tall pile of others. He let both of his hands rub Makoto's stomach as he gave it soft kisses. He was even whispering comforting lines as: "it's fine", "you did so good" and "you're so beautiful", which made butterflies flap their wings inside of Makoto. He laughed, letting out a small hiccup in the midst of it as the white poof of hair tickled his chest and Nagito seemed so absorbed in making his partner feel better of the pain he had caused for his own desire. "I didn't know you would like me being a bit chubbier. I tried to hide it from you, you know?" Makoto, still a bit embarassed tried to laugh it away. But Nagito was completely shameless to his admiration to this new flesh on Makoto's body. "You think you could hide this? Even Hajime said that during work you're always eating. Jeez.. when I was meeting with Chiaki to test out her new demo, he had joined with us and asked if I'm even eating because it seems like you're the only one doing that in our house.." Nagito explained and Makoto awkwardly scratched his own cheek, looking to the side. "Ah.. it really is that noticeable, huh?" Makoto said quietly and soon felt Nagito's skinny body pressed to the doughy one of his. Nagito pushed his hand down and then pulled their heads close, foreheads butting and his hands resting on the sides of Makoto's round face.

"There's nothing to be ashamed of. It fits you, well unlike the shirt that's on you. You should throw that away" Nagito said and a giggle erupted from Makoto. "You think?" the shorter man said and then pressed his lips on Nagito's, letting go after a while. He caressed the side of Nagito's sharp face, and Nagito rubbed the round shape of fat sitting on Makoto's thighs. Both feeling so lucky, to just exist in that moment. Melting into each other's touch.

[possum-rat]

(Y/n) talks to the dead

Previous 

Next

Normally waking up to the Undead hovering over you would scare anyone shitless. But (Y/n) was slightly less startled. "SHI-WHA? WHO ARE? WHAT?" (Y/n) yelps as they fall out of the bed in a mess of blanket and clothes. Two skeletons stand on either side of their bed staring blankly at the opposite wall. Chain mail armor on the one stationed on the left side of (Y/n), and an odd mixture of gold and neitherite on the right. The one on the right turns toward (Y/n) before crouching down as holding out a hand toward them.

(Y/n) takes it hesitantly staring up at them. "Wha?" They murmur as the skeleton nods a slight smile in place. "I'm Violetta Beaux. If that's what you're wondering my dear." They state simply in a soft tone. Violetta then gestures toward the chain mail wearer and says fondly "that's Isidora Blanc" Isidora merely nods as their mentioned.

"Why are you here? I mean- I don't mean to be rude or anything but..." (y/n) trails off confusion evident in their expression. "Clementine told us," Violetta replies gently. Nodding still confused (Y/n) lets the covers fall from their shoulders. Stepping from the mess of blanket under them they walk toward the bathroom.

--

Staring at the mirror intently they sigh. Their once (S/c) now more grey and sunken. Dark purplish rings under their eyes with a crazed look. Reaching their hand up (Y/n) gently presses the purplish-pink swollen delicate skin. Breathing out in pain (Y/n) removes their hand before testing their nose. Nothing seems to be broken, just a little swollen or painful. Pulling out a washcloth (y/n) dampens it and cleans the dried blood from their face.

Feeling slightly better (Y/n) turns on the shower before heading into their 'Room' and grabbing some clothes: a tan trench coat stopping at (Y/n) thighs, a white collared shirt, grayish-black jeans, and long socks with their favorite boots. (perfect for kicking any super straights)

Once finished with the shower they pull on the clothes in the privacy of the bathroom. Mentally (Y/n) thanks themselves for placing the bathroom into a room with a door away from any visitors. As (Y/n) steps out of the bathroom the smell of freshly baked bread greets them.

grinning to themselves (Y/n) notices that Violetta is beside the furnace pulling out a loaf of golden bread. "(Y/n)? Oh hey dear! I made bread. Here take some!" She says cheerfully as she places the loaf on the small kitchen island. Isidora seems to be slightly more emotional than before as she gazes at the bread. Staring at the bread (Y/n) asks "You can make bread?" Isidora replies gruffly "Best at it. She also makes a killer cake."

As Violetta pulls out a giant Long sword she hums happily as she slices the bread with the sword. The whole sight is comical. As (Y/n) takes a slice of the bread they take a bite and proceeds to melt. You know the kind? Like when you eat something so good you've literally just ascended to heaven momentarily-yeah that's what the bread tastes like.

"Told you," Isidora says simply. By the time (Y/n) ate around half the loaf with the other two they've gotten a message from Wilbur.

<WilburSoot> (Y/n) help. Tubbo and Tommy are on a tangent.

smiling slightly (Y/n) stands up from the chair and makes their way toward their chest. Squatting down they pull out their sword and a few potions. Violetta stops (Y/n) before they leave. "Dear take some armor I have an extra unused she's plate and helmet. Stay safe okay hun? Isidora will go with you." (Y/n) nods and waits patiently-well as patiently as one with horrible attention spans can-

"and here you go, hun." She says as she hands an enchanted netherite chest plate and helmet to them. (Y/n's) eyes widen as the heavily enchanted armor falls into their ownership. "You can't-Are-wha-" they stutter as Isidora takes the armor from (Y/n) and gently places it onto (y/n) making sure it fits snugly. "Come on kid. I'm your bodyguard or some shit today. Come on."

---

as the two of them walk into L'manberg Wilbur freezes staring at Isidora. "(Y/n)? Your aware that there's a skeleton standing beside you?" (Y/n) nods and says "Yup. They're my grumpy bodyguard or something!" Isidora did not like being called grumpy apparently as (Y/n) yelps as Isidora punches (Y/n's) shoulder.

"I- uh okay. Anyway, Tubbo and Tommy are over there mind watching them?" Wilbur asks tiredly as he rubs the bridge of his nose with his fingers.

(Y/n) nods and skips toward them happily. "No, He's always like...Psst hey, kid...wanna buy some content? Do we have manhunts? Or speed runs." Tommy laughs as he does a horrible American accent. (Y/n) chimes in "įⱮ Ⱥ ꝈįͲͲꝈƐ φįϚϚ βȺβӋӋӋӋӋ" Tubbo coughs in audio tune before dying with laughter. Tommy does his famous cackle. "What the actual fuck?" Isidora murmurs as she stands a few feet away. Tubbo frowns tilting his head confused his long brown ears flopping down.

"what? I just heard a series of tapping?" Tubbo says confused. "Oh, she just said " what the actual fuck." She's nice that way." (Y/n) says happily.

Isidora frowns while flipping (Y/n) off. "Yeah Love you too bitch." They call grinning.

Tubbo frowns and asks "Wanna go to the nether?" (Y/n) nods but freezes momentarily as everything suddenly grey. Like a cave. But instead of the normal ruggedness of a cave, it's like a box. (Y/n) shivers as they gaze around at the freezing room. A small Fox is curled up in one of the corners along with a brown spotted cow. As (y/n) walks closer the Fox opens an eye before closing it in disinterested. An arrow sticks out from its coat staining the white fur on its throat rusty red.

"Fungi?" (Y/n) asks in awe. The Fox yawns before nuzzling closer to the cow. The cow opens its down brown eyes before giving a soft content "Moo." Gasping in delight (Y/n) cheers "Harold?" The cow thumps his tail before standing up unsteadily and clopping toward (Y/n).

Harold bobs his head as he moves toward them, stopping infront of them he nuzzles into (Y/n's) outstretched hand. As (y/n's) fingers brush over the slightly rough texture of Harold's fur they blink.

The stone claustrophobic-inducing box is no more. Instead (Y/n) is surrounded by people in chairs staring up at a podium. A Man with curly Horns with various golden trinkets stands there. He's clearly slightly hungover.

"That was pretty easy. And you know what I said, the day I got unbanned from the DreamSMP, and the day I said I was running... an election that I won by the way?" The man's voice booms deep and clear demanding to be heard "I said; "Things are gonna change". I looked every citizen of L'Manberg in the eyes and I said; "You listen to me... this place will be a lot different tomorrow." Let's start making it happen. My first decree, as the president of L'Manberg- the EMPEROR! of this great country-! Is to REVOKE the citizenship of WilburSoot, (Y/n) and TommyInnit! Get 'em outta here! Get 'em outta here! You're no longer welcome!"

All though (Y/n) may not understand what's going on they have enough sense to stand up from their seat and bolt. Isidora stands on the outskirts of L'manberg waiting under the shelter of a tree. Isidora straightens up upon seeing (Y/n). She sighs and holds out a hand. Voices of the deceased begin screaming in (Y/n's) head.

"WHY THE HELL ARE YOU LEAVING?

"HELP THEM"

"STAY HOME"

"STAY"

"run"

As Isidora's hand closes around (Y/n's) they're suddenly wrenched from L'manberg, and back home. (Y/n) pulls their hand from Isidora's grip to press their palms into the sides of their head. "Please- make it stop." They whisper. Their eyes claimed shut as they press their back against the wall sliding down. Schlatt's voice echos loudly "Oh, it was so easy! Until further notice... WilburSoot and TommyInnit are merely a memory of L'Manberg. A relic- A relic of the past. A reminder, of the darkest era this country, has ever seen- and I guarantee you all; dear citizens... Tonight, that changes. We are entering into a new period of L'Mangerg- a period, of prosperity! of strength! of unity."

Sitting down for a few minutes they stand up before rubbing their eyes and turning toward the two women and saying quietly "Stay here. Please I don't want either of you to get hurt." they state with a certain authority that none of the three knew (Y/n) possessed. (Y/n) then walks toward their chests before digging out the materials needed. Choosing to take their half-finished crossbow, and sword, along with the armor they were currently wearing, a few potions, and pick along with food, as they walk toward the door they hesitate before returning to the chest and pull out a few End pearls along with their totem.

----

At around 3 am (Y/n) finds a half-assed base. Sighing slightly they duck into the base holding up their hands in surrender as a sword is healed to their throat. It doesn't help that the voices are still shouting. And expressing their distaste or agreement at the current predicament.

"Jesus (Y/n) where the hell have you been?" Wilbur sighs as he makes eye contact with them.

"Went by my base to grab some stuff we'll need. No, we aren't going to my base." They say as they sit atop the crafting table beside Tommy. Leaning back against the wall they glance down at Tommy. He's visibly distressed. (Y/n) taps the air infront of them withdrawing a potion of their own creation they like to call "Anti-Insomnia, sleep your problems away :)"

Pulling out a small vile of it they grab 2 cups that for some reason Wilbur had. Pouring a few drops into the cups they hand them to each of their accomplices saying "It'll help you sleep. It'll take your mind off of it." Tommy nods and asks "Wait you know Greek mythology right? Didn't you and Techno talk about it?" (Y/n's) lips curve into a faint smile at the memories.

they nod and ask "Yeah. I remember that." Wilbur asks "what's your favorite story?"

they nod before thinking. "Eros and Psyche." The words fall from their lips effortlessly. As (Y/n) begins to ramble they stare at the opposite wall.

"Psyche is a princess so beautiful that the goddess Venus becomes jealous. In revenge, she instructs her son Cupid to make her fall in love with a hideous monster; but instead, he falls in love with her himself." Tommy's head lolls before falling against (Y/n's) shoulder. (Y/n) tenses up slightly but upon realizing that it's only Tommy they continue.

"He becomes her unseen husband, visiting her only at night. Psyche disobeys his orders not to attempt to look at him, and in doing so she loses him. In her search for him, she undertakes a series of cruel and difficult tasks set by Venus in the hope of winning him back. Cupid can eventually no longer bear to witness her suffering or to be apart from her and pleads their cause to the gods. Psyche becomes an immortal and the lovers are married in heaven."(More info: here ) (Y/n) finishes their story glancing down at Thomas.

