#every time i watch the opening I jitter in joy

[somelegobird]

One of my favourite little Ninjago Fun Facts is that in the Skybound opening, the characters are introduced in the order they're taken by Nadakhan.

It feels so nice to notice it but also feels really ominous

[skz-streamer]

2023 VMA's

<- BACK TO MASTERLIST

<- EVENTS TAB

Pairing: ot8 (skz) x fem!reader (9th member)

Genre: Fluff?, Crack? Idol Au

Warnings: suggestive kinda, a small mention of nudity with some outfits.

Notes: When I was watching the VMA's I KNEW I AHD TO DO SOMETHING. sooo here it is :) I realized I forgot to add their interview in here but whatever, also thing is literally all based off of Bongos because of their reactions to that performance LORDDD FUNNY AS HELL. so yea... im also insanely obsessed with them...

Summary: 2023 VMA's turned out to be a little funnier then you thought they would be.

-please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately face claims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people

Word count ~1.8k ;)

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As the van pulled up to the annual 2023 VMA's, the excitement among you and your fellow members of Stray Kids was palpable. This was a momentous occasion, the first time the group had the privilege of attending the prestigious awards show. The energy in the vehicle was infectious, a mix of nervous anticipation and uncontainable joy.

Inside the van, you couldn't help but admire the transformation of your fellow members. They were all dressed to the nines, their stylish suits and glamorous ensembles adding to the aura of excitement that filled the air. Hyunjin, in particular, had undergone a striking change for the occasion. He sported a fresh undercut, a hairstyle he had been yearning to try for a long time. The change suited him perfectly, adding to his already striking appearance.

As the only female member of Stray Kids, you knew that all eyes would be on you, so you had taken extra care with your outfit. You were dressed in a stunning Lapel blazer top button slit skirt set, which you had carefully chosen for the occasion. The top was a sleek black with slightly puffed-out shoulders, a V-neck with a stylish collar, and two buttons at the bottom. It exuded confidence and sophistication. The skirt, on the other hand, was a bit more daring. It hugged your body tightly, emphasizing your curves. It featured a daring slit that ran from the middle of your thigh down to your ankles.

Your choice of outfit had raised some eyebrows, with both the stylists and some of the boys expressing concern that it might be showing too much skin. However, you were quick to defend your choice, reminding them that VMA fashion was all about pushing boundaries and making bold statements. Growing up in the United States, you had been a dedicated fan of the VMA's for as long as you could remember. You had spent years watching the show, voting online, and dreaming of the day when you would be a part of it. Now, that dream had become a reality, and you were determined to make a memorable entrance.

As the van rolled towards the VMA venue, the nervous tension among you and the boys was prominent. Small talk filled the air, a feeble attempt to ease the apprehension that gripped each of you. It was clear that this was a significant moment, one filled with both excitement and trepidation.

You could sense the jitters in the van, a stark contrast to the exuberance that had filled it earlier. The boys were fidgeting, adjusting their suits, and stealing glances at each other. You, too, had thought that stepping onto the pink carpet would dissolve your nervousness, but as the van pulled up and the doors swung open, you were greeted by a frenzy of flashing cameras and enthusiastic shouts.

Cameras flashed from every direction, capturing your every move. The carpet was a vibrant sea of celebrities, some of whom you had admired for years. Your heart raced as you recognized familiar faces, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of fangirling yourself. The sheer star power in the vicinity was overwhelming.

As you walked through the barricades and onto the pink carpet, you were swiftly directed to your designated spot, and the command to smile was given. Your outfit, though daring, suddenly seemed rather modest compared to some of the ensembles on display. Megan's netted, see-through dress and Cardi's low-cut attire were enough to make anyone do a double-take. The boys' jaws nearly hit the ground, especially when Jeongin accidentally bumped into Doja Cat, who was rocking an absolute see-through dress.

Jeongin stammered an apology, and Doja Cat simply smiled and continued on her way. The boys' expressions were priceless, a mixture of shock, amazement, and perhaps a touch of embarrassment. You couldn't help but at their shared amused look, one that communicated, "Did you see her outfit?!"

You didn't need words to convey your thoughts; you your raised eyebrow and rolled your eyes, the boys interpreting it as an “I told you so virgins”, one of your most used lines. The boys understood, and though they didn't say it out loud, their sheepish grins and laughter betrayed their astonishment. Clearly, they were not entirely prepared for the bold fashion choices that often graced the VMA pink carpet.

As you made your way inside the building and found your seats, you realized that you weren't in the front row, but you were still pretty close to the stage. The excitement continued to build within you as you looked around at the familiar faces in the audience. Growing up watching these artists and admiring their work, you couldn't wait for the performances to begin. The nerves from earlier had started to fade, replaced by a sense of anticipation and wonder.

The atmosphere inside the VMA venue was electric as you and the boys chatted excitedly before the performances began. You took the opportunity to introduce some of the artists to them, explaining their music and significance. While most of the artists were already familiar to the boys, you could tell they were particularly excited about Demi Lovato's performance. It wasn't a surprise, given that you had caught them listening to their music in the practice room on multiple occasions, either vibing or dancing.

You, on the other hand, were eagerly anticipating the performances by Cardi B and Megan Thee Stallion. Their recent collaboration on the song "Bongos" had become one of your favorites, and you couldn't wait to see if they would perform it live. You had a feeling it would be a showstopper.

The show began with NLE Choppa and Nelly, delivering a bold and energetic opening performance. The boys were starting to get into the groove of the VMA's, and you couldn't help but chuckle at some of their flustered moments during the performance, especially when there was some intense "ass-shaking" involved. It was undoubtedly a cultural difference they were experiencing.

As the night continued, you watched Olivia Rodrigo's performance, knowing that Felix was a fan of hers. You couldn't help but notice the reactions of your members to her high notes, particularly Han's expression of awe.

Then came the moment you had been waiting for—Cardi B and Megan Thee Stallion's performance of "Bongos." You knew that the boys were in for a surprise, especially with the explicit lyrics and slang used by the two artists. You were sitting next to Changbin, who seemed engrossed, a smirk playing on his lips. You were equally captivated by the performance, and you and Han matched each other's energy as you sang along to the lyrics. You were well-versed in the song, so you had no qualms about singing the explicit parts.

The boys' reactions were priceless. Felix and Chan, who were fluent in English, appeared somewhat surprised by the lyrics, but they couldn't look away from the mesmerizing performance. Jeongin's mouth hung open, and Hyunjin and Changbin were engrossed in a hushed conversation, probably trying to decipher some of the slang. It got so loud that toward the end, both Changbin and Hyunjin turned to face the wall, clearly flustered.

You couldn't resist teasing them, tapping their shoulders and playfully saying, "You don't gotta look away; their sexiness is part of the whole performance. It's the whole point." Your giggle and their embarrassed reactions were amusing.

Seungmin and Minho, although harder to see from your vantage point, likely had similar reactions. The whole scene was a mix of awe and embarrassment, and you couldn't help but laugh heartily at their expense.

The performance concluded with everyone turning back, their faces flushed red. You continued to chuckle and pat them on the shoulders, thoroughly entertained by their reactions. Han was right there with you, and the two of you had a blast throughout the entire performance.

When Demi Lovato took the stage, the boys went wild, fanboying over their incredible talent. It was a joy to witness their enthusiasm.

Later in the evening, awards were announced, and you and the boys engaged in random conversations. Your ears perked up when they discussed K-pop awards, and you paid close attention. You knew that TXT was also nominated and set to perform, so there was an element of nervousness in the air.

Then came the moment you least expected—they announced Stray Kids as the winners! It was your group! The shock initially left you in a daze, and you stumbled slightly on your way to the stage, but Changbin caught you, saving you from a potentially embarrassing fall.

Walking onto the stage with your fellow members, your mind felt fuzzy. Was this real? Chan and Felix took a few words, expressing gratitude and excitement. You chipped in with your thanks here and there, the elation clear in your voice.

----- Backstage

The anticipation backstage was palpable as your performance was up next. You couldn't contain your excitement, even though you had initially pitched a mashup of songs that you believed would be iconic. You had suggested blending "Hall of Fame," "S-Class," and "Super Bowl" into a medley, envisioning a performance that would leave a lasting impression. The combination of "Hall of Fame's" grandeur, the seductive whispers of "Super Bowl," and the catchy vibes of "S-Class" seemed like a recipe for an unforgettable show. However, it seemed that your idea had been outvoted, and the group settled on a remix instead.

Nonetheless, you were determined to give it your all. Backstage, you and your fellow Stray Kids members exchanged reassuring glances, a silent reminder that you were a team and that you had prepared for this moment together.

As you stepped onto the stage, the spotlight illuminated you, and the nerves threatened to shake you. Your heart pounded, but you focused on the task at hand. You were dressed in a short top with gold buttons, paired with shorts, and an undershirt with a yellow print that matched Han's outfit. The stage lights were blinding, but you pushed through the nerves.

The music started, and you gave it your all. Singing loudly and pouring all your energy into your dance moves, you felt the adrenaline rush through your veins. The crowd's cheers and screams were deafening, and that only fueled your determination. The energy in the venue was incredible, and it was a testament to the love and support of your fans.

As the performance reached its climax, you executed the choreography flawlessly, ending with a dramatic head tilt before turning your back to the audience. You were out of breath but exhilarated. It was a performance to remember, and the applause and cheers from the audience were music to your ears.

You resisted the urge to turn around and gauge the audience's reactions. Instead, you noticed Seungmin doing the same. Smiles exchanged between the two of you, a shared moment of pride and satisfaction. You both walked off the stage with the rest of the boys, following the well-rehearsed exit routine.

Despite the exhaustion, you felt a sense of accomplishment and euphoria. The performance had been tiring, but it had been worth it. The rush of being on stage, sharing your music with the world, and feeling the love from your fans was an experience like no other. You couldn't help but love every moment of it. The car ride home was gonna be fun.

-----------------------------

Taglist: @eee5533 @mixtape-racha @cherry-edibles @ren0325 @felixvsp @hwangrimi @sanriiolino @painstakingly-juno @herarcadewasteland @dabiscrustyfeet @kai-lee08 @sungiesoonie @slvtty4channiee @revelaffee @staygirl86 @chlodavids

If you wanna be added click here :)

[gretavanlace]

Sugar II (part 3)

18+ plus only! Minors do not interact!

Warnings: adult themes, angst, discussions of alcohol consumption, etc

Thank you all so much for your patience while I was out of town…I love you and never intentionally keep you waiting! You’re my babies!! ❤️❤️

“Why am I always the last to know everything?” Sam slips into Josh’s dressing room, shirtless and as always, slapping along on two bare feet “Is it because I’m the youngest, or are you just an asshole?”

In contrast to his brother, Josh drips in beaded satin; glitter swept deftly across his eyes; rhinestones grabbing at the light until he winks and flashes like a star against its midnight sky.

No one would expect anything less. He is always the first to be found wandering the hallowed arena halls, made up and shining like old Hollywood royalty. It soothes him…a lullaby masquerading as expensively tailored glitz. You used to help him…zipping up jumpsuits he could have easily secured himself, fussing over his hair, lint rolling velvet, laughing and chattering away to keep his mind off that unforgiving anxiety of his. They are memories he cherishes and thinks of nearly every time he primps.

They each have their rituals - Daniel bangs around on a kit until his arms are loose and his mind is buzzing with adrenaline. Sam terrorizes the crew and his brothers with his trusty four-legged sidekick, shaking off the jitters with hijinks. And Jake scrutinizes his gear meticulously, checking the work of techs and roadies who definitely know what they’re doing. He usually finds something to pick apart anyway. It sharpens his focus and quiets his mind.

Josh steps into costume and becomes someone else. Someone he often doesn’t recognize…who is this person with such charisma and grace? He who commands the attention of crowd after crowd roaring and shaking the rafters? He who is worthy of such primal, hungry fervor?

That is how he finds the spotlight night after night. While the others do their own things, Josh quietly dresses and becomes someone, something, else.

And so, draped in his finery, he watches Sam through the mirror as he flops into a chair, all legs and attitude. “By all means, Samuel, make yourself at home.”

“Were you even going to tell me that she’s here? She always liked me best, you know? She was just too sweet to mention it to you idiots.”

Josh turns with a chorus of clattering glass beads, and leans back against the vanity, arms folded “One, I haven’t even seen you since I found out, so you’ll forgive me. Two, I knew Daniel would break his fucking neck to be the first to tell you,” He shrugs, “figured I’d let him have his moment.”

Popping open a White Claw, Sam ignores his brother's carping in favor of a question “You see her yet?”

“Yes,” Josh turns back to his reflection, patting a fingertip lightly over his eye makeup.

Never in possession of any patience to speak of - the baby of the family rarely is - Sam immediately prods him along. “And?”

He’s met with a sigh, “And what? I went to see her, we caught up for a little while, and then I left. That was that.”

“I went to see her,” there’s a mocking, obnoxious quality to Sam’s tone as he parrots Josh “we caught up for a while and then I— would you shut up? What happened? How is she?”

