#( i love u guys sry for my absence! )

[darkstar225]

Twice's 10th member being babysat by New Jeans

A/N: Heyyy, I'm coming up with a lot of stuff for you guys so I can make up for the time I'm gone lol! Sry for taking so long to post :D I hope that my friend fullcatrebel who gave me this idea on Tumblr likes it!

The request: Hi I want to request where y/n is still underage and the others members have a schedule outside of seoul and they contact newjeans asking if they could look after y/n and they were happy to, y/n took a liking towards all of them especially to minji, hanni and haerin . They play with y/n and y/n shows them her fav stuff toy that her sana unnie bought for her. By the end of the night y/n sleeps cuddling with minji. Thank u

PS: Tysm for everyone who reads what I write, I hope I can bring a smile to your faces every time I post! I'd like to thank whoever sent me this idea 'cause I loved to write it <3

__________________________________________________________

The city of Seoul was a place of constant movement and excitement, but for Y/N, the 10th and youngest member of TWICE, this particular day was a little different. The other members of the group had a schedule that required them to travel outside of Seoul, and as Y/N was still underage, they needed to make arrangements for her care.

Jihyo, the leader of TWICE and Y/N's mama, took the responsibility of ensuring that her child would be looked after while they were away. She reached out to a group of close friends known as New Jeans, a group of singers who had bonded with TWICE over the years. They were more than happy to help out, as they loved spending time with TWICE's sunshine.

On the day of TWICE's trip, the maknae waved goodbye to her fellow unnies as they left for the airport. Her heart was heavy with the absence of her TWICE sisters, but she knew she was in good hands with New Jeans. She couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement too, as spending time with her unnie's friends was always a fun adventure.

As soon as TWICE had left, New Jeans arrived at the dorm to pick her up. The group was led by Minji, a bubbly and energetic girl who had always shared a special bond with TWICE's angel. Alongside Minji were Hanni and Haerin, both talented members known for their warm and friendly nature.

Y/N greeted them with a bright smile as she opened the door, her eyes sparkling with excitement. 

Y/N - Unnies, I'm so happy to see you! *jumps up and down*

Minji scooped TWICE's fireball up in her arms, twirling her around. 

Minji - Y/N-ah, we missed you! We're going to have so much fun today. *smiles*

Hanni and Haerin joined in, ruffling Y/N's hair and playfully teasing her. The younger girl felt an instant connection with New Jeans, and it was as if she had known them for years.

The day was filled with laughter and adventure. New Jeans took Y/N to a nearby park, where they played on the swings and had a picnic. TWICE's youngest, who had always been full of energy, ran around with Minji, Hanni, and Haerin as if they were lifelong friends.

After their outdoor activities, they returned to TWICE's dorm, where she eagerly showed them her favourite toys and belongings. Y/N's eyes sparkled as she introduced them to her beloved stuffed animal, a fluffy bunny that her Sana unnie had given her as a gift. It was clear how much the kid treasured the toy.

As the evening wore on, they settled in the living room to watch a movie together. Y/N insisted on a classic animated film, one she had seen countless times with her TWICE unnies. She cuddled up between Minji and Hanni, the warmth of their presence making her feel safe and loved.

During the movie, TWICE's princess turns to Minji and begins to speak loudly out of joy.

Y/N - Unnie, this is my favourite part of the movie. It's so funny! *laughs*

Minji chuckled and ruffled Y/N's hair. 

Minji - You have great taste, honey.

As the movie neared its end, the maknae's eyelids grew heavy, and she yawned. Minji immediately picked her up, cradling her in her arms. 

Minji - Looks like someone's ready for bed... *gentle smile on her face*

Y/N, feeling comfortable and secure in Minji's arms, nodded sleepily. 

Y/N - Unnie, can I sleep with you? *pouts*

Minji's heart melted at her dongsang's request. She carried the young idol to her bedroom, tucking her in and cuddling up beside her. Y/N snuggled up to Minji, her stuffed bunny animal tightly in her arms.

As Minji watched her lovely little sister drift off to sleep, she couldn't help but smile. Y/N was a precious and joyful presence in their lives, and they were grateful for the opportunity to spend time with her. It was a reminder of the bonds that extended beyond the stage, the kind of connections that were built on love, laughter and shared moments.

The night passed peacefully, with TWICE's little star sleeping soundly in the embrace of her friend, Minji. The other members of New Jeans had already left, leaving Minji and Y/N alone in the quiet room. Minji watched over the kiddo with a sense of protective warmth, thankful for the chance to be a part of the young idol's life.

As the night deepened, Minji couldn't help but think about the other members of TWICE and how much Y/N missed them. She knew that Y/N's unnies were her world, and they would be back soon. In the meantime, Minji was determined to fill the girl's days with fun and love, just as they had done together that day.

As she watched Y/N sleep, Minji whispered softly: 

Sleep well, babygirl. Your older sisters will be back soon, and you won't have to miss them for long. We're here for you, just like family should be.

With those words of love and reassurance, Minji closed her eyes, holding Y/N close, and they both drifted into a peaceful, dream-filled slumber. And as she fell asleep Minji had one thought:

I'll love my dear chosen family forever.

A/N: I'm sorry for any errors. English is not my first language. Pls, let me know if there is something wrong, ty for reading <3

[oldtmer]

my one or two days of screen break turned into a month -- i’m back at work and now that i’ve sorta got my routine down again, i’d like to get back to writing! however ... tumblr hasn’t particularly been my scene for a while, and i have far too many muses and too little time to worry about keeping up with blog after blog after blog ... so! i have compiled a multi-muse list, my discord, and my email for some discord and/or email rp.

what would be most comfortable for me right now is perhaps discussing plots via discord, and then threading via email. but if this doesn’t work for you, while we plot and discuss, please just let me know your preference and maybe i can make a lil server or smth for us to thread in. thanks for your patience all, and i hope to get writing with you again! not only with Joel, but with many of my other muses as well <3

https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1oOXaZ9mhmKfxn6daxsw1KEvsdky66FBn_zkD_WNNwKY/edit?usp=sharing

[peraltasames]

christmas eve will find me where the love light gleams

Nochebuena, the night before Christmas, has always had a special place in Amy Santiago's heart.

read on ao3

1992

December 24th

Outside a big white house in a small suburban community in New Jersey, snow is falling peacefully on the ground and creating a scene that looks like something out of a painting. There are two sensible, fuel-efficient cars in the garage and one cheap pickup truck recently purchased by the eldest Santiago boy parked haphazardly in the driveway. At eight o’clock that evening, the front door was locked until the following morning when dozens of extended relatives will pile into the home, three generations of family members spending the better part of twenty-four hours together.

Inside, the scene is less calm - an eight year-old Amy Santiago is excitedly begging her father to tell her and her seven brothers another story, some of whom are arguably too old for story time but begrudgingly sitting around the fireplace with the rest of their family.

“It’s almost time for bed, mi amor,” Victor tells Amy firmly, yet with ever-present kindness in his eyes.

“Please, Dad. It’s nochebuena!” Amy pleads, her cozy plaid pajamas sliding against the hardwood floor as she shifts closer to her father on her knees, hands clasped together.

After a shared look with his wife, Victor sighs and admits defeat - he’s incredibly partial when it comes to the little girl before him, his one and only daughter.

“Oh my god, can I go call Jen now?” Nic exasperatedly asks his parents, throwing his head back in annoyance when Camila shakes her head. “Mom, I’m seventeen.”

“You have to wait until story time is over and we put cookies out for Santa, those are the rules,” Amy demands, crossing her arms and looking up at her older brother.

Nic opens his mouth to say something, but a pointed glare from Victor stops him before any sound can come out. Knowing the argument is already lost, he settles back into his chair with a small sigh.

With the satisfaction that she’s gotten her way, Amy curls up next to her mother and waits eagerly for her father to begin one of the many Cuban fables and fairytales that she loves so much. The one he tells tonight is new to her, a story about a beautiful girl and a handsome prince that ends, as many of the stories do, with happily ever after.

“Mama?” she mumbles sleepily as she’s being tucked into bed a few minutes later, eyes already closed. “Am I gonna find my prince one day?”

Camila smiles, her fingers combing through her daughter’s soft, dark curls.

“Of course, honey,” she promises, earning a content smile from Amy. “He just might not be exactly the type of prince you’re expecting. Your father certainly wasn’t royalty, but he’s always been my true love.”