"hey? (Y/n)? How's Lilith doing?" Wilbur asks quietly. (y/n) freezes before rubbing their face and rubbing the faint scar on their neck. "No clue." Wilbur frowns and asks "What'd you mean?" He asks as he shifts to a more comfortable position. "Haven't seen her since she broke our engagement...rather brutally for my taste. Like I understand sure, I may not be the best person but burning down a house then murdering your fiancé? That's a bit much even for me. Like where's the pizzazz?" (Y/n) laughs quietly as they stand up and pull off their coat draping it over Tommy.

Wilbur frowns. "Wait. You only have one life?" He asks. (Y/n) nods as they rummage in their pocket before pulling out a small simple ring with a frog upon the center. Slipping it onto their finger with the other array of various rings they stretch and turn toward Wilbur. "Jesus Christ (Y/n). You need to be careful!" Wilbur chides. (Y/n) narrows their eyes at him before grumbling quietly "yeah yeah."

---

[whorphydice]

Bread When I’m Hungry

Happy Re-opening, Heres a new fic. 

Bread When I’m Hungry

Those were words that, in the dead heat of summer, have Orpheus waking from a dead sleep. Somehow, despite the blazing temperatures, he wakes in a cold sweat. Fear likely responsible for the chill he felt in his heart at the memory.  It was a nightmare, quite literally, that he would never recover from. Eurydice, clinging to his hand, begging him to just listen please, we need food. A nightmare, a memory, that every night now, he experienced again in his head. Eurydice, his wife, his love, starving in front of his eyes.

Even when he woke, breathing hard and heart trying to beat itself out of his chest, he cannot shake the feeling. He always looks to his right, where his wife is there in the flesh, alive. The gentle rise and fall of her shoulders with her breathing comforts him, bringing him out of his fear. Yes. She was alive, she was here, and she was safe.

And yet, despite the very physical evidence of her beside him that they were safe… it all ate at Orpheus. The memories, the nightmares.  The look on her face when he had come for her, the hope in her eyes when she told him she needed so little-- bread, fire-- so long as they were together. He owed her- he owed her the most basic of comforts.

He had promised to see her needs, to meet them. He would be damned before he failed to provide for her again.

It is that next morning, right after the peak of summer, when he kisses his wife’s sleeping face, whispers a promise of “I’ll be back soon,” and slips out towards the door. The fact doesn’t escape him (he’s gotten better at remembering important things) that his wife had mentioned she was going to be helping Persephone and her mother with gardening all day and likely would not be home until that evening. Perfect.

He is the first person at the market that morning, with a cotton tote over his shoulder. He makes a beeline way directly to the corner stand that is filled with freshly baked goods, leavening agents, and a plethora of flour products. It’s earlier than he’d wake normally, but he can remember hearing about baking early in the day, and bakers waking before anyone else. Yes, this is what he had to do. What he wanted to do. He practically runs up to the stand, absolutely beaming at the town baker, despite the early hour.

“Good morning!” Orpheus greets, pulling a notebook from his pocket, as well as a pencil. “I have some questions for you.”

The baker, an older man, who had been baking in the town before Orpheus had even been born, looks up over his shelves of goods, a curious expression on his face. “Why, good morning Orpheus! What are you doing here so early, and where’s that girl of yours? Unlike you to be alone!”

A warm blush comes to Orpheus’ face, as he fiddles his pencil between his thumb and forefinger. “That’s actually what i’m here about. I want to learn to bake. Bread, actually. I promised her she’d have a home with warm bread. I need to make sure I keep that promise.” He gestures to the flours and sugars around him. “And, to be quite honest, I don’t even know how to start.”

The baker is a kind man, and he chuckles under his breath. It was just very..Orpheus..to take on a project and a promise with no idea of how to go about completing it. He wipes his hands on his apron and holds out both hands, gesturing for Orpheus to hand him the note pad and paper. “You’re the only man I know like you.” He remarks, scribbling down instructions on the notepad. “You’re going to start simple, alright? No starter, no add ins. Just a basic, white bread.”

Orpheus nods excitedly, clasping his hands infront of him. “Yes, yes, thank you! I appreciate it, and Eurydice will too.” It was fact, in the town. That Eurydice was nearly as beloved as Orpheus, maybe even more so, for the way she brought him the joy that she did. He is glancing around at the ingredients around him, trying not to show the level of overwhelmed he felt. “I can- what do I need to do that?”

“I’ll set you up right, don’t worry about it. And when you’re done here you’re gonna stop down there for your butter. It’ll be nice and fresh. Melts real well on the warm bread. And stop and grab some fresh eggs too. You can make a real nice toast for your girl in the mornin;.” The Man hands Orpheus the list back, and then begins to hand him the proper products he needs from the document. “If you really want to impress her, You make a few loaves, then it pushes you through the week. Shows forethought.”

Orpheus gives the man a genuine thanks and exchanges payment, before he carries on stopping at the rest of his target vendors. He grabs the additional ingredients, careful to follow the instructions exactly. He has to make sure Eurydice enjoys it, he has to make her see that he listened to her needs. 

Orpheus enjoys the walk home, noting to himself how melodic the birds sound. He finds himself humming in response, a beautiful distraction to exactly how exhausted he is. The combination of the lack of sleep from the nightmares and the early start to the day are surely to catch up to him. But for now, in this moment, he is simply too excited to surprise his wife.

Orpheus arrives home, tossing his shoes to the side as he soon as he passes the threshold of their apartment. They’ve lived above the bar since their return, Orpheus himself having lived their longer. They’ve talked about looking for more of a home, with a yard for their own garden, space out of the town where they could be alone. There was no rush, though. They were together, they were each other’s home. The four walls around them wasn’t what mattered most, anymore. 

Eurydice is gone, he can tell that much in their studio space. Besides the obvious of the lack of her physical presence, he notices the lack of her boots, the absence of her laugh, the missing smell of warm spices and earth. It used to be that her absence, even temporary, would set a panic in his chest. She’s gone, she’s never coming back. She left again. Doubt plays on repeat in his head, time and time again until he finally broke down to Eurydice one day.  He verbalizes his fear, and doubts, and through more than a bit of tears from them both they made it through. He can rationalize now, that when she went out to work with Persephone, she’d return at the end of the night. 

Now the pang he felt was just that he always did, when she was gone. Just a feeling of a  man who loved his wife and missed her presence.

Orpheus sits his groceries in their kitchen, setting them out before him. He grabs his work apron, the only one he had, slipping It over his head and then tying it behind his back. He re-reads the instructions diligently (one, two, then three) times before he begins preparing his work station and beginning his first loaf.

~

Maybe it was the summer heat beaming down on her all day, or maybe it was the practically sun up to sundown shift she worked today, but Eurydice was exhausted. Not that she was ungrateful, no not that at all. She thanked Persephone, and often her mother, profusely for allowing her to come help work around the farm and assist the goddesses. Yes, Eurydice was exceptionally grateful for all the opportunities Persephone helped to provide her with.

Eurydice’s thankfulness did not negate that sometimes, at the end of a long day in the field, she was bone tired.

“Love.. I’m home..” She pushes the door open, and after settling her keys on the table right inside their door, she has no chance to drop her bag or shoes before she is met by her husband directly inside.

He stands there, directly on the other side of the door, a goofy, proud smile on his face. He is still wearing his work apron from earlier, though rather than the usual drink stains, he is covered in a light flour dusting. Most importantly, now, is that Orpheus holds his arms out fully extended to her, with a steaming golden loaf of bread in his hands. “Look! ‘Rydice I did it!’

Eurydice looks out in-front of her, eyes going incredibly wide when the situation processes through her head. Bread. That is fresh bread. That is fresh, steaming homemade bread. That is fresh, steaming homemade bread created by her husband. Orpheus made this for her. Her husband did this for her. “You.. did that? Orpheus?” She’s in disbelief as she drops her bag carelessly and reaches out her hands to wrap around his. Her dark eyes flicker between his hands and meeting his face. Once she truly realizes what’s happened, the brightest smile spreads from her mouth to her eyes, and a little laugh of disbelief coming out. “you made us this?”

He nods so quickly that his head barely can move, gently transferring the loaf to her hands. “I wanted you to know I remember. I remember the promises I made you. I promised you would always have bread when you are hungry- and I am going to keep my promises, this time.“ Orpheus leans in and wraps his now free (but still warm) hands around her cheeks, holding his entire world in them. “I will always make sure you have enough to eat, Eurydice. I promise.” He leans in, now, to give her a kiss on the center of her forehead. His lips linger for a few moments, before he pulls back. He rests his forehead on hers for a few minutes, hands still cupping her cheeks.

Orpheus is struck with recollection, then, as he pulls back from his wife. “oh! And follow me! I have some fresh butter for you. I have a few more loaves to finish, but you can eat that one while the others bake. They told me, at the market today, to make a couple so we can have them all week!” He gestures for her to follow him towards the kitchen area where, on their dining table, flour is spread out after a few smaller piles of raw dough.

He goes back to kneading, as Eurydice follows him into their home. If he notices her tears forming, he does not mention it. Eurydice breaths deeply as she stares at the loaf in her hands, thumbs brushing over the golden crust. It is heavy and warm, fresh but ready to be eaten, in the palms of her hands. She would love to blame the feeling in her chest as a mix of exhaustion and love but Eurydice knows that, really, it’s the feeling of love and adoration alone that Orpheus is so capable of making her feel. No, exhaustion is not why her heart felt so heavy now.

And here he was, providing for them. Not that she had doubted his dedication, no, and she wasn’t expecting him to support her entirely either. They were a team. They worked together to meet the needs of them both.  Yet this loaf of bread in her hands made by the man kneading another small portion at the table, was a far cry from the boy who didn’t hear her pleas for food and firewood not that many seasons ago.

Eurydice wipes at her eyes with the back of her hand, directing her attention instead to her husband and his work.

She couldn’t help but stare at him, now. The way his hair had just a bit of sweat on the ends, a result of the hard work he had put into the heat of the kitchen all day. Then there was the way he bit his lip and furrowed his eyebrows in concentration. The way his arms from his shoulders, the muscles of his upper arm, to the tendons in his lower arms twisted and contorted with his effort into the dough. His stature now, also, was quite a development in comparison to the thin, frail boy who came to hell and back for her. She supposed a healthy harvest and work did wonders for the body. Most of all, she was not ignoring his skilled fingers folding and flexing in the bread dough, as he incorporated extra flour. Kneading, she realized, was just another thing to add to the list of the things Orpheus’s nimble fingers were so good for.

Eurydice snaps herself out of her reverie, breaking the bread in half with her hands. The crackling of the crust has him looking up at her, and he gives her one of the most brilliant grins she had ever seen. “Is it good?”

Without even tasting it, Eurydice just nods. “Wonderful.”

[i-feel-supernatural]

Baker | Daniel Brühl ~ One Shot • Reader x Daniel Brühl

The cool weather finally pushed the hot summer away. I hoped that the cool weather would stay, but I figured that wouldn't be likely. Mostly because it was still August. But I tried my best to make the most out of the fall like temperatures. I was so looking forward to sweater weather. I decided to go to my favorite bakery. I hadn't been there in a while due to my busy schedule. But today I decided to treat myself to a good cup of coffee and some kind of pastry.