“She’s...I don’t know. She’s herself and not herself. She looked sad.” The revelation comes with a sadness of its own. “She’s getting married, so she shouldn’t have looked so damn miserable...but she did, and I hated it. It almost made me wish I hadn’t even knocked on her door.”

“I’m usually sad when you knock on my door, too.” Sam deadpans, attempting to lighten the mood at least a little.

“Must you lie, Samuel? You’re stricken with joy when I enter a room, just like everybody else.”

“Christ,” Sam mutters, tossing Josh a white claw to match his own, “I swear, if you could suck your own dick, you would.”

Josh cracks it open and slurps with a dramatic flourish, “Obviously.”

“Why do you think she looks so miserable?” Sam is pondering, turning something over in his mind with worry evident in his eyes.

“Probably because she knows she’ll likely have to see you. That’d be my guess, anyway.”

Josh is disguising his own knotted up stomach with humor. Sammy knows it, and chooses to ignore the dig.

They settle into their drinks until Sam speaks up once again, “She’s getting married? That’s just…” he quiets, unsure and still bristling with concern, “How are you gonna tell him? You gotta wait until after the show, that’s for sure.”

For once in his life, Josh has been rendered temporarily speechless, and that answers the question just fine.

“Are you serious?” Sam leans forward, elbows on his knobby knees, “You can’t be serious.”

“How am I going to tell him?” Now they’re just lobbing questions back and forth at one another. “You can’t be serious!”

Sam’s eyes widen, shocked and hurting for Jake in his absence. It would almost be comical if the situation could lend itself to anything other than this crushing weight, “We have to tell him, Josh. This isn’t okay. He has the right to—“

Suddenly, Josh pushes away from the vanity and the energy radiating from him shifts until he looks nearly frantic, “He has the right to what, Sam? To know? To see her? Have you lost your fucking mind? Put him in a room with her and we’re right back where we started. Three years progress,” his fingers snap harshly, “Poof! gone in a goddamn second.”

Matching his energy, Sam is on his feet in an instant, “Progress? Now whose lost his fucking mind? What progress are we talking about here, Josh? Because from where I’m standing, he’s made none. For his twin you’re remarkably ignorant.”

“I’m not ignorant,” this is bad, especially right before they’re expected to perform. They both know it, but on they march. “I know him backwards and forwards, Sammy, so just fucking listen to me for once. She stays in the past for him and that’s just the way it’s gonna be, end of discussion.”

“She stays in his past, or yours?” Sam counters, sizing his eldest brother up as though he can see right through him.

Shoulders slumped, Josh shakes the venom in Sammy’s accusation off “That isn’t fair.”

“I don’t give a shit. Answer the question.”

Sometimes, Sam readies for battle in a manner that always comes as a shock no matter how many times they’ve seen it happen. When he sheds that goofball demeanor in favor of a game face, it hardly seems real.

He is fierce in his love and loyalty to those he holds close, and tonight, Jacob has earned his favor.

“This isn’t about me, I promise you that.” The truth rings out clear in Josh’s vow. “I loved her once, I love her still, just differently now. I couldn’t do that to him. Not ever. The way he loved her canceled me out a long time ago.”

“Loves her.” Sam corrects, with a finger pointed at his brother to drive home his point.

“All the more reason to keep your mouth shut.” Josh’s timbre is threatening in a way it almost never is. It sounds and feels strange…out of place. “She’s getting fucking married, do you really think he can handle that? Use your fucking head, Sam. Leave it alone.”

Hand on the door handle, Sam watches Josh as if he’d very much like to hurt him, “Who are you to decide what he can and can’t handle?”

~

The show is their worst in their collective memory since their days as greenhorns, though it’s doubtful the fans have taken notice. Each mishap is small and easily disguised, but present all the same. They are unsteady and off-kilter, but only Jake is oblivious as to why.

He snaps a string, misses a mark, foils a riff or two. Josh falls flat and overcompensates, vibrato ringing out sharp. Sam refuses to look in his eldest’s brother’s direction, leaving them detached and removed in an unsettling way. Danny is on point from a technical standpoint, but robotic…their chemistry has vanished tonight and they can all feel it.

The moment they stalk off stage, Sam is clamoring for Jake’s attention as Josh fights to intercept.

Most nights, they’ll filter off into their respective solitude for a time to bask in the quiet before the noise of the bus. Tonight, Sam follows Jake, and Josh follows Sam.

“Jake,” Sam jogs along, easily closing the distance his brother has gained ahead of him with those lanky legs of his. “Hold up, I need to talk to you.”

“It can wait.” Jake is on a mission, clearly in a hurry to close a door and shut out the world. To find a bottle and make love to the whiskey inside it.

“No, it can’t because—“

“He said it can wait, Sam.”

Josh’s admonishment, and the viciousness it’s crackling with, is what turns Jake around. It makes no sense for his twin to be this hostile over something so innocuous; over some random conversation Sam would like to have that doesn’t even involve him.

He turns to find Josh’s glare burning murderously in Sam’s direction. The air emanating from him is in such dramatic contrast to the sunny ray of entertaining light that has just been beaming around the stage, and immediately, Jake senses the urgency of the moment.

On his part, Josh feels the switch flip inside his twin and knows that they’re about to head into dangerous territory. Fucking Sam.

“What?” Jake is furiously fumbling with his hair, shoving sweat soaked snarls away from his face, suddenly overstimulated and on edge. “What is it?”

Sammy speaks up, fighting to be heard clearly as crew members dart around and rush by in a flurry of tasks. “She’s here. Well, not here, but at the hotel.”

Defeated, Josh admits his loss with a quiet “God damn it, Sam.”

Jake somehow manages to catch it over the din and he knows. Or at least, he thinks he knows. He can feel it coming off of Josh like ghostly fingers stretching out to claw at his chest. Still, he doesn’t quite understand, the pieces are just this shy from falling into place.

“Who?” His query is tentative…filled with hopefulness and also a strange terror. A fear he’s only ever felt once before, when, helpless and shattered, he had to watch you say goodbye. A torturous longing only you can evoke.

Sam’s lips part to speak, but Josh shoves past him, grabbing Jake by the arm with black beads shaking about on his shoulders. “No one. Go shower. Have a drink.”

Somehow, Josh’s grip tells Jake everything. All that feverish panic seeps into the fabric of his jacket, somehow chilling his flesh with its burn. “She’s here?” His entire body is rattling with frenetic energy and he wonders if he might crumple to the ground and spark like a downed power line if Josh were to let go of him.

“Jake,” his name is a coddling whisper on his twin's lips, “Leave. Now. C’mon, I’ll go with you. You know what’s best, I know you do.”

As it turns out, Jake doesn’t hit the ground like a live wire, because when he shoves Josh off, his footing is sure. “How did you know she was here? You knew? And you weren’t gonna fucking tell me? Have you seen her?”

Ashamed, and afraid of what’s to come, Josh remains silently stoic under his brother’s eager and furious scrutiny.

“I said, have you fucking seen her?” Now Jake’s body is vibrating with a fury so out of control it’s threatening to boil over and scald anyone in its path.

Suddenly, Danny appears as though summoned by the gods of intervention, as he so often seems to be. He steps in, tugging Jake away from his brothers while staring daggers at Sam.

Sam never fucking thinks…or is he the only one who is actually thinking clearly this time around?

“Come on,” Jake is stumbling around on his feet to keep up with a much larger Daniel, as he drags him along to his dressing room.

It feels like a fever dream when at last he pushes Jake into a chair before shutting their brothers out with a door slammed in their faces.

“Look,” he finds a seat in front of Jake and places a hand on his bouncing knee. “You’ve got to calm down and think for a minute. Do you really want to see her? I mean…”

He isn’t given the chance to finish his sentence, because nothing any of them can say will matter anyway.

“Take me to her.” Neither of them could have any way of knowing that Jake’s plea mirrors the one you had struggled to swallow down in Danny’s arms.

“I don’t know where she is.” He speaks in honesty, and Jacob can sense that.

“Find out.” He rises to his feet and straightens his back, resolved and ready to fight for this. Ready to fight for you. “Josh knows, that fuck. Go find out.”

“Alright,” Daniel nods because what’s to be done now? What’s to pointlessly fight? “Shower in here. I’ll go talk to him.”

~

You’re mindlessly staring at the television screen, gaze blurring and focusing in and out as some chef with a lovely accent you can’t seem to place tosses ingredients round a hissing wok.

The entire room is awash in the scent of the shower you’ve just wept your way through, and the robe you’re swaddled in feels stiff and scratchy. You should change, you know, but you haven’t the energy. Better to lie here uncomfortable and twisted up in aching sadness, that old friend of yours whom you’ve denied for far too long.

Lie to yourself all you want. Shove it inside a box and lock it up tight with chains and latches until it rusts shut, but that throbbing agony will wait patiently for you. Never losing focus, ever vigilant for the moment it can blast its way back into your broken heart.

How you’ll ever rise and put on a professional face for brunch in the morning is a cipher you don’t care to decode tonight.

He’s all you can think of; memories of him. Loneliness for him. The need, so real and palpable. It’s as if you can smell him on your skin though he hasn’t swept his fingers across it in years.

Years? How is that even possible? It seems laughable that you’ve managed so long without him. It seems impossible. A nightmare that you’ve been muddling through.

When the knock sounds out, clipped and sure, at your door, you’re tempted to ignore it - and you even give it a go, but it comes again along with a cheery greeting “Room service!”

You haven’t ordered room service at all, but there stands a smart looking hotel employee, dressed to the hilt in his crisp uniform, waiting patiently beside a cart, when you peer through the peep-hole.

Tightening that terrible robe, you crack open the door, readying to let him know he’s made a mistake, when a hand darts out to push several folded up bills into the server’s hand.

Stunned and struck silent, you manage only to stare as Jake gives thanks and sends him on his way, eyes never straying from your face.

He reaches for you instinctively, but thinks better of it and drops those hands you know so well to his sides, flexing them as if to shake the need to touch you away.

Instead, he opts to offer a soft smile and a gentle joke “Hey, sugar, how’d we get to this place where I’ve got to pay off hotel employees to knock on your door for me, hmm?”

“I—“ You give your head a tiny shake, begging the thoughts rattling around inside it to make sense.

He looks so different. His hair is shorter, and he’s filled out, thickened in a way that makes your throat constrict for all you’ve missed. He’s as beautiful as ever. Alluring and changed, but still just him. Familiar and breathtaking. Perfect and right. Yours. But yours no longer.

Strangely, it’s what he’s wearing that makes you weakest and a little unsteady. He’s dressed in tattered sweats and a beaten up t-shirt. Thrashed vans that were stark white in another life, and damp hair, clearly brushed in a hurry. You love this so much more than if he’d strutted back into your life dressed to the nines. You’d hate to think he’d forgotten you enough to think that sort of thing might impress you.

“Are you gonna invite me in or should I just stand out here in the hallway all night watching you?”

A laugh, breathy and dumbfounded, huffs out of you. You remember the first time he’d said those words to you, and surely he does too. Was that a calculated effort on his part? To remind you of where you’ve been together? Of who you were together?

It’s an awful, self-destructive idea, inviting him in, and you know it is, you do. But when he steps into the room, you can smell him and the fist that has been cruelly clenched around your heart for countless days and nights, relaxes and finally, finally, you can breathe.

The door closes with a click and he’s suddenly so close you could taste his breath if you closed your eyes and allowed yourself to sink into it.

“Hi, pretty girl,” He hushes, and you wish his mouth was pressed against your ear so you could secret that quiet greeting away and live on it for the rest of your days.

All that white-hot closeness morphs into a hug. He’s hiding behind the platonic gesture, and so are you, but he can feel it, the way your body tenses and then melts against his own.

He feels as if he might disintegrate into a puddle of blackened anguish if he ever has to let you go, forever staining the horrendous hotel flooring where you once stood like an ethereal phantom sent to mend his heart. But a hideous reminder of where you once existed in this room with him for a few precious moments.

His hands have touched too many bodies to count since he last held you, but he has felt nothing until this moment.

No, he loathes the thought of letting you go, but he pulls back anyway, readying to let you lead this interaction. Alas, his palms find your cheeks all on their own, cupping the beautiful face he’s bartered with the devil for, that he’s prayed to god for, that he’s raged and begged for.

“My girl,” he wonders, like you can’t possibly be real. “My fucking girl.”

Your hands are molded over his, how did that happen? And then he’s releasing your face in order to lace your fingers together…he longs to touch you everywhere, but that isn’t okay any longer, is it? So he’s desperate for a way to latch onto you innocently.

He feels it then, and holds fast when you try to pull your hand away. Gaze - gorgeous honey swirling with caramel and horror - locked in on yours, he turns your hand to inspect the ring perched there like a weapon sent to destroy him.

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[befuddled-calico-whump]

Augusnippets Day 29: Singing

cw: aftermath of/referenced torture and captivity

previous

for the @augusnippets challenge // word count: 665

=~=~=

Benji hummed quietly from the spare bed, an open paperback on his knee, words neglected and unread. It felt weird to watch Sahota sleep, but he couldn't take his eyes away. Every little shift, every change in breathing spiked his nerves. He was healing now, filling in, looking almost healthy, but he still wore the remnants of his weeks in the cell.

