#but it is still a carrot cake i guess so whatever

[ppulverse]

making a cake for the first time in like 5 years please pray for me

[aquaquadrant]

I’m in LOVE with your Hels to pay au!! Thank you so much for writing it!!

Has anyone ever asked Tango about his cuffs? Has anyone offered/tried to help him get them off? I imagine it would either be a funny montage of increasingly wild attempts OR just absolutely heartbreaking.

(sooo funny story, i saved the first ask in january bc i wanted to write smth for it… but then the second one came in before i got around to it… then the third… so uh. yeah. here ya go.)

~*~

“i like your cuffs, by the way.”

tango freezes, and even though xisuma has only just met the guy, he can immediately tell something’s off.

hermitcraft’s newest member is far from ordinary; a blaze hybrid with sharp teeth and blackened claws, red eyes that dart around nervously and squint at the sun, like it’s too bright. he didn’t even seem to know what a golden carrot was, when xisuma gave one to him.

the shackles around his wrists are just the frosting on the cake. xisuma had assumed it was part of his, er… unconventional style. but tango’s reaction- and the small links of broken chain still dangling from the cuffs- make xisuma wonder.

“what… uh, what do you mean?” tango asks, his tone forcibly light. oh, he’s anxious- ears flat, shoulders hunched likes he’s expecting an attack.

xisuma shrugs. “your cuffs, they’re just really metal,” he says casually. “it’s a cool look, is all.”

“oh.” tango blinks. the relief is evident in his expression, but he only relaxes slightly. “oh, right! thanks.”

while xisuma hasn’t been the admin of hermitcraft for very long, he’s been around long enough to tell when a player is running from something. but that’s none of his business. that’s why they come here, isn’t it?

“anyway,” xisuma says, “that’s about the end of the tour.” he lifts a hand to put on tango’s shoulder, then thinks better of it, folding his arms instead. “you just lemme know if you need anythin’, alright? anythin’ at all.”

“right, yeah.” tango smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “thanks, i’ll- i’ll keep that in mind, yeah.”

~*~

“jeeze, you ever take those cuffs off?”

tango freezes, and even though impulse is still relatively new here on hermitcraft, he can immediately tell he’s crossed a line.

it’s only been a couple weeks since a random portal abruptly appeared in front of impulse, taking him to a world called hermitcraft. according to his fellow hermits, that amounted to an invitation from the universe- which is how they all join.

he’s spent most of his time working on a quadruple witch hut farm with some of the other redstoners, and tango’s been a bit of a puzzle. he’ll be standoffish or even outright defensive at times, but then seem inexplicably drawn towards impulse, asking strange and not-so-subtle probing questions. of course, whenever impulse tries to address this, tango brushes him off.

“oh, these old things?” tango says after a moment, his brief panic quickly swept under the rug as he flaunts his cuffs. “why, do you- am i not pulling them off? too much?”

“no, no, they’re cool!” impulse assures him. “it’s just, don’t they get in the way when you’re doing delicate redstone work? seems like a bother, that’s all.”

tango huffs a laugh, but he’s also eyeing the nearest exit. “nah, man, th- it’s part of my look! my uh, my brand, as some might say. can’t go without ‘em, you know how it is…”

that’s not the reason. impulse can tell. but whatever the real reason is, it’s not his place to push tango to talk about it. they’re still getting to know each other, so if it’s anything more than a simple fashion choice, impulse is sure he’ll find out sooner or later.

“ooh, okay, gotcha.” impulse nods sagely. “branding, very important. well, if you ever change your mind, i’d be happy to take them off your hands- uh, literally and figuratively, i guess,” he chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. “cuffs are pretty ‘in’ for demons, you know.”

tango laughs too, though he’s already turning away, back to his work. “right, yeah, i- i’ll keep that in mind.”

~*~

“can you actually not take these cuffs off?”

tango freezes, and even without the spike of panic through their soulbond, jimmy can immediately tell he’s said something wrong.

it’s been about a month since the double lifers voted to end the death game. one month since jimmy and tango made their relationship official. and as amazing and wonderful as it’s been living on the ranch, jimmy’s starting to get the sense there are a few things he doesn’t know about tango.

he hadn’t meant anything by the question- just genuine curiosity. they were kissing, tango’s hands cupping jimmy’s face, and when he’d reached up to cover tango’s hands with his own he’d felt the cool metal of the cuffs, and the question just blurted out from his mind. gosh, he really does ruin everything.

tango recovers quickly. “whaaat, you don’t like ‘em?” he grins, casually stretching his arms above his head so the cuffs jangle around his wrists.

jimmy hesitates. the panic he felt through their bond has faded, but that doesn’t mean it’s not still there “well, sure, it’s just- y’know, i realized i’ve never seen you take ‘em off.”

tango blinks. “you- what, don’t you think if i wanted to take them off, i would’ve?” he laughs, putting his hands on his hips. “i mean, it’s not- we have metal-cutting technology, you know.”

oh, duh. jimmy feels silly. tango is far from helpless- if those cuffs hadn’t been a conscious decision, he surely would’ve figured out how to take them off by now. or, jeeze, he could’ve asked anyone on his server full of technical geniuses to help out.

“right, right, of course,” he says sheepishly. “sorry, i wasn’t- i do like how they look, i- i was just wonderin’. but uh, you know, if you ever did wanna take ‘em off… i mean, i’d still like you plenty without them,” he jokes.

“you’re good, you’re good,” tango hums, draping his arms around jimmy’s shoulders. “i’ll keep that in mind.”

~*~

tango sits alone in his room, claws curled around the cuff of his other hand.

it’s just simple iron. it wouldn’t be hard. all he has to do is reach for his inner fire, concentrate, and let the metal soften in his grasp. even if he heats it too much- so that molten iron drips over his skin like water- he’s a bit more fire resistant than the average player, he’d be fine. it’d only take a couple seconds for each one, and then he’d be free of them. forever.

it’s been nearly ten years, for hel’s sake. he’s lost count of how many times he’s been in this exact situation before, wanting and willing so much but being unable to bring the flames to his fingertips. if he even thinks about it, it’s suddenly like he’s back in the farm, icy wither rose numbing his veins, a haunting voice ringing in his ears.

‘just the cuffs on his wrists there, and he stays put like the good creature he is.’

tango wants to be good. he’s been trying so hard to be good. but what if he can’t trust himself? what if the only thing stopping him from reverting back to his old ways is the illusion of control maintained by these shackles?

who is he without them? would he be someone that his friends still cared about? would jimmy?

he’s too afraid to find out.

tango lets go of the cuff, the familiar weight of metal dropping back onto his wrist. he can try again another time. so long as he has his fire, he still has the option. he’ll do it someday.

so for now, the thought retreats to its little shadowed corner in the back of his mind, safe for another day.

~*~

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA if I asked my mom to stop keto-fying recipes?

this is either gonna be a complete non-issue or get people mad at me, i can tell lmao. unfortunately this has been bugging me for weeks. :D

To be clear, I'm almost 25, but I and my adult/teenage siblings still live with my parents bc the economy is ass. Also, Mom hasn't been doing it to every recipe…yet…but the ones she has changed have been recipes where a carbohydrate is an important part of the main meal.

For instance, replacing the potatos in a beef-carrot-potato stew with a rutabaga.

Mom's been on a modified keto diet for a while now, and while Dad is the only one intentionally doing it with her, the rest of us are aware of her diet and are generally chill about it. For a while, we would have nights where the parents would have Thing A, which was diet-compliant, and the rest of us would have Thing B, which was not. Those of us who are not dieting are all old enough to make things for ourselves, by the way, and that's usually what happens. For most of these "split meals," one parent usually doesn't wind up cooking two meals, one of which they can't even eat.

The stew is usually a "split" meal that gets made by one person who does most of the prep just by virtue of knowing the recipe, then one person who peels and chops the potatoes, and then one who wrangles the peeling and chopping of the rutabaga. The rutabaga then gets combined with a proportionate amount of The Rest, and those of us who aren't dieting are welcome to taste-test it. I've tried it, and the rutabaga's okay, I guess, but quite a bit too sweet and non-safe-food-y for me in the context of the stew, especially when I'm so used to potatoes. Wrangling the rutabaga is a bit more fun than eating it.

…except the most recent time we had the stew, Mom and Dad made an executive decision and just made a full-family pot of rutabaga stew without really seeing if everyone else was on board with it. Two of my siblings seemed fine with it, one is an enigma on a good day so I don't even know how they felt about it, and I hated it. I didn't get the chance to say so, however, between everyone else complimenting the altered stew and the conversation quickly switching to something else.

Unfortunately, our parents have decided that we will be making the stew with rutabagas only going forward.

Not "the family has decided."

The parents have decided. For adults and a teenager. Not for little kids.

Since then, in other conversations where recipes come up, such as conversations about the teenager's recent baking kick, Mom has been mentioning keto versions of whatever's being talked about in the nonspecific way that I'm pretty sure is her hinting/telling us that we should make it. In the context of teen baking, a keto chocolate cake, or keto cookies.

Look, I'm not here to debate the worth of a diet or lack thereof. I have plenty of those opinions and I'm not going to change them or let them distract from the core of the matter: when any of us are making food for the others, why are we letting two people's diets dictate what the rest of us should eat? If we're making something specifically to align with the keto diet, then that's a parent snack/meal. If we're not, it's a "kids" snack/meal. It should be as simple as that. Why make a full-family-sized meal if it's going to be pushing low/no carbs onto people who, historically, have not wanted to or needed to drop carbs? (It's me, I'm people. I know, I'm not really subtle, am I?)

I'm considering, the next time the stew comes up as a dinner plan, asking what a single-sized portion of the potatoes would be and just making it for myself. Given I have the spoons to do so that night, anyway. However, I really don't want to insult Mom's family recipe (which…she's already altered…and I would be reverting to its previous state…) or her cooking skills (which haven't lessened, even if I personally think her ingredient choices are a bit lacking lately).

What are these acronyms?

[miss-tc-nova]

S/O with Sleep Apnea - Trey, Jack, Jamil, Lilia

Okay, so remember THIS? Well someone (@kimdourden) wanted that with Jack and Jamil.

So I almost had that done when someone else (@delsierose) added Trey and Lilia!

So here we are. Sorry this took so long. Trey and Lilia are not my regulars, but working with them was a fun change of pace. PS, still not all that confident with my understanding of sleep apnea and its treatment.

Premise: The boys find out their s/o has sleep apnea

Words:

Trey: 603

Jack: 623

Jamil: 715

Lilia: 747

~~~~~

Trey

Trey accepts your snoring. It’s really a non-issue for him. Sometimes people are restless at night and that’s just how it is. And sure, you can be a moody at times, but he knows first hand that you didn’t get enough sleep.

Except he didn’t expect you to have sleep apnea.

The night is particularly rough as you toss and turn. Poor Trey sits up, a bit concerned by the excessive fidgeting. Sleepy Boi murmurs your name, asking if you’re okay but when he gets no response, he reaches over you for his glasses and the lamp. At last, you hold still but something’s off. He studies you, nearly ready to let it go, until it hits him. It’s silent. You’ve stopped snoring—and breathing. Louder, Trey speaks your name, pulling you up by the arm. This new position clears up your airways. So now leaning against your boyfriend, your snoring once again fills the air.

Perturbed, Trey readjusts and lies down, holding you against his chest. The image of you perfectly still replays in his head for maybe two hours before he falls asleep again.

Trey immediately clocks that you have sleep apnea after that. Someone in his family has it too so he sends a few messages to enquire about treatment alongside some personal research. Knowing you and your habits, the task seems somewhat daunting. Still, he’s not thrilled with what happened and knows it’s detrimental to your health, so he’s going to talk to you about it. The two of you discuss everything from surgery, medical devices, and home treatments. Whatever you decide, there are going to be some lifestyle changes.

He lays down the law—or tires to—about your afternoon snacking habits. However, Trey prefers to use the carrot rather than the stick. You’re rewarded for your craving restraint with…well, sweets. Sometimes. Trey’s reward is his baking. This could be puff pastries for breakfast or cinnamon rolls for desert after lunch. Whatever he’s making, surely it’s better than a store-bought snack after dinner.

This also means that Trey has to either convince Riddle to serve non-caffeinated tea at their parties, or he has to sneak around—which he would loathe, but do anyway.

In addition to bribery, Trey does his best to encourage you to stay awake and avoid naps. For the most part, he tries to get you up and moving, helping him with club activities, food prep, or painting roses. In the event that there actually isn’t something productive to do, well, guess he’s just going to have to kiss you.

Ultimately, Trey isn’t very forceful or mean about his attempts to alter your routines. He actively works with you and encourages you as best he can to change things for the better. It’s not the fastest way. Despite the rewards, it probably takes you several months to actually stick to the routine and start feeling any better. But you inevitably do. Your mood stabilizes as does your sleep schedule. Trey’s particularly happy that you’re reliably getting a full night’s sleep, comfortably wrapped in his arms.

“There you are. Do you want to come help me make the pies for the unbirthday party today. Come on, I’m afraid you might fall asleep otherwise. If you help, I’ll let you decide what we make next. Sure, if that’s what you want. Yes, you can lick the spoon, but only after we’re done. Seven help us if Riddle finds out I served bundt cake with your germs in it. No, I would prefer you didn’t. Okay, because it’s only noon, I’ll set some aside for you. Sound good?”

Jack

Jack doesn’t care that you’re a rough sleeper. Big Boi has siblings that he’s fairly close to, so nighttime fidgeting and snoring is no problem.

The Field and Track team has a competition one day that doesn’t return until late. Yet even as he opens his bedroom door, he’s not surprised to find you there, fast asleep. Finnicky about his own schedule, Jack hastily gets ready for bed, but just before he joins you, he stops. The room is too quiet. His gaze snaps to you, no movement to be seen. Your name on his lips and a firm shake of your shoulder jars your brain into correcting your airways. And the snoring resumes.

Offput by the event, but without answers, Jack climbs into bed, dragging you into his arms in the hopes that he would wake should another incident occur.

This is how Jack finds out you have sleep apnea.

A quick look with his phone tells him all he needs to know and, predictably, the wolf huffs about the challenges ahead of him. Exercise would fix 90% of your problems. Right?

Jack makes a deal with Sam to order two mouth splints in exchange for helping unload the latest delivery of goods. He’s already had to help other students fit theirs, so he’s got yours done pretty soon. Except only one is for sleeping.

Because Jack has little awareness for easing into things, you’re up at 6 AM the very. Next. Day. Not only that, but he has you joining SpellDrive practice with his dorm that morning too. He’s pretty intense about you going all out.

On top of that, you’re not allowed to nap. At all. Jack will wake you up on sight and have you do something with him. If you have nothing to do, now you’re running laps. So, by the time your new bedtime rolls around, you pass out.

After just a few days, everything is worse. You’re more exhausted, the apnea might be worse, and you inevitably snap back at Jack trying to push you to move more. Initially, he retaliates in kind and the two of you have get away from each other to cool off. You, of course, recognize you’re miserable, but Jack also comes to realize this too. He went zero to hundred too fast.

There’s a makeup after which Jack reins in his “help.” You may not wake up at 6 anymore, but he still wants you to come to the dorm’s morning SpellDrive practice. He doesn’t push as hard, but he may reward you if you’re at least walking laps as the dorm plays. But no, there’s still no naps. You still have to do things with him, but think less workout and more makeout.

Of course, at the end of the day, Jack will cuddle and snuggle like nobody’s watching. Because nobody is. He makes certain your comfortable sleeping on your side and that you’ve got your splint. It doesn’t usually take long for you to go to sleep anymore.

Honestly, you probably still hate it. Only Jack really seems to enjoy working out, but you can’t really deny this new routine is helping. With a more stable sleeping pattern, your daily exhaustion is nearly extinct. And the increase in activity is healthy for you in all the ways you hate to admit. Still, only Jack could get you to fix your problems with exercise. Sucker.

“Hey, you’re not nappin’ are you? Good. Don’t gimme that look. You know it’s bad for you. Well if you want something to do, we could go for a walk around the school again. What? Then what do you want me to do? Oh yeah? And how do you expect me to do that? Huh? I’m not blushing! My tail’s not wagging either! Forget it. Take your stupid nap. Grr, fine. C’mere.”

Jamil

Jamil is always prepared. His room was prepared for any issue the first time you shared the bed with him. So to only have to put up with a bit of snoring came as a pleasant surprise. That, he could deal with.

But he wasn’t prepared for sleep apnea.

Kalim wants a party because, of course he does. So Jamil is left to prep the decorations, prep the food, prep everything late into the night. You offered to help, but Jamil could see that you were struggling that day and sent you to bed. And by the time the retainer finally makes it to back to his room, it’s no surprise that you’re already fast asleep. Dead on his feet, Jamil gets ready for bed. A shiver runs down his spine, noting how eerily quiet his room is. His eyes scan the room, eventually falling across your motionless form. The realization hits, causing Jamil to lunge onto the bed, prepared to administer CPR. But the shaking of the bed has you grumbling and rolling over, breathing perfectly fine, snoring and all.

Jamil doesn’t sleep. His paranoid brain won’t let him, forcing him to compulsively search the internet for answers that he quickly finds. The rest of the night is spent researching countermeasures because that brief moment where he thought you were gone will haunt him for years to come.

The next day really sucks for Jamil, but he’s too preoccupied with his anxiety set to overdrive. He’s still attending to his duties to watch over Kalim, but now his brain is formulating a plan to alter your routines, which he so badly wants to implement right this moment. However, Jamil knows that people don’t typically change at the drop of a hat.

So changes begin slowly. He slowly begins weaning your sugar and caffeine addiction with healthier, equally-delicious options that won’t have you wired by the time bedtime comes around. His knowledge of your likes and dislikes makes this an easy task.

He begins keeping track of your sleeping habits, naps included. Your wake-up time slowly gets earlier and earlier and the length of your naps grows shorter until they become non-existent. Bedtime also shifts but Jamil has craftily created a winddown routine, and you’re not his only target.

About an hour before bed, Jamil’s phone, your phone, and Kalim’s phone get the same notification. At that time, only Jamil is allowed to access his phone, but only to monitor the following events, and set the music. The three of you have a stretching regimen to loosen up and relax. After, everyone washes up. Jamil makes a warm, non-caffeinated drink for you to sip while you three make a to-do list for the next day. Once that’s sorted out, Jamil sends Kalim off to bed and whisks you away to his room. Together, you prepare for the following morning: picking outfits, packing school bags, tidying the room, etc. By the time you brush your teeth, you’re very much ready for bed—just as you’ve been conditioned to be.

Jamil would be the one to recommend surgery. It’s up to you whether you do it or not, but he does express that it would make him feel better. And that he would absolutely take care of you if you did go through with it. Will guilt you about your naps and poor eating habits with it. “If you want your caffeine back, you better get that surgery” or “A nap sounds good right about now. Too bad you have sleep apnea.” It’s actually light hearted teasing, but also, he means it.

Whether you get the surgery or not, your symptoms do get better. Jamil’s always going to be somewhat paranoid that another incident will occur, but when he sleeps with his arms wrapped around you, he manages to convince himself it’ll be alright.

“Have you finished packing your bag for tomorrow? What about your potions book. Alright, I’m just checking. Would hate for you to have to run across campus between classes because you forgot it. Again. What? It’s not my fault you’ve got a fuzzy memory. Maybe if you got that surgery you’d get some decent sleep and be able to remember what you had for lunch yesterday. No. Not even close. It was curry.”

Lilia

Lilia thinks the snoring is cute. He’s up well after you every night and so witnesses your chaotic tossing and turning. Of course, he’s also noticed your occasional cantankerous behavior, especially after particularly restless nights. That will not deter him from loving you in the slightest. Or teasing you. He lives to tease and lives for your cuteness.

Admittedly, he didn’t expect sleep apnea to be the cause of your problems.

Courteous enough to use headphones, Lilia stays up gaming one night. Meanwhile, on the bed in the corner, you roll and roll, trying your best to get some sleep. Late into the night, the game ends and Lilia finally prepares for bed. As he’s sliding beneath the covers, he pauses. Silence fills the room, deafening and foreign. Ruby eyes fall on your sleeping form, alarms going off when he realizes you’re not breathing.

Quick to act, Lilia presses his fingers to your neck. Finding a pulse, he pulls you into his arms to relocate to the floor for CPR. But the moment your body shifts, your brain restarts and you resume breathing—and snoring.

He waits for a moment, thoroughly confused, but replaces you on the bed where you curl up happily. Taking surprises in stride as always, Lilia lets the moment go and joins you in bed.

For ages, Lilia doesn’t say anything. The event honestly slips his mind until a particularly grumpy day when you snap at him and he teases you about your attitude and messy sleep habits—especially the not breathing thing. While you grumble about going to take a nap, Silver approaches to question about the “not breathing thing.” That’s not normal. A bit of research reveals to them that you probably have sleep apnea.

Now that there’s an explanation for your moods and exhaustion, Lilia is more interested. He’s not particularly impressed by the suggested treatments but, for once, he’s willing to try them for your sake.

Lilia loves to eat whatever he can; it’s part of living so he’s never given it a second thought how much caffeine and sugar you ingested just trying to make it to the end of the day. And the naps. Lilia enjoys a good afternoon nap, but apparently those aren’t doing you any favors either. You’re not going to enjoy any of this.

But Lilia does his job in true Lilia fashion. That snack you had literally two seconds ago is gone. It was in your hand and now it’s not. It takes a day or two before you realize that Lilia is behind the thievery. Try as you might to sneak a treat, you can’t get one over on him. It’s cold turkey for you and a sheer game for him. Only the non-sugar-loaded sweets and decaf drinks are safe.

Naps aren’t much better. Lilia is a wildcard and will wake you up in whatever manner he deems fun at the time. You might wake up to soft, sweet kisses. You might wake up to having your cheeks pinched. Or you might wake up to a bucket of water. The kisses are nice, but the roulette is not worth it. And again, you can’t hide from Lilia. Even stealing away to Ramshackle doesn’t save you.

The first several weeks are hell and you’re pissed. For a while, you probably don’t even talk to Lilia, but that does not deter him from his mission. Your mood is foul, your sleep apnea is worse, and you might strangle the fae at any given moment.

But it does get better. Being forced into this new routine does improve your overall wellbeing with time. Your sleep schedule begins to stabilize, your fatigue and mood improve, and your need to consume unhealthy food to survive the day has been reduced. In the end, he may have been a massive pain in the ass, but Lilia improved your condition. Good luck living that down.

“Boo! Hehe. Are you behaving? Don’t have any tempting snacks, do you? Pity. I was hoping to play a little. Oh but it’s less fun when you’re in on it. Still, I suppose you have been doing well. I can’t even remember the last time I had to wake you from a nap. Should we celebrate? I’m sure I could commission Trey for a cake. You’re right, that might set us back. Well then what would you like as a reward? I see. Then by all means, come take them. If you can. Hehe.”

~~~~~

Nova’s Twisted Wonderland Masterlist

[issybee06]

Because…

Part I

Warnings: swearing, underage drinking, smoking, talking about war, trauma dumping

Phosphenes

(n.) the colors or “stars” you see when you rub your eyes.

……………….…………………………………………………………

“Tadaima…”

Genma looked up from his scroll, wrinkling his nose, “Shit, Hime…what is Inoichi doing to you?”

I scoff, pulling the bag of groceries through the door before closing it, “thanks, you sure know how to flatter a girl.”

Genma smirked proudly, getting up from the couch, “my pleasure.”

He began rummaging through the bag, “did you get the sake?”

Glaring, I hit his arm with a carrot. Like a baby, he whined dramatically and I pulled out the sealed bottle, “yes I did, and you should have gotten it earlier today when you got off your shift!”

He groaned flopping on a chair, “but I had to get the cake!”

I give him a sharp glare, “do you know how hard it is to get Sake the day after new years? I had to go to 5 different stores, Genma, 5!”

He waves his hand dismissively, and I continue to put away the food in the fridge, “besides, I thought we were getting Gai new weights.”

Genma gave a dry laugh, “Fucking Asuma already got him that.”

I sigh, putting the last of the food away, “what times the party?”

“Didn’t you help Kurenai with the invites? It’s at 7.”

Nodding, I pull off the grey TI jacket and head to my room.

“I’m gonna shower-don’t! Eat the cookies!”

He whines, putting the cookie back, “it’s not like anyone’s gonna notice!”

“I will.”

………………………………………………………………………….

5 years ago, on October 10, the Nine tails was released from my Jinchūriki sensei, Uzumaki Kushina which resulted in the death of hundreds of Shinobi, including my sensei and our Yondaime Namikaze Minato.

And for the past 5 years, I have been working in the TI building under Yamanaka Inoichi along with one of my close classmates Morino Ibiki. While Ibiki shined in the torture part of the department, I working in the more intelligence part.

The poison department…wasn’t what I had gone for initially, I had wanted to be a field medic that actually got to go out of the village, but my medical Ninjutsu was mediocre and mediocre gets people dead.

It wasn’t like I was disappointed, medics don’t actually engage in combat and my mother said my talents in jutsu would be waisted sitting on the sidelines.

But I guess sitting in a lab all day making and looking at the components of poisons is so much better. Either way I’m still not out there.

It’s still winter in Konoha, and despite being in the land of Fire, it got fucking cold.

Snow licked at our feet as Genma and I walked to Gais apartment, which was already booming with music and people talking.

I sighed, a large cloud of air coming out of my mouth. Genma wrapped an arm around my shoulder, squeezing me.

“Hey, easy up Hime. Let’s have fun getting shit faced with people we like.”

I laughed, “whatever you say, Baka.”

We walked up the first flight of stairs, heading to Gais second story apartment. Genma knocked on the door, giving two crisp knocks before being interrupted when Gai all but ripped the door open.

“MY OLD TEAMMATES!! YOU MADE IT AND JUST IN TIME FOR KARAOKE!!”

Genma and I smiled, and I wrapped my arms around Gai as he picked me up in a hug almost crushing the cookies, “happy birthday Gai-kun, sorry we’re a little late.”

“Nonsense! You’re here! That’s all that matters!”

Genma passed Gai the Sake bottle, smiling, “Happy 19th, Gai.”

Gai had always been the baby of our team, with me being a year older and Genma being 3years Gais senior, we as the older two took it in our power to baby Gai as much as we could…but now he was 19 and a full fledged Jonin.

Gai grinned at the Sake and then at Genma, “Genma! You sly dog! Where’d you find this?!”

I rolled my eyes as Genma gave me an apologetic look before nudging me in so that we wouldn’t freeze to death. Gai, the ever social butterfly, had invited not only our graduating academy class but also many other shinobi.

He wrapped his arm around my shoulder as soon as I pulled my coat off, “Since you’re late, you own two shots!”

I laughed, taking the small shot glass and swigging it. It burned like a mother Fucker, shinobi alcohol has always been made stronger, but the feeling was familiar.

I couldn’t count all the times I had snuck off with Genma and/or Gai with a bottle of the cheep stuff when we were younger.

Genma and I got used to it quick, but poor Gai had never been able to get over being a lightweight…but boy was he a fun drunk.

Asuma two years ago had convinced Drunk Gai to run from the village gate to the stone head completely butt naked, and he had raised that challenge by doing it while running backwards on his hands.

No one could stop laughing for two days.

Gai laughed loudly, shaking the apartment with his booming voice, “now that you’re here, WE CAN START THE DRINKING GAMES!”

It had been an hour since Genma and I had arrived, and the alcohol and bright lights of the party was starting to get to my head.

I slipped out, opting to stand on the outside balcony. It was cold, like I had thought, but it was calming compared to the heat of 20+ shinobis crammed into Gais apartment. I enjoyed parties, I really did, but sometimes it all got too much.

I blame Asuma for this habit I think as I pull outa pack of cigarettes. Pulling one out, I place it between my lips as I search myself for my lighter.

Nothing. No lighter, meant it was in my fucking jacket at home.

Sighing, I run a hand through my hair before raising my hands to start weaving the all too familiar signs , when suddenly my body stiffened.

This chakra….

Fuck.

“Those things will kill you, you know.”

Turning my head, I look up, eyes softening at the source of the voice.

“You’re late, Kakashi. Party started at 7.”

The dog mask with the red painted on smile tilted, and the moon caught the soft glow of his lone Sharingan. He slowly and silently moved down the roof to be in the light, and I turned to face him fully.

“Oh? The time must have…slipped my mind.”

I frown, the cigarette dangling from my lips, “you should have come earlier. He’s your best friend, Kakashi-”

“Inu, (Y/n), I’m not off right now.”

My frown deepened, and I sigh,“Right.”

His mask tilted more, almost comically, “New haircut?”

I scowl, knowing he was being an ass. Stupid Genma a week ago had made a wrong swipe of his kunai during training, ending with me getting a free cut. Now, the hair curled just shy of my shoulders.

“Shout out to my barber.”

“Maybe I should see if Genma does men.” he evenly spoke and found a second there I could have sworn his tone was teasing.

I hum, weaving a few hand signs before blowing a small flame to light the cigarette And he hops down from the roof silently.

He stands fully, and I forget how tall the once shrimpy silver-haired man was when we were kids.

He’s still lean, not muscler like Gai, but he’s toned and I can’t help but press myself further away from him into the railing with a blush I convince myself that is from the alcohol.

Kakashi…ever since that day had barely showed his face around the village, opting to stay in the shadows. But every now and then, people were graced with getting a glimpse of him. It had been a good 2 years since we’d been this close, and that was in a room full of our comrades and in front of the council.

This, despite having all our friends a plate of glass away, was different.

“Those things will kill you.”

He repeated, tone commanding. I furrowed my brows until it clicked on my head that he wasn't some Anbu subordinate anymore, but a captain.

Still, I had never listened to him when we were kids…why start now?

I make eye contact as I take my first drag, and let the smoke swirl around me when I blow it out. I feel his eyes narrow, and I smirk with all the grace my drunk ass could muster up in front of Hatake Fucking Kakashi.

“If I die because of this, then that means I didn’t die a gory death in battle…and I’d say that’s a pretty good death for me.”

*let's see if you guys like this! If you do I'll write more!*

[cheritzteam]

[The Ssum] December 20, 2022. To you.

Hey.

This time of the year is back. Again. But I guess making a face all those years did work. No one’s going over the top about it being my birthday soon.