“So I should marry a police officer like daddy?”

Camila laughs, shaking her head. “Not necessarily, my love. What’s important is that he treats you with respect and makes you happier than anything in the world.”

“Happier than cookies? And books?” Her mother nods. “Even happier than nochebuena?”

“Even happier than that.”

At eight years old, Amy can’t quite grasp the concept of true respect or someone being “the one”, but she promises herself that she’ll wait for a prince that makes her feel as full of joy and peace as she does while falling asleep in her cozy bed, dreaming of presents and sweets and happiness.

-

2014

December 24th

“You look like you could use a drink.”

Amy’s snapped out of her thoughts the moment her brother begins his sentence, looking up from her phone for the first time since she sat down on the couch opposite the tree a few minutes ago.

Her parents are in the kitchen preparing food for tomorrow’s celebrations, her brothers and their wives and children dispersed through every room of the house, occupying nearly all the space the six-bedroom home has to offer.

She reaches out to accept the large mug of Cuban hot chocolate. Her older brothers let her in on the magical secret ingredient - their father’s expensive, 100-proof rum - around her sixteenth Christmas Eve.

“Thanks, Alec,” she mumbles, taking a long, very much needed sip of the warm beverage in her hands.

Her brother plops down next to her, folding his arms behind his head. “Are you bummed about the breakup with Freddy?”

Amy narrows her eyes. “It’s Teddy, but...no.”

Frankly, she should probably have been a little upset about the end of an eight month relationship, but the absence of Teddy Wells in her life is far from the greatest worry whirling through her troubled mind.

“Then what’s got ya down, sis? You love nochebuena.”

She knows she hasn’t been herself tonight, and she saw the worry in her mother’s eyes when she didn’t want a second helping of pork and the exchanged glances between her brothers when the smiles while playing with her nieces and nephews didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“It’s, um...a different guy, actually.”

She realizes the moment she’s said it that she’s never actually talked to anyone about Jake before. She’s always been dating Teddy and too consumed by guilt to admit her feelings for another person. Even Jake (and Teddy and Sophia, unfortunately) currently believes her feelings for him to be a thing of the past, and is blissfully ignorant of the fact that said feelings are eating her alive at any given moment of every single day since he told her he liked her and left for a six-month undercover mission.

“Who is it?” Alec raises an eyebrow, looking at her intently.

She braces herself for the reaction as she says, quietly and a little embarrassed: “Jake Peralta.”

His mouth hangs open, eyes widening a little as he processes this revelation.

“Your coworker, Jake Peralta? Like, the one that eats candy for breakfast and has only read fifteen books in his entire life?”

Amy laughs humourlessly and takes another gulp of hot chocolate, the rum burning her throat. “That’s the one.”

She doesn’t know when the innocent crush on her partner spiralled into a full-blown obsession, prohibiting her from successfully dating anyone else, but she despises that he’s somehow able to ruin her night even when she’s in another state. Although, technically he didn’t ruin her night - she blames that on the unfairly adorable picture Sophia just posted of the two of them skating at Rockefeller Centre.

“So, what’s his deal, married or gay? Because there’s no way any sane man would pass up my little sister.”

“Neither,” Amy answers, fiddling with the hem of her sweater. “But he has a girlfriend. She’s beautiful and smart and…I missed my shot with him. It’s my fault.”

“That’s not necessarily true. Maybe they’ll break up.”

Amy doesn’t reply, staring down at her mug. She refuses to spend any more time praying that her friend’s happy relationship will come to an end just in case she’s maybe able to work up the courage to tell him how she feels.

Alec shifts a little closer to her and places his hand on her arm. His deep brown eyes - the same shade as hers - are wide with unexpected sincerity.

“Look, I don’t know much about this guy, but I know that you never pass up seconds of mom’s cooking. Like, not even when Ryan broke up with you. Not even when you lost the sixth grade spelling bee to Elizabeth Beeker.”

“Any idiot could’ve gotten prospicience, it’s hardly a winning word-“

“Ames, trying to make a point here,” Alec cuts off a ramble that likely would’ve lasted an hour - Elizabeth Beeker really was a bitch - and resumes his serious expression. “If you really like Jake, don’t miss your shot next time. If you get the chance, just tell him.”

The possibility of telling Jake, which could lead to the even more frightening possibility of dating Jake and falling in love with Jake, is just about the scariest thing she can imagine. In all her years of police work, all the boys she’s admitted her feelings for, all the chances she’s taken - this is by far the greatest risk (and, she supposes, the greatest potential reward).

Her phone buzzes with a text just before she can brush off the conversation to go attempt to help her mother in the kitchen and inevitably get turned away.

Jake Peralta

hey ames, happy notchabueno (def butchered that sry) hope ur having fun with the fam. see u back at work on monday :)

“Is that him?” Alec inquires, raising an eyebrow.

Amy nods sheepishly, her eyes lingering on the display picture he set of himself making a goofy face.

“I bet he doesn’t text all his coworkers on Christmas Eve.”

She doesn’t let herself dwell on her brother’s (probably true) statement, simply shutting her phone off for the remainder of the night and hoping to enjoy some time with her family and discuss a plethora of other topics not concerning her love life. In perfect timing, one of her nieces comes running in asking for Amy’s help braiding her hair.

As she obliges and gets to work on the curly dark hair of the young girl in her lap, she tries not to think about what next Christmas Eve could be like if she only had the courage to swallow her pride and take a leap.

2015

December 21st

The first few moments Amy’s awake, the only thing she’s able to register is how cold she is, how annoyed she is that it’s so cold, and the imminent importance of making herself less cold.

She seeks the nearest source of warmth, pulling the blankets further up her body (naked other than underwear and a loose t-shirt, not helping her temperature) and then moving on to the second source, the warm body only a few inches away from her. As always, he’s somehow abundant with warmth despite his bare chest being completely exposed to the chilly air of his apartment.

Her head nestles into his shoulder, her arm wraps around his waist, and it takes only a moment before his arms are subconsciously circling around her and pulling her into a tight embrace. She smiles contentedly, pressing a little kiss to his warm skin and falling into a state of complete relaxation, enjoying the few minutes until they have to get up for work-

-until her eyes land upon the window across the room.

“Jake!” she exclaims, slapping his chest probably a little too hard and sitting up abruptly, gracelessly jerking his arms away from their hold on her.

“Babe, what the hell-“ Jake grumbles, rubbing his eyes.

“It’s snowing!” Amy’s grin is wide as she walks over to the window and feasts her eyes on the beauty of the streets of New York covered in a sheet of white for the first time that winter.

“You grew up in Jersey! It snows every year!”

“Yeah, but it’s the first time this year!” She turns back towards him, still beaming with joy, and his initially irritated and confused expression melts in an instant. She’s aware of her effect on him at this point, but she still relishes in the look he gives her after she’s kissed him or laughed at one of his jokes or, in this case, woken him up fifteen minutes before his alarm because of snow.

The cold of being out of bed quickly catches up with her, and she crawls into his side of the bed and pulls the blanket back over both of them, draping herself over his chest. His hands rub up and down her goosebump-covered arms, transferring warmth to her.

“So, I never asked you, do you have any plans for Christmas?” She tilts her chin up to wait for his response.

“Probably the usual, Die Hard and takeout. Maybe I’ll go to the bar with Charles and Gina if they can escape Boyle family Christmas after dinner.”

It’s not that he seems upset by these extremely underwhelming plans, and she understand that the holidays have never been as significant a part of his life as they are hers, but there’s a part of her that despises the idea of Jake sitting at home alone on Christmas.

For a brief moment, she considers inviting him to her parents’ house, but she quickly reasons against the idea. He hasn’t met any of the Santiagos aside from Lucas, who showed up at her door unexpectedly while he was in the neighbourhood and she was in the shower, leaving Jake to talk to him for a solid fifteen minutes only a few months into their relationship. Luckily, they hit it off immediately and now text what she considers to be disturbingly frequently. A week into an ongoing text discussion about cool cop stories, Luke being the only other one of her siblings to follow in their father’s footsteps, Amy’s brother texted her something along the lines of mom told me you were dating another white dude but i didn’t know he was a COOL white dude this time! nicely done sis.