They'd almost been too late. Benji couldn't shake that. He'd still been recovering when Joy and Jer finally found Sahota, bedbound for almost a week after his own horrible ordeal, but it all felt so small when they'd carried him in.

He'd been almost skeletal, bruised up and unconscious, his torso wrapped in a hasty bandage that was oozing blood from everywhere. Benji didn't need to be in the medbay anymore by the time they got to him, but he'd moved back in anyway. Couldn't leave him alone for a second, couldn't let him wake up to being alone, because that had sure fucked him up the first few nights, and—

Sahota coughed in his sleep, and a zap went through Benji's nerves at the sound. His eyes went to the man's face, scanning for anything wrong, seeing nothing but an expression that looked almost peaceful.

Okay. Good.

He continued humming, a little louder now in an effort to calm his nerves. 

The summers die, one by one. How soon they fly…

Yeesh. Maybe a little on the nose.

Good morning Baaaltimore, every day's like an ooopen door—

“Y’singing?”

Benji nearly jumped out of his skin. He hadn't realized Sahota was awake. Had he woken with the cough? Or before it? Had Benji woken him up?

“Uh. Humming,” he answered. “So kind of?”

“Mm.”

Neither of them said anything for a moment, and Benji found himself holding way too still. He was a little irritated that he couldn't tell if it was residual jitters from his stint in the cell or just regular awkwardness.

Sahota was the one to break the silence.

“You don't have to stop.”

“Yeah?” It was all he could think to say in the moment.

“Better than silence.”

Yeah. He got that much. Humming and singing under his breath had been the only way he could comfort himself, especially once they started leaving the bag on. His captors didn't like it, but it was the one thing he kept coming back to, even after they'd hit him for it a few times. Silence was a killer.

“Any requests?” he said lightly. 

“Anything you want,” Sahota responded, shifting against his pillows. 

“Hope you like showtunes.”

The other man let out a quiet chuckle, and Benji smiled at the sound. “Sure. You know the Flintstones theme?”

He had to keep himself from busting out laughing. The man was bedbound, he had to cut him some slack here. “That's not what I mean by showtunes,” he said. “I'm thinking more along the lines of Broadway musicals.”

Sahota's eyebrows went up slightly, though his eyes remained closed. “I liked The Lion King. Does that count?”

“The musical?”

“No, the cartoon. Is there a musical?”

This time, Benji did laugh. “Oh, you have a lot to learn.”

“Are you planning on teaching me?”

“I can go on for hours if that's what you want.”

“Beats listening to my own heartbeat.”

“Then don't say I didn't warn you.” Fuck, he wanted to launch into something fun, perform a one-man Wicked, find a way to bring the life back into Sahota---and introduce a hardcore spy man to Broadway, to boot.

But they were both exhausted, and killing silence didn't mean getting loud, not right away.

“Let me take you back to the musical that started it all,” he said. “For me, at least.”

“Yeah?”

“Promise not to laugh.”

A chuckle. “Cross my heart.”

Benji took a breath. It had been ages since he'd sang for an audience, even an audience of one. But right now, this felt like something they both needed.

“Memory, turn your face to the moonlight. Let your memory lead you, open up, enter in…”

[lastweeksshirttonight]

All righty, I managed to get back home despite the hurricane, let's talk about the show.

Tl;dr - I traveled cross-country to see John Oliver and Seth Meyers. It was amazing and I am still giddy about it!! Gonna put all the details under a cut to not clog up your timeline/the tags.

(All jokes will be paraphrased/guestimated bc my adrenaline and ADHD played havoc with my memory recall, lol.)

Firstly, the Beacon Theatre is absolutely stunning. It reminds me a bit of the Theatre at Ace Hotel in LA, in that it's clearly had its old elements lovingly preserved and harkens back to an older time. It was truly a gorgeous venue.

I missed getting a pic of the other side of the stage, which had a massive sculpture of shields and spears. John made a joke about the opulence of the room not matching the entertainment for the evening, and noted that "even Coco Chanel would say to keep it to one shield". Really wish I'd thought to get a picture of it, he was not wrong.

I was extremely close to the stage - 3 rows back and dead center. I definitely had the anxious excited adrenaline jitters because of it.

I mean COME ON.

The opener was Brooks Wheelan, who I remembered from his brief stint at SNL. He talked a fair deal about that, and told a great story bit about getting fired from there and opening for John shortly after, wherein he drank an entire bottle of "HBO blood diamond whiskey" from John's dressing room and had, in Seth's later words, "a nervous breakdown". I'd heard Brooks has opened for John before and was glad I got to see him, he's a lot of fun.

He also told a joke about not wanting to learn karate because of the huge glass windows in front of every karate studio and not wanting anyone to watch him learn karate. Lots of very understanding laughter there, including from me. (Why do all these places have massive plate glass windows?!)

After Brooks was John Oliver, and y'all. Let me get this out of the way.

He is fine as hell. Look. Just LOOK. HOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO DEAL WITH THIS

I would also like to take the time to gush effusively about John's mastery of set structure. The set was, aside from the typical "before we get started, I need to let you know I'm British" pseudo-opener he's used since like 2005, entirely new material -

(As an aside... !!!!!! I KNOW!!!! A FULL FUCKING HOUR OF ENTIRELY NEW MATERIAL!! THAT I WAS NEAR THE FRONT FOR!!!! I'M SO VERKLEMPT STILL YOU HAVE NO IDEA)

- and it was just beautifully written from a structural standpoint. It was pretty much all political material all centered around history and the need to understand it for context on the world as it currently stands. There were some digressions from that point but they were seamlessly woven in. He is such a goodamn incredible stand-up comedian.

A few things he talked about in his set:

That time the US dropped nukes on itself twice (which was briefly mentioned on LWT but not in this detail and not including a reenactment of a man dropping a bomb while working on a plane and him reacting to watching it roll away).

That the current British royal line of succession exists because of a "cousin-fucker who cut someone into pieces like a Benihana chef". (John told us this is something he learned researching this bit, which caused me unending joy. I love that he's making new sets!! :D)

John delights in the misery of billionaires and wished that the rocket Jeff Bezos was on would blow up. He doesn't want him to die, though. Through this he also talked about Elon Musk and his favorite fake blue check company tweets, mainly a series made by a fake Chiquita account claiming to have overthrown Brazil, followed by Chiquita saying they hadn't actually overthrown any governments since 1954.

John got booed at a Sesame Street benefit and told a killer set of jokes about Bert judging him for it. ("The man lives with Ernie! He knows chaos!")

He claims we will all know things are okay with the US again when we are all irrationally mad at Anne Hathaway for no reason again. Told an incredible story about how he just blundered into the street in LA once, almost got hit by a car, looked up, realized it was Anne Hathaway in the car, saw her wave at him, and, despite the scenario being objectively his fault, being somehow mad at her.

Shaded Dave Chappelle in an analogy about how we are not at Civil War division times because "somehow our level of division is people debating whether Chapelle's SNL monologue was okay or not", in a way that suggested it was very much not okay. 10/10 no notes.

Okay so there was one recycled bit - him being informed the Queen wanted to give him an OBE. He added to it fantastically though, by personifying the man from the embassy as the most offensively British stereotype you could possibly imagine. He said the man sounded like "if a British person rubbed a teapot and a genie came out".

There was definitely more but I could gush forever so let's move on.

Brooks came back out to introduce Seth and forgot the name of his show, lol. For a brief moment we all contemplated what Last Week Tonight with Seth Meyers would look like. (I assume the show's Adam Driver would be Stefon.)

Anyways, here is the only good photo I took of Seth.

Seth was great as well - not as good as John, but I'm very biased in that regard. The material was also pretty diametrically opposed to John's, much more domestic comedy about his wife and kids and their idiosyncracies.

I really liked Seth's energy and approach. I don't quite know how to explain this, but he had a touch of Dennis Reynolds energy to him, a restrained manicness, that was really interesting to watch. That's not my normal association with Seth's energy, either, but it was very fun. Definitely puts some of the more deranged things from his tenure as Weekend Update host in context.

Some highlights from Seth's set:

He had an amazing brick joke about doing accents as a comedian, where he imitated a Swedish accent and talked about how everyone's Swedish accent is basically the Swedish Chef from the Muppets and how the only Swedish food anyone has nearby is the meatballs at IKEA. Funny on its own, but later in the show, Seth talked about how people assume he's fully Jewish, including people on the street. He noted that he's 25% Swedish but no one comes up to him on the street and goes -insert Swedish Chef impression-. (This straight up killed the guy sitting next to me, who ended up laughing with his head in his hands for a solid 30 seconds.)

His kids eat very healthily, so when they end up going to friends' houses and eat one Skittle, they turn into demons. Literal demons. Seth's impression of an actual demon trying to undo a double-buckled car seat was the hardest I laughed at his whole set.

Seth also had a section which he claimed would be the part where he'd tell anti-trans jokes "if he was a complete asshole". I enjoyed the trans affirmation the whole evening, ngl.

Seth's family and his wife's family have very different ways of conversing at the dinner table, which directly mirrors my and my partner's family - Seth's family (like Mr. Lee's) is big on listening to everyone and contributing to conversations only when someone else has talked; Alexi's family (like mine) is constantly screaming over each other.

After Seth's set, everyone (including Brooks) came out to do a Q&A. I could not think of a song in the moment, but realized at the hotel room an hour after that I should have made @chiijohn 's evening by asking John's opinion on Planet of the Bass. :facepalm: Sorry mate!

Still, some great questions were asked, and it was about 30 minutes of just audience interaction. I've never experienced anything like it at a stand-up gig and genuinely loved it. John, of course, told people they were free to leave before the Q&A because why would they want to stay; the man is incapable of thinking anything good about himself and much as I hate his bad self-esteem, I would have been concerned if he hadn't said something to that effect.

Brooks was asked almost immediately if he remembered the name of Seth's show, which was honestly hilarious. Brooks said "I conferred with John backstage and we're both pretty sure that it's Late Night with Seth Meyers".

Someone asked how fearful Seth and John were of their shows being cancelled after one year, and Brooks snarked that he knew that feeling. (Brooks seems to have a good sense of humour about not being a huge presence on SNL.) Seth said that he wasn't super worried but that they redid his entire set (background set, not stand-up set) because Alec Baldwin said it looked like "a sushi restaurant in Burbank". (theoniontheworstpersonyouknow.jpg) John said he was told most HBO shows don't get cancelled at one season and he said "we'll see about that".

There was definitely some extended riffing on Alec Baldwin being a piece of shit afterwards, while John giggled helplessly. I love John's giggling.

Seth and John's favorite Muppet is Cookie Monster. They talked about how interesting it is that you can have amazing chemistry with Muppets, and then meet the puppeteer and have literally nothing to talk about. Seth also talked about how low-tech Big Bird was, and how the late Carroll Spinney, when on SNL, held a script in one hand, the controls of Big Bird in the other, and a flashlight in his mouth to read the script.

Everyone is upset they didn't get to cover the indictments because of the Writer's Strike. John thought there were only 3, but I honestly don't know if one of them came down before the Writer's Strike and he was just referring to the ones since then. It's been a long few months for us all.

Brooks basically forces John and Seth to get out of their hotel rooms when touring. Otherwise, Seth said, "they both just sit there anxious". That tracks, especially for John, who literally said on Seth's podcast that he is physically incapable of relaxing.

When asked about their influences, John said (rather obviously) that he wouldn't have a career without Jon Stewart, and Brooks talked about how both Seth and John really uplifted him and cared for him after he got fired from SNL. Seth talked in a really lovely way about how Amy Poehler basically adopted him and got him out of his shell and was a real friend to him early on.

I really wish I'd written down every stand-up that the three of them recommended when prompted, because I've completely blanked on half of them. Seth said Joe Pera (who I also highly recommend); John recommended Maria Bamford (again, also highly recommend). He also said that most people in the room would have probably not heard of him but that the best in the UK was Daniel Kitson (paging @tellthemeerkatsitsfine to provide her recs bc she knows Kitson backwards and fronts). Brooks gave a shout to Kyle Kinane (who I am not as familiar with as I should be).

There was so much more, but honestly, I was just so in the moment that I feel like I remember things in waves. It was an amazing evening and I was honestly so blessed to be there at all.

I did not wait at the stage door or anything, because I am truly not that kind of person and have consistently been sure that if I ever met John, I'd barf on his shoes. I know on Instagram some people had gotten stage door photos, though, and I'm happy for them!

Thank you all for always being supportive of this dumb blog. I don't think I would have had the confidence to go on this cross-country journey without you all randomly egging me on all the time. It was one of the best nights of my life. 💖💖

[tracksidequeen]

Fading Smiles to Burning Love

Summary: Toto, the eye capturing unapproachable guy. You, a girl too busy to even think you could ever cross someone else's mind. What connects you? One dream, one passion; one offer changing your life. The truth has a way of unraveling in ways you could’ve never expected.