When I walked inside I was surprised at how busy it was. The cashiers were working overtime and the supplies were getting low. "Wow, you guys seem like you're having a very busy day." I said over the chatter of customers. "Busy? It's been down right chaotic. The new baker we hired to help didn't show up." One of the girls said. "How many loves of bread do we have left?" Daniel asked as he came out of the kitchen. He had flower on his cheek as well as chocolate and jams on his apron.

I felt myself blush when I saw him. I've secretly have had a crush on him for a while. "Y/n! I haven't seen you for a while. I'm afraid that I'm all sold out of chocolate croissants at the moment. But I have a fresh batch baking in the oven." He said with a look that said he was sorry. "That's okay. You've been having a very busy day." I said with a look of sympathy. I love his cute German accent, and hoped that I wasn't blushing much.

"Hey, can you bake? I could really use some help." He said after a moment of observing what he was sold out of. "Um, yeah. But I don't think I can bake as good as you though." I said with a shy laugh. "Oh, come on. I can teach you." He said as he motioned for me to follow him. I hesitated for a moment before following him to the kitchen. It was warm in there from the ovens. The place looked like a tornado had been through there. Flour was practically everywhere.

I took my jacket off and rolled up my sleeves. Then he started showing me how to bake his amazing bread. I hoped that I was doing everything right and that the bread turned out. As I helped, he accidently tossed some flower at me. "Hey!" I said with a giggle as I tossed a little flower at him. A big beautiful smile spread across his face. We had a little flour war before he wrapped his arms around me. He pulled me into a big hug, and I melted instantly.

He smelled sweet just like his pastries, and his arms felt so strong around me. I guess he would have to have strong arms to lift those huge sacks of flour and sugar. It took everything in me not to snuggle closer into his chest. "We... we should probably get back to work." He said with a soft laugh. We slowly broke the hug and I blushed when we made eye contact. Eventually we were caught up with all of the orders. We collapsed into chairs in the back. Slightly sweaty and covered in flour.

But I had a wonderful time baking with him. I wished I could do this with him every day. One of the cashiers brought me back a pumpkin spice coffee. I thanked her and sipped it, savoring the delicious coffee. A few moments passed and Daniel handed me a freshly bakes chocolate croissant. "Here, this is for helping me today. I really appreciate it." He said with a cute smile. "Thanks but... you don't have to do that." I said shyly. "It's okay. I want to." He said.

The two of us ate out croissants and drank coffee. We made small talk too. I could just imagine baking things with him every day and having a lovely peaceful life. But I was too shy to tell him how I feel. I was afraid that he wouldn't feel the same way. Especially since he's so handsome. He gave me six free chocolate croissants and a loaf of bread. He often gave me free bread and pastries. But I never really thought anything of it.

"Hey um... maybe you could be my baking buddy. You're really good at baking." He said with a light blush on his face. "Well, that's because I had a wonderful teacher." I said, and his blush darkened. "I mean it. I would love being able to bake with you." He said softly, and I got butterflies. I told him that I would think about it. He gave me his phone number in case I decided to take him up on his offer. I had been looking for a less stressful job.

When I got home I decided to call Daniel and accept his offer. I kept smiling as I thought about my day with him. He was so sweet and playful, just like I imagined he would be. I hoped that I would be able to confess my feelings for him someday.

++++++++++++++

A/N: Thanks for reading!! Check out more Daniel Brühl + Daniel Brühl character One-Shots here:

[creatingnikki]

People come and go as they please. That’s a fact. And that’s why we have doors - so we have a say in who we let in. We should have mental and emotional doors too. Because when something is a fact, and when it plays out, you can’t blame it on people. You can only blame yourself for being ignorant. But my life...I have never had a door. It’s one of those door-less offices that are cool and inclusive and non-hierarchical. Because I don’t judge and I don't think I’m better than anyone and I always try to make people feel good about themselves and encourage them. I let everyone in my home and my heart. And you know, some people are kind. They leave their shoes out in the corner and bring me plants and scented candles. Some others always bring takeout and wine and we have magical nights. Some help me fix things around like that lop-sided stool and that chipped wall. They help me without demanding acknowledgement but there’s gratitude anyway. They also have their home and their goals so they go on their way eventually. I like those people, and they know they can come and go as they like. Then there are those who bring in their muddy shoes and keep their feet on the coffee table and leave the wrappers of chocolate right where they ate them. But you know what? I’m okay with them. I’ve dealt with a lot of lazy, clumsy and selfish people in my life. They aren’t even the worst. I’ll tell you the ones that are. They are those people who come in and tell you how to live your life and run your home. They change your kitchen arrangements and paint your pastel blue walls black and kill all your plants and burn all the books. And for the longest time you don’t even see what’s happening. How they are overpowering your thoughts and beliefs, how they are being manipulative in their dealings. And when one of those lovely people from earlier come along inside with freshly baked bread happy to see you after so long, they are horrified to see what’s become of your lovely home - what’s become of your lovely disposition. They try to put some sense into you and you know they are right. When you gather the courage to ask the unwelcome guest to leave they tell you that you’re nothing without them and that your home is better since they came in and fixed it. That night you sleep not sure if they will try to murder you in your sleep. But they do worse - they drug you and leave you in some stranded place and you just can’t find your way back home, you can’t find your heart or your soul. You walk around shoe-less and aimless and thoughtless and numb. Thank god for those lovely people who help homeless people. Because if it wasn’t for them, you’d probably fall into a ditch and just stay there until death came for you. Can I let you in on a secret though? No matter how grateful you are to them, you have to leave their home at some point. You don’t owe your newfound heart or hope or life. Just remember that as you build your next home, you build a big, sturdy door with a peephole and a few locks. Don’t stay shut inside forever, no. But please always see, wait and evaluate before you decide to open and let another person enter. Have a password maybe - whats the question? I don't know but if their intentions are earnest and their heart is sincere, they will know it even if you don't.

I’m in the process of building that door. It’s wooden and will be covered in vines and flowers. But it won’t have a doormat. // 21st April, 2020 @creatingnikki

[pink-imagines]

reach me behind your voice

chapter 2: opening doors

summary: you go home with katsuki and shoto seems to have a problem with that. why? you don’t know.

a/n: the choice picked from last time was bakugo !! time to pick the next one :) this is when i realize that i’m making a dating sim...

warnings: swearing

masterlist

requesting rules

chapter 1

When you got out you were just about to call Shoto to tell you about it, but then you saw Bakugo standing by the entrance. “I’ll give you this, Bakugo.”, you said as you walked up to him, “You’re pretty good at piano.” “Pretty good?”, he scoffed, “You sure are cocky, aren’t you princess?” “What’s with the nickname?”, you folded your arms over your chest. “Prancing around like that in the studio, I might as well call you a princess.”, he chuckled, “Or do you prefer idiot?” “I’d like to see you ‘prance around’ like I did.”, you huffed. “I didn’t say you were bad.”, he looked away from you, “Whatever, I’m leaving. I’m counting on you to get the lead, princess.” He started walking away... as if this conversation was over.

“Hey, wait up!”, you sprinted up next to him, “You want me to take the lead?” “What about it? It’s nothing special anyways...”, he muttered, “... you were the only one I could see as the lead anyways. The others were just extras.” “Don’t say that, they’re good too!”, you exclaimed. “Whatever... why are you following me anyways?”, he sped up the pace but you followed closely. “I’m going this way too... and my-... friend told me to not walk alone if it gets dark out.”, you explained. “Your friend? Who? Mina?”, he asked. You had completely forgotten that they used to hang out at times... you never knew why they stopped. Mina was always friendly towards everyone, so of course she’d try even with this guy. When you looked up at him you noticed he was looking back at you, which made you quickly look down to the ground. “No... Shoto.”, you muttered with a smile. You linked your hands together behind your back and looked up at the starry sky. “What is he? Your boyfriend or something?”, Bakugo scoffed. “What? No!”, you felt heat rising to your cheeks, “We’ve been friends since we were kids...” “So? Ah... it’s probably one-sided, isn’t it?”, he grinned and bent down slightly to look you in the eye, “It’s pretty obvious you like him, princess.” I did not repress my feelings for this long just for this douche to figure it out... “It’s none of your business.”, you huffed, “He’s... he’s like a brother to me. Why are we even talking about him? I’ve never even seen you speak with him.” “You’re really that love sick that you’ve gone blind? We’ve been at the same competitions.”, he said casually. Maybe you had seen him there... then again, you were there to support Shoto so you didn’t actually pay attention to anyone else. You looked over at Bakugo again, he was staring at the sky. For once he looked peaceful, kind of like when he was playing the piano earlier but less focused. That’s when you remembered the story. “Oh! The script!”, you pulled it out of your bag, “If you want me to get the lead so bad, then why don’t you help me understand this!” “Isn’t the whole point of you reading it alone is for you to get your own view on it? Besides, I don’t want to look at it. I wrote it once and now I’m done with it.”, he says. “Fine... then I’ll read it and if I have any questions I’ll ask you about it.”, you compromised and put the script back in your phone, “Here, give me your phone.” “Why do you want my phone?” “So that I can put my number in it, idiot.”, you sighed and pulled out your own phone, “Here, put in your contact in mine.” With a bit of hesitation Bakugo did as you said. You put in your name as “Y/L/N” and quickly wrote your number before giving him back his phone and then he gave you back your phone too. “Katsuki?”, you asked. “Yeah it’s fine, I don’t care that much.”, he shrugged. “Okay... then you can change the contact to my first name too, I guess.”, you put your phone back in your pocket, “My house is just around the corner, but I’ll text you when I have questions. You better answer them too!” “Yeah, yeah... I won’t respond if you text me too late, though.”, he threw his bag over his shoulder and walked in the opposite direction of where you were going, “See you tomorrow!”

When you got home you took a shower and quickly ate whatever was left over for you from your family’s dinner. They ate earlier, so it was just you.  Once you finished you walked back to your room and started to dry off your hair with the towel that you had wrapped around it before. You threw your phone on the bed and was suddenly struck with the the feeling like you had forgotten something. I was gonna call Shoto before! You picked your phone back up and scrolled through your contacts until you found his name. He picked up after it five buzzes. “Hey, what’s up?”, he voice was deeper than usual, he was probably supposed to go to sleep now. “Hi, I didn’t disturb you right?”, you asked and sat down on your bed. “No... how did your dance class go?”, he asked. “Just fine. I have to read this script now for the audition that’s in two days, but I think it’ll go okay.”, you explained, “You’ve eaten something, right?” “Yeah, yeah, don’t worry.”, he brushed it off as you walked over to your window. He was standing in his window too so you waved, and he waved back. “I was out on a run before, near the dance studio, you should’ve called before so that I could’ve walked you home.”, he sat down in his window frame. “I was going to but Katsuki-” “Bakugo?”, he interrupted, “Why was he there? Did he do anything to you?” “What? No.”, you laughed, “Don’t worry about it, we just walked home together since he lives down the street. He was actually the pianist that we’re working with for our new performance.” “... really?”, he scoffed, “You don’t have to walk home with him next time, okay? Call me and I’ll be there.” “Sure.”, you smiled and decided not to comment about their competitions together, “But my teacher said that I might be getting the lead this time around.” “Really? That’s great.”, he smiled to you through the window, “You should get some rest then.” “But I need to read through the script-” “You have all day tomorrow to do that. It’s late so get some rest, okay?” “Okay... you too.”, you said. “Goodnight.” “Goodnight.”, you hung up. Shoto waved at you before closing the blinds. You didn’t even get to ask him if he had been practicing for that competition he had coming up. He probably didn’t want to talk about it in the first place. The most important thing right now was that you got to talk to him at all, usually you called every other week but this week you had gotten to call him twice. Maybe this was a changing point!