Regardless of his stamp of approval from one of her seven brothers and neither of her parents, though she thinks her mother is just happy she’s finally found a man she really, truly likes (loves, though the word has yet to be uttered aloud) she’s still skeptical of introducing him to her family at an event as crazy and hectic as Christmas. Ideally, Jake’s interpolation of the Santiago family will be gradual, painless and one family member at a time.

“What’s your mom up to?” Amy asks after a few seconds of quiet contemplation.

“I think she’s having dinner with some friends. I was there for Hanukkah last week, we haven’t really done anything for Christmas since my dad left.”

Again, there isn’t any real indication in his tone that he has a problem with his plan of watching Die Hard alone in his little apartment, by definition a perfect night for Jake Peralta. Her idea of the holidays, however, involves spending time with loved ones, and she’s come to realize recently that she loves Jake more than nearly anyone else in the world.

Her mother, to her surprise, is not upset in the slightest when Amy calls and says she’ll be coming on Christmas morning rather than Christmas Eve this year.

“You’re not mad?” Amy says, voice low enough that Jake won’t hear her from the shower.

“Of course not, mi amor. I know how much you love nochebuena, I’m happy you’ve finally found someone you want to share it with.”

Three days later - December 24th

Jake’s fingers are tightly interlocked with hers the whole way home in the backseat of Captain Holt’s car. Since the unprecedented display of affection she initiated upon spotting him outside the store after an agonizing twenty minutes spent unsure of his safety, she’s been trying to reign it in a little, but maintaining some form of contact is vital for her breathing to remain steady.

He kisses her temple halfway between the crime scene and his apartment, burying his nose in her hair for a few moments before continuing the conversation between Rosa, himself and Charles while Amy and Holt remain mostly silent.

They eventually make it home and walk upstairs hand-in-hand, as they probably would have around this time even if he hadn’t been caught up in a hostage situation and nearly killed.

“Please tell me you’ll consider watching something other than Die Hard considering you just lived it,” Amy pleads as he lets her go to unlock the door.

He pauses to think. “Hmm, I could probably be talked into Die Hard 2.”

“Not really what I meant, but-“

He pushes the door open, revealing his apartment in a state in which she’s never seen it before - clean. There are a few other key changes, too, like the string lights hanging around the kitchen, the table already set for dinner with a bottle of Spanish wine in the center, and a crockpot she’s never seen him use on the kitchen counter.

“Oh, shit,” Jake blurts out before she can say something. “I completely forgot, between Charles’ gift and then the whole, ya know, situation…”

“What is all this, Jake?” Her eyes are glimmering with awe as she follows him into the kitchen.

He opens the lid of the crockpot, cursing as he realizes whatever he’s left in there is definitely burnt well beyond the point of being edible.

“Crap, I really wanted - I just, I felt bad that you were missing Christmas Eve with your family because I know it’s, like, your favourite holiday and it’s a big part of your childhood and your culture and everything. So I called Luke and asked what you guys would normally do at home so I could try to recreate it. I mean, it wasn’t gonna be perfect - does your mom really cook a whole pig?” Amy nods, still staring at him with complete reverence, leaning back against the counter across from him. “Well, anyways, the closest I could get was pulled pork. Which is totally ruined now.”

She closes the space between them and grabs his face, kissing him much more slowly than earlier that night. His hands, once again, come to rest on her waist over her NYPD windbreaker, pulling her up against him.

“Babe, that was…so sweet,” she murmurs, pecking his lips one more time. “You’re amazing.”

His smile, the adorable, relieved grin of which she’s the world’s biggest fan, compensates a million times over for the ruined dinner. Honestly, she isn’t even hungry. After the events of the last hour, she just wants to be close to him and relax. She’s even more grateful now that she’s not in New Jersey; the moment she received Jake’s texts that evening, getting to him as quickly as possible was a priority she was willing to brave freezing cold waters for. She’s not sure she could’ve handled a two-hour drive.

“Merry Christmas, Ames,” he whispers, forehead resting against hers.

“Merry Christmas, Jake.” She wraps her arms around his waist underneath his jacket and presses her cheek to his chest. “I really was worried about you tonight. If something happened to you...”

He tightens his grip on her, one hand leaving her back to stroke her hair. “It’s okay. I’m safe.”

She allows herself another minute to breathe him in and remind herself of the beating of his heart, just below the stretch of hoodie her ear is pressed up against.

“I know,” she finally says, pulling away to look at him with a bit more composure than before. “Thank god for Charles yippee-kayaking the crap out of those other buckets.”

Jake’s smile fades. “That is still not funny to joke about!”

She laughs, releasing him to grab an ice pack for his concussion and drag him to the couch so she can continue warming herself up under several blankets and with his arms wrapped around her.

-

2016

December 24th

They don’t make it through the entire Christmas carol before Jake, much less concerned with politeness than the Boyle family is, is begging them to spare their ears. Charles, in turn, invites them all inside for a drink to escape the subzero temperatures.

Somehow, the whole squad fits into the small living room, though Amy ends up sharing an armchair meant for one person with Jake to conserve space. She’s annoyed for a split second until he pulls her onto his lap rather than leaving her squished beside him and circles his arms around her.

They exchange stories of the night, leaving out some details for the benefit of Nikolaj (“the criminal could only sing when he had a lot of, um…hot chocolate”; “the guys that had the only Captain Latvia in the city also had a bunch of packages of…candy?”) and drink some weird wine Charles made at home that tastes surprisingly good and is dangerously strong.

“We should go home,” Jake mumbles against the back of Amy’s neck, sending a familiar shiver down her spine, after Genevieve has gone to put Nikolaj to bed, Scully and Hitchcock have departed for the diner around the corner, Terry and Holt have left to spend time with their families and only Rosa, Charles, Gina and themselves remain seated around the coffee table.

She agrees instantly, bidding their friends farewell as she finally gets to her feet and realizes she’s a little tipsy, relying on his hand on her back to keep her upright.

“Babe, it’s so much colder out here,” Amy groans as soon as they’re back out on the stoop.

The roads are now lit only by the street lights and the overarching glow of the skyline, the snow still falling on their shoulders as they begin the two-block trek to her apartment.

His hand tangles with hers and her other arm wraps around his, her cheek leaning against him while they walk at a pace a little slower than they normally would. They’re both enveloped by the postcard-like scene, she almost feels like she’s the protagonist of a horribly cheesy lifetime movie (it doesn’t matter to her that it’s cheesy, she refuses to apologize for being the happiest she’s ever been).

“Are you ready for tomorrow?” Amy asks, her voice a little muffled by his jacket. Although she’s more excited than anything else, a part of her is nervous for Jake’s Christmas at the Santiagos’ - mostly because she hopes it’s the first of many.

“So ready. All of your brothers and your mom love me.”

She brought him to a family dinner shortly after the Thanksgiving fiasco with her father, instructing him firmly to just be himself. To Jake’s surprise and her relief, that plan actually worked.

“My dad will come around too, he just hasn’t realized how amazing you are yet.”

Jake kisses her head, conveniently located on his upper arm, and she can feel his smile. “Babe, you’re sappy on Christmas.”

She kisses his cheek in return and resumes their walk at a slightly increased speed, the warmth of her apartment tantalizing her as the building comes into view.

When they’re curled up on the couch in pajamas ten minutes later, she braces herself for the horrified gasp when the Netflix title she selected begins to play on the screen of her television.

“Love Actually? Babe, it’s Christmas! What about Die Hard?”

She sighs in her spot next to him, lifting herself out of his arms.

“This is much more a Christmas movie than Die Hard is,” she argues. “Besides, we watched that last year. And, like, every other week since then.”

“But...it’s tradition.”

“I know, Jake, I just thought...we’re making new traditions, right? Together?”

He pauses, and her heart aches for a split second, but the warm smile that graces his face a moment later eases her worries.

“Yeah, okay,” he concedes, his tone softened. “Now get back over here.”

She settles back into him with one arm wrapped snugly around his torso and revels in being able to enjoy her favourite Christmas movie for a change, hoping it makes the cut to become an annual thing.

The look on Jake’s face when Hans Gruber shows up (and as a bad guy) makes her think she may just get her way.

-

2020

December 24th

Amy Santiago on maternity leave means a lot of things: their apartment is always immaculate, their laundry is always done, there’s always some food prepared in the fridge to varying degrees of edibleness. With no work and a newborn baby who is surprisingly easy to take care of at this stage of her life, she has way too much time on her hands, which also means their apartment is decorated to the nines for the holiday season.