Pairing: YoungToto!RacingInstructor x Reader

Words: 3.2K

*****

“Marcus, hurry up we’re already late!” you shout without any affect. “Calm down, calm down. Jeez!” At his own pace he undoes his seatbelt, straightens his coat and opens the car-door. “Aren’t you forgetting something?” With one leg out of the car he looks back at you with a confused look on his face, and slowly slides back in.

“Thank you sis,” he mumbles awkwardly and he pats your leg.

“No, idiot! Your backpack!”

You turn in your seat to grab it from the backseat and mutter under your breath. “Here,” you shove it in his hands. “Now go, I’ll try to find a parking-space.”

Marcus hops out of the car and puts on his backpack which was filled with his racing gear, the size of it so out of proportion with his height. He turns around with a sour face, but nonetheless waves you goodbye as he enters the racetrack-facility. As much as you hate him, you love him double that amount; not that you’d ever tell him that.

With your parents working abroad half the time, you going to college and Marcus being taken care of by his au-pair, you try as much as you can to be there for him. To stand by his side with the things that make him happy. To cheer him on in his passions. To make him feel like he has somewhat of a family. Even if that means spending the weekends at the racetrack, while your friends are out partying. Yet you wouldn’t change it for the world.

‘Lechner Racing School, where the good become legendary’ reads the sign above the canteen-entrance as you enter it to grab yourself a drink before you dare to take on the summer heat - sitting outside in the burning sun on a boiling plastic seat is not one of your many joys in life. “Two bottles of Ice tea please, and a kilo of ice while you’re at it,” you joke at Lex whose been tending the bar since forever, and has seen many young talents come and go. “I’ll keep the ice coming!” he says as he grabs the bottles from the fridge. “No don’t bother, I’ll be outside watching him.” The wrinkles of the forty-something year old become prominent after your remark when his head pops up from behind the bar. “In that heat?! Dear, that’s not healthy!” You shrug your shoulder, “I know it makes him happy seeing me up there in the stands and I like seeing him in his element.”

“He’s is a rocket, that boy,” he says with an exuberant smile while turning around. “Here, at least wear this.” He places the team-cap on your head and hands you the drinks. “Have fun out there and just give me a call if you need more drinks, I’ll bring them up.” “Thanks, Lex!” He waves you off, “anything for our VIP’s.”

The sound of roaring engines in the background, the smell of tarmac and burning rubber in the scorching sun, the instructor shouting over the noise, it feels like home. One way or another. Up until now it is the one thing you and Marcus have truly bonded over. For hours on end you hear his stories, and you’d ask him questions, which would result in more stories. About how he overtook someone, how his instructor thought him a technique to break later than the rest, about how nasty someone was driving but he still had the upper-hand. They could never bore you, and the smile it put on his face was invaluable. A smile you remember you used to have, until life came crashing down.

There he is! All suited up he walks up to his go-kart and follows the lead of his instructor. He hops in, closes his visor, and you know it’s go-time. It’s practice, not even a race; it’s him not even you; yet you feel jitters in your stomach. Every time he goes on track there is pride and fear battling inside you. You know there’s risk involved, and some might call you crazy for supporting a 12 year old in motorsport - your parents at least have - but you vouched for it, standing behind Marcus’ passion. Yet anytime you see him enter the track you’re not so sure if you made the right call. But then he flies off into the distance and you know there’s a reason for everything.

“I don’t understand how those kids survive in that heat! Damn, I know I can’t.” Claudia, the mother of one of Marcus’ teammates, takes a seat next to you and offers you a drink. “No thanks, already got some.” “Smart. They really need it out there though. Poor kids” They’ve been driving around doing practice-starts for the past 15 minutes and in the meantime the wind has settled, leaving behind a humid, thick heat. Now imagine sitting in one of those karts with the fired-up engines. Claudia slaps her thighs with both hands, “this is not good, I’m going to-” “Look they’re being called back,” you interrupt her the moment she wants to stand up.

“EY, goddammit, watch it, you know the rules when entering the pit!” A thick Austrian accent echoes over the roaring engines as he nearly watches a collision before his eyes and your eyes capture the moment at the intesity of his scream. The karts stop and he immediately walks over the driver. “That was unnecessary and fucking dangerous, get up,” he says firmly while slightly grabbing the shoulder of the boy’s racing suit. The boy does as he’s said, he gets up in his sticky race suit and that’s when you notice it was Marcus being scolded. “Adamos, this is the last time it happens, okay? Everyone is slowing down and you’re just ramming through. For what?- Open you visor when I’m speaking to you!” Marcus does as he’s told and apologises politely without any word of resistance. “Good,” he turns to the rest. “Everyone go change, we’ll do some track-walks. And don’t forget your water!”

As the boys waddle off he checks his phone, and looks up at the stand where you were sitting with all the parents. With a bounce in his step he walks over to the stand, his long brown hair sticking to his forehead, and his once light grey shirt now completely soaked in sweat. Clumsy he climbs onto the metal bars and leans over it to be in speaking-range. “Toto, what’s the plan? I’m not spending my entire salary on them just playing around.” A charming smile appears on his face, “no worries mister Müller, I’m simply going to throw some things around, but still make it useful. Going to do some track-walks and explain race-line strategies.” “Okay then-” “So no money lost on me, sir!” “That’s how I like to hear it.”

He jumps off the metal bars to leave but before he does so he turns around, “Oh and Miss Adamos,” he says with a finger pointing at you, capturing your attention. “I’d like to have a word after the session is done, if you don’t mind?” His soft brown eyes were a stark contrast to the sharp features of his face, and the lingering eye contact felt like an eternity, until the moment you realised he asked you a question. “Yes-yes, no worries at all,” you stutter and you feel yourself melt away of embarrassment on the overheating blue seat.

The boys return with screeches of laughter as one of the guys made a stupid remark back in the changing room. “C’mon boys, allons-y!” Toto claps his hands together for them to put a higher pace in their walks, but with the high temperatures he’s not getting much out of them. From afar you see him shake his head and just decide to walk ahead of the pack until they catch up on track. Suddenly Marcus runs towards Toto and yanks at his arm making Toto lean down so he can hear him, and they start talking for a good minute until the rest catches up. He looks up at you from a distance, and simply nods his head ‘yes’ at you.

The parents that surround you have a gift of making every little thing seem so big. Everything they can find, they’ll nag and nitpick about. About the way their kids race, about the way they’re thought, about their jobs, about each others’ jobs. Can’t they just sit here is peace, watch their child, and realise they are providing them the gift of their dreams. They should be grateful, thankful, and proud of being able to put their kid in such a fortunate position. They remind them so much of your own parents, always complaining about everything, about your life decisions, about Marcus’ hobbies. And every time you say ‘but just watch him race, you’ll think totally different about it.’ Yet they never have. They continue to throw money at him though, probably to buy his love, yet they never seem to have even an ounce of care in their bodies.

They walked a full lap around the track, as you see the pack re-appear around the corner. Toto shirtless by now because of the heat, exposing his toned muscles under his glistening skin making him look like a sculpted Greek god. He’s pointing and waving his arms as he’s explaining something which the boys listen to attentively. With his shirt dangling in the back pocket of his shorts he tells the boys training is done, and to get a soda on the house, “you boys really deserve it after today! Now go - Go!”

The kids run inside to their parents, who gave up and went inside minutes after the track-walk started, making you the only one sitting outside without realising it. You were too lost in your thoughts.

“Catch!”

Your eyes jump up as you see a bottle flash before your eyes and hits  your shoulder. “Shit sorry, didn’t mean for that to happen!” A giant of a man walks up to you nonchalantly, blocking the sun with his naked torso. “What did you expect,” you laugh as you grab the bottle of water off the floor. He looks at you with a sarcastic face, “well, that you’d catch.”

Toto took a seat beside you, nearly burning his leg and his back on the hot plastic. “Well, now we know one thing for sure, the racing-gene was not passed on to you,” he jokes, but you just stare at him. “I mean, you have to have good reflexes- as a racing driver- and you didn’t- you know what, never mind.”

“First you throw a bottle at me, and then you call my reflexes insufficient, you must really hit it off good with the ladies.” He cheeks turn slightly red, and shakes his head with a laugh at your remark. “Trust me, I’m A-mazing with the ladies.” There’s a hint of sarcasm in his voice, but it can be mistaken for cockiness as a smug smile appears on his face and he winks at you.

“Oookay.. What’s up,” you say to quickly change the subject. “Is it about Marcus’ behaviour earlier, I can talk to him about that-” “No, no, it’s not that, actually the opposite.” He looks at you with a grin on his face, his brown eyes glint in the sun and you notice the razor burn on his clenching jaw. “Marcus is a great guy, and an even greater driver; I truly think he’ll make it far. And I want to do anything in my power to help him progress.” The cockiness and smug attitude he carried just moments ago was replaced with sincerity.

“What do you mean?”

He looks at you, with one eye closed squinting in the sun, “you wanna go inside? It’s getting a bit unbearable out here.”

You took his lead and followed him down the stairs. All the while you stare enchanted at the dancing muscles in his back with every movement he makes. His slightly slanted shoulders, wondering what happened to them. An accident? A fight? The droplets forming on his his back, making their way down, shimmering and shining on his tanned body. He looked nothing like the other 22 year olds you were surrounded by in college. There was something so strong and powerful, yet so caring and respectful about him. Maybe this is what your mother meant when she said you needed to find a true gentleman.

After putting his shirt back on Toto sat you down in the canteen and continued his conversation with in the background talking parents and the shouts and laughter from the boys. “Look, what I meant was that I think he has a lot of potential, and that we’re not getting everything out of him with only two trainings a week.” You look at him confused, “so, he needs more training?”

“Well- more training means a team promotion- and before you say anything, what you saw today, with the little incident, that’s all because he needs more of a challenge and he tries to find it in anything. Sometimes he just picks the wrong places. But I know he can-” “Okay, yea, I’m in... if that’s what he wants.” His eyes light up with delight, “amazing! The thing is though, I’ve only ever seen you here, and you know that for any promotions there need to be given consent from a guardian since he’s under-aged. Do you think your parents will give it?”

Of course your parents won’t give it, given how hard it was half a year ago when another instructor offered the same deal. More training, more money, more hours driving him to practice, more expensive gear, more danger and risk. You shake your head ‘no.’ “You have to understand the things he can accomplish-” “No, Toto, you don’t understand, our parents-”

*BOOO*

All the hairs in your neck stand up from the jump-scare and you fling you hand back to slap Marcus, but he’s too quick. “Stan told me to do it!!” he giggles as he runs back to his friends. “Asshole,” you mutter under your breath and you look back at Toto who’s chuckling under his breath. “Ugh guys and their weird sense of humor.” He laughs, “having a brother must be fun.” “Yea, so- much- fun,” you say with a petty smile.

“You were trying to say something about your parents before Marcus came.” He looks at you inquisitively. “Yes, no, no worries, I’ll talk to them, see if we can work something out.” You pushed that sentence out of your system with difficulty because you know how difficult it will be. Communicating this, getting this across to them. And as if Toto can read your mind, “you know, if you need help with anything- the strategy we have for him, school assistance, financial aid- I’m glad to help. I truly mean that.”

“You really care about him, don’t you?” A slight smile forms on his face, “yes, he’s a special one, I just want to see him succeed and not waste his potential.” It’s odd realising how good of a relationship Marcus and Toto have. The countless stories you heard about Toto teaching him this, Toto telling him off about that, Toto jokes this and that, an endless cycle; yet this is the first time you actually had a proper conversation with him. After practice or during the social events he always seems so to himself, with the capability of seeming isolated in a group of twenty people, yet carrying the charisma that people were honoured when he did speak to them.

“It just reminds me of my sister and I,” he says after a long silence which you filled up by drinking the glass of water Lex gave you. “What does?” you ask him. “You and Marcus.” He looks down at his hands on the table, which were fiddling with a sugar-package. “The way you show up for him, how you let him have the experiences in life that you never had. It can be difficult. I know that firsthand, and it feels unfair most times. But then you see the smile on their face when they succeed at what they love, because you were there helping them along the way. That smile makes it all worth it.”

He looks up at you after he finished talking, as if trying to hide the fact that he just opened up to you. But his eye contact felt so personal, as if he could read your mind and you look away time. “I just hope his smile never fades like mine did,” you say softly. “Come on now, I know yours didn’t fade,” he replies with a disagreeing tone. “You just started seeing the world for what it is, but trust me that smile will return.” A cheerful smile paints his face trying to not let the mood down, and somehow it works. “How are you so sure?” you ask him challenging, and he lifts his chin with pride. “My mom told me, smiles always come back.”

“Your mom told you?” you repeat. “Yea, and she Never lies,” he says factually, yet sounding like a 5 year old boy trying to prove a point. “Such a dork,” you laugh. He slaps the table and points his finger at you. “A-HA see there’s a smile! I knew it!”