The next morning you woke up to the alarm you had put for 7:00 am. With a groan you got yourself out of bed, though you would rather stay a bit longer, to open the blinds to your window. Like you expected, Shoto did so around the same time.You looked at each other with tired eyes and waved. He opened his window and you followed suit. “I’ll walk you to school, be out in an hour!”, he told you. “Okay!”, you smiled. You hadn’t done this in ages, it was like a morning ritual in middle school but it faded during junior high and completely disappeared in high school. If you wanted to walk with him to school you’d usually have to get up early and run to catch up with him.  You ran down the kitchen and made some quick breakfast. Somebody in the house had baked bread buns so you took two and stuffed them in your bag. Your lunch laid prepared for you on the kitchen counter, so you took that and put it in your bag as well. After that you made your way to the kitchen and brushed your teeth and got ready. It was probably your favorite part of the morning, since the bathroom had heated tiles and it was relaxing seeing as you got to sit in peace and quiet for a while. 

An hour passes and you’re out the door, ready to get to school. You had a bit of problem with finding your uniform earlier, but it was resolved by you finding another one in the laundry room. As soon as you walk out the door you see him and as if on queue a smile breaks out on your lips. You close the door behind you and run up to the gate which you quickly open and close. “Goodmorning.”, you said cheerfully. “Goodmorning.”, he smiled at you, sending butterflies to your stomach. “Did you eat anything?”, you usually ask this in the morning as he has a tendancy to skip breakfast if anyone in his family is occupying the kitchen. “I-”, he didn’t have much time to answer before his stomach started grumbling. “I’ll take that as a no.”, you laughed and pulled out a bun from your bag, “Have one of these.” “Did you make them?”, he asked and took a bite out of it. “No, I don’t have time for baking.”, you shook your head, “I’m not sure who made them, but they’re freshly baked!” “Thanks...”, he muttered with his hand over his mouth, but you could still tell he was smiling.

With that your walk to school started, for the most part it was quiet. It wasn’t like your walk with Katsuki last night, but it was still nice. He asked you briefly about the performance but you liked the fact that the silence wasn’t awkward. You even got a chuckle out of him once or twice, which was a pleasant surprise. It felt like everything was back to normal... but when you got to school his friends almost immediately spotted him and called him over. “I’ll see you later.”, he said and patted you on your head, “Get to class, okay?” You hummed and watched as he walked towards his friends, who were all teasing him about being so close with you.  “You worry about her too much for just being her friend.”, you heard one of them said. “I’ve told you before, we’ve been friends since we were kids.”, was Shoto’s excuse. You didn’t know that those words could actually hurt, but you of course kept it inside and just kept walking to your locker. “Oi!”, you heard behind you, “Did you read the script, princess?” You turned to see Katsuki. “Goodmorning to you too.”, you sighed and took off your shoes, “I haven’t yet, I’m gonna do it during lunch.” “The clock’s ticking.”, he hummed, stuffed his hands in his pockets, and walked away. You rolled your eyes and took out your indoor shoes so that you could put them on, when yet another people disturbed your thoughts. “Hey, Y/N!”, Mina exclaimed as she ran up to your locker, “Were you just talking to Bakugo?” “Yeah, what about it?”, you asked and looked up from putting on your shoes. “He doesn’t talk to anyone. Are you guys hanging out now?” You had a weird feeling that Katsuki probably didn’t want you talking about his gig at the dance studio. “We met outside of school yesterday and talked. I had just finished my dance lesson.”, you shrugged. It wasn’t a complete lie. “Oh right! How did your dance lesson go?” Glad that you managed to make her forget about your incounter with Katsuki, you told her about the lesson as you walked with her to your classroom.

As you said you would, you read the script during lunch. Your friends tried to peak at it, but you managed to stop them by saying that it was for your performance.  So when the last lesson of the day rolled around, you could only stare out the window and hope for it to end. You really wanted to ask Katsuki some questions, maybe you were reading it the wrong way. As soon as the bell rang you packed together your stuff, luckily you didn’t have cleaning duty today. I should text him to ask where he is. As you sprinted down the halls you pulled out your phone and clicked on Katsuki’s contact. hey, it’s Y/N! can we meet up so that I can ask about the script? I’ll be waiting by my locker. With that finished you put down your phone in your pocket and kept going down the halls.

Once you got to your locker you were about to take off your shoes when you heard voices on the other side. You peaked your head out on the side of the lockers and saw Katsuki and Shoto. “All I’m asking you is to leave her alone.”, Shoto scoffed. “How should I do that? I work with her.”, Katsuki rolled his eyes, “She’s not your girlfriend, so why do you care?” “She doesn’t have to be my girlfriend for me to care about her, she shouldn’t be around someone like you.” “But it doesn’t matter what you think, it’s her choice.”, Katsuki leaned forward with a mocking grin, “Maybe your just jealous ‘cause she walked home with me instead of calling you to pick her up. Face it buddy, if you want her to stick around you then you have to actually be there for her.” “... if I ever find out that you hurt her in any way-”, Shoto started but was cut off. “Yeah, yeah. Go practice your violin, pretty boy.”, Katsuki scoffed and walked away. Realizing that you might get caught spying on them, you run away to the nearest bathroom and don’t come out until you hear them walking away. are you coming?, Katsuki texted you. You decided that it was safe to come out now, and so you walked back to your locker. Katsuki was leaning his back against it, looking down at his phone. “Oh, you got here before me!”, you said as if you hadn’t seen his text, “Sorry, did I make you wait?” “No, I just got here.”, he huffed, “You had any questions?”

You sat outside the school and talked to Katsuki about the story, asking all kinds of questions to get the best perspective on it that you could. After some time you realized that you should go home, so you asked Katsuki if he wanted to walk home together. “No thanks.”, he said and threw the juicebox he had bought before in the trash, “I’ve got somewhere else to be. What? Do you need protection or something?” “No, but-” “If Shoto doesn’t like it when you walk home alone then he should walk with you himself.”, he muttered. “I wasn’t gonna say that... I just thought it could be boring to walk alone. And he’s not the only one who worries about me, you know?”, you sighed, “I’ll leave first, then. Bye!” Katsuki didn’t say anything else, but you could feel his eyes on you as you walked away from him.

Once you got home you got ready for your next dance class. To get some extra money you had gotten a job as a dance teacher for younger kids. You only had to work on Fridays and Sundays though, the rest of your week was taken up by dance classes of your own. Ballet on Thursdays, Saturday mornings and Tuesdays. Modern on Mondays and Wednesdays. You hadn’t danced street in a while, neither jazz, but you couldn’t forget to focus on your school work too. You put on the tracksuit you had to wear and took your bag with stuff for your students in it. Next thing you knew, you were out the door but just as you closed the gate behind you Shoto jogged by. He slowed down as he saw you. “Are you off to work?”, he asked and you hummed and nodded in response, “Call me up afterwards, okay? I’ll walk you home.” “You don’t have to do that.”, you said even though you knew he wouldn’t listen, “Besides Mina’s working today, so we’ll walk a bit together. But I’ll call you when I get home.” Before he could come with any more protests you walked away, though you would’ve liked to stay and talk... he hadn’t talked this much to you in a while... he usually offered to walk you home, but this was way more than usual. You thought back to Shoto’s conversation with Katsuki earlier... could it be...- no.

You class went by smoothly and you didn’t have to think of anything else other than dancing. It was like a distraction for your thought-filled brain. When the lesson eventually ended you waved goodbye to your students and proceeded to walk home with Mina. “You’re in a hurry.”, she commented at the fact that your pace seemed to quicken with every step. “I have to read through a script for my ballet class... and I promised Shoto I’d call him when I got home...”, you muttered out the last part, knowing the impact it would have on her. “You two...”, she sighed romantically, “... he’s really acting like your boyfriend.” “He doesn’t!”, you exclaimed, “I might just shoot him a text, I’m sure that’s fine too...” Somehow the fact that she made a big deal out of it made it less wanted. Maybe you were embarrassed, either way you decided not to call him.

When you got home you sent Shoto a text saying that you were home before going to take a shower. He had already responded when you got out with a simple “okay, good”. You sighed and sat down on your bed, remembering that you should probably read through the script again. So you rummaged through your bag and finally found it. As you were about to sit down by your desk you heard something from outside your window... Shoto was playing the violin in his room again. If you didn’t mishear it, it was Sonata for Violin and Piano no. 5, op 24, obviously without the piano. It’s the one you really liked... but it sounded angry. Nevertheless, he was still playing so, you smiled to yourself and decided to sit down in the window to read. Shoto had rolled down his blinds already, you could see his silhouette because of the bright light behind him, so you weren’t scared that he was going to see you. With a deep breath you started reading...

The boy with a raincloud above his head runs home to his mother to tell her about the girl with the sunshine smile and dream-like eyes. Though the sunshine smile wasn’t meant for him and the dream-like eyes didn’t look his way, he still appreciated from afar. He ran over the fields, a short cut that he used as a hiding spot from those who would watch. The boy was never seen without a reason, and the reason always had ill intent. Those who would watch liked to see him fall and cry, and they loved to tease. Words, spiked with hatred, were spewed at him. It seemed as if smoke poured out their mouths when they opened it, but those who watched wouldn’t do this with other people around. They would rather not be seen with him at all. But the fields near the back of his home was a place where their eyes couldn’t find him. He runs across the fields to tell his mother of the girl. The memory of her made him smile. Her laugh made a sound like bells, and he wish he could hear it more often. Though he understood that he could never make her laugh-

With a sigh you looked at the clock. Shoto had stopped playing and his lights were out. You had probably read the intro right the first time around, so you decided to skip to the part when the girl first saw the boy...

She stared right at him with her hand stretched out towards him, prepared for him to take it. The boy hesitates, what if she had joined those who watched... what if someone so wonderful had been ordered around by people that horrible. Eventually he takes her hand, and she helps him up. Her dream-like eyes are kind as they look into his, it’s something that he’s never felt before. 

You felt like you understood the premise of the story and put the pages down. It was pretty late and you should get some rest before you had to get to the auditions tomorrow morning. It was probably not going to be like the normal auditions you’ve had, where you got to practice weeks in advance, so you worried about what was ahead of you. Nevertheless, you took a look at your phone. Shoto had answered your text twenty minutes ago. Good, get some rest You smiled at the message and started texting him back. I’m sorry I didn’t call you, I’ll take you out to get cold soba tomorrow instead if you feel like it :) The two of you used to go out to your favorite restaurant when you were in junior high and eat cold soba together. It was his favorite and you learned to love it over the years. Maybe since the two of you seemed to start getting back to normal it wouldn’t be weird and awkward. That sounds nice, he replied.

The next day arrived, you were excited and nervous at the same time. Excited over the fact that you’d get to go out with Shoto like you used to. You had planned everything yesterday, you’d meet him at the restaurant half an hour after your class had ended- since he had to go to some meeting, that he never specified what it was, and was going to meet you there. But you were nervous because of your audition, you didn’t know if you’d mess up. It seemed like everyone wanted you to make it too, which only helped the press you felt about it. You shook it off and got ready for your day.