There’s a huge Christmas tree that Jake and Charles struggled to carry up the narrow staircase, dozens of presents underneath from Amy’s many online shopping binges. Garlands and menorahs and wreaths and dreidels cover every inch of space available for decor. There’s a lingering smell of pine and peppermint in the air at all times, the faint sound of popular carols constantly playing from a speaker in the kitchen.

Jake doesn’t comment on the fact that coming home is the equivalent of going to the Macy’s at Herald Square during December, or that it’s all kind of pointless since they’re going to her parents’ for the entirety of the Christmas holidays as they have every year since their engagement (Amy’s aware of these things too, she’s just really bored).

It turns out her efforts aren’t completely futile, as Christmas Eve brings the worst snowstorm on the east coast in twenty years. Perhaps in previous years she would have risked the drive to visit her family, but neither she nor Jake are willing to take their baby girl out of the safety of their apartment as long as the storm persists.

“Okay, she’s asleep-“ Jake pauses halfway through the living room. He really thought he had seen the last of the insanity of Amy wrapping their daughter’s presents, yet the floor in front of the tree is once again littered with wrapping paper, tape and ribbons. “What’s going on in here?”

“Found one that I forgot about buried in our closet,” she mutters, busily wrapping the rectangular box. “Last one, I swear.”

Jake sits down on the floor next to her, his hand reaching for her back to rub small circles while she works. He’s been incredibly sympathetic while she’s on leave, understanding firsthand how difficult it is to be away from their job for that long. She’s an amazing mother, but that much time alone with an infant would take a toll on anyone.

“Babe, you know we’re the ones who will be opening these gifts right? And she won’t remember what they look like?”

Amy shoots him a brief glare before returning to the task. “I know, Jake. But Christmas was always perfect for me when I was growing up and I want Abby’s to be perfect too.”

“It will be.” He puts his finger down on the centre of the box so she can tie the ribbon, well-versed in assisting her after six years of Christmases.

Finally content, Amy places the gift under the tree with the rest of them and her shoulders drop with relaxation.

“There. Perfect.”

Jake takes her in, dark hair cascading in waves over a bright red sweater and face lit up by the coloured lights on the tree. She’s glowing with warmth and joy. He previously thought it to be impossible, but he thinks he loves her a little bit more now.

“You’re perfect,” he says with a smile, leaning in to kiss her forehead. When he pulls away, her eyes are wet with tears.

“Babe, you know I’m too hormonal for you to be that cute!” she exclaims, hastily wiping her cheeks.

Jake laughs, tugging her hand until she climbs into his lap, her back against his chest as they look up at the tree she spent eight hours flawlessly decorating.

“Merry Christmas, Ames.” He breathes the words into her hair, her hand covering his squeezing as he speaks.

“Merry Christmas, Jake.”

They’re interrupted by the sounds of their daughter’s cries - they’re both able to identify it as her hungry one, so Amy scurries off to get her. After a few minutes, Jake can faintly hear the sounds of Amy speaking in Spanish from the next room over. He understands very little of it, but he thinks it might be a bedtime story.

Later, when he asks his wife about it while they’re curled up in bed, she tells him it was her favourite fairytale growing up.

“What’s it about?” he asks, absentmindedly tracing her skin.

“A princess.”

“Let me guess, she lives happily ever after?”

Amy beams at him, kissing him softly on the mouth and shifting even further into his embrace.

“She does.”

[trashcankimbapfan]

unpopular opinion pls dont come at me but this is my true feelings about yg treasure box

helloo everyone so treasure box has already aired 2 eps right i just want to address some issues with the show that has been bothering me.

1. older kids VS younger kids battle

the fact that yg is putting 20+ yr olds against kids that are barely 15 honestly i understand that learning has no age limit but to me, asking a younger kid that has barely trained for a yr to go against a 20+ yr old who has trained probably longer than that is really unfair. firstly, it's definitely unfair for the older person who has gone through so much more to train and finally get the chance to debut. secondly, its also unfair for the child as seen in the video that he definitely did not want to diss his senior like this but was forced to do it just because the producer asked him to. he jus wanted to bring out the best performance he can and the producer is asking the older one to stand in front of him do you understand how humiliating it is for a senior to be treated like this infront of his junior? then again ofc there may be differing views on this since yes regardless of age we should be learning from those that are worthy of learning from but this is just something that bothered me

2. Midam's message

i dont understand why they are making such a huge deal about this especially within the message midam didnt really say anything about leaving or anything and the fact that he already mentioned that he wasn't feeling well because of the stress but yet they are putting so much emphasis on this just for the drama aspect of the show. ofc this only appeared in the preview for the next ep and i wouldn't know the real reason for his absence in the show but the fact that the show is using a trainees stress and mental strain as a way to publicise the show and create drama is kinda screwed up to me i dont mean to go against the show or anything because of course we wouldn't know what might happen till the next ep so it's just something i felt uncomfortable watching

3. past MIXNINE contestants

as most of you know junkyu, hyunsuk and byounggon (sry if i missed out any POINT THEM OUT TO ME PLS ❤️) has participated in mixnine and midam, seunghun and yedam has participated in Stray Kids for awhile. I'm actually really uncomfortable in this case because i feel like yg is actually putting out all these survival shows just for the money n not really for the trainees? imagine all the trauma and worries a trainee has to go through throughout each and every survival show. it may be fun and interesting to the producers as they choose the trainees to battle it out but can u see how much they are losing confidence in themselves, how much criticism they have to endure after each and every survival show. idk man i just feel really unfair for the trainees that after so many years of hardwork they still have to be put through each and every survival show just for them to debut. ofc there are good points like getting famous before they even debut but then again i dont think kids that are under 20 have the emotional and mental threshold to experience the feeling of being rejected over and over again

4. underage kiddos

they're cute not gonna lie and their talent is really INSANE omg junhyuk is really talented and im in AWE but i feel like putting them through these survival shows are just a mental torture to them? these kids are barely 15! most boys only start going through puberty around 13 to 15 years old and these few years are the most emotional and mentally stressful to these boys. this period of time is also when they are the most sensitive to things people say and care about their image the most. kids this age are suppose to be having fun while learning to sing and dance as well, not to be put through a survival program to compete with people that are older than them.

ANYWAYS GUYS please dont attack me okay im really sorry if i offended anyone but i really need to get these thoughts out of my head after watching the first 2 ep :( BUT if anyone has any differing opinions or wish to talk about this show feel free to message me alright!!! :)))) hehe have a nice day guys ❤️ if you read this far i love you thank you so much ❤️

[notthetoothfairy]

He’s Got You High

For @a-simple-rainbow. ♥♥♥

She wanted something based on this post: Kurt sends an email to his TA while high on pain meds after a wisdom teeth extraction.

read on AO3

Blaine is in the middle of his theatre history class when his phone signals a new email in his inbox. Discreetly hiding the phone from his instructor’s view by keeping his hands behind a stack of textbooks on his desk, he goes to his email folder and checks the sender.

It reads, Kurt Hummel.

He has to bite his tongue to stop the smile forming on his lips. Kurt is a sophomore, only a year behind Blaine, and takes improv and stage combat class with Blaine. He’s also a student in one of Mme Tibideaux’s more advanced voice studio classes that Blaine miraculously got to be the TA for this year.

To say that Kurt is Blaine’s favorite student would be an understatement – in fact, hopelessly crushing on him is probably more accurate.

It’s not like Blaine is planning to do anything about it, at least not while he’s Kurt’s TA. It would be inappropriate, unprofessional, and probably also really awkward, especially if Kurt isn’t interested.

So, he’s not fooling himself into thinking that Kurt’s email will be anything out of the ordinary. Probably a note of absence or questions about the final exam… though, as Blaine notices with a frown, the subject reads “Paper Eggstension”. Autocorrect maybe? There’s no way Kurt’s spelling is that bad, Blaine has read and graded most of his MUS105 papers.

Glancing at the teacher to ensure he’s still unobserved, Blaine opens the email, intrigued and a bit concerned now. He scans the first few lines and – oh, wow.

Everyone at NYADA knows Kurt is full of surprises and he’s certainly made an impression on Blaine more than once but this…? This has Blaine blushing, giggling under his breath, shaking his head fondly and wanting to check up on Kurt all at once.