“Toto likes a gi-irl, Toto likes a gi-irl!” The boys sing in unison interrupting your conversation and you see Lex secretly enjoying the public humiliation they are inflicting on you and Toto. “Okay, okay that’s enough guys, nothing to see here.” Toto stands up from the table and walks over to the guys joking with them that they secretly have a crush on you. “Yikes no! Absolutely not.” The moment Toto then accused them of having a girlfriend brought up a whole other shouting match with their denial. Marcus pulling at Toto’s arm as he was picking at him, saying how he’ll ask you about all Marcus’ secrets.

The way Marcus was laughing with ease made your heart warm, the innocence he carried with him, and the lust for life and curiosity. At some moments it felt like you were living through him.

“Come on, let’s go Marcus,” you say as you walk up to the group minutes later. “Nooo we’re all playing a game, I can’t leave now.” A sigh leaves your mouth, “Marcus c’mon, don’t start now please. I have to go, I also have a life.” “Fine, then go, but don’t ruin mine,” he shouts without a filter. Tears prickle in the back of your eyes out of frustration, because even though he doesn’t know the meaning of his words, and he probably doesn’t mean it, they do hurt. How could you be ruining his life when you gave up half of yours for him.

“Marcus please, just-” “if you want I can also drive him back later today, just tell me where and at what time,” Toto said hesitantly as to not overrule your authority in the situation. Even in the moment he was trying to help he was doing everything in his power to be considerate. “Yess, see Toto will drive me home!” Marcus says joyful. After some arguing back and forth you cave in and exchange numbers with Toto so he can contact you if anything happens.

“Okay, bye Marcus!” you wave him goodbye. “Yea, yea.” He runs off without acknowledging you. Toto looks at you with a soft smile and a tilted head, “bye, see you later.”

-------

I know it wasn’t filled with a lot of plot, but I’m just setting the scene and dabbling into the whole young Toto vibe. I hope you liked it nonetheless. Let me know if you want more <3 Feedback is always helpful, especially after having been away for such a long time (don’t come for me hahah)

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TagSquad: @ricciardosheart @wetforwolff @panic-on-the-disco @black-repunzel99 @totowlff @f1thirsttraps @totostanxxx @tony-stank3 @fxshernoizu @sunsetwolffs @smoothoperator55 @mysticalnightenthusiast @oliviahoneymoon @purplewis44 @vroom-vroom-bitch @dr3-fangirl @the-lazy-leprechaun @nomnomnibblenibble @laura-naruto-fan1998​ @lilozg-123​ @lewisdidthat​ @thicc-matthews34​ @orchestratedemotion​ @intotowetrust​ @totonator555​ @pandasansoni93​ @totosbitch​ @totoscharm​ @formationlapsz​ @fede18​ @fuckyeahhangman​ @oneafterdark​ @misswolff​ @wetforwolff​ @eclairfromleclerc​  

[miyuwuki]

Hi!! I'm not the one who requested "prioritizing happiness" but I really loved it! Can I request part 2, time skip where they meet again and go back together because they couldn't stop loving each other🥺. Also, thank you so much, I'm in love with your account♥️♥️

omg!! i would love to write a part 2 for prioritizing happiness! :)

part one can be found here

warnings: slight angst

miyuki kazuya x reader

prioritizing happiness (pt. 2)

it’s been years since then.

it’s been years since you left that door, forever leaving the man you once called the love of your life, behind. yet it was the only thing that remained on the back of your mind every single day; you’ve graduated college, got an amazing job, yet when you’re reminded of the events that took place, your feelings came crashing back on you all over again. you’ve had your fair shares of relationships throughout the years, and even an engagement, but you couldn’t devote yourself to anyone when you were still thinking about miyuki.

and you won’t lie, you self indulge by watching the mlb just to see the pretty boy take his place as the best catcher. no matter what happened in the past, he was coolest when he was on the field, and those burning eyes is one of the things you loved most about him. which is why one of your coworkers offered you a ticket to the game this weekend— everyone knew how you kept up with the mlb (more than anyone ever did in your workplace) and you were in no position to deny.

“y/n! do you want this extra ticket to the game this weekend? i don’t really keep up with baseball, and i’m not sure who else i should give it to.” as much as you wanted to refuse out of embarrassment, you were quite intrigued into watching a game in person— not to say, but it also gave you an opportunity to see him again. it’s not like he’d notice you amongst the crowd of a thousand people, so watching it from afar wouldn’t hurt, right?

“i mean sure, if no one else wanted it.” your coworker handed the ticket to you, your eyes lightly shining at the piece of paper in your hands. your heart was beating so fast, too excited before the game even started. “thank you so much for this,” you said, bowing to them.

your coworker chuckled, “glad it didn’t go to waste! enjoy your time.”

soon enough, the weekend came by and you were standing in front of the entrance of koshien stadium where the game was being held. you were nervous, and you didn’t get as much sleep the night before due to the jitters. and out of paranoia of bumping into miyuki, you wore a cap, sunglasses, and a mask as a disguise. you facepalmed at yourself in your head, maybe i shouldn’t have came..

but it was too late for that as you were already ambling your way up the bleachers, taking a seat around the middle area. you had a couple snacks packed and a huge bottle of water as it was pretty hot today. left and right were hundreds of people, and you even saw a group of high schoolers with miyuki’s face on their shirts. you chuckled and turned to the centre where you saw the players go to their proper dugouts, and without even knowing, you were trying to look for a certain someone.

and there he was, putting on his gear and chatting with his teammates. he’s gotten a little more mature, his features a bit more prominent and his undercut shaved. you could hear the drums of your heart through your ears as you saw miyuki walk onto the field. all the people starting cheering on his appearance, and you couldn’t help but smile too under your mask. the announcer went in between the two teams and yelled, “bow! let the game begin!”

the day went by and soon the bright blue skies were replaced by the oranges of the sunset. the game was so close and so intense that you had to get up a couple times, but nevertheless miyuki’s team won. 

you stayed behind, watching the people leave the stadium. you felt so nostalgic, reminiscing about the times you would watch miyuki’s games back in high school. you inhaled the air of the empty stadium, taking off your hat, sunglasses, and mask. the breeze was slightly chilly, but it felt nice as it went through the roots of your hair. you closed your eyes, focusing onto that sentiment of the old days. “ah, to go back..” you said into the winds, letting the weather relax your whole being.

“y/n, is that you?”

what..?

that familiar voice. that familiar feeling. that familiar everything; it all came rushing back by the second of that moment. your heartbeat was getting loud again, and your head felt hazy, not knowing what to do. you opened your eyes towards the sound that called your name, and there he was, standing right in front of you. 

“kazuya?”

“y/n, what are you doing here?” miyuki asked, dropping his bags below him. he couldn’t believe it either— couldn’t believe that you were here again right in front of him. if you thought you couldn’t get rid of the thought of the things that happened, then you should take a look at him, because he thought about you every second of the day; during his practices, during his games— not a minute passed by when he wasn’t thinking of you.

your breath got caught in your throat, fearing that this would’ve happened; maybe not this exact situation, but bumping into him. “hey kazuya,�� you croaked, a lump forming in the core of your throat.

“you came to watch the game?” he quietly questioned, taking a seat next to you. he ran his fingers through his hair and took a deep breath. 

“uh, yeah. my coworker had an extra ticket and i figured why not..” you replied, feeling awkward. you fidgeted in your seat, a clear indication that you weren’t sure what to do from here. did you even want to talk to miyuki? what were you even supposed to say?

“what are you doing here, kazuya?” you asked, “shouldn’t you be heading home?”

he replied, “i usually like sitting in the empty stadium after each game. it brings me back to the old days.”

and there it was again, that awkward silence that acted as a barrier between the two of you. your head started to hurt, and you started to think about all the memories you had with him. shit.

“y/n-”

“you played well, kazuya,” you said, interrupting him. you got up and packed your things, wanting to leave before you started to yearn for more than you should. if you didn’t get out, who knows what could happen? “i need to get going. good job today, kazuya. take care.” but before you could even get past him, he grabbed your arm and turned you around, his grip tightening on your wrist.

“kazuya! what are you doing—”

and with that, he roughly places his lips on yours, causing your knees to be weak and tremble with anxiety. he wrapped his arm around your waist, giving you support so you wouldn’t fall, and kissed even deeper into your own pair. shocked, you push him off, wiping the wetness of his lips with your hand.

“what was that for, idiot?!” you exclaimed, panting. the shadow of miyuki’s hair casted over his eyes, “i still love you, y/n.” he whispered, not looking up at you. but it was barely even audible, so you replied with a, “what? what did you say?”

then, miyuki looked up at you, his brown orbs burning with sensation. the same pairs that you loved so deeply. it caught you off guard, but you held your stance, waiting to repeat what he said.

“i still love you, y/n, and i never stopped. not after that day, not after we graduated— i’m so fucking in love with you still and i don’t know how to stop.” 

your eyes widened, not registering what he just said. he still loves me? “cut the crap, kazuya..”

“y/n, i was a stupid high schooler who didn’t know any better,” miyuki continued, “but gosh, i never thought i’d see the day where i’d run into you again.”

beads of tears started to form in the corner of your eyes, mixed with emotions that you didn’t understand yourself. were you happy? angry? irritated? well, whatever it was, you couldn’t hold it in, and you could only move forward with it.

“kazuya..” you mumbled, “kazuya i—”

“you don’t have to answer, but i never stopped loving you y/n, and this just confirms it even more. you standing here right in front of me just makes me not want to let go.”

sigh, what’s there to lose anymore? you’re all he’s got, and the same went for you.

as the water began to run down your cheeks, you hugged him, burying your face into his shoulder. “i never stopped loving you either, kazuya. i never stopped thinking about you.”

miyuki’s heart pumped, looking at your figure perfectly fitted into his. he felt his shirt getting wet from your tears and felt the slight shivers you were giving off. he slowly wrapped his arms around you, getting a good embrace on your body. “y/n.. i’m so sorry for what happened before. i am so so sorry.” you nodded instead of speaking, too afraid to sound like an idiot when you were crying so hard. you hugged him tighter, a sign to tell him that it was okay, and that all that mattered was that he was there.

on the field he was the pretty boy catcher, miyuki kazuya, but on the outside he was now yours again; i mean, he always was yours.

“i’ll never let you go again, y/n. i promise. let’s talk about this at my place.”

EPILOGUE

“kazuya, i’m home!” you yelled, entering the threshold of your shared home with the love of your life. kazuya peeked out of the kitchen, wearing an apron and holding your little boy koya.

“dinner’s almost ready.” kazuya said, putting koya down. “this little guy’s been helping me in the kitchen.” your son ran up to you, going straight into your arms where he snuggled into your chest. you picked him up and swung him around, making his glasses fall just on the tip of his nose. you giggled and placed a kiss on his soft cheek, “koya’s been helping dad to cook? how sweet.” you teased, putting on his glasses properly. “pretty boy koya.”

a sudden wave of joy washed over you, content of the peak of your life. having a beautiful family, having an amazing job, all while spending it with the person you loved most. love hurts, and it uses a lot of our tears and brings out the worst; yet it is so beautiful, and in the end if it was meant to be, it will be.

“i love you, kazuya.”

“mm, i love you too.”

I HOPE YOU LIKED THIS SEQUEL, ANON! i was planning to keep prioritizing happiness just as one part, but i got carried away with this. i enjoyed writing this, thank you :)

also update: finished the daiya anime! i am empty.

[aitarose]

THE THEORY OF US (H. IWAIZUMI) pairing: iwaizumi hajime x fem!reader

synopsis: crushes are always inevitably revealed, whether through confessions or actions—however, you never thought you’d finally get the chance to make iwaizumi hajime yours during one of your many study sessions in the empty mathematics classroom.

word count: 1.3k

genre: high school, mutual pining, fluff, based on me hating my math class and not wanting to take my test, unedited

warnings: suggestive content, making out?

notes: hey sexcs, i wrote all of this during that speed write and this is completely not proof read at all bc im tired and want to fall asleep—but here’s what i have lmao

↳ DIRECTORY

There was a way in the posture of his stance, how he stood over the desk, hand supporting his body while staring down at your paper—deep veins protruding out of his skin, his muscles stiff as his concentration stayed on you and only you. It was like he was an addiction, something that you knew you couldn't have but just so wanted to taste—have a small bite of what was Iwaizumi Hajime, and never let go.

However, as the two of you were alone in the empty classroom, going over the questions that you had gotten incorrect on your last quiz, trying to find solutions that apparently he could solve—as the highest-ranking member of the class—all your mind could pay attention to was the feeling of his breath on the back of your neck. How it made shivers run up the back of your spine, heartbeat racing as a need inside of you grew into something worthwhile. Something that you just couldn't ignore.

"Iwa." You sighed, closing the textbook and placing your hand over his—the dainty fingers touching the calloused palms, noticing how rough and patched they were, wishing that you could hold them all of the time—walk through the hallways as his girl, as the person that was his and only his. "We've been at this for an hour now—if we're ever going to make any progress, it won't be today. My brain is practically fried."