Once you got to the theatre where you’d be performing you told the person in the reception that you were one of the dancers. “Sorry, it says that all the dancers have already gotten here.”, they explained while looking down at their notes. “But that can’t be right...”, you started getting more anxious by the second, “Are you sure?” “It says so on the list.”, they tapped away on their computer, not even looking at the list anymore. “Could you please double check for me?”, you asked kindly, “I really need to get to my audition and I-” “Listen, kid. It says you’re not on here, so I can’t let you in.”, they sighed. You left the establishment shortly after and found a bench near the entrance. Maybe it wasn’t the right building or maybe you actually weren’t on that list at all... what if mrs. Takahashi really did forget to write your name down. Tears started forming in your eyes... it was a stupid thing to cry about but this could be your last chance to- “What’s wrong, princess?”, the familiar nickname made you look up. Katsuki was standing right in front of you, looking down at your crouched figure. “Hi...”, you quickly wiped away your tears with the sleeve of your shirt. “Why aren’t you going in there? You know this isn’t some middleschool field trip where the teachers come and get you, right?”, he scoffed, it seemed as if he hadn’t noticed your tears. Thank god. “The receptionist says that my name isn’t on the list for the auditions and they won’t check it again-” “That’s bullshit, c’mon.”, he grabbed your wrist and walked away with you. You only had little time to grab your things but managed to do so rather quickly before he pulled you into the building. The receptionists eyes were burning into your soul, it felt as if they clearly didn’t want you to be here. “Bakugo Katsuki, I’m here for the dance performance and so is my friend.”, he explained with a rough voice, clearly mad. “Sorry sir, but she wasn’t on the list.”, the receptionist kept clicking away on their keyboard. “Look at the damn list again.”, he said firmly, “She’s on there, you just need glasses.” “Sir-” “Or do you want me to read the list myself? I know she’s on there. Look up Y/L/N Y/N.” The receptionist sighed and looked through the list once again. Their lips tightened into a thin line as they got to the bottom of the list. “Room 7, take the stairs and it’s to the right.”, they said. “Told you so.”, Katsuki scoffed and kept walking, not letting go of your hand. “Katsuki you didn’t have to be so rude.”, you whispered. “It doesn’t matter now.”, he said without looking at you. You looked at the back of his head and then down to where his hand was holding onto your wrist. His hands were gentle but firm, the opposite of what you were expecting. You weren’t paying attention to anything else so when he abruptly stopped you walked right into him.  “We’re here.”, he muttered and let go of you. He didn’t even yell at you for bumping into him... but you didn’t have time to think about it, you just walked into the room along with him.

The auditions went just fine, they were like usual except that mrs. Takahashi wasn’t expecting everyone to know every detail. All she wanted was the emotion behind your movements. It was pretty obvious who the main male dancer would be already, but since you came late you didn’t have a clue how the girls danced. When it came to your turn you shook off your nerves before taking your place on scene. It was the one dance that you had actually memorized, so everything turned out fine. 

At the end of the lesson you were starving, and waiting impatiently for it to end. The last person was dancing but you couldn’t pay attention to them... even though Katsuki was on the side of the stage your eyes were more drawn to him. He had a calm expression and relaxed body language but his eyes were focused. It looked so intense that it gave you goosebumps... Eventually you were allowed to leave after mrs. Takahashi told all of you to keep practicing until Tuesday- since she hadn’t come to a conclution yet and might need another look at your technique before she chose the parts. You managed to leave last even though you so badly wanted to leave- but before you could do so someone stopped you. “If you want to you could practice more...”, Katsuki had grabbed your wrist again, “I think we have the place for another hour and it’s kinda unfair considering you were stuck outside for a while...” It would be nice to practice a bit more, but you still needed to go home and get ready to go out with Shoto... then again, how long could practice take?

It’s your choice: stay with Katsuki or go to Shoto? (click here to go to the poll)

-

rmbyv taglist: @richkookie 

permanent taglist: @theoceanphoenixhasrisen | @raven-r0ses | @darkbeautyswife | @sondering-thoughts | @gowoneandonlyone | @bnhabadass | @queenblackcat | @jayetheanimefreek101 | @witchy-anna | @cutest-celestial-princess | @missymysa | @karebear5118 | @weebartistinc | @crystal-lilac |

[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.

[audreyandherocs]

Thea's Cave: Chapter 5

<Previous Chapter>

“You don’t have a communicator?!”

“Tommy, tommy, I literally woke up in the world just…I don’t know how long actually?” said Thea, her face scrunching at the realization that she didn’t keep count. “Wait, what’s a communicator?”

Tubbo trotted up to her and pulled out his communicator, showing it to her. “We use these to call and keep into contact with people. Also other things like if people get despawned or something.”

“Ohhhh, yeah definitely don’t have that. If I did, then I would’ve known there were other people around.”

“This is unacceptable! We got to get you one now, or how else are you going to need help from Tubbo and I!” yelled Tommy as if it was a crime.

Thea folded her arms together and human, leaning slightly against her wall. Her newly acquired bees were buzzing around which was a great delight to Tubbo.

“I mean, I’m close to L’manberg to book for it” noted Thea but the boys didn’t notice it. They were going in and out of the house, exploring everywhere as Thea just snorted at their antics but kept on working and learning.

She had a crossbow, snatched from the pillagers all those time ago, and apparently, she could shoot fireworks out of it. She had planned to experiment more with the fireworks but that plan went out of the window when the boys came.

It had been only three days since she met these boys and she already knew, they were chaotic and would need supervision when they were handling TnT. So, she had gone out and looked for some animals, Tommy enthusiastically helping her round up cows and chickens, and bees by an enthusiastic Tubbo. Thea found some sheep and now she was just tending to them and the farmland.

“HEY THEA,” yelled Tommy from the balcony as she turned to him nonchalantly, “WHERE ARE YOUR GUEST BEDROOMS?!”

“I DON’T HAVE ANY!” she yelled back and turned to her planning potatoes.

“WHAT?! WHY!?”

“WHY WOULD I?!” she yelled back a question, before snorting. There was someone jumping off and Thea turned back to see Tommy and Tubbo parkouring off the balcony and rushing towards her.

“So we can sleep over!”

Thea stood up and dusted off her pants, noting absentmindedly that she should get new clothes.

“If you guys do, just set a bed somewhere in the bedroom, I don’t care. I got wool and dye, just mark which is which and mind my stuff.”

Tommy and Tubbo beamed and dashed off as Thea realized she had just given the two permission to set their place. Thea shrugged as she heard the two boys in her home yelling about something and as she collected honey, she felt another presence.

She turned to it, seeing Wilbur walking down her little path. His eyes met hers and Thea instinctively waved her hand to greet him, smiling as she did.

“Hello Mr. President” she said as Wilbur gave a smile.

“Thea, I see you got a house now” he said, hands folded behind his back and head turning around to take in the place.

“Yeah, don’t need much sleep and got it done” said Thea as she put away her honey. “Here on some official business?”

“Something like that but it’s nothing right now. Tommy had mentioned a few things and I had some time so I thought I would come check it out.”

Thea hummed and nodded. Her eyes focused on Wilbur’s face, taking his features in before noting how skinny he was. Even if he was tall, he looked to be pushed thin from exhaustion and lack of management. Although his eyes were not focused on her, she could see the tiredness and the bubbling madness that was threatening to burst.

She didn’t want to think why the madness was there, but she guessed it had to do with elections and politics. It always did a number on people, one way or another.

Thea gestured to her home and smiled, “Well, would you like to come in for some tea? It’ll be nice to get to know you more.”

Wilbur jumped in surprise, eyes wide.

“Oh, you don’t have to.”

“I want to” said Thea, placing a hand on his arm but just above hovering. An open invitation but not one of force.

Wilbur looked at her and his posture relaxed, giving her a small smile. “That would nice, thank you.”

Thea grinned and guided Wilbur to her home. “Tommy and Tubbo are here already so what’s one more?”

Wilbur was led into her home and was immediately hit with the smell of food. His mouth watered at the smell and he then wondered when he last ate. He took another whiff and knew it was stew with freshly baked bread mixed in it. The door was opened, allowing the smell of flowers waft in.

He looked past the smell of food and he found himself standing in the room. He saw furnaces and her crafting station to one side of the home, where nearby were piles of chests and barrels. A weaving station was another part of the home with a chest bit it. There was a table with chairs surrounding it, on top of it with a nicely placed cactus.

There were two entrances, one leading up to the balcony and one leading down to the basement.

There was thumping upstairs and Wilbur instantly recognized Tommy’s and Tubbo’s voices. There were also sounds of barks and remembered Lupa and Fenrir.

Wilbur heard clattering as he turned to see Thea walking from her ‘kitchen’ and to the table. He politely walked over and sat in a chair as Thea sat opposite of him. She served the tea, him politely saying thank you before the two sat there with their tea and snacks.

There were a tense few awkward seconds before Thea felt the need to break the ice. “So, how are things?”

Wilbur chuckled nervously, lowering his cup. “I’ve been busy, with the election coming up and work to be done.”

Thea politely nodded, “Have you been taking care of yourself?”

“Excuse me?”

Thea took a sip before speaking. “One cannot take care of others if they cannot take care of themselves.”

Wilbur stared at her bewildered as Thea elaborated, “I get it, being president is stressful and there are ton of things to do and think about. But you don’t take care of yourself, you won’t be able to take care of anyone else; much less a country.”

The man in front of her ran a hand through his hair, resting his arms on the table. “You do make sense, but there’s a lot you don’t know. From the start, we fought for our freedom and our country but then once it was over, my control on the country has been slipping. Losing this election would make our effort for naught.”

Thea let him speak on and on, silently encouraging Wilbur to drink and eat the snacks. Soon they were finished as Wilbur sighed, leaning against his chair. “I’m sorry, I didn’t plan on-“

“I’m a new person, I literally know nothing or anyone else. With the election soon, whatever you say to me won’t matter either way, I won’t be able to influence any changes and it’ll be nothing once it’s over” cut in Thea, “So, don’t worry about it.”

Wilbur stared at her bewildered and he was only met with a straight-face. It was only a few moments pasted that Thea realized what she had said and her face was covered with her hands.

“Sorryyyyyyy, totally uncalled for” she groaned out.

Wilbur chuckled, “I didn’t expect you would say something like that.”

Thea removed her hands and she had a disgruntled face, “10 years of basically off the grid will mess with your social skills. Though, I haven’t considered myself to be particularly charismatic.”

Wilbur chuckled and took a sip of his remaining tea. Thea lowered her hands, about to speak when the tell-tale sign of Tommy yelling was heard.

“THEA!”

The aforementioned person stood up in her chair in a panic, eyes wide and body stiff with attention. She looked to the stairway and so did Wilbur. Tommy and Tubbo barreled down the stairway, holding her sketchbook in hand. They ran up to her and held out the open pages.

“I didn’t know you could draw!”

Thea relaxed, giving a huge sigh of relief and fell back into her chair. She had a hand on her face as she gave a nervous laughter. “Don’t scare me like that, I thought the worst-“

“Yeah, yeah-“ cut in Tommy before placing the sketchbook down on her table and flipped it with Tubbo and Wilbur looking with interest. “These are so pog, why don’t you show them more?!”

“Tommy, I will say this again and again. I literally woke up after god knows how long, I had other priorities. I haven’t exactly had time to paint either.”

“If we win the election, will you draw portraits of Wilbur and I?!”

Wilbur placed a hand on Tommy’s shoulder, scolding him. “Tommy, you can’t just ask her to-“

“Sure.”

They all looked at Thea who had a thoughtful look on her face, her arms crossed and back leaning against the chair. She had a thoughtful expression before she smiled at them. “But don’t get your hopes up though. It’s been years-“

“Wait, really?” gaped Wilbur.