To: Blaine Anderson

From: Kurt Hummel

Subject: Paper Eggstension

---

Dear Mr. Blaine,

sry, I forgot your last name because Rachel calls you Mr. Dreamboat! And y would I use your last name anyway? You told us to call you Blaine. Thats a nice name. Blaiiiine.

You said other stuff too. Like that we could send you our MUS105 paper before we send it to Mme Tibidibideaux (I wish she let us call her Blaine too) but only if we dont miss the deadline. Now I gotta tell you: No can-do. But I have an excuse!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I know you don’t believe. But you should. Cuz Blaine, u see – I got my teeth removed. The smarty ones. The wisdom teat. Anyway. I got them out. It was brutality. So much pain, worse than when I watched you unfairly lose Midmight Madnesssss against that senior douche, whatever the fuck his name is again. You should have won Blaine. You were better. I think Rachel bribe the judge bc she went out with senior douche… what is hid name? Bobby? Barney?

But PLEASE could I get a few more days, could you ask Mme T.���??? I really wanna do well bc��� you see, Mme T., she scares the hell out of me. Ha that rhymes, triple! Cuz I’m awesome. Yes, I am. You can just accept that as fact or you can also go out wih me and see how awesome I am for yourself, your choice (but pick the latter!). But anyway please please pls pls pls can I hand it the paper a bit later? I really cant submit something bad -- and Im afraid they pulled out my brain with the teeth!!!!!!!! I can’t write a well paper without a brain!

My doctor says Ill regret writing emails while Im hai (thats German for shark, funny fact) so I’m gonna stop and hope that you will say yes! Please bro? Oh! Brody. Brodouche. Midnight Madman. Destroy him next time! (He broke up with Rach, he deserves it.)

Thank you, Mr. Blaineboat. I really like you.

Kurt xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

Blaine reads the email three times before deciding that he should wait until after class to type out a response. In the state he’s in right now, he’ll probably do something stupid and just write back, Yes to all.

He wants to, of course. He’d give Kurt an extension on his paper and say yes to a date with him in a heartbeat but… he knows he’ll have to convince Mme Tibideaux, sort out his personal TA-student dating policy (and maybe ask around if NYADA has an official take on it) and make sure Kurt really meant to type this and didn’t just do so in the spur of the painkiller-induced moment.

The class can’t end fast enough but as soon as it’s over and Blaine finds a quiet corner in the library to think of what to respond, he blanks, drafting several replies but ending up deleting all of them.

“Goddammit,” he mutters to himself. “Just write something.”

In the end, “something” doesn’t really compare to Shakespeare but Blaine figures that at least he won’t risk his job over it, either.

And maybe, just maybe, Kurt will catch the ambiguity in his words.

-

“What are you working on?” Rachel asks when she comes back to the loft, arms full of grocery bags that Kurt hopes are filled with veggies for him to make soup with. He seriously craves eating something that isn’t liquid but mushy veggies drowning in hot water really is the maximum of cheating when it comes to his pained cheeks. He knew it was a bad idea to get both upper wisdom teeth out the same day. But it’s too late to complain. At least he has a best friend who brings him soup.

Kurt sighs at the laptop in front of him.

“My paper for Mme Tibideaux,” he responds. “You know I love Sondheim but interpreting his work while physically injured makes me want to kill him.”

“He’s in his mid-eighties, Kurt,” Rachel tells him. “Let an old man be.”

“Ugh.” Kurt rubs his eyes. “The meds are making me tired, though.”

“Why do you even bother writing the paper when you got an extension from Mr. Dreamboat?”

Kurt frowns at Rachel. “Extension? When would I have gotten that?”

“In your email?” Rachel frowns back. “Come on, don’t tell me you chickened out just because you’re in love with him. He’s still our TA, he could probably do something about that deadline, so-”

“I don’t remember writing an email.” Kurt goes to student email and punches in his username and password. “Or getting one back, for that matter. Like, wouldn’t I rem-” He blinks in surprise, catching Blaine’s name in his inbox – twice, even. How high was he, exactly? “Wait, what did I…?” Clicking on the email, bits and pieces come back to him, and he suddenly grabs the couch cushion next to him, holding onto it for dear life. “Oh my god, no.”

“What?”

“Rachel.” Kurt feels the blood draining from his face. “Oh, Jesus, please tell me I didn’t write that…”

He scrolls through the quoted email below Blaine’s short responses (Dear Kurt, thank you for telling me! And yes, of course! I’ll talk to Mme Tibideaux, and get back to you once I know more. Get well soon! All the best, Blaine, and the more recent Dear Kurt, I got a yes from Mme Tibideaux, you’re getting one more week! Best, Blaine) and cringes when he reads the first line.

“I did. Fuuuuuck. Oh god, now I wish Sondheim could kill me.”

“Again, the guy’s, like, 85…” Rachel says slowly. “And why would you- whoa, is that your email to Blaine?”

Kurt doesn’t answer, instead opting to hide his face in his hands.

“You did not tell him we call him Mr. Dreamboat.”

Kurt whimpers.

“You did not ask him out!” Rachel squeals.

Kurt lets out a miserable whine.

“Oh my god, Kurt, you did not tell him you like him and signed the email with a dozen kissing faces!!!”

“WHAT?!” Kurt’s hands fly back to his laptop. He didn’t re-read that part. “Oh my god! I ju- Rachel, I can never go back to that school. I’m such a failure at life, Jesus Christ.”

“You’re very religious all of a sudden.”

“Don’t just sit there mocking me,” Kurt begs. “Tell me it was all just a bad dream.”

Rachel gives him a look of deep, genuine pity. “I really wish I could but I doubt my eyes can never unsee that email. Also, I know you wrote that while you were high on pain meds but I am a bit upset you never told me you didn’t like Brody. Might have saved me some trouble.”

Kurt rolls his eyes at her. “You honestly believe I never brought it up? What do you think we were we having that flea-market chair argument for? And don’t even pretend like you would have called it off with him just because I said something.” Rachel opens her mouth to speak but Kurt shakes his head violently. “It doesn’t matter, anyway – what am I going to do about this?!”

Rachel shrugs. “Kurt, it’s out there. All you can do now is roll with it.”

“In my grave, you mean?”

“In class. To which we’re going tomorrow since you’re so much better already,” Rachel tells him sternly. “Judging by Mr. Dreamb-”

“We can’t call him that anymore,” Kurt says quickly.

“Fine.” She sighs. “Judging by Blaine’s reply, he’s not bothered by it. Who knows, maybe he’s flattered. Or happy about it. It’s not every day you get an email from a cute guy confessing he’s crushing on you.”

“Yeah, right,” Kurt mumbles into the sleeve of his sweater. “As if I stand a chance with him.”

“No time like the present to find out,” Rachel says with finality. “Now, I’m making you soup, and you’re going to put on some Sondheim so you can work on your paper with some fresh insights and maximum concentration.”

It’s a nice thought – but Kurt doesn’t get anything done that night.

-

Blaine carefully keeps his eyes on his notebook when Rachel and Kurt walk into his class.

He was expecting Kurt to come back today (and no, he did not google how long it takes for people to recover from wisdom teeth extraction – he just asked Sam, who had gotten it done right before moving to New York), and he might have put a little extra effort into looking good today. He never got a response from Kurt, so he figures the guy has either silently acknowledged the paper extension, avoided Blaine for a number of possible reasons or forgotten about the exchange entirely.

Whatever the motivation behind it, Blaine will not despair over it. He’s Kurt’s TA, and as such won’t try anything anyway. NYADA doesn’t seem to have any policy against TAs dating students but nevertheless, he doesn’t want to put either them in an awkward position.

Which doesn’t even take into account the fact that he still doesn’t know whether Kurt remembers asking him out, whether he actually meant it, or whether he intends to ask again.

He might want to wait until Blaine’s no longer his TA as well. That’s alright with Blaine. After all, there’s a month left to this semester, so he can wait. He totally can.

He looks up from his notebook with a smile.

“Hi everyone,” he greets the class. “How are you doing? So, the deadline for your papers is Friday so I hope you’ve all sent me your drafts in case you want me to read them.” He can’t help but let his eyes wander to where Kurt is sitting. “Unless there were any reasons to hand them in late.”

Kurt blinks really quickly at the sudden eye contact, and lets out a nervous laugh.