All is good and quiet. Say that I’m being fussy all you want.

Oh, but the carrot cake that Tain sent me wasn’t so bad. Maybe I’ll tell him to bake it routinely.

It’s my birthday, so it should fine to do whatever I want. Or is this a ‘no’? I can never understand the standard people set.

What do you think? Am I being unreasonable, or is it a right I have?

Never mind. I’d rather not care for this kind of thing. That’ll just make me tired.

Anyway…. I just wanted to thank you for wishing me a good one. Yeah.

Tsk, Big Guy is looking for me. He’ll keep whining if I don’t go. I really can’t be bothered, but I’ll go see what he wants for now….

Call me if you have the time. On second thought, call me even if you don’t.

Well, see you.

- Harry

+

Today’s TIP from PIU-PIU!

The Celebratory Lab for Harry’s birthday is still open in the City of Free Men :^) Remember to check your Study Support to not miss out on any gifts! X^D

*If you are unable to find his call, try registering your birthday and job on your Profile page.

[orleans-jester]

It was Frankie’s first Easter, which meant that they had to make it special. She was sitting up with a little help from mom and dad which was something to celebrate on it’s own, but she wasn’t crawling yet so there wasn’t much in the way of a big easter egg hunt, the way that Agnes had as a little girl, where treats were strewn all over the property and all of the shelter kids would come over and hunt to their hearts content. But there was a felt bunny-basket that she could touch, feel the textures of, pose with because of course there were going to be pictures. Some new plushies inside which Maddy bought duplicates of and would leave at the Inn to be delivered to Chip’s family and Valerie’s family, never leaving them out of it. And a new bunny book to read, though it was more so the parents that would be reading it and Frankie sort of looking at the pictures. Still. It was Easter. And, of course, a little bodysuit and dress to wear for the big occasion.

It was something to dress up for. After prepping some of the food for their Dinner with Death, our Maddy would get dressed up and press kisses over her two loves before they would be headed for the Church Service. Given the fact that it wasn’t going to busy at all, fuck it, they were bringing Frankie. If she started to cry or get upset, who was going to be bothered? Friar Tuck? He should know what he was getting himself into.

She tried to pay attention. She really did. But her mind kept on reminding her of the year before. Those old ladies who had pinched Bastien’s cheeks. He was a gentleman and had let them, despite the fact that he didn’t like to be touched, especially not unexpectedly or by strangers. And he had made her the most beautiful little carousel. God, she loved that thing. It was more exquisite than any expensive little trinket that she had gotten over the years from her parents or her grandparents. It sat still on her bedstand. And she remembered his dream of making a carousel that they had started to talk about and - how so much had just been lost. She adjusted to it. But that didn’t mean that it didn’t still suck.

It still just felt a little out of touch.

Friar Tuck was a good addition though. So was Alan. Yes, he made her think about Lance a lot but he was great on his own too. The dynamic between these two was so opposite one another, that watching them interact in any capacity was like watching a sitcom or something. She would have brought the two men some snacks as well, since she didn’t know their own cooking abilities - could be anywhere from Thomas to Triton, she couldn’t guess - so she provided nonetheless. Sandwiches and carrot cake and of course banana bread, in a little easter basket of their own. No one should have to worry about food on Easter.

Dinner was approaching. Maybe not at the usual hour that people sat down to eat but the Belleroses were different. Everything was more intune with Bastien’s schedule, and Maddy’s cicadian rhythm grew to match his. Even without all of the onlookers anymore, she’d rather go out with him while he’s more comfortable.

Food in the oven. Prayer to Death  that it would be ready soon, if he would like to join them. Maybe he would show, maybe he would not, there wasn’t much of a choice but to wait and see. For now, she was giving Frankie her meal, one strap of her dress down her shoulder, and the bodice pulled down to try to make herself more available.

She remained calm. Not like when she had met Jasmine at Disney. She wasn’t fussing over her hair or what she looked like, or what their home must look like. The dancing pole and the bathroom just off to the side but not entirely enclosed, the second-hand furniture mixed with their Wal-Mart things, and whatever scavenged items had caught their fancy. It was clean, it was tidy, but it still had a lived in feel to it, and an oddness in the objects.

“Do you think he’d be offended if I asked about certain people?” She’d ask Bastien. There were some things dancing around in that brain of hers. “Not about the future but - how they went?”

[amouress16]

RUIN Thoughts!

Under the cut for your convenience to avoid spoilers!

I have seen pretty much everything that is out/widely known about as of day one so I'm just gonna ramble about everything. Starting with positives and then getting into the things I didn't like towards the end. Cause hoo boy are my feeling very mixed about this whole thing let me tell you.

I like Cassie! We have proper context and motivation for her right off the bat. Immediate story improvements there!

The gameplay of the whole DLC looks way better. Personally I've never liked games that box you in to one path too much in a way it's too obvious, but the DLC makes it realistic and gives paths that loop back around to places you've been. The map still doesn't make sense but that's just the SB experience at this point I guess.

Eclipse. ECLIPSE. ECLIPSE CANON OH MY GOD. He's sweet and gentle and acts just like how a caretaker should! Sun pleading for help and Moon expressing their pain being forced to work as entirely separate programs, both of them fighting each other's triggers.... Aauughhhh I love them. The fact that all they needed for so long was a simple reboot and there were just no human workers around to do it.... 😭

AND ROXANNE. Seeing the side of the characters actually being child entertainers is so nice! Even if it was done just to make the moment bittersweet. "Do you still like carrot cake? I like carrot cake." They're all supposed to be kind. They're supposed to be good and wholesome and they've all been twisted into monsters that aren't their true selves.

High tech AR Vanny mask.... but no Vanny... 🤔 sure game, whatever you say

On the other hand, no map bot, but mask bot? Clever sleight of hand Steel Wool, I see you

Bonnie design reveal!!!! Further implications that Monty murdered him!!! I...! I'm not sure I like it. It's difficult because he has no consistency in his appearance. The Bonnie Bowl mascot is purple like OG Bon but the design we see in the gator ride telling Monty's backstory is blue. What are those shoulder pads and how would that work on an animatronic, like at all?? He has no room to move his head! Don't get me started on the inconsistent coloring between his gloves and his outfit. Idc if I sound pretentious for this, the clothing choices hurt me as an artist tbh. If you're gonna make him blue let him wear hot pink or or even yellow. Idk idk it just didn't mesh to me. Oh and his neon sign had the star glasses but his cut outs didn't. Inconsistency is Steel Wool's middle name.

What is with the glitchy shadow rabbit? Why is it shaped like a map marker? Is that supposed to be Glitchtrap? A security system...? I don't understand the point of this storywise at all but sure gameplay go brrr I guess

What the fuck is the Mimic. No seriously. I don't know what it is. Why is it here. What is happening. I am well versed in the canon of these games what is- .......... So it's another Book Thing. Haha. No. Bad. Stop that. Whoever signed off on the "let's add book lore to the games with no explanation or fathomable reason" decision, I am spraying you with a water bottle. Stop alienating those of us who don't have the time/money/desire to buy and read the books. I hate the books personally and have been actively ignoring them since the Plushtrap Chaser one. They are meant to be fun side stories for people who want that, not main game canon!!! Stop it!! I am actually begging you!!

TL;DR I like the characterization given to everyone this time around, it felt right for them. Bonnie's design is inconsistent and kinda mid. And trying to force in booklore most people won't know about is just stupid and I'm mad about it. That's about it.

I definitely wanna draw Cassie with Roxy post game- because I do believe she survived that elevator crash- and maybe make a Bonnie design I'll like better. And I definitely wanna see other people's art. That'll be the best part of all of this.

[yesyourstalker]

Neta: so I take the slices of carrot cake and I kind of put it together and they make a whole cake

Warabi: so what you're making a wedding cake out of frozen carrot cake that's been in your freezer for 2 years?

Neta: no! I hate carrot cake. I don't like the texture but whatever he wants I do for him. I don't even know if we're going to get married. Honestly, I don't think I want to get married anymore. I was married. It wasn't great at the time but what kind of settled made peace............. Wow! So as if she knew I was talking about her.

Warabi: I'm going on break

Neta: hey syl.

Sylvia: hey Net........ How are you

Neta: I'm alive and medicated. How's your eye?

Sylvia: you know it's still glass. How's your ear?

Neta: still gone. Hehehehe.... But really how are you?

Sylvia: I'm good alive and medicated I heheheh.... I'm actually doing great! I'm engaged!

Neta: That's amazing! Sylvia, finally marrying Rift. He seems like a good guy. Cirrina seems to like him.

Sylvia: yeah... Of course he can't replace her actual dad. How is she?

Neta: doing good. She's at a turf war game right now. She's been going frequently. I think she might want to be on a team maybe when she gets to high school.

Sylvia:hmmm You know I hate those things. All it does is just glorify war and romanticize the shit that we've been through....... I swear surface culture........they have no respect for anything. They treat everything like it's a game.

Neta: come on Syl lighting up. It's different up here.... It's......... *sigh* I don't know. I should feel the same way too, but seeing her play. Hanging around with friends and acting normal. Having a childhood....... I don't want to take me away from her like it was taking away from us....... Just seeing her smile and laugh and I can't take that away from my little girl.

Sylvia: *sigh* I guess you're right......... As long as she's safe and happy. How is surface world anyway?

Neta: It's good, I got tanner hehe.... It's great! I'm really happy up here.... Got a nice store. Working my own business....the apartments are kind of small but I don't think I'm going to be staying there for long.

Sylvia: you still seen that metalopod guy? Hehehehe you two look very happy. It's kind of weird seeing you in a magazine. Was not a good picture. Terrible angle.

Neta: they never get my good side............. It's complicated right now. It's not bad complicated....... It's kind of like a waiting game right now...... You should meet him you'd like him............ Do you ever think of coming up to the surface??

Sylvia: no, I'm not going back. It's too much for me. I only went up there for missions. That's all I associate it with now. Every time I'm up there my guard is up and everybody is a threat I-......I can't..... I'm sorry

Neta: I feel the same way about the bunkers.... I can't go back down there............ever.... Is it different down there since the war is over?

Sylvia: It's really different! I wouldn't even call them bunkers anymore. We have shops, we can legally purchase and enjoy surface media now! Better plumbing, better homes. We have nicer light panels now! Of course the nicer areas have glass! Apparently they're working with jelly-co installing glass sheets so we can actually see the sun without going out to the surface!...... Which honestly is ridiculous because glass is a lot cheaper than artificial sunlight

Neta: *pffth*........I guess they're still treating sunlight as a luxury now and not as a right........typical....

Sylvia: Don't try to make this political. We'll be here all day hehehe...... I just wanted to catch up and ask if I'm able to have Cirrina over for a week. It's next year to be at the wedding and maybe....... Do you want to come too?

Neta: I think we can arrange that to happen. She'd love to see you get married....... I don't know about me though. It may change of aesthetically but........... It will always be a prison for me.............*sigh*..... I-

Sylvia: I get it. I completely understand Neta............ This place was not kind to you or anyone at that time

Neta:...............*sigh*................ Maybe I'll try going down there for a visit........ I want to see what music they have I can put in my shop.

Sylvia: whenever you saaay........... Maybe I can try going to the surface just to see cirrina play....... I also want to see how small your apartment is.

Neta: hahahahah shut up. See I knew you were going to do this. You always have to make fun of me about something!

Sylvia:wah wah wah.......... you shut up! If you're coming underground you better wear something nice not ugly clothes they wear up to the surface. They're like walking billboards. It's tacky, everything has to be branded. It's crazy.

Neta: RIGHT???. We used to just take blank shirts and draw pictures and shit. These kids have to have name brands. Do you know how much Toni kensa cost? It's like 100Gs for a pair of black and white shoes not the sales price!

Sylvia: I'm telling you surface dwellers don't take anything seriously. They don't know the value of money. They don't know the value of anything they just-

Neta: I thought you said we weren't going to be political.

Sylvia: be quiet............ The baby's crying. I got to go. Bye Net.

Neta: I got to pick up cirrina and see you later syl........... She's getting married. Maybe I should reconsider..

Mahi: she sounds nice. I can run the store If you're going to be underground for a while.

Neta: yeah thanks no problem. It'll be next year I have enough time to prepare myself and just to ......... mahi.... Were you listening to my conversation?

Mahi: just snippets of it You're next to the cash register. I couldn't help it here.

Neta: no, not that part. The fact that you can understand it. When were you going to tell me you know octarian?

Mahi: You never asked.

Neta: ..................................

Mahi: also, if you don't like carrot cake, you can just like get spice cake which is like carrot cake without the carrots but similar flavor

Neta:.......... Go on your break. I can't. I can't deal with you right now. Hahaha You're ridiculous hehehe You knew everything I was saying? what if I was talking shit huh?

Mahi belongs to @fish-at-fish-fish-resort

[renneiscent]

Two Sides of The Same Coin

Note: This chapter… is kind of contained NSFW part that I embarrassedly managed to write. So... yeah, pardon my bad grammar and ugly writing.

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter 8: …but also my heart that yearns for you.

“So, where is this secret coffee shop you talked about?”

I turn and find Jake is putting his wallet inside his pants pocket. We just had finished delightful lunch, our laughter and conversation (mostly my monologues) are still lingering in the air as we walk out from the restaurant. I have no clue about how much Jake paid for today’s lunch but I saw some cash when he paid for our food. It must be so damn expensive. I’m upset that old man didn’t give him free meal or at least discount, at least that’s what I saw judging about how much cash Jake handed to the cashier.

“That’s just few blocks from my flat,” I explain. But that means we will separate too soon if we go grab some coffee right away. I don’t want that.

“Oh,” his brows are raised. I guess he realise that too. “Very well, shall we go now?”

Then Jake calls the taxi for us while I’m hoping for us to hardly get the taxi, but no, the taxi comes right away parked in front of us. He then opens the door for me as the sign to get inside first, which I stop him right away by holding the side of his shirt. I’m thinking to go there by bus, but it is too much of public space. Too many people. Who can ensure that it will be safe for Jake and his transparency while being in the public transportation? I highly doubt that. So it makes taxi is the best option we got so far. Let’s just ask the driver to stop at the bus stop so we can walk to the coffee shop. Yeah, that will do.

“Nothing,” I smile. “Let’s go then.”

The traffic is smooth, which I hate it. I’m hoping it will be crowded and there is going to be traffic jam like usual. It’s Sunday after all, it’s a weekend! But why suddenly people didn’t go out and crowd the whole street like when I spent some time by myself? I take glance on my phone screen, it’s still 5 o’clock but the sky already turns darker rather than usual. Will it rain? As soon as I notice the bus stop, I immediately sign the driver to stop. Jake looks very surprised but he didn’t ask much but just pay the fare again. I hope I didn’t make him broke in one date.

“What was that?” he walks beside me. I look up and read his expression which is now showing confusion and uncertainty.

I cannot help myself but grin. “Nothing,” I lie.

“What’s that grin for?” He lifts one brow, still watching me in perplexed.

I press my lips together, forcing my smile away. “I’m just excited to get some coffee.”

“Right,” he smiles. “As if I didn’t notice your sneaky plan to stop the taxi right in front of the nearest bus stop in your neighbourhood.”

I blush.