Thea shrugged. “On any other circumstances, no. But, it has been years since I’ve properly drawn anything. At the end of it, it would be a great exercise and practice. Not to mention,” her eyes softened. “It’ll help solidify the fact that I’ve met people and interacted with them. That I was here.”

Wilbur looked at her with surprise as Tommy cheered. Tubbo tried to ask if he was included too which Thea confirmed that he too would be included. The two boys were chattering and bouncing off ideas to Thea who hummed and gave her honest opinions. Reminding them not to get too attached.

Wilbur had a small feeling of warmth in his chest and he didn’t know why. He was about to pull Tommy and Tubbo away for over-staying her hospitality when there was a large growl.

Everyone turned to Wilbur, whose ears turned red and Tommy gawfed, ready to make fun of the president when his own stomach betrayed him. It was Tommy’s turn for his ears to turn red and Tubbo was about to laugh and it started a domino effect.

Thea choked a bit before she let out a laugh, wheezing and everyone turned to her as she was slamming her hand on the table and knee, before keeling over and continued to laugh. They all watched in awe and concern as the girl continued to laugh and fall onto the ground, holding her stomach.

“What are the odds- HOLY COW” choked out Thea in laughter as she struggled to get back on her feet. “I…the ODDS!”

Tommy gawked at her and started to protest. “Hey, hey, stop laughing!-“

Thea snorted as she shakily made her way to the kitchen. “I…I’m going to get… *SNORT* Just sit down, I got it-“ she continued to laugh, forcing herself to stop as she slammed her head against the wall to force herself to stop.

Tubbo giggled before he went to help Thea who was wobbling due to the lack of oxygen.

Wilbur ran a hand over his neck bashfully as Tommy groaned, muttering to himself. Soon, they were all gathered around the table as plates of food were offered. They all dug into the soup, bread, and meats that were offered.

All three of them dug into their food and Thea couldn’t help feel that her suspicions were right on that they weren’t really taking care of themselves. She absently mindedly noted to keep her food stores stocked in case these shared meals were going to be frequent.

As dinner was wrapped up, Thea asked Tommy and Tubbo to help feed her wolves and check on the farm. The two eagerly dashed away from escaping dish washing duties. Wilbur rolled up his sleeves and politely helped Thea clean up the table and take them to the kitchen.

Thea washed the dishes after thanking Wilbur, offering him another cup of tea. The man leaned against the nearest window seat, watching outside where he saw Tommy and Tubbo running around outside, partly doing Thea’s request while also playing. Fenrir and Lupa accompanying them.

Everything was peaceful and Wilbur didn’t know when he last felt so close to contentment. At peace. His eyes were tired and he quietly realized he wasn’t taking care of himself.

He sipped his tea when he heard a soft melody. His ears prickled at the noise, his musician side of him instantly intrigued.

He found his legs walking quietly towards the source of the music and over the corner, he saw and heard Thea singing. It wasn’t a full song nor was it perfect. It was a mixture of singing of lyrics and hums when she didn’t remember it. Her voice cracked every so often but Wilbur knew those were from the lack of warm-up.

Wilbur found himself drifting off, eyes closing to focus on the singing and then there was peace for a moment.

Thea had finished washing up and walked out of the kitchen, drying her hands as she did. She went to check on Wilbur, half-expecting him to have walked back to L’manburg with the boys.

Instead, she saw Wilbur slumped against the nearest place. She stiffened and checked on him, noticing his eyes were closed, with soft breaths rhythmically. The teacup loosely wrapped in his hands that threatened to spill if any more loose.

She stared at Wilbur, bewildered on how he was sleeping there before she thought what to do next. Waking him up was definitely out of the question, remembering how tired he was, and begun to think if she could move him.

She looked at her hands, flexing them as if it would tell her how strong she was.

A moment and two passed before she took in a deep breath and further rolled her sleeve up. She bent down and took the cup away, moving it to the side somewhere before slipping her hands under him.

She paused, readying herself, before slowly but surely lifted Wilbur. He was much, much longer then she was, so she had to balance him while her arms strained. She held him up for a moment, seeing if he would wake up but the soft snores reassured her.

Sighing in her mind, Thea walked to the stairway, just as Tommy and Tubbo had come in. They looked at her bewildered, mouths wide open with shock. She ignored them, figuring they would follow her or stay there. She didn’t care as she had bigger problems.

She reached the bedroom floor, noting the green and red beds already there with her pink one. She went to her pink bed, carefully depositing Wilbur into it and drew the blanket, tucking him. The person now occupying her bed was unaware and undisturbed. If anything, he snuggled further, sighing in content.

Thea smiled and had her hands on her hips, taking a moment to breathe. She could lift someone to bed, but barely.

She turned to the stairway to talk with Tommy and Tubbo, but saw their heads peeking out of the stairway. She rose an eyebrow but gestured to their beds, hoping they got her question.

They all nodded and quietly but quickly made their way to their beds, taking off their outer clothes and armor before slipping in. Thea hummed, checking on them if they were settled (while absentmindedly tucking them in further and patting their heads) before closing her home.

When she was sure the place was secure, her wolves followed her as she took off her armour and placed a blue bed near the others and slipped into bed. Her wolves cuddled around her as she sighed, eyes heavy with sleep.

She listened to the room, hearing Tubbo and Tommy’s breathes starting to settle and Wilbur’s soft snoring. Thea closed her eyes, feeling sleep pull her in. Before she let the darkness claim her, she spoke.

“Good night, sweet dreams.”

The boys muttered back quietly and Thea fell asleep, the darkness no longer silent but simply, quiet.

<Next Chapter>

[mariequitecontrarie]

Tickled

A Rumbelle Dark Castle Fic

Summary: When Belle first hears Rumplestiltskin laugh, she’s determined to make it happen again. A/N: My @rumbellechristmasinjuly present for @silwenworld. I’m so sorry this is late, friend. I tried to weave some references in to Polish culture and hope it makes you smile. This fic is basically two Dark Castle Dorks squabbling like old marrieds.   On AO3

Rumplestiltskin laughed. It wasn't his usual twittering giggle or the short, falsetto snicker reserved for particularly irritating nobles who called upon his power. It was a low, rumbling laugh, deep and genuine. His sides shook and his eyes crinkled at the corners, the lines fanning out almost to his temples. Even the crimped mop of hair on his head quivered with amusement. As soon as Belle heard it, she wanted to make it happen again. The sound was so surprising that she almost dropped the heavy basket filled with bread balanced on her hip. She slid the rolls and baguettes to safety onto the kitchen counter and spun around to give him her full attention, waiting for more. But the laughter was gone, the sparkle in his gaze shuttered, and all traces of mirth wiped from his expression. And though the atmosphere in the kitchen had shifted, she couldn’t let the moment go by unmentioned.

“You laughed,” she said, astonished at the generous, happy sound. She could almost hear its faint, deep echo in the kitchen rafters.

“Stop gaping at me, woman, I did nothing of the sort.”

“Deny it all you like,” she said with a growing smile. “But I heard it.”

Rumplestiltskin affected a dramatic pose and waved his arms in his signature flourish. “I laugh all the time,” he said and punctuated the words with a maddening giggle. “You’ve never commented on it before.”

Belle crossed her arms. This had been different and they’d both known it. The panicked glaze in his eyes was proof enough. “You laugh in mockery or to protect yourself. Just now you sounded happy. Joyful.”

“What an impertinent caretaker you are.” He wagged a finger at her. “Did you trouble your father this much when you lived in his household? No, don’t bother answering. The hairs on my head are turning white even as we speak.”

Belle rolled her eyes. Rumplestiltskin was immortal and although he was somewhere in the neighborhood of 300 years old, he didn’t have a single grey hair that Belle could find. Besides, any grey hair he’d earned came long before her arrival.

“Always changing the subject.” She rewarded his discomfiture with a sassy grin, then sashayed to the other side of the kitchen behind the large island, putting a safe distance between them. Alongside her delight and triumph at hearing his laughter, there was a strange, unfamiliar sense of warmth overtaking her. Smoothing the skirt of her dress with damp palms, she watched a spider methodically weave its web into the corner of the kitchen wall while she thought up a task to soothe her jitters. She wasn’t sure why, but the sound of Rumplestiltskin’s laughter had made her pulse skitter and her breath quicken. And when he’d stood close, his breath fanning her face as he laughed, the sweet aroma of magic and straw had overwhelmed the yeasty fragrance of bread.

Closing her eyes, she tried to commit the sound to memory. A shiver chased up her spine. His laughter had been intoxicating. Primal and full of life.

Shaking herself out of her daydream, Belle opened her eyes. The nearness of her employer didn’t typically affect her this way. At any rate, dinner and dessert wouldn’t make themselves, so she needed to get back to work. She squatted down to peruse the cookbooks on the shelves beneath the countertops, searching out one filled with cake recipes. Something with peaches would do nicely. The village bakery usually delivered cakes for Rumplestilsktin’s tea with the bread, but today they were out. It was her own fault; the riveting story she’d been reading yesterday had so engrossed her that she forgot to place the usual order. Thankfully there was always plenty of bread.

Burned cakes, Rumplestiltskin often said, were tolerable. Burned bread, however, was an abomination.

“What are you doing?”

“Oh!” She stood up too quickly and narrowly escaped banging her head on the underside of the counter.

His voice had floated as though he was standing right behind her, but he was clear across the room, a wicked grin plastered across his face. One leather-clad hip leaned indolently against the molding of the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest.

She hated it when he tossed his voice. “Rumplestiltskin!” She stomped her foot. “Don’t you have a potion to mix or a nobleman to vex?” Raising an eyebrow, he snapped his fingers. A bialy from the top of the breadbasket floated across the kitchen island and into his outstretched hand. “What a peculiar little thing you are,” he said. And before she could respond, he disappeared in a poof of red smoke.

Belle peeked around the corners and opened the pantry door just in case he was still hiding. No sign of him. Her sigh of relief met the cool kitchen air in a puff of steam. Alone at last, she put the kettle on to boil water for tea.

Ordinarily, Rumplestiltskin’s grand exits were frustrating—most people couldn’t poof in and out of rooms and realms at will. He also had a distressing penchant for disappearing in the middle of an argument, and often right before she was going to make a point. Yelling into an empty room was both embarrassing and disconcerting. Today, however, his presence was an unwelcome distraction.

She needed a plan.

Something had amused him enough to inspire the most wonderful laughter she had ever heard, and Belle was determined to discover what it was. The kettle whistled and while she prepared some black orange peel tea, she mulled over the possible events that had led to his laughter. When the sweetness of oranges perfumed the room, she brought her cookbook and tea to the worktable and sat down on her usual stool.

They’d been here together in the kitchen. He was pilfering a sweet snack, and she was accepting the bread delivery from the bakery. When she sidled by him with the bread basket, he laughed like he was hearing the finest tale in half a century.

Most people considered him a monster and would sooner relegate him to the pit of hell than care about what could possibly amuse the Dark One. But after almost a year of living at the Dark Castle in his service, Belle knew there was more to Rumplestiltskin than he revealed to the world.

Hadn’t he gifted her with a beautiful room overlooking the castle gardens and outfitted her with lovely and comfortable clothes in every shade of her favorite color blue? He encouraged her to correspond with her father and even allowed her to visit with a friend a time or two. He fussed over her when she worked too much and tucked her into bed with soup and tea when she was ill. And then there was the sumptuous tower library built just for her. It was her room alone and no one else was allowed inside without permission, he said. When he sought her out, the library and her bedroom were the two places he knocked and waited for her invitation before entering, even when the doors were wide open.  