He sighed, bringing his arm up and running a hand through the mess of hair on the top of his head. Brown locks falling just above his eyebrows as his eyes narrowed on you—determination at the tip of his tongue. "No," he shook his head, believing that he was capable of getting you that perfect score, that one-hundred percent in the class. "I can help, Y/N. Just trust me, okay? If anyone's going to help, it's going to be me."

With his words, you nodded—having been in somewhat of a trance in the deepness of his gaze, blood rushing hot whilst he wrapped an arm around your shoulder, squeezing you quickly and reopening the notes. You bit your lip, having him so close—a mere ruler length away from your body was torture, it was completely threatening to every sense of rationality in your brain.

He was your tutor, that person that was trusted to keep your grades up—to make sure that you succeeded in class and didn't lose your perfect GPA—but he was also Iwaizumi. He was that boy who'd hold the door open for students in the halls even if he was running late for class. The type of guy to always remember your birthday when you're only acquaintances and get you a small little gift for the special occasion.

If there was any perfect guy in the world, any boy that neared your perfect match—it was him.

So, knowing that you might never get the opportunity again, that you may never be as close as you are now—as close as two platonic friends could be—you took his palm in yours and asked him the simplest question that any girl could say to the guy of her dreams. "Can I kiss you?" A little stutter spoke in your voice, nerves wracking your mind and fear in your eyes as he froze mid-sentence, trailing off on the probability theory that you'd been working on.

There was a bit of hesitation in his stature, a weary nature that you hadn't quite seen before—it was frightening, the unexpected, whatever could come as a result from that one question. From that one single chance that you'd decided to take. "What did you just say?" He looked up, eyes on yours, hand still beneath the softness of your skin as you gulped. Before you could even respond, Iwaizumi took matters into his own hands—grabbing your cheeks and surging forwards, pressing his lips to your own.

It felt like ecstasy, him kissing you. If heaven was real in any way, this would be what it'd feel like to live there. To feel the wonders of pure paradise all of the time, twenty-four-seven in absolute bliss—no worries in the air, just utter happiness, and sensuality. He was your match, the person that you'd always wanted, and now you finally had him—you finally had him above you, tilting your head up with his pointer beneath your chin as his mouth moved with yours.

"Iwa." You attempted to say between kisses, breaths heavy and harsh, heart pounding out of your chest as he pulled away—eyes wide and lust-filled. "Iwa are you sure about this? I don't want you doing anything you're uncomfortable with." You folded your hands in your lap, watching as he sat back into the desk beside yours, falling into the chair as he once again ran his fingers through his tangled hair.

After a moment of silence, a smile overtook his face—a bright and wonderful beam of joy directed towards you—directed towards you and only you. "C'mere." He patted his knee, gesturing for you to come closer, to join him in the small and cramped space—to which you obliged. After all, what were you going to do? Ignore him? This was Iwaizumi Hajime we were talking about, Seijoh's esteemed ace. In no world would you ever ignore his wants and needs.

Immediately, his grip found your waist. Holding it with force as he settled you into his lap—connecting your lips once more as a gasp escaped your throat, surprised by the aggression that he was showing, surprised by how much he seemed to want you. As you carried on, heated and heavy with lust and attraction, infatuation in the middle of your high school mathematics classroom—his lips began to trail down.

It was everything you ever wanted, him peppering showers of love off of your jaw and neck—softly sucking and nipping, leaving small bruises on the pinkness of your skin—marks that you'd have a hell of a time figuring out how to cover up after all this was over. "Oh my god." You moaned out, arms holding his head to your body, making sure that he wasn't going to let go anytime soon. "Keep going. Keep going, Iwa."

He paused, disobeying your demands and taking a quick glance up at your face. You were the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen, how you closed your eyes at his touch, mouth gaped open and gasping for air—it was a sight that he never wanted to get tired of, a sight that he'd been wanting to see for months now as you sat beside him in class. "Call me Hajime." He nodded, referencing the former title that you'd known him by. "You can call me Hajime, Y/N."

A light flush rose to your cheeks at the sound of your promotion, knowing that this meant that this wasn't going to be a one-time thing—that this could potentially be the start of a relationship, a long and lasting relationship between the two of you that could one day result in love. Love that you'd dreamed of since setting eyes on the brunette boy. "Then keep going, Hajime." Your eyes narrowed, challenging him to continue, challenging him to satisfy the needs you both were striving to complete.

With your wishes granted he cupped your face, hands covering the skin of your red blossoms and molding his mouth over yours for the third time that afternoon—biting the bottom of your lip and moving his tongue with your own. He was an exceptional kisser, that was for certain. There was no one in your past that even came close to how fantastic he'd already begun to make you feel—no past relationship that held a candle to the butterflies that grew in your stomach when he was around.

The butterflies that were the first of many, the first of millions on millions of jitters and nerves that would always arise with him. A relationship that was one of the books—all beginning in this small math classroom, with one question and one kiss that led to an infinite amount to follow. Your future was Hajime, and his future was you.

© aitarose.tumblr 2021. do not copy or claim my writing, works, themes, copy and paste my words, or headers as your own

[keyboardink]

“oblivious” [part two]

[ part one / part two ]

kairi has a crush on her best friend, but she doesn’t seem to notice.

pairing: kairi “valkyrie” imahara x reader / media: apex legends

genre: angst & fluff (this part is more fluff!) / word count: 1.6k / rating: pg / warnings: none :)

a/n: once again, this was requested by @multifandombtchedits ! this is the fluff you’ve all been waiting for!! if you like this, check out more of my writing here!

> Y/N : hey are we still on for movie night?

> Y/N : unless youre still on that date lol

You decided the "lol" would hide whatever terrible feeling was brewing in your lungs. You didn't know how to pinpoint it. Was it hurt? Anger? Jealousy? Why would you even be jealous? It's not like you didn't get this exact same feeling whenever she was talking about her latest hookup, right?

You were back at your place, laying on your bed, trying to pay attention to a random TV show in order to distract yourself from thinking about Kairi. It was a few hours after she had walked out on you at lunch. You'd been wallowing in nervous jitters since then, but she was the only person you wanted to talk to about the thoughts bouncing around in your head. You were worried about what had gone down at lunch, so when you did finally text her, you tried to avoid any touchy subjects. You waited for what felt like hours before your phone buzzed.

> KAIRI : yeah we're on. my place instead tho?

You let out an exhale, thankful that she didn't seem to be upset anymore. You and her had weekly movie nights, another tradition just like your lunch break meet-ups. You alternated hosting every week, and this week would've been your turn. Guess a bunch of stuff didn't follow the ordinary schedule today.

> Y/N : i'll bring the popcorn 😊

You rolled off your bed and walked to your closet, searching for an outfit. You knew you could show up in sweats and have it not matter to her, but the tension in your chest urged you to look at least a smidge more presentable than usual.

Half an hour later, you knocked on the door of her apartment, wearing a comfy t-shirt and tight leggings that she always complimented you on. Casual so you didn't look like you were trying too hard, but nice enough that you didn't look like you had a dumpster in place of a closet.

She opened the door, smiling at the sight of you. There was a hint of hesitancy in the way her lips turned up, like she was still thinking about lunch, but you decided it was your mind playing tricks on you. She was dressed in a similar casual-but-cute outfit: black joggers and a graphic tee that she had turned into a crop top with scissors. You saw a sliver of her stomach that made your knees weak.

She moved out of the way to let you in, and you entered like it was your own home. She had already set up the cushions on the couch for your usual set-up, complete with a 2-liter soda bottle on the coffee table and the lights dimmed. Before she followed you to the couch, she grabbed a large bowl from the kitchen counter for the popcorn you brought.

You plopped on the couch, ripping open the bag almost immediately. She held the bowl out to you, and you proceeded to pour the popcorn into it. She kept it between the two of you on the couch as she reached over to press play on the remote. Neither of you spoke, mainly because the only thing on both of your minds was what you started discussing at lunch. You just sat together, her on your left side, keeping distance as you watched the movie in silence.

You both would laugh at the jokes when they were delivered, but you couldn't bring yourself to fully focus on the movie. Your mind was in another place, your leg shaking at the same pace as your racing thoughts.

"Alright," she spoke suddenly, turning the volume down. "What's up?"

"What do you mean?"

She picked up the bowl and placed it on the coffee table. She rested her elbow on the back of the couch, twisting her body to face you. "Your leg has been making the popcorn sound like maracas since you got here. I know you. Something's on your mind, so what is it?"

I know you. The statement gave you butterflies.

"It's nothing," you said. Your cheeks flushed, embarrassed that she had taken note of your nervous habit and yet touched by the way she had picked up on the small details. You second-guessed your lie. You didn't want to have her walk out on you again, but you had to say what was on your mind. Plus, it was her apartment - she couldn't walk out, right? Just go for it. "How was your date?"

"My date?"

"Yeah, the one you left our lunch for?"

She raised her eyebrows and nodded, as if she was just remembering it. "Oh... it didn't happen."

Your brow furrowed and the corners of your mouth turned down. "Did she stand you up?"

"No, uh..." She played with her hair at the back of her neck, staring at the floor. "It just didn't."

"Oh. Well, I'm sorry," you replied, unsure of what to say.

She shrugged. "How was your date?"

"I didn't have one?"

"Sure, didn't that coworker who asked for your number also ask you out while she was at it?"

"What are you talking about? You know if anything like that had happened, I would've told you. We're best friends, Kairi."

She pursed her lips, silent. She understood the hidden jab underneath your statement, realizing that her lie must've hurt you a bit more than she thought it would.

"I didn't have a date," she confessed, finally meeting your eyes.

"What?"

She wiped her palms on the couch. "I made it up. I just got... jealous, I guess."

"Jealous?" You almost laughed. She never struck you as the jealous type. She was cool, calm, collected Kairi. Always had been.

"Yeah," she muttered, her cheeks starting to flush.

"Why would you be jealous? You go out with other girls all the time."

"I used to. Not anymore."

You look at her, your confusion written all over your face. You stayed quiet, waiting for her to elaborate.

"Months ago, yeah, I did," she continued. "But then... then I couldn't stop thinking about you. I kept wishing it was you instead of some random girl, and I knew that wasn't fair to them or me, so I stopped. I only told you I kept seeing them because I wanted to make you jealous."

Something in your chest lit up at her confession. This whole time, she hadn't been seeing anyone and it was all because of you, and you had never even noticed.

You laughed. "I mean, it worked, but... God, I really am oblivious, huh?"

She laughed with you, the nervous tension in the air dissolving. "Tell me about it." She smiled at you, but when you met her eyes she suddenly tensed again. The realization that she had just told you one of her biggest secrets came crashing down over her. The fears that you wouldn't feel the same, that you wouldn't stay friends started to rise in her chest.

You noticed her nervousness and shifted closer to her. You placed your elbow on the back of the couch to mirror her and rested your hand on hers. You gave her a sweet smile, silently telling her that everything was okay.

She smiled in reply, some of her confidence returning. "Can I kiss you?" she asked, searching your eyes for any sign of doubt or hesitancy. You nodded, and she leaned in to meet you, your lips finally connecting. Her lips were soft like you had always imagined them to be. Your mouths fit together like puzzle pieces, always meant to have been together. Her touch was gentle and kind, like she was trying not to break you. You smiled against the kiss, and she couldn't stop herself from doing the same. You burst into giggles, the shock of the situation finally hitting you.

"What? Am I that bad?" She asked, leaning away.

"Of course not." You leaned forward to her, cupping her cheek in your hand. "I just can't believe we just kissed."

"We don't have to change anything, you know," she quickly said as if trying to cover up a mistake. "If you don't feel that way, we don't-"

You cut her off with another kiss, slightly harder than the first but just as sweet and genuine. You pulled away and whispered, "This is fine, Kairi. You don't have to worry."

"Well, good," she replied with a grin, "because I'm pretty much in love with you, ya know."

She froze, realizing what she just said. The entire atmosphere seemed to be on pause. Even the subtle sounds from the movie stopped. Confessing that she wanted to make you jealous was one thing, but confessing her love was a much larger secret.

You couldn't stop your cheeks from turning pink as your lips spread into a wide smile. Your heart swelled and fluttered, almost making you dizzy.

"You don't normally say that to your one-night-stands, right?" Of course the only thing that came to your mind was a joke. Your best friend just told you she's in love with you, and you responded with a joke.

"No," she choked out, still nervous.

"Well, good," you echoed her words from earlier, "because I'm pretty much in love with you, too."

Her expression softened, all of her tension melting away. She beamed at you, unable to contain the joy she felt. "Come here," she said, opening her arms to you. You rested your head on her chest, cuddling up against her as she turned the volume back up. You continued to watch the movie, her placing occasional kisses on your forehead as she rubbed your back for the rest of the night.