And Blaine realizes he really totally cannot wait a whole month to get answers to his questions.

Before he can stop himself, he adds, “Everyone with extensions on their papers, please come see me after class.”

Of course, that’s just Kurt, but the class won’t know. Okay, Rachel might know, seeing as she elbows Kurt so hard it almost sends him flying off his seat. Kurt almost doesn’t seem to notice it as he’s busy staring at Blaine with a bit of a twitch in his eye.

Blaine suppresses a groan. This isn’t the plan. What is he doing?

-

“Blaine, I am so sorry!” Kurt exclaims in misery when the rest of the students slip away after class is over.

He’s beyond glad that Blaine didn’t make him sing any of his pieces today because apart from already being nervous whenever Blaine does ask him to do that, today his anxiety probably would have been the final straw. He might have run off or broken out into tears in front of everyone.

Blaine looks at him with a small smile. “You’ve got nothing to apologize.”

“Uh, yes, I do,” Kurt says stubbornly. He’s beyond mortified; the least Blaine can do is let him apologize properly. “I really didn’t mean to-”

“Oh.” Blaine looks down on the pile of sheet music he was stacking. “Yeah, right. Uhm, seriously though, I know how bad pain killers can be, I don’t blame you for-”

“Oh thank god, you know it was the pain meds,” Kurt breathes out in relief. “I was afraid you’d think-”

“No worries,” Blaine cuts him off. “It’s alright if you didn’t mean any of it.”

Kurt hesitates for a second, and gulps as he takes in Blaine’s slightly shaky hand movement as he stuffs the sheet music into his messenger bag.

“If…?” he asks quietly.

“I mean that,” Blaine says, eyebrows furrowing slightly. “Sorry, that, of course.”

Kurt’s at a loss. He’s getting mixed signals, and just judging by the last bit of the exchange – if that was the only thing that had happened, his stupid email and the fact that Blaine is his freaking TA forgotten – he might even be encouraged to inquire further.

But he can’t just admit to meaning all of it, right?

He settles for the safer topic. “So you wanted to speak to me about my paper?” he asks.

“Uh, yes.” Blaine smiles, though he still looks distracted. “I just wanted to ask you whether you had any questions about the material since you couldn’t join us for the last two sessions.”

“I…” Kurt shakes his head. “No, I think I’ve got it covered. Rachel caught me up.”

“Alright. Well, if you have any questions, you can send me an email.”

“Or not,” Kurt says quickly. “I think I’m swearing off emails for a while.”

Blaine laughs, the sound warm and pleasant in Kurt’s ear.

“Right,” he says. “I know this is a bit awkward but… it could have been worse. You could have written that to Mme Tibideaux or Miss July.”

Kurt is so relieved that Blaine is able to joke about it that he replies with a mindless, “Yeah, except I wouldn’t have told them I liked them, so…”

Blaine gapes at him, and Kurt realizes a second to late what he’s implying yet again.

“Oh,” Blaine says. “I, uh-”

“I’ve got to go,” Kurt cuts in, ears burning. “Can I go?”

“Uh, uhm, well, yeah, of course,” Blaine stutters.

As Kurt turns around and gathers his stuff, he can hear Blaine mutter something to himself. Kurt’s almost out the door, when Blaine calls out, “Kurt?”

Kurt turns around gingerly. “Yeah?”

“I really didn’t mind.”

“Okay...”

“Like, really really.”

Kurt wants to scream, But what does that mean?! Instead, he takes a deep breath, collects his thoughts, and says, “Okay… see you in improv, I guess?”

Blaine nods quickly. “Yeah. Later, Kurt.”

“Later, Blaine.”

-

Blaine is early to improv class, even though it’s all the way across campus. But he didn’t stop for his usual coffee, grabbed a salad to-go instead of lunch with his friends from his dorm, and also maybe, possibly hurried to get to class because Kurt is usually early to everything.

Blaine is the first to arrive, though, so he grabs his usual seat and gets out his salad. He’s about to slice the egg when he hears Kurt’s voice from outside the classroom.

“Talk to you later, Rachel.”

“Okay. And, Kurt, remember to ask-”

“Bye now!”

As soon as Kurt’s through the door, his eyes land on Blaine and he freezes.

“Uh, hi,” he says. His cheeks are slightly red, probably from the cold weather outside. “You’re – uhm, early.”

“Yeah.” Blaine looks down briefly, willing himself to just go for it this time. “I wanted to talk to you.”

“Again?” Kurt bites his lip. “I thought-”

“Kurt, when I said yes in the email, I meant yes to both.”

“Both?” Kurt frowns. “I don’t-”

“Both questions. Or requests, I guess.”

Kurt’s eyes widen. “You mean…”

“Yeah, I mean,” Blaine says with as much conviction as possible. “At first, I didn’t want to say anything because, you know, TA and all, but… seeing you in class, knowing, or well, hoping that you meant it, and… I don’t know, I couldn’t wait those four weeks until the semester is over. So I asked you to stay after class but then that felt super shady, too, so… I don’t even really know what I’m doing right now.”

“Do you know what you’re saying, though?” Kurt asks breathlessly.

“Well…” Blaine can’t suppress a grin. “Unlike some people, I’m not on pain meds right now, so, yeah, I’m pretty sure I have full control over my words.”

Kurt glares at him but it’s mostly façade, especially considering he’s still looking like Christmas came a bit early this year, and Blaine… well, Blaine is floored at the thought of being the one to actually make him look like that.

“Well, apparently those pain meds at least made me confess something neither of us could admit to sober, so…”

“Hey, for the record,” Blaine says, getting up to stand in front of Kurt, “I fully intended to ask you out once the semester was over.”

Kurt’s eyes are locked on Blaine with sheer intensity, and Blaine isn’t proud to admit it makes his knees a bit weak.

“Really?” Kurt asks, clearly intrigued, then sighs. “So my email was completely unnecessary.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Blaine says. “I got so many laughs out of it.”

“Oh god, shut up.”

“No, I mean, it – eggstension?” Blaine chuckles. “Wisdom teat? There were some good ones there.”

“What part of shut up-”

Waiting really isn’t Blaine’s strong suit, he realizes, as he leans in to kiss Kurt, four weeks too early to be completely professional, yet about half a year too late considering how long he’s had his eye on him.

Kurt’s protest is muffled against Blaine’s lips, and dies down completely once they press closer together to get better access. They part for air briefly, and Kurt whispers, “When I got up this morning, I would have sworn this would be the last thing I’d ever say, but I’m pretty proud of myself for writing that email now.”

Blaine licks his bottom lip, chasing the faint taste of Kurt there. “I’m glad you wrote it, too.” This whole thing between them has lasted about a minute but he wants more so badly he feels like he’s physically incapable from drawing Kurt back in and kissing him again.

They keep at it until other students start to trickle into the room, and even then they share meaningful glances and press their ankles together between their chairs.

Between all the talking and kissing, Blaine didn’t get to eat his salad, so about halfway through the lecture, his stomach starts growling.

Kurt turns to him with a grin. “Forgot to eat?”

“I guess I was distracted.”

“Hm, by what, I wonder?” Kurt asks cheekily.

Blaine eyes his untouched salad in amusement. “I guess I got pretty egg-sited over this boy I like.”

It’s totally worth all the frustrated elbowing he gets in response.

[undeadpsycho13]

a cup of coffee to warm my icy heart

AHHHHHH GUYS LOOK IM SO SO SO SORRRRRRYYYYYY I SWEAR I HAD THIS FINISHED LAST FRIDAY I JUST FORGOT IM SORRRRYYYYY

i know this chapter is one week overdue, and i hope u guys can forgive me.  i swear i had it done ages ago, just forgot to post it. also, its more than twice the length of the first chapter, if that makes up for anything.

thank you to @puzzle-of-life-reason-for-death​ for the reminder, this chapter is for you!! :D

btw, some chinese swear words are involved, and the translations are at the bottom. if u dont like them, rlly sorry, i just thought it might be fun, cause you know, both baits and an speak chinese canon, and so do i, so why not?

tell me if u dont like it, i wont include them in the next chapter

otherwise, enjoy~~ ^_~

CHAPTER 2: JUST A TINY PART OF ME (FELL IN LOVE WITH YOU)

The second time was not so much of an accident, but oh well, not-accidents happen all the time, don’t they?