Rumplestiltskin was a dangerous person—she wasn’t oblivious. But beneath his otherworldly exterior and mystical trappings lurked a sad, melancholy man who had lost his son and faced more than two centuries of loneliness. From the scant handful of stories he had willingly shared, she knew the life he’d had before he met the darkness had been years of rejection and ridicule. Life, she suspected, had offered him precious few reasons to laugh.

While a future as an indentured servant wasn’t the life she would have chosen for herself, living with Rumplestiltskin wasn’t unpleasant. In fact, if she were forced to choose between Rumple and her father, it would be a hard choice to make. Besides, she was here and she had promised to stay forever. It gave her a sense of purpose to care for someone other than herself. Perhaps if she could offer him more reasons to laugh he wouldn’t be so distant, so angry. Maybe he wouldn’t always choose to hide behind a mask. Now, how could she get Rumplestiltskin to laugh again?

A commotion from the ornate cuckoo clock spurred her to action. With only two hours until supper, she needed to hurry. Off to the pantry she went in search of the flour and sugar for the cake.

xoxo After the supper dishes were cleared away, Belle watched carefully from her perch on the settee as Rumple picked up a slice of her freshly baked babka and sniffed. “It’s Wednesday. I thought there would be peach tarts.” The remark drifted down the long table in the center of the great hall, his tone carrying a hint of accusation. She decided against telling him she’d botched the bakery order. “There are peach preserves in this,” she said, hoping to mollify him. “And I made it myself.” Shrugging, he gulped the slice of cake in two bites. “Not the worst I’ve eaten.” Belle hid a smile. Coming from Rumplestiltskin, that was a compliment. He slurped sugar-laced tea from the cup she’d chipped on her first day of service in the castle and ate three more pieces of pastry from the tray. Belle edged forward in her seat, knocking a pillow to the floor when she shifted. Now perhaps he would laugh again. But although he hummed his appreciation for the food, there was no laughter. Disappointed, she scooped up the fallen pillow and hugged it to her middle. Perhaps she should have slipped up to his laboratory and taken some laughing potion to stir into the recipe. Surely such a thing existed. “Aren’t you having any?” he asked, then filled her cup with tea without waiting for an answer. He set two slices of cake on a plate and walked the length of the room to deliver them. When she accepted the plate, their sleeves brushed at the wrist. He backed away as though her clothes were on fire. Belle chewed her lip. It wasn’t like him to be so skittish. “Do I have germs or something?” “No more than usual.” His gaze shifted to the discarded novel on the floor and he settled in the wingback chair opposite the settee. He steepled his fingers. “You’re quiet today. What ails you? Plotting my demise?” “Nothing ails me.” She mustered her sweetest smile. “Everything is fine.” “Indeed?” He harrumphed. “Take a bite of your cake so I know you’ve not a mind to poison me.” “You’ve already eaten five pieces and you’re no worse for wear,” she pointed out, but she bit into the sweet cinnamon-laced confection to appease him anyway. It was good. She congratulated herself on her most successful baking venture thus far, since it seemed no one else was going to. “Touché,” he grunted. “Keep eating, please, so you don’t waste away and force me to send you home to your papa as a bag of bones. You barely touched your supper.” It was true she hadn’t had much appetite. She had been too busy watching him and wondering how she could inspire more of this afternoon’s beautiful laughter. She sank her teeth into a massive bite of cake and lifted her chin. “Why Rumplestiltskin,” she said after swallowing, “I didn’t know you cared.” He left the table in another poof of smoke and maniacal laughter. Not quite the reaction she was hoping for, but she could be stubborn as well. The game had only begun. xoxo

Over the next few weeks, Belle tried every technique she could think of to amuse Rumplestiltskin. Jokes, stories, a feather duster to tickle his sharp nose. She even traipsed through the great hall while he was spinning with a basket overflowing with bread, the same as she did the day she first heard his laughter. Jogging his memory of that day in the kitchen would surely work. But she was so focused on his reaction that she tripped over her own feet and dumped the basket on the floor. Rolls flew in every direction--onto the carpet, into the fire, and under the display cabinets filled with treasures from other lands. One piece of bread even landed on her head.

No reaction from Rumplestiltskin. Not even a snigger at Belle's expense.

Sweeping up the mess took so long she got a cramp in her shoulder. The crumbs tangled in her hair had to be washed out. At least there would be plenty of stale crusts to feed the birds.

Turning to the vast Dark Castle library, she scoured the dust-choked shelves for entertaining comedies. Without question, one of these was bound to make Rumplestiltskin laugh uproariously. Each evening for a week she read to Rumplestiltskin by the light of the fire, producing book after book until her fingers had papercuts and even she wanted a break from words. She’d even gone so far as to translate the work of a Polish author from The Land Without Magic by the name of Elżbieta Cherezińska.

Rumplestiltskin had snorted a time or two and the ghost of a smile crossed his lips, but he didn’t laugh at a single story. On the seventh evening of reading, he ordered Belle to her bedroom with a pot of hot tea and a dram of whiskey to soothe her raw throat.

“That’s the fifth time you’ve coughed in an hour and your voice is starting to resemble a giant,” he’d said.

Too bewildered by being packed off to bed with Rumplestiltskin clucking at her like a mother hen, it didn’t occur to Belle to be insulted. Next, she tried concocting a potion for laughing. Yes, she should have tried this on the first day, she’d thought as the burgundy syrup bubbled on the stove. Magic helped Rumplestiltskin achieve his ends and there was no reason it couldn’t work for her. If only she hadn’t gone into the laundry room to wash Rumplestiltskin’s aprons. But she had, forgetting that the contents of the spell required complete concentration. Most of the potion boiled over leaving her without a key ingredient—whitehaven petal—and it wouldn’t become available again until the summer. Chagrined, Belle looked between the mess on the stove and the snowdrifts blowing against the window. Four months was too long to wait.

Hoping for the best, she scraped some of the sticky gooey liquid off the counter and stirred it into Rumple’s lunch.

Once consumed, his platter of beef and rice cabbage rolls produced so many ridiculous high-pitched giggles that Belle wanted to throw a five-armed candelabra at his head.

Hardly the sort of laughter Belle had been hoping to hear.

After a month of trying and failing, Belle was growing impatient. How many harebrained schemes could one caretaker enact for the sake of a simple laugh? Rumplestiltskin was not only unfazed by her efforts he seemed blithely unaware of them.

For someone so fond of claiming he wasn’t a man, he was terribly dense. Belle began to despair. If she ever hoped to hear his beautiful, rumbling laughter again, drastic measures were required.

xoxo

“Go on,” Belle urged, pushing open the heavy door to the great hall. The shaggy grey puppy scampered over to the square dais where Rumplestiltskin was spinning and whimpered a greeting. He dragged some golden stalks of straw onto the carpet covering the platform and began to chew. Belle hovered in the foyer, watching and listening. The young Polish Lowland Sheepdog’s hair hung into his sweet brown eyes and he had the sweetest little pink tongue Belle had ever seen on a dog. Even Rumplestiltskin wouldn’t be able to resist laughing at such a lively, intelligent ball of fluff.

Or so she thought. Absorbed by his spinning, a full ten minutes went by before Rumplestiltskin deigned to notice his new companion.

“Belle,” he called without looking away from the wheel, “some vile little creature has wandered into the hall. Come dispose of it.”

She burst into the hall and inserted herself between Rumplestiltskin and the puppy before he had the notion to transform the poor animal into a less-than-pleasant creature, like a skunk or a beetle. It seemed to be the fate of most who displeased the Dark One.

Belle’s skirts swished against Rumplestiltskin’s thigh as she elbowed her way into his space.

He rocked back on the three-legged stool’s hind leg, his feet in the air. Gripping the creaking wheel for support, he rebalanced, his boots hitting the dais with a decided thump.

“Don’t topple me in your excitement, woman. It’s only a dog.” The words were crisp, dismissive. He wasn’t laughing. He wasn’t even smiling. The twist of his lips was sour, his eyelids drooped in boredom. “I have work to do.” He glanced pointedly at the dust-covered shelves in the hall. “As do you.”

Belle shuffled backward, putting space between them, taking care not to pitch backward off the dais. He righted the stool and returned to spinning, but not before she noticed a slight tremble of his fingers.

Such large, strong capable-looking hands he had, those long, elegant fingers tapering into short black claws. Artist’s hands.

Heat filled her face while a lightning-quick shiver danced up her spine, and Belle quickly turned her attention to the puppy with an adoring coo. “Isn’t he darling? His name is Kacper. ”

At the sound of his name, Kacper barked his approval and stretched his scruffy neck, angling to be pet. Belle bent low to oblige, stroking his back and scratching his ears.

“Darling.” Rumplestiltskin’s sniff was aloof. “Not the word I would use.”

“And why not?” She straightened and brushed straw off her skirt. “What’s wrong with him?”

Together they watched the dog drag more bright yellow pieces of straw off the platform and onto the floor. After a minute of chewing and jumping in the little pile, he climbed into Rumplestiltkin’s gold-laden basket and fell asleep.

“There’s straw everywhere,” he complained. “You’ll go to the village to replace it, too. By sundown tomorrow.”

“Yes, master.” She dipped a saucy curtsy.

The wheel came to a squeaking halt and Rumplestiltskin’s eyes flashed, warning Belle she was treading on dangerous ground. “Where did this hell dog come from anyway?”

“He was in the side yard chasing butterflies while I was hanging sheets on the line.” The memory of the butterfly landing on the pup’s nose while he barked and pawed at them made her giggle.

As usual, she was the only one laughing.

“Most likely a trap sent by one of my enemies,” he mused. “Perhaps Maleficent or King George.” He frowned as he reached around the puppy for more straw into the wheel. “Too tame to be Regina. Subtlety isn’t that one’s strong suit.”

The dog snuggled deeper into the basket and let out a whiffling snore. “Yes, he looks absolutely terrifying,” Belle supplied. “Ha! This from the one who lectures everyone who will listen about judging a book by its cover.” Sarcasm hung in the air like thunderclouds before a storm. “If you recall, dearie, the last time you found a beast in the yard, it was one of those devil hounds Cruella de Vil is so fond of. Like a fool, you followed it. And like an even bigger fool, I found myself bargaining for your life at midnight on Demon’s Bluff.”

Belle chewed her lip. He wasn’t wrong. The dalmatian puppy she followed had been sweet, but as judgments went, it hadn’t been her finest hour. “I did thank you profusely for saving me. What did you need that ridiculous magic gauntlet for, anyway?”

“We’ll never know now, will we?” He pouted.

“Come now,” she said, trying to tease him out of his rising temper. Thus far, the puppy was proving to be her worst idea yet for making Rumplestiltskin laugh. All she wanted at this point was a bit of credit for trying. “Why not admit you would be lost without me?”

“Indeed.” The stool pushed back with an angry scrape and he shot to his feet, stalking out from behind the spinning wheel. “Where in all the realms would I find a housekeeper who reads all the day, allows the kettle to run dry whilst I wait hours for my tea, and creates more messes than she cleans?”

A slap across the face couldn’t have hurt worse. Every failing he’d listed was true. No, she wasn’t the best caretaker, but what she lacked in capability and efficiency she tried to make up for in spontaneity and heart. She cared about him, the cantankerous bastard, which was more than could be said of most people. It was sobering to realize she cared so deeply for someone who seemed to think so little of her.

Stung by the criticism, she approached the platform and bent down to scoop up the sleeping pup.