I’m trying to counter his statement—which is true and I hate to admit it, but I cannot come up with anything. So I’m just looking away while our hands are brushing each other until Jake chooses to hold mine, his hand covering my hand entirely. Without saying anything, I’m holding his hand and intertwining our fingers together as if they were meant to fit perfectly together.

As we step inside the coffee shop, there are only 4 customers inside; one person is sitting while facing the huge window of the shop and reading a thick novel, two people are sitting not far from the first person while having chit-chat and sipping their lattes, the last person is drowning on whatever on her laptop with a slice of carrot cake and latte as her companion. It makes us don’t have to get in line and directly order the coffee to the barista.

“Good afternoon,” the barista smiles cheerfully to both of us. “Oh—it’s you MC. How have you been? I rarely see you these days. Let me guess… cappuccino for here as usual?”

“Hi Kevin,” I greet him. Since I’m one of those loyal customers here, it isn’t weird that the barista know my name and even my usual order, right? Especially when the shop is near my place and we often have the chance to bump into each other. “Yes, I’ve been busy these days. Now finally have some free time to get my usual order.”

I chuckle. Kevin also chuckles. Only Jake that doesn’t chuckle.

“Of course,” Kevin winks while smiling so wide. “Then what about you, mate?”

“Coffee. Black. For takeaway…” he takes a short pause. “…mate.”

“We don’t stay here?” I ask, confused.

“I prefer spending time in your place,” he winks at me as he tugs the strand of my hair behind my ear.

That’s a sudden strangely hot moment he gives me.

“Oh…” I can feel the heat on my face. “Well then, mine also takeaway please.” And I find Kevin’s face is strangely frowning. Now I understand about what’s happening here. Jake is jealous. I love it. I love the Jealous Jake.

“Good, so 1 cappuccino for you and 1 black coffee for this mate and take away.” Kevin wraps our orders before asking about the warm pumpkin pie on the display or their signature carrot cake or their new muffin like usual. “That will be £5.20.”

Jake takes his wallet out from his pocket and I quickly hold his wrist to stop him from spend more money in our very first date. “No, you promise me I will buy you coffee.”

“Yeah, and I did.” He hands out the cash to Kevin, “would you mind to give the receipt to the lady next to me, Kevin? Oh, you can keep the change.”

“What—well, thanks mate…” Kevin says sheepishly and hands me the receipt before going to make our orders.

I stare at the receipt then stare at Jake who is now leaning on the wall and his eyes are gazing on me, waiting for my response. “Uhm, a little bit help here?”

“You insisted to buy me coffee,” he smiles. “I bought yours and you bought mine. The price is on that receipt you are holding.”

I nod then quickly grope for my wallet inside my purse but then Jake holds my hand and pulls me closer to him. “Later,” he says. “We still have much time.”

I smile, completely amused with his act. I always have this assumption about how much Jake is not PDA person but thinking about today, I need to dump that assumption. Judging from today’s date, he is like a man written by woman; he is gentle, polite, such a sweetheart, that type of guy that you will not be ashamed to bring in front of your friends or family. That type of guy that will make your parents love him more than you as their own child. That type of guy that will make your friends defend him when you have an argument with him. That type of guy that will make you question yourself about what did your past life do until you have him in your arms?

I might sound like I’m really biased but Jake is such a lovely man and it’s such an unfortunate how he is living tough life like this; when a freedom is such a luxury to have. It makes me so eager to discover about his life, to reveal what actually happened until he lost that luxury. But to be honest, I’m kind of scared. Rather than scared with the damage that I will find from him, I’m more scared if my questions, my intention to know him further will bring him to the memory he want to erase. I’m more scared with the questions that in any way will harm him and damage him even more. Because he must have lost so many things, he must have killed so many parts of himself just to stay alive, just to be survived.

We are only a block away from my place, when I’m slowing my pace until stop completely. Jake notices right away as he also stops and turns himself to face me completely, holding the black coffee that he sipped in every minute. He lifts one brow and look at me, perhaps studying me for finding the reason why I suddenly stop when it’s just a block away from our final destination.

Just when I open my mouth intending to call his name, I feel a droplet of water against my skin. It begins with the pitter-patter of the rain but the drops suddenly fall even faster and become a downpour. The sudden heavy rain is pouring and every drop of the water bathes me in until I can smell that fresh and earthy scent. People are rushing and passing past us, seeking for the shelter to run away from the rainfall, but neither of us is moving, neither of us is trying to get away.

Neither of us, until Jake moves first. He throws his cup of black coffee that I’m certain that’s already mixed with the fresh water from upstairs, I throw mine too—I wonder if we will get scold for littering in the middle of heavy rain. His hand reaches my face, despite the cold of the rainfall is that sliding down on my skin, my face, my neck, my body, my everything, and I still can feel the warmth from his skin that brushing me. I still can feel the taste of his lips that strokes against me. I still can feel his body heat that press against me. I still can feel him.

The lips of his as cold as the first snow in the soothing night and as wet as the dew on the grass in the morning, it’s soaked from the rain but then I can feel the warmth of his tongue gently strokes mine. It twirls and dances inside me, giving me life and colour when our surroundings feel little grey because of the rain. Jake’s warm hand is moving to the back of my head and the other hand is holding my waist tightly, wrapping me in his embrace; while both of my hands are clutching on his shoulders as if those already attached with him, becoming him.

Is it our second kiss? I cannot remember. Every time we have kiss, it’s feeling so great, it’s feeling so amazing. It feels like we have done this so many times since his mouth fits mine so perfectly, as if this is our usual routine, as if we are the two pieces of puzzle that matching.

If only it’s not because both of us are still mere human that need oxygen to breath, there is nothing that can possibly separate us right now. I lean on his chest while hoping to hear his heartbeat but only the rainfall that I can hear. He pulls me closer into his arms, embracing me until I can feel his chest is going up and down as he is panting so hard.

“Going to catch the cold, aren’t we?” he chuckles. His words are clear as he speaks next to my temple. “Come on,” he says while pulling me away and taking my wrist, keeping me close as both of us are running. I match my pace with him, both of us are running until we finally reach the entrance of Mister Wright’s building.

“Should check the weather forecast,” I pretend to be disappointed. I’m grateful, absolutely. I cannot help but notice the figure of Jake who is soaked by the rain; how dare he is brushing his drenched hair while the shirt that soaked by water is clinging to his torso, outlining the lines of his abdomen. How dare he do that without thinking the damage that he causes on me?

“Neither did I,” he takes out his flip phone, perhaps checking if the phone still works out or not.

“It feels like the rain is not going to stop any sooner,” I mumble, waiting for him done checking his phone.

“Feels so,” he turns at me. “You should go inside and get change immediately.”

“What about you?”

“Do you have umbrella that I can borrow?”

“And letting you pass through that heavy rainfalls after soaked by the water? No.” I cross my arms over my chest. “Come inside, I believe I have some clothes that you can borrow.”

“How come you have some clothes which fit me?” he lifts one of his eyebrows, there is accusation in his tone. Oh, is he being jealous? I love this overprotective side of him.

“I like wearing oversized clothes when staying at home,” I open the entrance door and beckons him to follow me. “Some of it really big since I bought men outfit. So I believe you can wear it.” As we are going inside, there is so much water over the floor as if there is something leaked. It feels like not only us that got soaked by the sudden rainfall.  I hope we don’t get scolded by Mister Wright or maybe I will just make Jake to persuade him in case he’s angry.

When we finally inside my flat, I immediately go to the bathroom and take two towels. I hand one of it to Jake and dry myself with another towel. “Wait here, let me take the clothes,” I sprint toward my bedroom and check my cupboard to see the oversized shirt and pants that I thought will fit on Jake. After I managed to find the right size, I head toward him.

Normally I’m neither feeling shy nor awkward when a guy is taking off his shirt and making him exposed his upper’s body half-naked. Normally. Since I’m growing up with brother who loves to bring his guy friends stay over or spend the weekend together, I’m getting used with that kind of horror scene. But this time is different, well of course it is! I already thought about whatever lies beneath that polo shirt twice—let me remind you, twice! Which is I never did it with other guys before. So when I found Jake with his upper body’s half naked, exposing his bare skin and making me notice that he owns these huge tattoos that covered almost of his back, what do you expect me to do besides subconsciously walk toward him and brush his tattoo with my fingers?

It’s just a small and light touch that I made subconsciously against his back, but he easily flinches and immediately holds my wrist, his gaze on me is intense.

“I don’t know you are a tattoo person,” I comment. “Even the massive one.”

“I’m seriously concerned about your opinion on me,” he escapes soft chuckle.

“That’s why you need to open up,” I click my tongue. “First thing first, may I see it?” I beam.

There is slightest hesitation on his face but then for whatever reason, he relents. Then he turns his back on me, granting me with a great view of his back and of course his tattoos. As my fingers gingerly explore the intricate designs etched upon his skin, I find myself captivated by the artwork that adorns him. Beginning at the upper back, near his nape, a majestic ship with its flag unfurled commands attention. Following the contours of his spine, a meticulously crafted clock, its intricate details resembling a perfectly real image, captures my gaze. Nestled beneath the clock, a compass merges harmoniously with bare branches, their absence of leaves adding more questions for me about the meaning of his tattoo. The compass is connected with a simple design gears, but still meticulously shaped and aligned. As my eyes travel downward, I discover a lighthouse gracefully stretching from his lower back to his loin, elegantly encircled by twin anchors. The expanse of his shoulder blades down to the lowest part of back reveals a symmetrical arrangement of bold geometric lines resembling wings, as if those are fences that keeping the art on his spine to be protected.

While I’m staring on his tattoos, my eyes are catching some scars scattered like there is the constellation engraved on his back. The scars that are faint and covered with the tattoos’ ink make you have to get closely to see them. “This is beautiful,” I says while keep stroking his back. “This is painfully beautiful,” I correct my previous word. With the amount of pain for making this masterpiece, I couldn’t imagine how much he needs to suffer.

He turns to face me, there is something in his gaze that I cannot grasp into it. “I will deliver your praise to the creator,” his lips curl and form a smile.

“So many people must want to get in line to see that masterpiece,” I tease.

“I don’t know about that,” his hip is leaning against the wall while still staring at me. “There are only two people this far.”

“Two?” I lift my eyebrows, feeling upset about the fact that I’m the second. “Who are they?”

“The tattoo artist and you.”

I cannot recall who starts this another round of passionate kiss we are sharing with each other; was it me or was it Jake? The only thing that I can remember that I lean closer to him as his hand glides to my lower back and pulls me against him, and just like that… our lips are pressing into each other again. The kiss is little different this time; it’s still sharing the same passion and affection from the previous, but it’s more deep and somehow more desperate.

He pushes my body and makes me being pinned against the wall, not so hard but it’s so gentle. His hands wrap around me as if I’m a fragile thing and he is afraid to cause any harm. The mouth of his tastes so sweet and I’m certainly addicted with the taste and its sensation he puts under me. He pulls down the collar of my turtleneck, making it expose a glimpse of my skin and he claims the land to be his. He kisses, he nibbles, he sucks, as if he is trying to declare that I’m his.

And he succeeds.

As I cannot help myself but escape a soft moan, my hands are clutching onto his shoulder and grasping it tightly. I perhaps cannot think straight under this situation but I clearly know what I want. And I want him right now, so, so bad. And I want to throw whatever things that crossing Jake’s mind, until it makes him pull away and stares at me with those ocean waves that still calmly welcome me.

“Should I stop?”

That question is clearly rhetorical. He is not asking because he wants to stop, but instead he is asking because he wants me to say it clearly what I want. He wants me to say it out loud, that I, also want him as much as he wants me.

“No,” I trace his bare chest with my finger. “I thought it’s clear that I want you as much as you want me.”

“I hope you are aware that I just wanted to have lunch with you,” he inhales deeply and exhales sharply. “And I didn’t come prepared, not at all,” he nudges his nose on my forehead.

“I hope you are aware that I’m always understanding my menstrual cycle,” I’m peppering his neck with kisses. “And lucky you, it’s already passed my fertile time.”

He clenches his jaw with his eyes are staring at me, it’s growing darker as if the desire he has been holding is finally growing bigger and consuming him. But he still hesitates to make a move.

“No way, is it your first time?” I accuse.

He snorts, feeling offended with my accusation, “I’m sorry to disappoint you but you are not my first.” He lifts his brow, showing that cocky grin that I don’t know that he has. “Is it yours?”

“Of course not,” now I’m the one that feeling offended right now. I don’t know why it feels like we are showing off about the fact that we both already had our first time moment in having intercourse with someone else. “Then, why you still hesitate? Do you have STI?” I accuse him again.

“I’m really strict with the person I’m making love with,” he leans closer and plants another kiss on my temple to my jaw and then my neck. “I can assure you that I’m clean,” his hand is slipping under my shirt as he is breathing and whispering on my ear. “Are you?”

The way he said making love instead of having intercourse or having sex—or worst, fucking someone, really managed to make my heart pounding so hard. “Am I what?” I feel like I’m starting to lose my composure as he begins to claim me again.

“Clean,” he replies shortly as his hand that inside my shirt is caressing my skin. I can feel his warm hand again on me. “Are you also clean, MC?”

“I am,” I answer but I’m not sure if the words managed to escape from my mouth because what I can hear is my moan and his deep breath that are born because of his fingers running all over my skin and my thigh suddenly between his legs. As my knees feel weak and start to tremble, I’m clutching onto Jake and mumble, “let’s move to bedroom.”

Note: Don’t do this, fella. Remember what Uncle Ben said, great power comes with great responsibility. Always use contraception! And always put the trash on the trash bin! Do not littering!

[oiks-milkbread]

How they comfort you

Oikawa Tooru

"How's the most beautiful girl in the world?" your boyfriend asks, his head peaking from behind the door. "You seem okay, Tooru" you answer with unfocused eyes. "I was asking about you, my love" he says in his saccharine tone, laying next to you in bed, now you can smell his cologne, slowly bringing you back to reality. "Can I touch you?", there's a little bit of concern in his voice, you nod, closing your eyes. You feel his hands on yours, his are so big and warm, slowly he brings one hand of yours to his mouth, kissing tenderly every knuckle, then taking the other one doing the same. His lips are so soft on your skin. "Are you lost in your head?" he asks while drawing shapes in your palm with his finger, "I guess", you open your eyes to search for his, "just...everything sucks. I don't want to think about anything" you pout. "Can I keep you company? I can distract you" he smirks making you giggle, "Yeah, Tooru", you smile, "you can". You get closer to kiss him. "Do you want to stay in bed?" he asks while cupping your face "If you want we can go to the cinema. And we can have dinner in that new restaurant we wanted to try", he pauses to kiss you again, "just tell me", another kiss, "I'll do whatever you want", another kiss. "Mmh, if we have to go out, can I take your hoodie?" you ask, "Which one do you want? The blue one?", "Yep" you smile, "how do you know?". Tooru starts squeezing your cheeks, "I've seen you eyeing it for a week, baby. You don't need to ask me for my hoodies".