The annoying door ringing speaker thing once again announced Baitsakhan’s appearance at Endgame.  A very pissed Baitsakhan.  A very pissed Baitsakhan who had not had coffee in the last three days and was currently dying of lack of caffeine in his bloodstream.  Red Bull was a poor substitute; he needed freaking coffee.  The darker, the better.  The scene from last week flashed back in his face, and Baitsakhan cringed a little on the inside.  He was not willing to make a fool of himself again.

He had surprised both his sister and An by staying away from coffee for four days, and then couldn’t help but get some coffee from The Starbucks.  At least he had figured out the barista’s name.  Hilal Ibn Isa Al-Salt.  He was awful proud of his memory; who on earth had long-ass names like that?  For once, he was appreciative of his unique, surname-less name.

But the Al-Salt guy’s infuriating niceness had gotten the better of him, and he had once again scared Baitsakhan away with a honey-bee-pesticide-banning petition.  Who cares whether bees died?  Screw them.

The absence of a sufficient amount of caffeine, however, was not his only problem.  The Phone Guy (as baitsakhan had deemed him) had texted him back, albeit the dire-sounding warning, with a outrageous reply of, omg so sry got the wrong # D: rlly rlly sry :(.  And then, of all the emojis he could have typed, he chose the freaking <3.

Needless to say, Baitsakhan was pissed.  No one, no one the whole damn world, was allowed to send him a heart emoji (save Sarangerel and An’s incredibly sweet girlfriend Chiyoko, but that as different), and yet this complete stranger had taken it upon himself (or herself, he added as an afterthought) to send him one.  This was an outrage.  He would not dignify this text with an answer, he thought to himself.

So, naturally, he just had to go to that nice coffee shop to calm himself down.  Just had to.  And it had nothing to do with wanting to the hot barista.  Absolutely nothing.

Seating himself at the table closest to the window, he took out his phone, absent-mindedly scrolling through his playlist.  

An indefinite amount of time passes.  

And then, out of the blue, a hand suddenly tapped him shoulder, and, startled, he whipped around, teeth bared, hands out in front of him in an offensive position, ready to gouge the offenders eyeballs out ––

The cute barista (Maccabee, his mind supplied) is, apparently, said offender.

Great, there’s another person who thinks he’s a psychopathic weirdo (not that he isn’t, but still).

But instead of freaking out at his overreaction, the guy laughs.  Who even does that after a near-death experience? (Okay, maybe he’s exaggerating, but there’s no denying this guy was weird.)

“Chill dude, just here to take your order.”

Met with Baitsakhan’s blank look, the guy raises a perfectly arched eyebrow.

“Look, I love having you here, but if you don’t order something, like, right now, I’m going to have to kick you out, ’cause I just got this job and I really don’t want to lose it.  You know, you’ve been sitting here for like half an hour doing nothing.”

Holy hell, he’s been wasting thirty minutes doing nothing?!  Scrambling up (in a very dignified way, of course), he says, in a voice he hopes is impassive,

“Sure, I’ll have an espresso or something, like that thing you made last time.  If you don’t remember, I’ll just have the thing with the most caffeine.”

Maccabee (again, this is all his brain’s doing, there is no way Baitsakhan would consciously remember people’s names, even super hot guys) laughs at that, shaking his head.

“Of course I remember, who would be able to forget the order of the cutest guy we’ve had here since I started working?”

The blond is nice to enough not show any visible reaction to the way Baitsakhan’s face burns a deep red color at his comment, and instead smiles a bit lopsidedly and turns to go.  Suddenly he pauses, turns back to face the noirette, and before Baitsakhan can do anything the older teen quickly winks, so fast it was almost missed, and continues on towards the counter.

For the next five minutes, until Maccabee comes back with his drink, Baitsakhan just sits there, eyes wide, mouth gaping like a fish, shell-shocked.  Even then all he can do is close his mouth and nod his head politely.

A buzz from his phone catches his attention, finally rousing him from his stupor.  For a moment, he thinks that it’s the Phone Guy again, but when he see’s "Asian Hacker Lovebird”, he smiles to himself and swipes the screen sideways to reply.  Though he would never admit it, An crashing into his life nine years ago really made his life better a thousand-fold.  He remembered first arriving in North America, a bitter, parent-less seven year-old, small for his age but savage and aggressive, despite the language barrier.  Oh, he learned English in his due time, but back then, really all he could say were a few basic swear words that immediately earned him half a dozen enemies.  The one person he gravitated towards was a kid in the year above him, a Chinese boy who was all glares and rule-breaking and rebellious behaviour.  Looking at his slim frame and lanky form, people would be led to falsely believe that An was all bark and no bite.  

They couldn’t be more wrong.  

Professional in at least ten different types of martial arts and an expert at (illegal) poisons and (illegal) hacking, An was definitely a formidable opponent.  Baitsakhan’s type of guy.  They were the perfect pair, both cold and haughty at school and in public.  No one needed to know they played video games together well into the night and had weird movie marathons on a regular basis and smiled until their face’s hurt and laughed until they couldn’t breathe.

He was a good friend, cynical, with a dry sense of humor.

Right now, however, not so much.

asian hacker lovebird: where r u????

asian hacker lovebird: baits

asian hacker lovebird: answer me child

asian hacker lovebird: ANSWER ME CHILD

im-not-smol: Piss off.

asian hacker lovebird: THE CHILD IS HERE

im-not-smol: Don’t call me a child.

asian hacker lovebird: i repeat where r u

im-not-smol: A cafe.

asian hacker lovebird: specify

im-not-smol: Endgame Cafe.

asian hacker lovebird: U MEAN!!!

asian hacker lovebird: LIKE DA 1 W/ DA HOT BARISTA U RANT ABT 24/7??!!!!

asian hacker lovebird: OMG STAY RIGHT THERE DONT MOVE IMMA JOIN U

im-not-smol: Don’t you dare.

im-not-smol: 傻逼

asian hacker lovebird: oh no u did NOT just call me that

asian hacker lovebird: now i need 2 come 2 beat u up

asian hacker lovebird: it is a MUST

asian hacker lovebird: see ya in 2 min

im-not-smol: 王八蛋

asian hacker lovebird: SHUT UP JUST SHUT UP IMMA COME OVER RN 2 BEAT UP UR STUPID ASS

im-not-smol: You can try. ;)

asian hacker lovebird: challenge accepted ur goin DOWN boi

im-not-smol: We’ll see about that.

asian hacker lovebird: ur “impecable grammar” rlly pisses me off

asian hacker lovebird: *imppecable

asian hacker lovebird: ugh

asian hacker lovebird: smthn watevr i kant spel

im-not-smol: It’s not my fault you turned autocorrect off.

asian hacker lovebird: when will u eva learn 2 txt like a normal person???

asian hacker lovebird: 好落后

asian hacker lovebird: just sayin

im-not-smol: Shut up.

asian hacker lovebird: look up

Baitsakhan raised his head, only to be met with the sight of a very distorted face right next to his head.  And of course he didn’t scream Jesus Christ and shriek like a little girl, what are you talking about?

The weird twisted face outside morphed into a wicked grin and the doorbell rang once again as another customer entered, tears of mirth still apparent in his eyes.  This new comer looked quite out of the ordinary, tall and dressed in nothing but black and silver, a face that was all harsh angles and sharp corners and pale skin.  A contrasting red teardrop tattoo stood out, leaking out of his right eye, and his strange hair style earned him quite a few looks from the other customers.

“You’re so stupid.”

“Shut up, you will speak of this to no one, understand?”

Most people would quake with fear at the aggressive tone, but An just rolls his eyes,

“Normal people don’t speak like ancient three-hundred year-old vampires, Baits.”

He drops down on the chair opposing Baitsakhan’s, leaning back and crossing his legs, stretching them out in front of him, a picture of complete ease.

“So, where’s the hot shot?” An says in a mock-whisper tone.  Baitsakhan glares at him before subtly motioning towards the counter, where Maccabee is leaning against it, his phone one hand and a cup of coffee in the other.  For a moment, An just stares, a small smirk on his face (not that the smirk ever disappears), whistling appreciatively.  And then, out of the blue, he shouts, so loud that he attracts probably the attention of everyone else in the mile radius,

“Hey there, aren’t employees not supposed to serve themselves?”