Rumplestiltskin stepped down off the platform. They stood in the middle of the hall glowering at each other, she cradling the slumbering dog, and he rubbing nothingness between his fingers. The picture of awkwardness and pent-up frustration.

Why, she wondered, searching his cold, closed-off face, was she so determined to amuse a man who was so determined not to laugh? Was it a game? A challenge? Her stubborn nature? Belle didn’t know the answer, but she was fed up with trying.

There was no doubt in her mind now--he was purposely withholding his laughter for no other reason than meanness.

Tears threatened, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of breaking down. “If that’s the way you feel,” she said.

“Aye, that’s the way I feel.”

“Fine!”

“Fine!”

Sounding as exasperated as she felt, he threw up his hands. Startled, Belle stumbled, the slight weight of the puppy overbalancing her. She tipped forward, falling headlong into Rumplestiltskin.

Forgetting about the sleeping puppy in her arms, she grabbed Rumplestiltskin around the waist, her fingers scrabbling for purchase, her head bumping against his chest.

With the first touch of her hands, he started to laugh. A great, guffawing, booming laugh so deep and loud it shook the rafters of the Dark Castle.

He caught her with one arm, the puppy with the other, pulling her up and drawing her close so they were pressed together from chest to toe. Her hands bracketed his waist, his leather and silk clothing soft and supple against her palms.

“Oh!” she exclaimed, the mystery finally solved. “You’re ticklish.”

“Rubbish,” he scoffed. “I’m simply giving in to your considerable efforts.”

“You can’t fabricate true, honest laughter,” she said.

To prove it, she wiggled her fingers against his sides once more. She was rewarded with more genuine laughter. Not a single trill or exaggerated snicker in earshot. To her amazement, the puppy slept through all the commotion, curled snug inside Rumplestitskin’s vest.

Who knew that one clumsy move was all it took to make him laugh again? Belle was so happy she could have twirled pirouettes the length of the great hall. But that would have required letting go of Rumplestiltskin. And she wasn’t doing that anytime soon.

She splayed her hands over his waist, and as she explored the contours of his torso she found his belly wonderfully soft and rounded beneath her fingers. He laughed again, his sides jiggling, and the sweet depth of it drew her deeper until she was swimming in the warmth of the sound.

Closing her eyes, she brushed the backs of her fingers along his hip, savoring each ripple of laughter and vibration of his body. She could have touched and tickled and listened to him all day.

“Enough now, Belle.” His tone was rough, vocal cords gravely from overuse. Moving the puppy to rest in the hollow of his shoulder, he gripped her hands and clasped them between his. His grip was firm but not unkind, and those beautiful hands she had studied so often were warmer and softer than she imagined.

Something more than mere humor glinted in his eyes, a tension between them that pushed the boundaries of their current arrangement. Friendship, attraction. The air in the hall was thick with both. And Belle realized that through these silly antics, she had more than an employer in Rumplestiltskin. She had a friend.

“Are you still angry with me, Rumple?” she ventured.

Those dark, fathomless eyes widened a bit at the shortened use of his name, but he didn’t object to the nickname.

“Try as I might, I cannot stay angry with you.” His voice was husky, the sweet thread of laughter still weaving through it. There was no trace of his usual artifice or pageantry.

“So that day in the kitchen?” she prompted, filled with wonder at all of today’s surprises and revelations.

“Aye, it was your touch that made me laugh.” He ducked his head, trying and failing to hide his reddened cheeks behind his shaggy curtain of hair. “ When you were lugging that basket of bread against your hip, you brushed against my waist. It was so innocent and you had no idea you’d done it. I’d forgotten what it felt like to be tickled and to laugh. I haven’t really laughed since…”

“Your son.” He was still holding her hands between his and she loosened his fingers to brush her thumb against the back of his hand. “I’m so sorry, Rumple. I never meant to dredge up a painful memory, to cause you hurt.”

“You didn’t. You made me laugh, Belle. You. Not fancy cakes or translating outlandish books or this little beast.” He patted Kacper’s head. “You brought light and kindness and laughter into this dull, dark place.”

“All that time I spent trying to figure out what would make you laugh.” Bells shook her head at herself. “Those crazy schemes. I felt like…”

“Me?”

Now it was her turn to laugh. Rumplestiltskin was nothing if not persistent. And he certainly excelled at patience. “A little,” she admitted. “But it was worth it.”

“Don’t you dare tell anyone about this,” he warned.

“Or what?” She blinked at him. “You’ll turn me into a toad?”

“Becoming predictable, am I?” He sneered, but it was without malice.

“You? Never.”

Releasing her hands, he stepped back onto the platform and settled down behind the spinning wheel. He carefully removed the dog from his shoulder and placed him into the basket of straw. “Kacper can stay here. For now. But you’ll need to find him a bed. This beastie can’t disrupt my work forever.”

“I understand, Rumplestiltskin.”

“Hmmm.” He began to spin and Belle watched for a moment as he easily slipped into that faraway place where he created and made plans, losing himself in the cadence of the wheel. “I’ll take my tea now.”

The words were said so softly, she heard them more in her mind than from his lips.

“Right away, Rumplestiltskin,” she whispered.

The faint smile on his face was the only indication that he’d heard her assent.

As she ambled down the corridor toward the kitchen feeling lighter than she had in weeks, the faint rumble of laughter drifted along with her. Belle wrapped her arms around herself to embrace the sound, her lips spreading in a smile of pure happiness. It was a beginning.

###

[coronerandundersheriff]

Cosy, but uncomfortable

(A miniature from "The new guy")

Dorian was not dissatisfied. 

His flat was nice, the location was good, everything was coherent. 

The training course was extremely appealing and the participants were pleasant and smart people. 

David called almost every day for a few minutes to keep him up to date. 

And Iva often invited Dorian to dinner - he knew culinary insider tips. 

So all in all things were good and things were going well. 

But.... something was nagging. Somehow Dorian was tense, knotted, cramped. 

Pavus was well-trained. He jogged and kept himself fit. But every now and then he felt tension in his neck and his back ached in the morning. 

Could it have been the mattress?

The flat was fully furnished, with really high-quality fixtures and fittings. He knew the brand of the mattress and it was one of the best. What was the reason for the pain, which was not severe but recurring?

One morning Dorian was sitting at the small breakfast table in the pretty kitchen of his flat in Albany. 

The phone rang.

"Pavus, yes please?" 

"Good morning, Dorian. How are you? Slept well?" 

The dark, tart voice on the other end brought a grin to Dorian's face. 

"Good morning. If I may be honest, not really well. I have a stiff neck."

"Oh, I'm sorry about that. Perhaps you've been exposed to draughts? Is there a draught in the flat? Do you sit by the door or windows in classes?" Trevelyan asked solicitously. 

"None of the above. I'm not sure, but I think it's the bed. It's cozy, but..." Groaned Pavus. 

"Good sleep is so important, because: As ye sow, so shall ye reap." Said the man on the phone with a noble undertone and an exaggerated British accent and chuckled afterwards.  

"In your bed I've always slept best in... I mean, not with you... I mean, your bed is... oh, you know what I mean." Stuttered the coroner. 

Then there was silence on both sides. 

At the same moment as Dorian was about to break the silence, his doorbell rang. 

"Oh! I hear it's ringing your doorbell, Dorian. I'm calling again. Take care of yourself and see you swee... *coughs*... well, take care of yourself, okay?!" David's voice was so soft, so full of volume. Dorian would have liked to listen to the old grumpy bear for longer, but the bell rang again. So Dorian excused himself, said goodbye and hung up.

He went to the door and looked through the peephole, but saw no one. Then he unlocked the locks and opened the door. 

Dorian took a step or two out into the hallway. He looked around. As he turned back, a man jumped around one corner of the hallway and tapped him on the shoulder. 

"Morning, Dorian. Hey, don't you want the flowers?" 

A very manly and cheeky laugh echoed through the emptiness of the floor.

Dorian spun around and looked into the wide grin of his old friend Iva.

"Iva in the morning drives away sorrow and worry! Throw the greens in the water quickly and then it's off to brunch. I've discovered a bombastic breakfast buffet not far from here. All-you-can-eat and good value for money. Chop-chop and let's go!"

Dorian loved this tall man for his craziness, for his spontaneity, for his dominance, for his cunning - Dorian once loved Iva with all his heart, but that was long ago and so much had changed. 

"Don't just stare holes in the air, Pavus! Get yourself together and then it's off to the grub. I'm famished this morning!" 

With these words, Iva pressed the flowers into his buddy's hands and pushed him back to his flat. 

A little later the two friends were sitting at a pretty table in a small alcove by the window of the bistro. Hot and cold dishes lay on nice crockery, hot tea steamed from cups and freshly squeezed orange juice stood ready to be tasted with relish.

Iva actually ate a lot and very quickly. Dorian more or less poked at the food. It was delicious, but he was not too hungry. 

"Do you still like eggs, Dorian? I remember  how much you loved eggs. Hard and warm. So, shall I bring you a couple?" 

Iva's slightly frivolous wink brought a blush to Dorian's cheeks, but he shook his head.

"Okay, as you wish. Save my seat... hahahaha." Laughed Iva and went to the buffet. 

Dorian looked off the window. People were starting their day. Parents were walking around with prams, business people were deep in thought, couples were taking a little morning walk. Then Pavus looked around the eatery. The bistro was not large, but well filled with smiling patrons. Most were couples or, as he assumed, families. They fed each other, they pinched treats from each other's plates, some kissed. 

Dorian took a closer look on his plate. Only now did he notice that he had put on mostly vegetarian items. He had chosen food that he could have shared with Trevelyan. Dorian didn't like bread that much, but since he knew David he always took a slice or a roll more because Trevelyan always asked for bread when there was some left. 

Suddenly Dorian's neck began to hurt. He rubbed at the spot, put his head on the back of his neck and closed his eyes for a moment. 

"I brought you a blueberry muffin."

Lost in thought, eyes still closed, Dorian said, "Thank you David."

Yadiel's laughter brought Dorian back to the diner. 

"So his name is David! Gotcha! Pah!" Chuckled Iva softly.

"Sorry Iva, I was in thoughts." Dorian lowered his eyes and tried to concentrate on his food. 

"We can talk about it over a digestive walk or at your place or mine, no problem." Iva said and took a big gulp of orange juice. 

"I don't want to talk about it. There is no need. Let's talk about you. Tell me something. Yes?" 

Dorian bit into the muffin. Unfortunately, the baked good tasted unspeakably delicious and only reminded him more of David. Blueberries were one of his favourite berries. In muffins, in yoghurt, as jam, as a little snack - David was delighted by the tart, full-bodied sweetness and slight tartness of the plump berries. 

So it shook Pavus and he put the muffin aside after the first bite.

"Not good? Hm.... Give me that!" 

Iva grabbed the rest of the baked good and devoured it in no time. 

After finishing chewing and swallowing, the huge guy with the cheeky grin on his face dabbed the corners of his mouth with his napkin and then said, "Were okay. Blueberries aren't really my thing, but the batter was good. Phew... where do I start? Well, I'm getting by. I'm in the process of rekindling old contacts. In my job, you have more enemies than friends, but a few people will always stand by me. Man, I'm so lucky to have met you here in Albany. Everything is going to be all right now, I have a fantastic feeling."

And Iva smiled at Dorian with that smile that Pavus had fallen in love with all those years ago. 

This time their positions were different - both weren't in relationships and had no one to answer to. 

But was this really the truth...

(PS: My thanks to our beloved @zuendwinkel for the encouragement 😭❤)