Akaashi Keiji

The dim afternoon sunlight is illuminating the kitchen nicely, it's such a lovely sight, unfortunately you're not in the mood to appreciate it. You're looking at the tea bag sinking in the hot water, you're hands gripping at your mug. Hot tears streaming down your cheeks, falling on the kitchen table. You get up only to take some aspirin for your headache, you hate it, the headache you always get after crying. You start sipping your tea while you hear the door opening, shit. You dry your tears stained face with the back of your hand, while running to your bathroom to avoid your boyfriend. Once you locked the door you sigh, resting your back against it, slowly sitting down, embracing your knees. You don't need to wait a lot before hearing a gentle knock on the door. "Honey, is everything okay?", Keiji's voice is soft, "Yeah", you try to swallow your tears, hoping your voice isn't too shaky, "I'm fine. Uhm, I just need to take a shower". There's silence for a moment, "Okay" he simply says, still, you don't miss a little bit of concern in his tone. At this point you really decide to take a shower, hoping the water will wash away all of your worries.

Once you're out of the bathroom you're greeted by a sweet aroma, you decide to see what your boyfriend was doing, but first you go to your room, stealing one of keiji's t-shirts, then combing your wet hair. You glance at keiji looking at the oven, "What are you doing, my love?" you ask a little bit curious, "Baking" he simply says smiling at you, "It's a carrot cake. You like it, right?", he's asking but he clearly remembers you like it. "Do you want to help me with the frosting?", you nod timidly, "I already made it, you just need to put it on the cake once it's cooked" he says softly, getting closer to you to kiss your forehead. "Thank you, Keiji", you wrap your arms around his waste, "you didn't have to", "Anything for my love" he says while lifting your face to give you quick peck. While your faces are close he takes this opportunity to give you a better look, you can feel his blue eyes on you, analysing your face. "Do I have something on my face?" you ask blushing, "Nothing. Do you feel better now?" he asks, eyes focused on your expression, "Why do you always know when's something wrong?" you sigh, "Because I can read you like a book" he chuckles as your face becomes redder.

You get distracted for a second, you hear the neighbours from downstairs playing the piano, your boyfriend notices too. He gently takes your hand and make you spin, then putting his hands on your waist and telling you to put yours on his shoulders, you do as he asks. You both smile as you start swaying, you get closer to hide your face in the crook of his neck, breathing his scent, as he keeps you close, his arms around you. You keep swaying slowly, forgetting about the rest of the world for a while.

Miya Atsumu

Everything from the roof seems so quiet and calm, you wish you could feel that way too. You're looking at the nightsky, the moon and the stars always brought you peace. You hoped that the cold night breeze would have numbed your turmoil away, but here you are, still full of thoughts and doubts. While you're trying to look for some constellations you know, you hear footsteps on the stairs.

"Babe. What are you doing here?!". It's your boyfriend's voice, clearly in distress. "I've been searching for you everywhere, I got worried" he says while getting closer to you. "I'm sorry, 'Tsumu", you get on your tips to kiss him on the cheek, he smiles as soon as your lips touch him. "Aren't you cold?", you can sense worry in his tone, "A little bit" you sigh, "Let me fix that" atsumu says while taking you in his arms. You stay like this for a while, sharing comfortable silence while you enjoy his warmth. "Why are you awake, 'Tsumu?, "I could ask you the same thing" he says while squeezing your hips a little bit, "I asked you first", you raise your head to look at his beautiful brown eyes. "I needed water. Got worried when you weren't in bed", he simply says, looking back at you. You raise a hand to fix his disheveled blonde hair, "You should go back to sleep, 'Tsumu. You have practice tomorrow" you murmur, "I don't like the idea of you being here all alone and cold" he pouts. "I know something's wrong" he says after a while, "You don't have to talk about it, if you don't want to", atsumu is a little bit hesitant, "I'm just here for you, if you need me". You lay your head against his chest, hugging him tightly, shaking a little bit, your tears dampening his hoodie. He hugs you back, wishing his arms could be able to shield you from everything. Atsumu knows you're not a porcelain doll, everytime you fell down you always got up, but his heart still aches thinking about you crying that way. Once you're done crying, and you're breathing is stable, he delicately put one finger under your chin to raise your head, with the other hand brushing the remains of your tears away. "I don't know what's going on" he starts softly, his thumb tracing your lips, making your heart skip a beat, "But you're going to solve nothing staying awake". You stare into each other eyes, feeling your face becoming hotter, of course your boyfriend notices. "Why's your face so hot, princess?" he smirks, "I hate you" you pout, "That's not true" he keeps smirking, "Let's go to bed, I'm tired of looking at your face" you scoff, not believing a single word coming out of your mouth.

Miya Osamu

You were going for a walk, trying to let some steam off, usually moving was your way to release some tension. Unfortunately it starts pouring down, Splendid, you think sarcastically to yourself, sprinting to get home. Once you're home you feel frustrated and angry, already feeling a headache coming.

"'Samu, I'm back" you shout, grumpiness in your voice, feeling the water inside your shoes moving, you get rid of them with a sigh of relief. You hear steps as your boyfriend gets closer to greet you. Osamu is in his grey hoodie and tracksuit pants, he looks very cozy and cuddable, you wish you could throw yourself into his arms but you're drenched. "Baby, are you okay?", "Yeah" you sigh, "I'm going to take a shower, I don't want to catch a cold" you try to smile at him, "Ugh, there's a mess on the floor", you look down at the little puddle you created, "It's okay, I'll take care of it" he says softly "go". You don't wait him to repeat himself, "You're my angel", you blow a kiss at him and run towards the bathroom. You immediately feel better as the hot water touches your skin, forgetting about everything for a second.

You slip into some comfy clothes before searching for osamu. It's not difficult to find him, you just have to follow the good smell of something cooking on the stove. You take a second to admire his broad shoulders, then you wrap your arms around his waste, closing your eyes as you rest your head against his back. "So" you start "tonight no onigiri?", "We've been eating onigiri for a week" he says while stirring the vegetables in the frypan, "I'm not complaining" you laugh, "you know I love your onigiri, but you can cook other good stuff too". You break the hug to look at what he was cooking, "Are you making curry?" you ask with your eyes gleaming, "Yep" he smiles softly, "I'm so happy" you smile brightly, jumping a little bit. Osamu's cheeks tint of a soft pink as he watches you with a fond expression.

It doesn't take long before you sit at the table and start eating, feeling the food filling your stomach. "Eating after a bad day is the best", you lay back on the chair, eyes closed, feeling contempt, "thank you, 'Samu". "Was your day that bad, huh?" he asks while opening the fridge, taking some pudding, "I wish I could offer you more, but this afternoon 'Tsumu came here", you can't help but laugh looking at your boyfriend expression. "It's okay", you're still giggling, "tomorrow I'll buy some", "Come here" osamu says before kissing you.

Suna Rintarou

"What's that gloomy face?" your boyfriend asks sitting next to you on the sofa, you stop looking at your phone to lay your head on his shoulder. "This week has been tough, Rin" you sigh, taking one of his hands and playing a little bit with it, "I don't know what to do, I think I'm in burn out". "Do you want talk about it?" he asks softly. So you start talking about your problems, every now and then changing position to get more comfortable, rintarou listens to you with his usal expression, but you know he's focused on what you're telling him. At some point you're sitting on his lap, his hands gently caressing your sides under your t-shirt, trying to soothe you. "I'm sorry, I'm talking too much" you murmur, "It's boring stuff, I know", you look at him with a sad look. "You know I'm always interested in your boring stuff" he says while tucking a strand of your hair under your ear, "You still got today. We can make it a little bit less shitty, don't you agree?", you look at him confused, "Get dressed" he says while making you sit up.

You're walking hand in hand as you arrive in front of a familiar place. "This place" you smile, "Yep", rintarou nods, "It's the tea room we used to go to during high school. It was your favourite place", "We had our first dates here" you smile, feeling a sense of nostalgia pervading you. "Do you think they have the same menu as before?" you ask while looking at it, "We used to share this cake" you point at it, "I remember" your boyfriend says as the waiter arrives. Once you ordered and you thank the water, rintarou gets closer and give you a quick peck out of the blue. "Rin!" you gasp, "What?" he grins, "We're in public", you feel your face getting hotter, "Can't I kiss my girlfriend outside the house?" he raises an eyebrow. "If you don't want to be kissed, I won't" he says serious, taking your hand in his under the table, his thumb drawing circles on your palm. "It's not that I don't like it", you look at him, "because I do. I do like it.", you squeeze his hand, "but people are going to glare at us". "What if I kiss you while none's looking?" he asks, "we used to do that, during high school", you smile thinking about the old times. "Okay", "Are you sure?", he's serious, "Yep", you smile softly at him, "Only when none's looking". So you exchange some sneaky kisses here and there, between a bite of cake and a sip of tea.

When it's time to go you look at the dark cloud in the sky, it started raining. Your boyfriend gives you his jacket to put on your head, than take your hand and starts running towards home. You don't know why but you feel delirious, you laugh a little bit as you run. Once you're home you're both dripping on the floor, rintarou's brown hair sticking to his forehead. "Now that we're home" you start, wrapping your hands around his neck, "you need to give me a proper kiss". He smirks, getting closer and closer, until he stops as you're noses are touching, "But first you should take a shower and dry off, you're drenched, darling" he says in a low tone before running away, "Don't tease me now" you complain.

[triple-moon-rp]

She rolls her eyes at the "ooooh"ing. If she was baking for anyone else but herself, she would make something with more effort. Like that carrot cake recipe her family would always request. She's made it so many times, she practically knows it by heart.

"Snrk.. Well, excuse me for tryin' to be nice. I mean, I know a little bit of accounting from when I was a freelancer, buuuuut I really don't wanna spend my afterlife doing something so... soul-sucking. I did enough of that when I was alive," she responds a little too honest due to sleep deprivation. She usually tries to avoid talking about herself, even during the mandatory redemption exercises. Can't overshare if you don't talk.

The timer chimes, and she pulls the homely looking cobbler out to cool on a rack. The sweet, fruity smell is even stronger now. It may not be special, but it still brings a great sense of comfort.

She hums with a slight smile, "Mmm... this always makes me think of summer." Returning to her seat, she pulls out the pack of tarot cards she spawned with in Hell, stimming by shuffling them almost meditatively. It seems that she's not paying much attention to him now, "Oh right, you're still here. Well, if I can't do anything for ya, I guess ya better go take care of whatever it is "the Devil" does."

@widdlestwucifer continued from here

Lua blinks at him a couple of times, thinking the answer should be obvious. Well, it's not like she has to tell him every detail. Like how night time is notorious for bringing the worst kind of thoughts and feelings out of her. "Couldn't sleep, and I wanted something sweet. We had stuff to make peach cobbler, and it's easy to bake sooooo," she explains, gesturing at the oven, "That's my answer. Anyhow, I'm guessin' you're in here for a similar reason or somethin'? I mean, if you want some, I guess I could share."

[prism2674]

The Chase

Alternative Title: Chili Pepper Cookie Stole the Sparkly

Um hi, my brain started spiraling and we somehow got here... so have a random scenario I guess

So in game Chili Pepper cookie asked me “Hey, do you have anything sparkly, or shinny?” to which I responded “no Chili I unfortunately do not have sparkling cookie yet.” I now present the following scenario prompted by this: Chili Pepper cookie walks into Sparkling Cookie's Bar and in a sudden spontaneous fashion decides sparkling cookies hair is shinny, picks him up and proceeds to run. Chaos is quick to ensue.

Of course this is concerning for both Mint Choco cookie and Herb cookie who were also in the bar at the time so Mint Choco starts chasing after them while Herb goes to get help on the way he runs into Vampire cookie and the following interaction happens

Herb: tired from running “I- ah- huh- kidnapped”

Vampire: ok well sucks for them I'm going to go get my-

Herb: SPARKLING! CHILI! THIS ISNT GOOD!

Vampire:…picks up Herb

Herb: Wait Wha-?

Vampire: they stole my grape juice provider he says it’s cause of that but we know better

Vampire then starts chasing Chili still carrying Herb

At this point Alchemist cookie (bc they're canonical sibling) sees this and is concerned bc 1) why is her brother, Vampire of all cookies running around and not being his usual lethargic self? 2) why is Herb cookie holding onto Vampire’s Cape for dear life? So Alchemist starts chasing them too

Chiffon the cake puppy starts chasing them because “oooh fun”(he is a doggo after all) which of course gets Red Velvet to chase them which in turn gets Pastry to chase them

Almond cookie sees this commotion of suspicious activity and decided to chase them

Rye cookie chases Chili cause bounty Hunter and also jelly cause why does sparkling cookie get to be carried help I’m starting to ship the cookies

Custard starts chasing them bc according to him "Good Kings should be able calm down their subjects." to why is his aunt being chased by what has now turned into a cookie mob

Pancake cookie then chases after custard cause they were playing together

Princess cookie probably also started chasing after custard because of his shouting about being King and she wanted to have fun

Knight cookie of course has to chase after her to protect her

Adventure cookie just joins in for the fun of it Blackberry chases after adventure and Onion chases after her mom blackberry cause you can pry that relationship out of my cold dead hands

The mob accidentally tramples Carrot cookies garden and gets them to join the chase

Clover ends up also being worried ab Herb/wants to document whatever this is for a future ballad and starts to chase too(though he’s definitely more relaxed than the rest of them)

And this whole time Sparkling has been so shaken up his hair has started to decarbonate(do I have a hc that his hair decarbonates when he’s stressed, yes; did I come up with it just now, also yes)

I imagine this chase somehow continues until virtually every cookie is somehow involved

where and when it stops, nobody knows...

[fruitcoops]

Cake Off

Happy birthday, Finn O'Hara! Here's to hoping all your wishes come true <3 SW credit goes to @lumosinlove!

Marlene waved to the camera as she wove a small whisk into her bun; behind her, five young men sat in front of a well-lit industrial kitchen. “Hello, Lions, and welcome back to Lion Pride! I’m your host, Marlene McKinnon, and we’re here today to celebrate someone we all love very much.”

“Some more than others,” Leo corrected.

“Today is Finn O’Hara’s 25thbirthday,” Marlene continued. “And my gift to him was letting him pick what our next video was going to be. Being the agent of chaos we know and love, he chose to force his friends to make him birthday cakes. Cap, Knutty, I know you two are feeling pretty confident about this. Tremzy, Kasey, and Loops, how are we feeling today?”

Logan’s expression was rather pained. “Can I apologize in advance?”

“I have…a history with ovens,” Kasey said carefully. “Kind of like Britain’s history with the rest of the world, except I’m the rest of the world and the oven wins nine times out of ten.”

“I don’t bake,” Remus sighed. “This is going to be an adventure. Can I leave if I already got him a present?”

“Nope!” Marlene chirped. “To your stations, everyone!”

The five of them trooped to the countertops, which had been covered with a colorful assortment of baking supplies; Logan’s smile grew even more nervous. “Is there a guidebook, or something?”

Marlene ruffled his hair as she passed. “Where’s the fun in that? You have two hours to make a unique birthday cake. On your marks—”

Kasey went pale. “Wait—”

“—get set—”

“Marlene, please,” Remus begged.

“—go!”

“Oh my god,” Logan muttered. “Uh, I don’t have a recipe.”

Marlene’s grin was wicked. “That’s the extra bonus fun.”

Leo paused from where he was measuring flour into a sifter and raised his hand. “Finn’s not actually tasting everyone’s cakes, right? ‘Cause making him sick on his birthday seems a bit mean.”