Startled, Maccabee looks up.  He sees An’s triumphant expression and Baitsakhan’s kill-me-now-please-just-shoot-me-and-save-me-from-the-torture one, and kind of gathers what happened.  A lazy smile slips onto his face.  He walks over, leisurely, still holding the half-finished drink.

“You’re right.  But… ”  He pauses for effect, and in that short amount of time An actually gets around to rolling his eyes again.  The boy really gets a lot of practice.

“I’m off duty.  Ais over there took over for me.”

He gestures at a red-headed girl who has somehow managed to escape their notice until then.  For a moment, a strange look flits across Baitsakhan’s face, but as quickly as it got materialises, it disappears.

An shrugs.

“Oh.  Good for you.”  He says awkwardly.

There’s an uncomfortable silence, like the type when someone ought to say something but nobody does, before Baitsakhan finally interjects,

“Thanks for the coffee, but I think my friend and I should get going.” Here he pointedly glares at An, who stares innocently at the ceiling.  

“How much is it again?”

Maccabee shrugs,

“Don’t worry about it, as long as you come again, it’s on the house.”

He winks suggestively.

Baitsakhan, of course, agrees.  After all, who could say no to a free cup of coffee, right?  And obviously, obviously it had no correlation to the fact that he actually wanted to come back to ogle the baristas.  Duh, no.

When he first visited the coffee shop, Baitsakhan never imagined he would meet someone like this who flirted blatantly and paid for his drinks.  When he first exited the coffee shop, he never thought he would come back again.  When he came back the second time, he never thought that this place would impact his previously non-existent love life.

Only when they are outside the door, Baitsakhan for the second time, An the first, and An is laughing at his lovestruck (Baitsakhan would deny this) expression that Baitsakhan realises that maybe, maybe a tiny part of him has fallen in love with Maccabee.

(Just a tiny part.)

CHAPTER INDEX (for your convenience)

1 | 2

so. how’d you guys like it?

here are the translations:

傻逼 = dumbass/idiot

王八蛋 = its like f    er (sry, i rlly dont like swearing in english in writing, i feel like ppl will track me down and yell at me)

好落后 = so behind (as in trends, like in the context of not caught up on the latest trends)

hope that cleared things up a bit, if not feel free to send me a quick message, and i’ll explain to you in detail.

anyways, any suggestions for the next chapter?? (i really need to change the texting usernames, any suggestions for the individual characters?? eventually all of the players are gonna get involved one way or another in the texting conversations)

[gardyparty]

sry for my impending absence I will be at disney monday-saturday. I’ll try to set up a queue in the car and in the airport tomorrow. Love u guys

[darkstar225]

Twice's 10th member has bulimia, unnies are on their way!

A/N: Heyyy, I'm coming up with a lot of stuff for you guys so I can make up for the time I'm gone lol! Sry for taking so long to post :D I hope that my friend twwicceee, who gave me this idea on Wattpad likes it! :)

The request: ohh if you want i can tell you about "bullamia" it is a eating disorder in which the person eats food but they throw it up later intentionally cuz they feel insecure about their weight and body (just like anorexia nervosa) so you can do a chapter in which the youngest 10th member is throwing up in the washroom in night and all the members noticed it so they all confront her about it!😭😭🤝 idk like if u like, just a idea💗

PS: Tysm for everyone who reads what I write, I hope I can bring a smile to your faces every time I post! I'd like to thank whoever sent me this idea 'cause I loved to write it <3

__________________________________________________________

It was well past midnight when Y/N found herself hunched over the toilet bowl in the dimly lit bathroom of their dormitory. Her stomach heaved, and she couldn't stop the tears that stung her eyes. Her secret was her tormentor, a relentless force that had her in its grip for far too long.

For months, TWICE's flower had been struggling with an eating disorder, a battle she had been silently waging against herself. Bulimia had taken hold of her life, a cruel and destructive cycle of bingeing and purging that left her feeling trapped and ashamed.

TWICE, the beloved K-pop girl group she had the privilege of being a part of, had been oblivious to her struggle. Y/N was the youngest and 10th member, a talented and vibrant young woman in her early twenties. She had always been the cheerful, supportive, and positive presence in the group, and she was determined to keep her secret hidden.

But tonight, the facade cracked. She had pushed herself too far, indulging in a binge that had left her stomach painfully full. Panic and self-loathing had set in, and she had retreated to the bathroom, desperate to purge the excess calories and shame.

As the younger girl retched into the toilet, she heard a faint noise from the hallway. The sound of footsteps, hushed whispers, and concern. Panic surged through her as she realized that she was no longer alone.

Momo had been the first to notice the maknae's absence from her room. She had been restless, unable to sleep, and a nagging feeling had led her to check on her fellow member. When she saw the bathroom light on and heard the distressing sounds from inside, her heart sank.

Quickly, Momo alerted the other members. They gathered outside the bathroom, worry etched on their faces. Jihyo, the group's leader and Y/N's omma, stepped forward and gently knocked on the door. 

Jihyo - Honey, are you okay in there?

Y/N froze, her heart pounding in her chest. She knew she couldn't hide this any longer, but she wasn't ready to face her demons. She wiped her mouth and flushed the toilet before opening the door. Her eyes were red from crying, and she avoided their concerned gazes.

Y/N - I'm fine... *mumbling while trying to sound as convincing as possible*

But the members could see through her façade. Sana, Dahyun, Chaeyoung, and Tzuyu exchanged worried glances while Mina, who had her own history of mental health struggles, stepped forward and took her little sister's hand. 

Mina - Thank you for letting us be here with you, darling. We're always available to support you.

The floodgates opened, and Y/N couldn't hold back her tears any longer. She felt a mix of relief and fear as she finally admitted her struggle. 

Y/N - I... I have a problem. I've been struggling with bulimia.

Nayeon, ever perceptive, reached out and placed a gentle hand on her kid's shoulder. 

Nayeon - My love, you don't have to pretend with us. We're here for you.

Over the next few days, TWICE's sunshine began to open up to her fellow older sisters about her battle with bulimia. She shared the painful details of her struggles, the shame that had kept her silent, and the overwhelming fear of judgment. The members listened, offered their love and support, and encouraged her to seek professional help.

Jihyo took charge of the situation, researching treatment options and finding a therapist who specialized in eating disorders. Y/N was initially hesitant, but with the unwavering support of her TWICE family, she agreed to attend therapy sessions.

The road to recovery was not easy. The youngest faced the harsh reality of confronting her eating disorder head-on, and it was a painful journey filled with setbacks and tears. But with each step she took, she knew she wasn't alone. Her unnies were her pillars of strength, offering their love and encouragement every step of the way.

They also made changes in their daily routines to support Y/N. Mealtimes became a time for bonding, not just for nourishment. They cooked together, shared stories, and ensured that their little star felt comfortable and supported during meals. It was a small but significant change that made a world of difference to TWICE's angel.

Months passed, and Y/N's progress was slow but steady. She attended therapy diligently, and her therapist helped her unpack the emotional baggage that had contributed to her eating disorder. She learned healthier ways to cope with stress and anxiety, and her support system within TWICE was always there to cheer her on.

One evening, as the sun set and cast a warm glow over their dormitory, TWICE gathered in the living room for a movie night. Y/N, who had made significant progress in her recovery, sat comfortably among her friends. She smiled as they laughed and enjoyed each other's company.

Nayeon and Jihyo, who had taken on the roles of the maknae's confidants and protectors, wrapped their arms around the younger member's shoulders. 

Nayeon - You've come a long way, luv. We're so proud of you.

Y/N nodded, her eyes shining with gratitude. 

Y/N - I couldn't have done it without all of you, unnies. You saved my life.

Sana, Dahyun, Chaeyoung, and Tzuyu chimed in with words of encouragement and love, offering their unwavering support. It was clear that their bond had transformed into something even stronger, a sisterhood that could weather any storm.

As they settled in to watch the movie, Y/N felt a warmth in her heart that went beyond the comforting glow of the room. She had faced her darkest demons with the unwavering support of her TWICE family, and she knew that, together, they could overcome anything. And as the unnies looked at their petite fighter's expression, they shared a single thought:

I am proud of our dear maknae.

And the writer behind the screen had something similar in mind:

I am proud of my dear readers.

A/N: I'm sorry for any errors, English is not my first language. Pls, let me know if there is something wrong, ty for reading <3