[themandhoelorian]

Dincember - December 4: Hot Chocolate

summary: Mando has unique ways of showing his affection for his son, like getting him hyper on too many cups of hot chocolate, but it’s only after a long day of bringing the kid down from his sugar high that you realize Mando has similar ways of showing how much he cares for you.

pairing: din djarin (the mandalorian) x gn!reader

warnings: a caffeine addiction, sleep deprivation, the smallest sexual innuendo, Din being sweeter than hot chocolate, not super well edited ahaha

word count: 3.2k 

a/n: asdfghkldf this is so so late but this week has been long and exhausting (no this fic was definitely NOT me projecting), and I haven’t had as much time as I’d like to write :/. I’m not even really sure this makes sense, but that’s kind of how my brain works when it’s exhausted, so hopefully on some level that’s accurate ahaha 

***

You never understood the appeal of caf until you joined Mando’s crew. 

The first time someone offered you a cup, that one day you showed up to the tiny mechanic shop of your first job with bags under your eyes, complaining about how little sleep you’d gotten the night before, you thought you’d been handed a steaming cup of motor oil by accident instead. 

The dark liquid felt like lava on the roof of your mouth, leaving the taste of bitter ash on your tongue as you willed sip after sip down your throat. It did pull you out of the sleep-deprived fog, but it was more of a jolt in the opposite direction than a gentle tug, your body shooting into overdrive and hands shaking so intensely you burned your fingers on your soldering iron more times than you could count that day. 

After that, you tried to stay away from caf as much as possible. No matter how little you’d slept the night before, how often you were caught staring blankly at the wall instead of untangling a mess of wires, you always refused when you saw a mug of hellfire coming your way. The acrid taste, the jitters, none of it was worth enduring when you just had to make it to closing before you could go home and sleep away the fatigue. 

But now, your full time job is taking care of a child, and every night is a night with too little sleep. You spend your days trying to wrangle a warm, mischievous demon into compliance instead of just manipulating cold scraps of metal, and the kid doesn’t have “closing hours”- not with how violently he reacts to the notion of bedtime- so there’s never a sweet finish line to look forward to at the end of the day. 

You thought you’d known exhaustion before, felt it heavy on your shoulders those months you worked overtime to make ends meet, but that was light years away from what you feel now. The black hole of sleep consumes you as soon as you get the chance to lie down, and when you inevitably wake to the sound of cries a few hours later, it feels like the weight of the galaxy is crushing your lungs, making it nearly impossible to crawl back out of bed.

So after just a few weeks on the Crest, after that one day when you accidentally dozed off watching the kid play and woke to find him sticking a finger into the barrel of a blaster (thankfully Mando had the sense not to keep his weapons loaded on the ship or Maker, that could’ve ended badly), you bought a caf maker on the next planet and forced yourself to chug a cup every morning since.

The taste still sucks, no matter how much cream you’ve tried mixing in, but it doesn’t make you jittery like it used to, the caffeine just enough to keep you awake, and now you don’t know how you ever took care of the little womp rat without it, especially on the days when Mando returns from his hunts and the child bursts with energy to welcome his father home.

Even if it’s only been a couple days since Mando left, you’d think he’d been gone for months with the way they act at seeing each other again. The kid’s just downright ecstatic, dropping whatever part he’s playing with as soon as he hears the hiss of the hull opening and babbling excitedly as he runs into his father’s arms. He’ll follow Mando’s every move for at least an hour after he’s returned, and sometimes, you have to literally pry him from the beskar so Mando can retreat to the cockpit and set the course to the next planet.

And then there’s Mando. He’ll look stoic as ever as he takes the child into his arms, but you can feel how eager he is to reunite with his son, his affection all but spilling out the sides of his armored chest. He’ll never admit it, of course, you’re not sure he’d even be able to find the words to say it if he wanted to, but he finds other ways to show the kid how much he missed him, how deeply he cares about his little foundling.

More often than not, those methods include spoiling the child to no end, giving into the kid’s every desire and providing him with a few moments of pure, unrestrained joy. And more often than not, you’re left with the not-so-simple task of dealing with the consequences of giving the child his every wish, easing him down from the euphoric high and re-establishing that he absolutely cannot expect that kind of indulgence with anyone but his father.

Like one time, Mando stayed awake with him all night long, conceding five more minutes every time the kid whined when he was told it was time for bed. Five minutes quickly turned into hours as they watched the bright mosaic of hyperspace go by, the kid so happy to just sit in Mando’s lap while he spoke in the soothing tones of his people’s tongue. You were only able to pull the child from his father’s arms in the early hours of the morning, all three of you only half conscious at that point, and you spent several cycles trying to get the kid (and yourself) back on a normal sleep schedule.

Or like today, when Mando returned this morning while it was still dark outside, and you woke to the smell of cocoa and peppermint what felt like mere minutes after you’d fallen asleep. When you finally pulled yourself from the bunk, you found Mando sitting next to the child as they sipped on steaming liquid, his helmet tilted back just enough for him to bring the mug to his lips. 

He made the kid hot chocolate, you realized from the way the child threw back his bowl so quickly he left milky brown splotches on his face. Of course. Mando had made a habit of bringing sweets back for his son after he’d once gotten his hands on a chocolate bar you’d splurged on in the market, nearly bouncing off the walls with glee as he devoured the entire thing in seconds. That was a memorable day for all of you: the kid found his new favorite snack, Mando found another way to indulge the child, and you found out that when the kid has sugar in his system, you need caf more than water to survive the day.

So it’s no surprise that several hours and a couple more servings of hot chocolate later, long after Mando’s gone to the cockpit to fly to the next planet, you’re chasing the tiny ball of energy around the hull, running on nothing but an unhealthy amount of caf mixed with a little bit of spite, worried you might collapse before the sugar-fueled monster falls asleep.

You have half a mind to be mad at Mando for getting the kid so hyped up on the decadent drink and inevitably making your job that much harder, but you can’t get the image of them together this morning out of your head, Mando dabbing the mess from the child’s face as giggles bubbled from his tiny mouth. The memory’s shaded with the golden haze of dawn, like those dreams that feel warm and familiar, and you can feel your heart swell re-imagining that moment of perfect bliss, father and son so content just to be with each other and the sweetness in their cups.

And oh, you know you could never be upset at Mando for indulging the kid, creating those little pockets of warmth in a life filled mostly by cold, dead space, no matter how much more work it makes for you. Not when you know that he savors those moments as much as the child, that the days he’s back with his son are the only times he doesn’t have to be tough and menacing and deadly, the Crest the only place he doesn’t have to armor up his feelings just as much as his body.

You’re willing to reign in the kid, be the tough one on the ship, if it means Mando can show his son the softness that lies beneath the beskar, tuck away the sharp edges when he holds the little green menace in his lap. You’re willing to lose weeks of sleep course-correcting after each indulgence if it means he can let the honey of his love ooze thick and messy before he’s off to the next quarry and has to lock his affection behind iron walls again. You’re even willing to drink all the caf in the galaxy, let cup after cup burn bitter down your throat, if it means he can have a moment of peace sipping hot chocolate with his son at the break of dawn. 

You’re more than willing, happy even, to do all that and more for him, especially if it means you can catch glimpses of the man behind the guise of “Mando” in the process, a man whose heart you’ve found yourself wondering more and more about lately, wondering if it might one day beat strong and steady for you the same way it does for the kid.

So no, you’re not mad at Mando, not in the slightest. It’s more that right now you’re worried you might not be physically able to do those things for him, the shorter than usual night of sleep catching up with you faster than you can fight it off with caf. You’re pretty sure it stopped working after your third cup anyway, the additional caffeine just making you dizzy and no more energized, and you don’t know how much longer you can keep up with the child’s pace. You’ve played peekaboo and thrown around his favorite silver ball and even tried to show him how to rewire an old generator (not that you had any luck with that), and he still hasn’t crashed from his sugar high. 

You have no idea what else to do to keep the child busy, and Maker, you’re just so kriffing tired right now, so you’ve resorted to leaning against the door of the weapons closet, floating in that hazy space on the brink of consciousness, using what little of your energy remains to make sure he at least won’t get his hands on a blaster again. 

You’re not even completely sure what the kid’s doing right now, just know he’s somewhere on the other side of the hull, and you can only hope that Mando doesn’t come down here and find you and the kid like this. The last thing you want to do is make him worry, doubt how much you care about his son’s well being, but it’s like he can feel your exhaustion radiating through the ship because the next thing you know, the heavy echoes of his boots fill the hull as he descends the ladder from the cockpit. 

You will yourself to sit up straighter as you hear his footsteps getting louder, locate the child before Mando can, but your body is working on a little bit of a lag, and by the time you actually open your eyes, Mando’s walking past you, the child snoring softly in his arms.

Of course he fell asleep as soon as you took eyes off of him, the little monster.

Mando doesn’t say anything as he tucks the child into his makeshift bed before striding back to the other side of the hull, and some faraway part of your brain tells you to explain yourself or apologize or say kriffing anything at this point, but the inky gravity of sleep is pulling you in deeper with each passing moment, and you can’t be bothered to speak when your eyes are threatening to droop shut again. 

They must have at some point because you don’t remember seeing Mando approach you, but somehow he’s in front of you now, holding a mug out in front of your face. Maker, you must’ve drifted off, long enough for him to decide you needed some help staying awake and make you a cup of caf, and as you reach for it instinctively, bringing the cup to your lips in the trained motion, you can’t decide if it’s just as a thoughtful gesture or a thinly veiled warning for you to actually do your job.

You hum as the warm liquid coats your tongue, deliciously silky and slightly sweet, and it’s only when you swallow, the milky substance gliding down your throat, that you realize-

“This isn’t caf,” you mumble, looking up from the mug to meet Mando’s gaze.

“I never said it was.”

You just stare at him wordlessly, trying to figure out why he made you hot chocolate when it’s not going to make you any more functional. You have no idea how long you sit there thinking, too far gone to even understand the concept of time right now, but it must be a while because he breaks the silence first with a sigh.

“Cyar’ika, you have to stop drinking that crap. It’s not good for you.”

“Need it,” you respond, almost too quickly considering how long it took you to answer him before. Apparently the only thing you can understand in this groggy fog is your caf addiction. “Gonna fall asleep if not.”

“You’re about to anyway. Come on, you need to sleep.”

For some reason you giggle at that, unable to stop the laughter rising through your chest. He’s right, of course, but it just seems so damn funny right now that Mando, who has told you he rarely sleeps when he’s away, who you’ve never seen rest for more than an hour at a time, is telling you that you’re the one that needs sleep.

“You sleep even less than me, Mando. You can’t talk,” you accuse.

He jerks his helmet back in something like disbelief, and you can’t stop yourself from giggling again.

“Well I’m not the one falling asleep on the floor right now,” he counters.

“That’s fair,” you admit. You take a few more sips of the hot chocolate, closing your eyes in pleasure as the warmth floods your veins. Maybe it’s just because you’re so used to the sharp bite of caf, but the sugary drink feels so good, like something comforting and familiar though you can’t quite place your finger on where you recognize it from. It’s almost like you’re wrapped up in the thickest blanket or, even better, by strong arms as you’re lulled to sleep, and you’re not sure that’s what you were thinking of, but you realize that’s exactly what you want right now. 

And then your stupid, half-conscious brain decides to ask for it in the worst way possible.

“How about this, I’ll sleep if you sleep with me.”

You only catch how kriffing suggestive it sounds as the words come tumbling out of your mouth, but then all at once, you’re utterly aware of how much you’ve been embarrassing yourself. First getting caught falling asleep on the job and then accidentally making a very blunt pass at your boss, and Maker, you’re just a whole ass mess today aren’t you? Suddenly you feel very awake, your eyes going wide as you stumble over your words trying to backtrack as quickly as possible.

“Oh stars, I didn’t mean sleep with me, that’s definitely not what I, well, not that I wouldn’t…no, I just- I do need sleep but so do you, even if you’re not actually falling asleep right now, so I was just gonna say that we should both-”

But then your rambling is cut off by a chuckle coming from the modulator, his voice light and playful in a way you’ve never heard before.

If you weren’t so kriffing worried about what he was thinking about you right now, you might’ve thought it was the sweetest thing you’ve ever heard.

“I know what you meant, cyar’ika,” he says. 

Oh, thank Maker, you think, waves of something like relief washing warm over your body. You’re not quite sure how he can understand what it is you want when you can’t even articulate it yourself, but your brain is still too foggy to care, deciding it doesn’t really matter how he knows you so well, just that he does.

Mando eases the mug from your hands, the worn leather of his gloves brushing lightly over your knuckles. You whine in protest as he steals the liquid comfort from your fingers, but it’s quickly replaced by his hands wrapping around yours to help you off the ground.

“I’ll make you more tomorrow,” he assures you, his voice as velvety as the drink he just took from your grasp. “But now, we need to sleep.”

We, not you. 

You barely catch the distinction as he leads you to the bunk while his thumb rubs soothing circles on your lower back, but it just leaves you even more confused in your sleepy daze. You didn’t think he was actually going to entertain your suggestion, even if he did take it in the more innocent way, and when you crawl into the bunk and he doesn’t follow, you think maybe you just misheard him.

But as you close your eyes, your exhaustion starting to pull you away from reality again, you hear the clang of metal on metal behind you, and a gentle tap on your calf halts your descent into the stillness of sleep as Mando climbs into the bunk next to you.