“He only has to try one bite of each,” Marlene assured him as she stopped by Sirius’ station, where he was gathering his ingredients in a line. “Cap, what are you making today?”

“Vanilla with chocolate frosting. I know the recipe by heart, but I only make it when I’m stressed.” A furrow appeared between his brows before he straightened up and raised his voice. “Hey, someone stress me out!”

“Playoffs!” Kasey shouted from across the room. All five men immediately hurried to knock on the wooden cabinets.

“Thanks!” Sirius gave him a thumbs-up and Kasey winked.

“And somebody won’t be sleeping tonight,” Remus muttered, flicking sugar at Kasey. “Thanks, Bliz.”

Logan was still bracing himself against the countertop when Marlene arrived at his table. “How’re you feeling, Tremz? I see you haven’t chosen any ingredients.”

“There’s a very fine line between making your boyfriend a birthday cake and poisoning him,” Logan said after a moment. “And I think I’m about to find out where it is.”

“What are you making?”

“I don’t know yet. Whatever happens, happens.”

“Fair enough,” Marlene laughed as she moved on. “Leo?”

“I’m gonna make a lemon cake,” he said with a proud smile as he mixed the dry ingredients. “And it’s going to be delicious.”

“Do you bake at home very often? You sound confident.”

He shrugged one shoulder. “For special occasions, yeah. I vaguely know what I’m doing, so I feel pretty good.”

“How do you think Logan’s cake will turn out?”

Leo paused and glanced up. A beat of silence passed before he bit his lower lip. “I think it’s a really good thing that Finn has two boyfriends that are making him cakes.”

“Rude,” Logan grumbled as he dumped another cupful of flour into a bowl to Sirius’ obvious horror. He stuck his tongue out. “Don’t give me that look, Cap, this cake is going to be fucking amazing.”

Sirius raised his eyebrows and turned back to his own batter. “If you say so.”

Logan stood on his toes and poured the next cup directly over Sirius’ head in a poof of white. The studio went silent. With a cough, a bit of flour puffed from Sirius’ mouth. “Cap?” Kasey ventured.

“Hmm?”

“You okay?”

“Mhmm.” He slowly took a towel off the oven door and wiped his face with it, then whipped around and snapped it at Logan’s thigh—it connected with a sharp sound, followed by a yelp as Logan shoved Leo in front of him as a makeshift shield. “You can’t hide behind him forever!”

“Remember, you only have two hours!” Marlene called as she dodged a patch of flour on the floor. Sirius scowled and put the towel back down on the counter; Logan backed away to his station with a suspicious glare. “Loops, how are you?”

“I’m minding my own business,” he said innocently. “Staying in my lane. Paying no attention to the idiots behind the curtain, if you will.”

“Impressive. What are you making for our wonderful Harzy?”

“Spite cake.”

“What?”

“Spite cake,” he repeated with a shadow of a smile. “It’s carrot cake, but with no special ingredient of love or appreciation, because he knows how much I hate baking and he’s been making fun of me over text all morning.”

Leo frowned. “Weren’t you two bonding over how much you hate carrot cake when we went to lunch yesterday?”

“Hence the name,” Remus said as he pulled a cheese grater out of the lineup.

“And last, but certainly not least, Kasey.” Marlene leaned against the edge of his table. “How’s it going over here?”

“So far, so good.” He eyed his batter and poked one of the lumps with a fork. “Does this look ready to you?”

“Seems a bit wet, to be honest.”

“Yeah, I thought so. Do people put milk in cake batter?” On the other end of the kitchen, Sirius and Leo shared a look.

Marlene patted his arm. “Good luck, Bliz.”

The camera cut for a moment—when it returned, the three bakers on the far end seemed to be even more flustered than before. “You have one hour left!” someone off-screen announced.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.” Logan held his spatula up. The batter remained stuck to it in a doughy lump. “Is this supposed to happen?”

Leo’s eyes flickered between Sirius, who was clearly shocked into silence, and Logan, who was growing more distressed by the second. “Sure, honey.”

“Baby, it looks like jello,” Remus called as he shook his mixing bowl with a nervous glance to Sirius. “Why does it look like jello?”

“Mon dieu,” Sirius muttered as he crossed the room; the second he looked over Remus’ shoulder, his eyes widened. “How did you…?”

“I don’t know.”

“You put flour in, right?”

“Hey, no helping!” Kasey protested, swatting Sirius on the shoulder with an oven mitt. “We all fail on our own merit here. Tremy’s making concrete, Loops has jello, and I’ve got soup, so you and Knutty can fuck off back to your perfect batter and let us suffer in peace!”

“Jesus, Bliz, did you put water in that?”

“No! I put butter and milk in!”

“Why?”

“Because!”

“One hour left!” Marlene shouted.

“Fuck it, it’s good enough.” Remus grabbed the nearest cake pan and dumped his batter in, then put it in the oven. He turned the heat on and faced the camera guiltily. “Harzy, I know this was meant to spite you, it really was just meant to be a carrot cake. Not…that.”

Logan sprinkled a handful of chocolate sprinkled into his mixing bowl. “I don’t know what I’m doing,” he singsonged. “But I know I’m doing it poorly!”

“Oh my god,” Remus said suddenly as he licked some of his batter off his finger. “Oh my—oh my god.”

Kasey looked up from pouring his batter into a pan in mild alarm. “What?”

“Oh my god, that’s terrible. Here, try it.”

Kasey put his cake in the oven before swiping a bit off and tasting it. His whole face scrunched. “What?”

“I know,” Remus laughed, passing the spatula to Logan. “It’s like getting punched with a cinnamon stick.”

“I can feel it in my nose,” Logan coughed. “Here, try mine.”

Leo regarded them with a healthy amount of disbelief. “Why are you all tasting it if you know it’s bad?”

“Because Marlene needs workable content.”

“Do it for the vine.”

“Because I’m a dumbass, rookie.” Kasey lifted the spatula up. “Cap, your fiancé made toxic sludge in cake form. Want some?”

Sirius hesitated, then sighed and headed over. Leo threw his hands in that air. “You, too?”

“What else am I supposed to—” Sirius faltered with a harsh exhale and braced his hands against the counter, licking his lips. “How many eggs did you put in that?”

“Four? Five?”

“How much cinnamon?”

“A teaspoon?”

Sirius took a fortifying breath through his nose. “Teaspoon or tablespoon?”

“Tablespoon,” Kasey answered for him. “Definitely a tablespoon. Try mine.”

“You two are never allowed in a kitchen again,” Sirius said, though he swiped his finger along the inside of Kasey’s bowl and tasted his batter with a grimace. “Ugh. It’s just melted butter.”

“How did you make it taste like salty butter and nothing else?” Logan asked, sounding genuinely interested.

“Well, Tremzy, I put salt and butter in it.”

Leo’s phone timer went off and he opened the oven door; four faces turned toward him in shock as he pulled a golden cake out and checked the center with a toothpick. Logan closed his eyes and bent closer, taking a deep inhale. “I wish the viewers could smell this, because it’s heaven.”

“Can it be my birthday instead?” Kasey asked. “Please?”

“Get back, you hyenas!” Leo whacked him lightly on the hand with a spoon when he reached out to poke the cake. “That oven was 350 degrees!”

Sirius glanced up at the camera. “That’s 177 degrees, for all you smart people out there.”

“Boo, Celsius.” Remus kissed his cheek. “You smell like sugar.”

“How much time do you all have left on your cakes?” Marlene asked from her perch next to the sink.

Logan, Remus, and Kasey shared a look before Logan turned back to her. “I don’t know?”

“You can’t answer that with another question,” she laughed.

“Ten minutes,” he guessed.

“Whenever it starts to smell good,” Remus said. “Though I doubt that’s going to happen.”

Kasey cocked his head and scanned Leo’s cake for a second. “When it starts looking like that.”

“It won’t,” Leo informed him.

“Damn, Knutty, okay.”

Marlene shook her head. “We’re going to cut filming until everyone’s cakes are out of the oven, but in the meantime we’ve got some special messages for our favorite redhead.”

A banner reading Happy Birthday, Finn! appeared on the screen with a burst of confetti before the usual studio replaced it, with its white walls and folding chairs. Dumo crossed one leg over the other with a soft smile. “One thing I admire about Finn is his tenacity. When he wants something, he’ll go for it with his whole heart.”

“I love his humor,” Leo said in the next short video. He was smiling as well, and had a faint blush on his freckled cheeks. “And the way he makes breakfast in the mornings. All the little things he does to make the people he loves happy. And he really does love with his whole heart. There’s no holding back with him.”

“Finn?” Sirius thought for a moment. “He’s a good person. I know that might sound lame, but he’s one of those people that you meet that always makes you feel happy, and confident, and supported. Anyone who meets him should count themselves lucky.”

Logan’s face was filled with nothing but affection. “I love his patience and his kindness. Whether that was helping me work on my English in college, or making the rookies feel welcome, or even the way he talks to complete strangers when they ask for directions on the street. Everything about him is kind.”

“Ah, jeez.” Remus bit his lower lip. “I think—I think what I admire most about Finn is that he never lets anyone else define who he is. He’s comfortable in himself and makes everyone around him feel safe. It’s sappy, but it’s true. He’s one of my best friends and I’m grateful for him every day.”

“He’s one of the most reliable people I’ve ever met,” James said. “Both on and off the ice. He will be there to support his friends in any capacity and I think we all need to be a little more like Finn that way.”

“Great player.” Arthur nodded. “Great player, and an even better teammate. I can put O’Hara anywhere on the ice and he’ll throw everything he’s got into doing his best. I can’t think of a single Lion who doesn’t love being on the same shift as him.”

Talker grinned, leaning back in his chair with a shake of his head. “Finn just loves hockey. He takes it seriously, of course, but he loves being out there with us and I’m always happy when we’re on a line together. He goes out there every night and has a blast. I admire a lot about him, but especially that.”

“It’s hard to pick one specific thing that I admire about him,” Kasey said, shifting in his chair. “He’s Finn. He’s annoying as all hell, and I love him for it. I’m not sure. Can I make a list?”

“Harzy is very cool,” Olli laughed. “Very cool and very fun to be around. He has a quick wit and truly cares about all of us.”

Kuny raised his eyebrows. “What I like about Harzy? Oh, everything. Everything. He is good friend, good teammate, always there when we need him. Good for Tremzy and Knutty, too. He would turn red like fire engine if he heard me. Don’t tell him I say that.”

The video changed to a wide view of the whole team as they waved to the camera. “Happy birthday, Harzy!” they chorused. “Bitch ass moves!”

The kitchen was much cleaner when the video resumed; all the cooking supplies had been taken away, leaving five hockey players with their cakes in front of them. Leo’s cake was a bit lopsided, though the yellow frosting was cheerful and even—next to him, Logan’s cake looked more like a squished loaf of bread. Sirius’ was plain and elegant, while Kasey’s frosting was still dripping as the camera zoomed in on it.

“Wow,” Finn said after a moment of silence from his seat at the main table, where five slices of cake had been placed on small plates with a label for each name. “Just…wow.”

“You can start with whichever one you want,” Marlene told him.

“I think I’ll save Cap and Leo’s for last. Uh, Kase, what happened here?”

Kasey sighed. “I wish I knew.”

Finn gave it a wary look, then took a bite; his chewing slowed to a stop almost immediately and Logan’s shoulders started to shake from his suppressed laughter. “You know it’s burnt on the outside and not cooked on the inside, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Just checking.” With great effort, he swallowed. “Why is it wet?”

“Your guess is as good as mine, man.”

Finn took the next plate, then paused. “Re, I love you, but…”

Remus shook his head. “I know.”

“I’m genuinely afraid to try this.”

“You should be.”

The second it touched his tongue, Finn started laughing. “Jesus, it’s a straight shot of cinnamon. Why is it crunchy?”

“It’s carrot cake!”

“You know I hate carrot cake!”

“Look, I gave it my best shot. It really wasn’t supposed to do…” He gestured at the plate. “That.”

“Lo, baby, please tell me yours is better than the last two.”

Logan thought for a moment. “It was made with love and that’s all that matters.”

Finn took a deep breath before taking a bite. A range of emotions washed over his face—pleasant surprise, then confusion, then horror, and finally disbelief. “I…what?”

“I don’t even know.”

He swallowed, then ate another bite. “Oh, bad idea. This—are there chocolate chips in here? And almonds?”

“Yeah. You like those, right?”

“Usually, yes. It’s kind of got the texture of fruitcake, but—” Finn broke off and picked the slice up, giving it a shake. Not even a crumb fell out of place, and the rest of the boys burst out laughing. “Lo. Logan. Light of my life, what the fuck?”

“Happy birthday?”

“This is the best birthday present ever. Alright, Cap, your turn.” He took a piece of Sirius’ cake and nodded. “Yep, that’s cake.”

Sirius blinked at him. “And?”

Finn shrugged. “It’s cake. Classic flavors, good texture. I like it. Definitely tastes like a cake you would make.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“He’s calling you basic,” Kasey said, patting Sirius’ shoulder sympathetically. “But hey, at least yours was cooked all the way.”

“And now for boyfriend number two,” Finn continued.

Leo rolled his eyes. “Boyfriend number two.”

“Oh, that’s so good,” Finn groaned around a mouthful of cake. His eyebrows pitched. “I love it.”

“What about it?” Marlene prompted.

“For starters, it’s cooked all the way through. The lemon is freakin’ amazing, and the frosting isn’t melting off the sides or anything. I can’t even taste everyone else’s anymore. It’s a helluva cake. Happy birthday to me. Will you make this every day?”

“No,” Leo said, though there was a pleased flush on his face. “But maybe on the weekend.”

Finn scraped the last of the crumbs off his plate. “Alright, everyone, come get a piece of this magic. Thank you for doing this, by the way. I know three of you hate baking.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” Logan admitted as he settled himself on one of Finn’s thighs with a slice of his own and kissed his temple. “Sorry for almost poisoning you. Oh, that is tasty.”

“I love you anyway. I think Loops and Bliz were actually the closest to doing that, so you’re all good.” Finn raised his eyebrows and craned his neck over Logan’s shoulder. “Speaking of…”

“Lasagna or chicken piccata?” Remus asked. Sirius took advantage of his moment of distraction by stealing a bite off his plate and received a playful glare in response, though it was soothed by a kiss on his cheek.

“Lasagna, please.”

“Does Friday work?”

Finn gave him a thumbs-up. “Sorry, Harzy,” Kasey said as he carefully got the last bits of frosting off his fork. “I have no marketable skills to apologize with. You don’t want me anywhere near a stove or an oven.”

A gleam lit in Finn’s eye. “Will you get in all your pads and play chicken with Knutty and I?”

“For the twentieth time—”

“It’s my birthday,” he wheedled, pouting his lower lip out with the Bambi eyes turned to full blast.

Kasey sighed. “Fine.”

“Hell yeah.”

“Thanks for joining us for our birthday celebration,” Marlene said with a smile. “The best estimations of these recipes are linked on our website, with a few tweaks to make sure none of your loved ones get food poisoning this August. Have a great day, Lions!”

[snow-143]

late nights gaming- bts smau |

seven- hide your bitches (written 0.7k + smau) |

warning: it’s unedited and hardly proof read |

—————

‘is he still here?’

‘who?’ shifting my gaze to were my coworker is looking i sigh. ‘oh him. yeah i asked before and he said “he’s waiting for someone”. that was 3 hours ago.’

‘looks like he’s been stood up, win for us though he’s cute.’ stacy giggles.

‘you should see his friends, you just missed them when you started your shift.’ his friends had left a couple of hours ago, right after taehyung had handed me his number.

‘you can have them i’ll take him.’ smirking she walks over to his table.

i watch for a little amused by her antics before a customer walks in and i get back to work.

‘pfft.’

‘what happened?’

‘was more interested in his game then the snack thats right in front of him.’

‘his loss.’ i muse.

‘whatever i’m going to head out early. you alright with closing without me?’

‘yeah course i’ll be fine. looks like i’ll have some company anyways.’ nodding my head to the direction of the lingering boy i laugh.

‘yeah well i’ll see you tomorrow.’

‘see you.’

beginning to wipe down all the tables i hope he gets the message. he doesn’t.

moving on to the machinery i begin to shut it all off. when this doesn’t faze him i begin shutting off some of the consoles.

still nothing.

finally reaching him he still doesn’t notice me.

i clear my throat.

even tap him on the shoulder.

eventually i have enough and just spin his chair around not caring if he loses his game.

‘HEY WHAT THE HELL.’

‘wow finally a reaction. we’re closing up, sorry you gotta go.’

‘oh right yeah sorry about that.’ he sighs.

letting the curiosity win i ask, ‘person never showed?’

‘i don’t know.’

‘how could you not know? too involved in your game?’ i joke.

laughing at this he elaborates, ‘uh no actually i don’t know what they look like.’

‘ohhh i get it.’

‘you do?’ he seems startled at this, his head tilted and his eyes wide looking up at me. cute. i think before shaking it off.

‘yeah like a blind date, right?’

‘oh… uh yeah sure a blind date.’

‘did you not get their contact?’

‘yeah but it’s kind of complicated.’ looking down he scratches his head messing up his blonde locks.

realising how intrusive i’ve been i clear my throat, ‘right sorry i’m being nosey. i should really lock up though.’

‘oh shit yeah.’ he stands up before i can back away, causing us to be face to face.

he’s a little but taller so i still have to look up a bit but not so much as to strain my neck.

taking a deep breath in out of shock i can smell his cologne and god does he smell good.

looking down at me he looks just as shocked as i feel making me snap out of it.

backing up i continue to turn the computers off to busy myself.

when i’m finally done i turn around to the sight of him still standing there.

‘want some cake?’ i smile.

‘what?’

‘cake. do you want some? just there’s spare and i couldn’t possibly eat it all.’

‘i mean i’ll never turn down some cake.’ he smirks at himself and the double meaning of his word making me roll my eyes as if i weren’t thinking the same thing. he doesn’t need to know that.

‘what would you like? there’s chocolate, victoria sponge, carrot and even some matcha left.’ i say as i walk to the counter, him following not far behind.

‘mhh this is a hard one.’ this time i can’t keep the small laugh in which seems to amuse him.

‘really feeling the chocolate cake tonight though.’ he adds.

pouting i begin to pack the slice in one of our to go boxes.

‘s’wrong? you want that one.’ he coos.

furrowing my brows at his tone i grunt out a maybe, not amused at his teasing.

‘mh i guess i’ll just have to buy you some another time.’

thankfully my back is faced to him so he can’t see my blush. did him and his friends make a bet or something? who can pick up the girl because thats two of them now.

‘another time?’

‘i mean it’s only fair, isn’t it?’

‘i suppose…’

‘then it’s settled.’

a/n: things are kinda getting complicated now ahhh… idk how i feel about tae yet but we’ll see 😩

this is the first written chapter and i’m not sure how i feel about it but hopefully yous like it :)))

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[isletakebarzal]

I Hope I Never Lose You | 1 | Mat Barzal

a/n: my first mat barzal fic. my first fic since......... sh*wn m*nd*s. Here is the first installment of a new elementary school au. pLz leave feedback it has been so long since i've written and I am so ✨insecure✨

summary: you teach kindergarten and Mat Barzal is a P.E. Coach at Cornelia Street Elementary School. i don't know just give me validation plz

warnings: literally didn't even read it over. just copy-paste-post. mutual pining idiots to lovers?? some jealousy and angst???

WC: 5.6K

***

I. “then on a Wednesday in a cafe[teria], I watched it begin again”

You take a deep breath as you inspect your appearance in the teacher’s lounge bathroom at Cornelia Street Elementary. Your kindergarteners will be arriving at your classroom in nearly twenty minutes, so you wanted to get one final look in before starting the school day.

“Who’s the guy?” your friend and co-teacher, Molly, startles you as her figure appears behind you in the mirror.

“What do you mean?” You shake your head, sticking your hands under the sink for the automatic faucet to turn on.

Molly laughs, walking up next to you and leaning up against the counter, “You’re dressing up for someone! You never wore high heels until recently, and you check yourself in the mirror like 6 times a day. Who is it?”

You roll your eyes, pulling paper towels out of the dispenser and wiping your hands dry. “Sniff too much elmer’s glue again, Molly?”

You leave the restroom and lounge with Molly trailing closely behind. Turning into your classroom, you stop in the doorway when you find someone standing in the middle of your classroom, causing Molly to bump into your back.

“There you are!” Mat exclaims when he notices you and Molly enter the room. “I’ve been waiting here for, like, 10 minutes. Why do girls take so long in the bathroom together?”

You let out a nervous laugh. Molly stands at your side, glancing from Mat to you and back to Mat. You can tell she’s connecting the dots as the left corner of her smirk.

“Where else would we gossip about you?” Molly teases, snapping your attention away from Mat. You elbow her in her side, whispering her name scoldingly.

Mat rolls his eyes playfully, “Aww, Molls. Writing our initials in a heart on the bathroom wall again?”

You freeze at his comeback. Is he flirting with Molly? You try your best to remain calm. He’s Mat Barzal, he flirts with everyone.

“What are you doing in here anyway, Barzy?” Molly asks as she further enters the room, setting her briefcase on the desk and leaning up against it. She eyes you, as you haven’t taken one step further into the room. “Don’t you have a PE class to teach?”

Mat stiffens at the question, looking from Molly to you. He fumbles to start his response, “I, uh--” he looks to his immediate left and right, searching for an answer. “I needed a pen.”

Molly barks out a laugh, “a pen?” She turns to you, raising her eyebrows with a pointed look. “Did you hear that, Y/n? He needs a pen.”

You don’t respond to Molly, your body moving on autopilot towards your desk. “Here, I have a pen you can borrow!” You grab the first pen you get your hands on from the container on your desk and hold it out to him, trying your best to keep your hand steady.

Mat’s cheeks grow a rosy tint that matches your own. With a smile he takes the pen, finally looking it over. “Are you sure you won’t miss this one?” The smirk returns to his lips.

You furrow your brows, looking down to the pen he’s holding. It’s a purple glitter pen--your favorite pen. You shrug your shoulders, playing it off as no big deal, “Yeah, no worries. Keep it as long as you need.”

You spare a glance at Molly across the room, and you can tell she’s trying her very hardest not to laugh. The daggers you shoot at her with your eyes fail to get her to control her face.

“Thanks, Y/n, I appreciate it,” he says sweetly, giving you his million-dollar smile that makes all the lunch ladies swoon. “I’ll see you at Lunch Duty?”

You nod enthusiastically, “Totally. See you then.”

Mat stalls for a few seconds, shifting back and forth on his two feet before lifting the pen in another silent thank you. You try not to blush as you give a small wave goodbye, and he leaves the room.

Molly finally blows, erupting into laughter. You turn your attention towards her, a confused expression on your face. “What?”

“I guess that answers my question!” Molly exclaims, wiping an escape tear of laughter from her cheek.

You shake your head, placing your hands on your hips, “What question?”

“Which guy you’re dressing up for,” Molly explains as if it’s clear as day. “Seems to me like you’ve both got it bad.”

You blush again--probably for the 50th time in the last 10 minutes. “That’s it,” you huff. “No more glue for you.”

**

When 12:30 rolls around, Molly takes your class of kindergarteners to the Music Room while you head to the cafeteria for Lunch Duty. There’s nothing glamorous about watching elementary schoolers struggle to open their zebra cakes and milk cartons, but, for some reason, it’s your favorite time of day.

“Miss Y/n!” A voice cheerily calls out to you as you enter the cafeteria, and your gaze instantly lands on the source. That voice could pull you out of a coma. You could pick out that voice in a filled stadium of a Nickelback concert.

Mat waves at you from across the room, pulling out the chair next to him as if to tell you to come sit. You smile and wave back, making your way to him with your lunchbag in hand. It’s your Wednesday ritual to have lunch together, since it’s the only day of the week you are scheduled for Lunch Duty at the same time.

You sit gracefully in the chair next to Mat and set your bag on the table. Mat instantly reaches for it, spinning it one way then another as he searches for the zipper. You grab the lunch bag from his hands and pull it back to your side of the table.

“Excuse you!” You exclaim, playfully.

“Come on, Y/n, I’ve been waiting a week for this!” Mat whines, no better than one of your kindergarteners.

You peek into your bag making sure you have his treat, “Okay, okay.” You reach into the bag and close your fist around the circular fruit that you made sure to pack in your lunch--just like you do every Wednesday.

Mat shoves his hand in the big pocket of his backpack, then looks at you with an eager smile. “Ready? 1...2…” You both bring your hands out of your bags on 3, holding out the respective items for each other.

In the palm of your hand is a Cutie brand clementine, sticker already peeled off. You never really understood why Mat loves these so much, or why he never just buys them for himself, but you’ve been swapping lunch treats since the beginning of the school year.

You were sitting at the lunch table that was angled perpendicular to the student tables in the cafeteria. It was your first Lunch Duty of the year, so you made sure to get in the cafeteria before any of the students came in.

Now that you and Molly were co-teaching this year, you wouldn’t be on Lunch Duty together like you were last year. You didn’t think you should be nervous, being that it’s just Lunch Duty and you already had a year of teaching under your belt, but still, not having the comfort of your best friend around you made you a little more on edge.

No one told you who was going to be on duty with you, so when the new gym P.E. coach, Mat Barzal, strolled into the cafeteria, you stiffened in your seat. You noticed him a bit last year, but it was your first year with your own class of students, and you wanted to focus on being a good teacher rather than good-looking coaches. Mat was new to the school, too, but he seemed to be quick to make friends, talking to anyone around him. Like, anyone.

Like, even a first grader with a hockey AND a superhero obsession that wanted to know which NHL team each superhero would play for. You had eavesdropped on his answers while you were standing near them in the hallway.

(You remember this, because you had to hold yourself back from interjecting when he told the student that Superman would play for the Islanders. He would obviously be a Ranger.)

When he walked into the cafeteria that day, he strolled over to you and sat right down in the chair next to yours, jumping into conversation. You were munching on carrots when you realized that he had yet to pull out any food for lunch.

“Are you hungry?” you blurted out, interrupting whatever thought he was rambling on about while you were...you wouldn’t say staring...more like analyzing.

He deadpanned, “Yeah, but I’ve got some snacks back in the gym. I’m just going to eat them later.”

You shook your head, finding his answer unacceptable. “Here,” you said, looking into your lunch bag for anything to give him. “Do you like clementines?”

A smile spread on Mat’s face, “My mom used to buy them for me and my sister when we were kids. I haven’t had one in forever.”

You handed the fruit to him before he could protest. He accepted it graciously. “I’m Mat, by the way.”

“Y/n,” you told him.

The next week, you made sure to pack a clementine in your bag just in case he didn’t have a lunch again. You tried to hide the disappointment when you walked towards the table and saw that he didn’t actually forget this time.

That is, until you noticed the silver wrapper of a Fruit Roll-Up on the table in front of the empty chair.

“I wasn’t sure what flavor you liked, or if you even like these, but, like, everyone likes these,” Mat explained and you couldn’t hide your blush.

After sitting down next to him, you reached into your bag and pulled out the clementine, sliding it across the tabletop to him. Week after week, this unspoken trade agreement continued, neither one of you having forgotten yet.

You take the Fruit Roll-Up from his hand as he swipes the clementine and starts peeling.

“Oh, it’s the tongue-tattoo one!” You cheer, unrolling the fruit leather from the plastic film. Mat nods enthusiastically, but doesn’t speak, his mouth already full with slices of clementine.

You tear the fruit roll up in half and hold the half with the skull “tattoo” to him.

“No, Y/n, this is our trade. It’s yours,” he pushes your hand back, but you roll your eyes.

“I don’t need the whole roll, and the skull would suit you better,” you persuade him. “Just take it.”

With a smile, Mat takes the half and holds it to the light to find the skull printed in food dye. You hold up your half to tilt the crown “tattoo” to the right angle.

“Okay, ready?” You ask, and Mat nods. “One...two…”

On three, you press the sugary roll to your tongues and hold for a few seconds, making sure it’s long enough for the dye to transfer. You and Mat have done this enough times to know that the sweet spot is around 7 seconds.

Now facing each other in your chairs, you each stick out your tongues to show the other your tattoos. Mat lets out a loud laugh, and can’t help but mirror his reaction. You love this with Mat--getting to goof around with someone and finally laughing again.

Your last relationship ended nearly a year ago, and it left you devastated. You had dated Ryan all through college, and you thought he was going to propose after graduation. Little did you know, he had been applying to medical schools in London, rather than where you were in Seattle. He was never planning forever with you like you were with him.

Needless to say, it’s made you hesitant to start dating again. You don’t trust your instincts with reading people and you definitely don’t trust men.

“Here,” Mat hands his half back to you.

You squish your nose up at him, “Ew, your spit is all over it!”

Mat rolls his eyes playfully and holds the rollup even closer to your face, making you laugh. You try to bat his hand away, but he catches your hand with his free one instead.

“Oh please, it’s just a little slobber. Same as kissing!” He jokes, but the way he’s holding your hand and so easily talking about kissing makes you tense up. You feel like you’re 16 again, developing your very first school-girl crush with the way he’s stirring up dormant butterflies.

You look away, hoping to conceal your now very rosy cheeks, and Mat, thankfully, pretends not to notice. “Fine, mine now,” he shoves the whole rollup in his mouth, and your laughter breaks up the tension in your chest. You fall into easy conversation filled with laughter and banter, and it’s like the room full of rambunctious elementary schoolers doesn’t even exist.

**

II. “don’t you worry your pretty little mind, people throw [kickballs] at things that shine”

“Life just makes love look hard, Y/n,” Molly tells you. You came into school this morning looking down bad, and Molly was quick to figure out the root of the issue.

You saw Ryan last night. With a girl. Wearing a ring on her finger. You knew exactly what ring it was too, as his grandmother had showed it to you at Christmas one year and explained that it would be Ryan’s to give to the one he wanted to spend forever with. At the time you could’ve bet your life that his “one” was you.

You mope in your desk chair, “I know. It took him less than a year to meet someone new, fall in love, and commit. Love isn’t hard, but maybe I’m just hard to love.”

Molly gives you a sad look and opens her mouth to respond, but she is cut off by your classroom door opening. Your already glum face contorts into a sour expression when you see who has entered your classroom.

Alexa.

You spare a glance at Molly, who is already glaring at the 4th grade teacher. You try to hold back the chuckle that is bubbling in your throat. Alexa started working at Cornelia Street Elementary at the same time as you and Molly, but unlike you and your co-teacher, you were not fast friends.

Maybe it was her snarky attitude, or the way she told you and Molly to your faces that “kindergarten teachers are glorified babysitters” on the first day you met her. Either way, you and Molly were not fans.

“Hello, ladies!” Alexa screeches in a high-pitched voice.

Molly deadpans, “Whatever you want, the answer is no.”

Alexa’s nose scrunches in distaste, “I don’t want anything, Molls. I’m here to see if you both have signed up for the teacher-student kickball game next Friday.”

Molly winces at the use of her nickname, “Yes, Alexa. If you had just looked at the sign-up Google Sheet, you would’ve seen that both mine and Y/n’s names were already on the list.”

Alexa shrugs, brushing off Molly’s aggressive tone, “Well, good. I hear that Coach Barzal and Coach Beau will be team captains this year.”

Your body has a visceral reaction to hearing ‘Coach Barzal’, like your ears are rejecting the sound of her witch voice speaking his name. Molly flips her gaze in your direction, giving a smirk.

“Yes, Mat told Y/n the other day that he is going to be a team captain,” Molly lies between her teeth. He never told you that, but if there’s one thing Molly knows, it’s how to get under Alexa’s skin.

And she does. Alexa’s face pinches before clearing her throat, “It’s a shame none of us can have him, isn’t it?”

You and Molly mirror each other with confused expressions. “What do you mean?” you question.

“I mean, section 34.12B in the School Handbook,” Alexa replies as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Molly rolls her eyes, “And what is section 34.12B in the School Handbook?”

Alexa’s lips curl smugly, “Section 34 is the Teacher Code of Conduct, silly. And rule 12B clearly states that teachers working in the same school are not allowed to intermingle romantically or, well, otherwise. Any infraction will result in one of the teachers being immediately transferred to another school in the county.”

Your stomach drops, and Molly looks at you with a sorrowful expression.

“Didn’t either of you read the handbook when you started?” Alexa asks condescendingly. In truth, neither you nor Molly read that brick of a handbook. If you remember correctly, you think you ended up using it as a doorstop in your old classroom last year. No clue what happened to it after that.

“Of course we read it,” Molly, again, lies. “We’re just not psycho enough to have it memorized.”

Alexa glares at Molly. “I didn’t memorize it. I just recently refreshed my memory after talking to Coach Barzal the other day. He had asked me to get drinks with him, so I wanted to see what the policy was on dating colleagues.”

You whip your head to Molly, a confused expression on your face. Molly takes your reaction in stride and stands from her seat at her desk.

“This has been so fun, Alexa,” Molly walks towards the 4th grade teacher at the classroom door, who takes the hint and starts backing up. “But we have to prepare for a day of babysitting, so if you don’t mind…”

Molly backs Alexa out of the doorway and shuts the door in her face. She leans back on the door to find you sitting with a sad puppy look on your face.

“I’m sure she was bullshitting like she always does,” Molly tells you.

You sigh and slump into your chair. An airy chuckle escapes Molly’s lips and you flick your eyes to her face, wondering what could possibly be funny.

“What? Why are you laughing?”

Molly shakes her head, muffling more laughs.

“Come on, spit it out.”

“It’s nothing,” Molly starts, a smile growing on her lips. “I just fucking knew it.”

You furrow your brows, “Knew what?”

“Knew you had a thing for Coach Barzal.”

**

You really don’t want to play kickball, if you’re being honest. You always hated gym class growing up, because you weren’t necessarily skilled in hand-eye coordination. The only reason you signed up for this student-teacher kickball game for the upper grades was for Molly. And...someone else.

Mat and his co-coach, Tito, are standing in the middle of the gym giving instructions to the 4th and 5th grade classes. The rules are simple: kick, run, and no cheap shots. You’re not sure if 4th graders were capable of taking cheap shots, but you realize that this rule might not be directed at them. If you’ve learned anything over the last year or so of teaching, it’s that adults are just really big Big Kids.

Once they finish explaining to the students and teachers how the game will work, Mat announces that it’s time to pick teams. The students are counted off by twos for their teams to make sure no kid feels like they’re being picked last--especially by the teacher--but the teachers are to be specifically chosen by the captains.

Tito, the captain of the A team, scans the crowd of teachers for his first pick. “Mr. Kessler,” Tito picks the 3rd grade teacher first. It’s a great first pick, since David Kessler apparently played sports in college.

Mat looks at the group like he’s searching for someone, and his eyes land on you. The right corner of his lips pulls up into a smirk. Your palms start sweating--either due to the nerves of feeling like you’re back in grade school again, or from the way he is looking at you.

“Mr. Peterson,” Mat’s gaze leaves yours as he picks the 5th grade parapro. Again, you don’t think it’s a bad idea to start setting up the team with the best players before moving on to, well, you.

The two coaches go back and forth until all of the seemingly more athletic teachers are assigned teams. When it’s time for Tito to pick again, his eyes land directly on you. You look to your left, then to your right, then behind you, just to make sure he wasn’t looking through you to someone else. But no one else looked like they were paying enough attention to be the one he was focusing on.

A smirk draws up Tito’s lips as he looks at Mat. Mat rolls his eyes and pushes his shoulder, making Tito teeter a bit. “Just pick, man,” Mat urges, and Tito looks back at you.

“Molly,” Tito chooses, and you release a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

Molly lets out an airy laugh and nudges you with her elbow, “Damn, they’re splitting us up.”

You roll your eyes, but on the inside your stomach flutters at the thought of being chosen by Mat. He glances your way every so often that you think it might be coming, but you try to keep your cool.

“Umm,” Mat starts, like he’s about to think out loud. “I’ll pick…” Mat’s eyes scan the group and he stops on you for a brief moment, but passes you over. “Alexa.”

Your heart drops into your ass.

You look to Molly, hoping that her usual cool and collected demeanor will level you, but she’s speaking lowly to Tito with furrowed brows.

“Y/n, you’re on my team,” Tito calls out next. You make your way towards the rest of the A team, and, despite the voice in your head screaming ‘don’t look at him, don’t look at him’...you look at Mat, gauging his reaction.

He looks completely unbothered. A smile is even gracing his face. It’s not like you thought he was necessarily interested in you, but, fuck, you at least thought he liked you better than Alexa. And now you’re wondering if there was any truth to her comments in your classroom last week.

Once the teams are sorted out, the captains flip a coin to decide who will kick first. Tito calls heads while the coin is in the air, and sure enough the coin lands on heads. Tito calls a huddle while Mat gets his team organized into positions.

“Alright team, listen up,” he starts, clapping his hands once. “We need a strong offensive start.”

The students jump around excitedly as Tito lines them up along the gym wall behind the designated “home plate”. He orders the team with one teacher kicking after every few students.

Molly is in the front of the line with Thomas, an eager 4th grader ready to play. He walks to the plate, backs up a few steps, and waits for Mat to pitch the ball. Mat winds up before releasing the ball in a (relatively) straight line to Thomas.

Thomas runs up to the ball, going for the kick, and….he misses. Tito jogs up to him, squatting to his level. “It’s okay, bud, let’s try again. You can do it, just keep your eye on the ball.”

The little boy nods and steps back up to the plate. Tito nods at Mat who winds up and rolls the ball once more. A little more cautiously this time, Thomas runs for the ball. He swings back his left foot and propels it forward, making contact with the ball and sending it soaring towards Mat.

Mat lets the ball drop in front of him, fumbling around to pick it up while Thomas runs to first base. Once he’s about halfway there, Mat tosses the ball to one of the fifth graders who is guarding the base. Thomas, unsurprisingly, is safe.

A few more students and teachers take turns kicking the ball, and before you know it, there are two students and Molly on base with two outs on the board. You were hoping that you would be able to linger in the back of the line long enough to avoid taking a turn, but Tito calls you up to the plate.

“Okay, Miss Y/n, bring ‘em home!” Tito encourages, and you roll your eyes at him.

“Doubtful,” you respond. Walking up to the plate, you make eye contact with Mat, waiting for him to roll you the ball. He takes a deep breath and raises his eyebrows to you.

“Ready?” He calls out.

You shake your head, “No, but do I have a choice?”

Mat laughs. ‘You got this!” he tells you, and winds up to roll the ball. Maybe he does it on purpose, but when he rolls the ball, it veers off to the left.

“Come on, Barzy, give her something she can work with!” Tito chirps, as Mat jogs to grab the ball from one of the students that picked it up.

Instead of returning to his makeshift pitcher’s mound, Mat strides towards you, catching you off guard.

“What are you doing, Mat?”

“You looked nervous,” he says. “Thought you could use a better pep talk than Beauvis over there.”

“It’s...elementary school kickball,” you say with a laugh.

Mat rolls his eyes, “This is a very serious game, Y/n. There’s a lot at stake.”

The smirk that forms on his lips sends a ripple down your spine. “Like what? A pizza party?” you joke.

Mat pushes your shoulder playfully, and a shout erupts from the sidelines. You both look to where Tito is standing with his arms raised in question. “Quit messing with my teammate, Barzal!” Tito yells.

Mat waves him off. “Keep your eye on the ball, and I’ll roll it slowly. Kick with the inside of your foot to get more distance, and, for the love of God, take off those dumb sandals.”

You look down at the strappy sandals on your feet. “What? They’re cute and comfortable!“

Mat rests a hand on your shoulder, squeezing it comfortingly. “Cute until you break an ankle. Just trust me and do it, Miss Y/n!”

You roll your eyes and kick your shoes off to the side while Mat backs up to the middle of the gym. You step up to the plate again and Mat winds up his pitch. The ball rolls in a straight line towards you, and you take his advice by kicking the ball from the inside of your foot. It’s a hard kick, too, so the ball soars over towards second base.

“RUN!” Tito yells from the sidelines, urging everyone on base to get moving. The student that was on 3rd base waddles home, scoring a run for your team, while the fielders scramble to get the ball.

There are some mishaps in passing the ball between the 4th and 5th graders in the field, so Molly is able to run home as well as you round first base. You look to Mat to find that he’s yelling at you to run to second, despite being on your opposing team, which coincides with the screams from Tito behind you. Now you're really thankful you took off those sandals.

You take off from first base towards second base, when out of the corner of your eye, you see Alexa grab the ball straight out of a 4th grader’s hands. She winds her arm back and throws the ball right at you, probably as hard as she can by the sting of contact on your left arm.

“Out!” Alexa yells as you slow your pace to a stop. “That’s three!”

The teams start shuffling as they switch from field to kicking and vice versa. You stay in your place, figuring you’ll just linger in the “outfield” anyway, while Molly comes up to you.

“That bitch is a dirty player,” Molly spits, turning to glance at Alexa. “Did you see how she just ripped the ball from a kid? Geez.”

“It’s just the game,” you brush it off, not wanting to seem fazed by how she so obviously was out to get you. You don’t realize Mat walks up to you and Molly until you feel a hand rest on the small of your back.

“Are you okay?” Mat asks, moving his hand to gently brush the red spot on your arm where the ball hit you.

You try not to blush at the contact as you nod and wave him off, “Yeah, yeah, I’m good.”

“Tough play, but it was a great kick,” Mat tries to be encouraging. “Who knew Lex could hustle like that.”

You wince at the nickname and look at Molly, who is sporting a scowl.

“Lex could’ve knocked a kid unconscious if she had missed,” Molly retorts, and Mat clears his throat awkwardly and removes his arm.

He shrugs his shoulders, “Yeah, I guess she could’ve.” There’s a brief pause and you hear Tito in the background positioning his students on the field. “So, Y/n--”

“Mat--I mean, Coach Barzal!” Alexa’s voice rings through the gym, interrupting Mat. “Come over here!”

“I think you should get back to your team, Mat,” you tell him. “Wouldn’t want to keep your star player waiting.”

He frowns at you, but nods, “Yeah, guess so.”

You didn’t mean to sound jealous--you really have no right to be. You weren’t even sure why you were so affected by the idea of Mat and Alexa. It’s not like there is a Mat and Y/n.

Well, maybe you do know why. You watch as Mat jogs over to his team, giving each kid a high five and circling them up for a pep talk. You can hear their laughs and cheers at his words of encouragement, and you smile involuntarily. He is so good with the kids and he really cares about them--you can tell that he puts his heart into what he does.

“Ready, team?” Tito’s voice breaks you out of your thoughts. The rest of your team cheers in response and Tito starts the next inning.

The rest of the game flies by with excitement. You all only make it a few more innings before it’s time for the kickball game to end and everyone to finish out their Friday school day. Tito was overjoyed, to put it lightly, when his A Team won the game, and you could tell he was already taunting Mat with it. Mat, though extremely competitive throughout the game, was a good sport about it in front of his B Team.

Since your and Molly’s class would still be in their Music Class for another 10 minutes or so, you two stayed back in the gym while the 4th and 5th grade teachers got their students together.

“Well, ladies, it was a good game,” Tito says to you and Molly, giving you both high fives. “Sorry you got blitzed, Y/n.”

You let out a laugh, “Thanks Beau, but it wasn’t that bad, was it?”

Tito rubs his hand on the back of his neck, “I don’t know. Alexa went for blood with that hit.”

Molly scoffs, “Alexa is going to taste blood next time she pulls something like that.” You bump Molly with your hip, giving her a pointed look, but Tito just laughs at her comment and falls into conversation with Molly.

You eye the way Molly reacts to making Tito laugh, a wave of something resembling pride or satisfaction washing over her. You haven’t seen her look...giddy like this until watching her talk to Tito. Interesting, you think.

After a few minutes, you decide it’s time to pick up your kids from the Music Room, and you tell Molly she can just catch up with you in the classroom in a bit. You make sure to give her a suggestive smirk, glancing back and forth from her to Tito without him picking up on it. She rolls her eyes and waves her hand at you, gesturing to you to exit.

As you’re walking out of the gym, though, Mat calls out to you, jogging towards you before you can leave.

“Y/n! Wait up a second!”

You turn towards him as he slows down in front of you. “What’s up?”

“Um, where are you headed off to?” He asks, almost like he is stalling.

You furrow your brows, but respond, “Gotta pick up our class from Music.”

Mat nods, “Oh, yeah, for sure. Shouldn’t Molls be with you?”

You glance back at your friend, where she is laughing and twirling a strand of her hair while talking to the young coach. “Nah, I can handle it this time. She’s...preoccupied.”

Mat follows your gaze and lets out a snort, “Tito is so hopeless. He’s been gone for her for so long now.”

“Oh yeah?” You question, thinking maybe this could be a chance to set Molly up with a nice guy. If there’s one thing you’ve learned about Molly, it’s that she usually has terrible taste in men. “How do you know? Has he said something?”

Mat shakes his head, “No, but he doesn’t have to. I mean, guys are so much easier to read than girls. Like, if a guy is interested in a girl? You’ll definitely be able to tell.”

You have to keep your shoulders from slumping. You think back to all the times you’ve interacted with Mat, and you can’t recall one instance of Mat acting the way Tito is with Molly right now.

“Yeah,” you sigh, looking back at the pair. “I guess you’re right.”

**

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