It’s only after he shuts the door, when your body is pressed to his so you both fit in the tiny space, that you realize he’s taken his armor off, the first time he’s ever done so in front of you. You can’t see him at all in the darkness of the bunk, you’re not sure you could even open your eyes again at this point anyway, but even in your delirium you can grasp the weight of how vulnerable he’s making himself right now, letting you run your fingers lazily across the tight muscles of his bicep and rest your head against his broad chest.

And once again, you’re overcome by the feeling of something pleasant and vaguely familiar, your heart swelling the same way it did when you first saw Mando and the child this morning, the same warmth in your veins as the first sip of hot chocolate. You couldn’t quite place it before, but for some reason, as you listen to the way his heart beats strong and steady against you, you think you finally recognize it, the way Mando’s been making you feel all day, the reason he knew exactly what you needed before you could even realize it yourself.

It’s just a hazy flash in the moment before the black hole of sleep finally consumes you, an inkling of a breakthrough you may or not remember tomorrow, but you think this feeling, the acrid taste of caf replaced by smooth chocolate on your tongue, a strong body turned soft as it’s molded to yours, has a four letter name you thought you and Mando only saved for the child.

Maybe that’s why you’re learning to use it for each other too.

[remmushound]

Beyond the Bay Chapter 12 - Hidden City

Summary: The turtles go off in search of a new rift in the Hidden City

Tags: @brightlotusmoon @selfindulgenz @digitl-art-monstr @ilo-artistry

Leo hated every part of this. The sun was up, so they should be down, and out of sight. He had known his counterparts long enough to know how loose they often played with the rules his family followed so diligently, but to take to the streets under the danger of daylight for something that could easily wait for the blanket of night was absurd! In his two decades of life, Leo could count the amount of daylight explorations he had taken on two hands; the risk was hardly ever worth it. Despite the prickling insecurities inside him, Leo pushed himself onward to follow Raphael’s lead. This city was so familiar, yet so foreign at the same time. So easy to get lost in. Leo found himself picking out familiar buildings to assure that this place was still New York, even in this toony world so colorful that he could almost believe a pallet of paint had been spilled over it. This was New York and New York would always be home, even if home was a whole dimension away.

Raphael’s guidance brought the group of anxious turtles to an alleyway. They dropped down from above; Leo felt a shutter go through his body, a cold chill seizing his senses and stealing away his breath as he passed through something that seemed almost… green. The sudden shock made him stutter, his balance unsteady enough to knock over a trash can upon landing. With a clutter and a clang the silver bin fell and rolled, several more loud crashes sounding off each time it hit something. The eyes of Donnie and Raph turned to the shock-stricken Leo, who could only stare with his wide, cerulean eyes. The people walking past in the streets to either side, just feet away from what they’d see as monsters, didn’t stopped. Leo let himself breathe and the three brothers, muscles still tensed and ready to hide at the slightest sign of trouble, moved back into a tight formation around their younger counterparts.

“What are we doing here?” Leo couldn’t contain it anymore and he had to ask. His voice was a low whisper. “We could be seen!”

“Relax.” Leonardo laughed, and his voice wasn’t at all soft. He was met with three sets of shhhhh from the Splintersons, but laughed each of them off, “This alleyway has a mystic shimmer. We can see them.” He cleared his throat, “BUT THEY CAN’T SEE OR HEAR US!”

True to his word, the people in the street kept on their way as if the turtles didn't even exist. So that was what Leo felt! What had made him stumble!  The cautious tension in Donnie was immediately replaced by heart-fluttering curiosity. He couldn’t resist a high-pitched whistle, striding away from the group before Leo could say a word to stop him; he went as close as he dared to the end of the alleyway, waving and laughing and calling out to the streets with, to his utter joy, no response.

“This is so cool this is so cool this is so cool!” Donnie’s voice got higher with each repeat, flapping his wrists, “W-what is it, some type of four-lensed blind spot? O-or something using metamaterials or—?”

“Noooo, it’s mystic.” Leonardo said, and with a snap of his fingers Michelangelo perked up. He removed a small item that had been hidden in the rainbow pouch around his neck, the artifact attached to him by a slim golden collar; it was almost like a keychain he hung around his neck. “And so is this.”

Leo eyed the little trinket curiously; in shape, it was similar to Donatello’s gift, except with greens and golds instead of orange and reds. He could have mistaken it for an oddly colored compass with kanji if he hadn’t seen that familiar, lop-sided M in the middle. The compass itself was pointing directly at the wall, glowing the most vibrant neon and pulsing slightly. Leo could feel the energy radiating.

With a hand as steady as a seasoned artist, Michelangelo traced the trinket across the wall using the M as a guiding map. Before the astonished eyes of the Splinterson brothers, the compass left what looked almost like a trail of paint in its wake, except it didn't drip, and when Michelangelo had completed his work it began to glow. It was green at first, then shifted into a soft baby blue, and then into white as the faux paint finally started to drip and melt into a doorway. Leo felt an immediate draw toward it, like the force that would try to lasso them into Leonardo’s rift except not as strong. Raph gave a simple hiss in response, pulling back and shaking his head while Donnie did the exact opposite, reaching for the rift as if it were the most precious treasure. 

“I thought only your Leo could make rifts…” Leo said.

“Pretty cool, huh?” Leonardo asked, dancing over to stand proud at Leo’s side, “Portals are the only way into the Hidden City!”

“Hidden City?” Raph breathed through his teeth, eyes still fixed on the rift.

“Yeah!” Raphael said unhelpfully, “You three should stay close to us; the mystic types can be pretty jarring for first timers.”

Raph started to say, “I think I can handle them” before he felt a gentle tug at his hand. Raph looked to see Michelangelo holding his hand, resting his full weight against Raphael’s arm without the older mutant so much as flinching. Michelangelo’s eyes were wide, the colors flowing in them like a warm sunset as he beamed up at his friend.

“Don’t be scared, Raphie! You can hold my hand if you want to!”

“Uh…” Looking down at this tiny, vibrant young shinobi that barely came up to his stomach in height, Raph couldn’t say anything except, “Y-yeah, sure. Thanks kid…”

Michelangelo have a happy giggle and wiggled his joy. He snatched Donnie with his other hand before the tallest box turtle could get very far.

“You can hold my hand too, Donna!”

“Donna?” Raph breathed through his nose, then laughed, “Hell yeah. Down with the patriarchy.”

Donnie, upon being grabbed by Michelangelo, had much the same reaction as Raph. He didn't know what to do, and then he fell to soft adoration as he realized he would do anything for this kid.

“Thanks Mike.”

“Can I hold your hand too?” Leo asked brightly

Michelangelo’s expression flattened. “Only got two hands, Leon.”

Donatello cleared his throat and stepped forward to motion the first group through the rift. “Please keep your hands and feet inside the mystic rift until the ride has ended, keep all personals close as we will not be liable for any limbs or items that may turn up missing. Keep your shells on, your heads low, and watch out for portal jackers as we take this small voyage to Run-Of-The-Mill pizza.”

With that, Michelangelo and the two other box turtles that had to crouch to be able to hold his hand went through the rift without fear. Leo, his mouth still hanging open, turned to look at Raphael, who could only shrug before going through the rift himself. 

“Lady’s first~” Leonardo gave what could have resembled a polite bow if not for the mocking tone, motioning Leo through first.

Leo sucked in a breath, shaking the nervous jitters like water off a duck's back before he stepped through. The pull was very much so like the rift he and his family had taken to wind up in this world to begin with, except less painful. When he opened his eyes again he was standing in… a restaurant?

The smell of cumin and Chili filled the air. The feeling of the polished floor under Leo’s feet was unlike anything he had ever felt before. Like ice, except not cold; soft, but hard at the same time if that was possible. His eyes adjusted to the darkness of the building and more details were quick to come to him; wooden booths with dark brown cushions and tables clean enough to shine under the candlelight that filled the restaurant; the candles, it seemed, were held up by nothing at all! They were shaped almost like they were living; Leo thought it nothing more than a cool design before he realized they actually were living! Living candles with curves and form almost like human women, their hair the flaming candle wicks and the bottom of their shafts flowing out like a ball gown! Closer still and Leo could even begin to make out tiny, detailed faces!

“You want your normal seats I presume?” 

Leo blinked and shook his head as the familiar voice brought him back down to earth. Though he hadn’t seen Hueso in just over two years, the skeleton man had hardly changed at all. The calaca’s white pupils danced across the group with a curious hum.

“And shall I double your usual then?” Hueso queried.

“Bone man!” Leonardo explained, scooping Hueso up in a hug before the older yokai could make his escape. “Good to see ya!”

“Wish I could say the same.” Hueso grumbled, then added bitterly, “Problem child…”

“And that’s why you love me!” Leonardo blew a kiss, “Now Hueso, you remember the other us’s, right?”

“Unfortunately, it’s a pleasure to remake your acquaintance.”

Hueso was met with three half-hearted mutters of greeting; none of the Splintersons were even looking at him! Why would they when there were so many different creatures to see? In most every booth and table and barstool were mutants out of a fantasy book; beings even Donnie couldn’t single out as anything familiar! Some of them had characteristics that could have been compared to more natural animals— tentacles and fangs and frills. Creatures as big as an elephant or small as a shrew, with varying table sizes to accommodate all in between.

“Hey, listen bone man.” Leonardo tried to whisk Hueso away for a private conversation, but Hueso ducked to avoid the fate. His eyes and Leonardo’s were locked until Leonardo backed down, “We need a favor.”

“Don’t you always?” Hueso asked, “Seems every time you come to pay a visit it is for your own gain.”

“What? Noooo! Me? Noo!” Leonardo scoffed, waving a dismissive hand and laughing before quickly giving up the ruse, “It’s important this time. We need to find a yokai who sells decent rifts at an affordable price, and we need it like yesterday if we want to get these boys home.”

Hueso hummed, bringing his fingers to his mouth as he considered. “Define affordable.”

“Somewhere in the price range of… eight hundred US dollars or nine thousand Japanese yen.” Donatello said.

Hueso hissed through his teeth. “You won’t get any that cheap. Cheapest I know of would be Monroe, but quality rifters at his place run upward to three million pesos.”

Donatello took out his phone and ran some quick calculations. “Okay guess we’re not eating this month.”

“Wish I could be of more help pepino.” Hueso said, turning to leave while he was still talking, “I’ll go get you directions to Monroe.”

~~~

“This looks like the place…” Donatello said, and he indicated a small sliver of alleyway squeezed between two tall buildings.

“Doesn’t look like much.” Raph huffed; Michelangelo still had a tight hold on his and Donnie’s hands for support.

“But it is discrete though.” Donnie pointed out; his mind was still wandering, trying its best to soak up the tangled stimuli from the buildings and the mutants that looked almost like something out of a cartoon! Like a child had drawn these characters and these structures and planted them together in a bright, yet disorienting, array of flashing colors. “I’d hate to be an epileptic in this place…”

“Are we… gonna be able to fit through there?” Leo asked, his question directed toward Leonardo.

Leonardo flashed Leo a warning glare before saying, “Raph, are you and the guys gonna be able to fit?”

Raphael gave a low whine. His beak crinkled in concentration as his first idea was to simply walk forward, which proved him too wide. Then he huffed and turned sideways, but was still too bulky. It seemed Raphael ran out of ideas, so Donatello cleared his throat.

“If I could direct everyone’s attention slightly upwaaaard~”

Following his motion, they found what could have resembled a bell hanging above the alleyway. It looked as if it were made of slime with little chunks of something floating inside. Raph cringed at the sight of it, but Raphael gave a far too curious ooo and reached to touch it. Leonardo quickly stepped between Raphael and the slime-bell.

“No no no no, no no. No.” Leonardo said, forcing Raphael back, “Bad Raph.”

“I wasn’t gonna eat it.” Raphael pouted.

Leonardo narrowed his eyes. Raphael stuck out his bottom lip and tapped his fingers. 

“Okay I was gonna eat it. You can ring it.”

“Eh… not sure if I want to…” Despite his words, Leonardo reached up and took the slimy rope of the bell, a texture not unlike a worm, and yanked on it. Instead of ringing, it gave off a sound like a foghorn blowing that made every turtle cover their ears, though Leonardo removed his hands from his head just as quickly when he realized it was still covered in slime. “Ew ew ew ew—“

There was a pop and they were swallowed by a slimy, green bubble. What followed was mixed reactions of terror and disgust as they moved into a tighter group, shell to shell with the bigger ones surrounding the smaller. The bubble lifted then off their feet and through the wall like they had no matter at all, carried past the narrow door and lowered to the ground on the other side before the slime bubble popped and left them confused and disgruntled.

“What is this place?” Donnie was the first to separate from the group to look around. The space around them was not unlike an auction house, filled with all sorts of items on display. They filled shelf after shelf after shelf, placed around with no true order. Looking up would reveal several more floors, all just as filled with artifacts and creatures for purchase, with a convenient opening through the middle of each floor.

“Looks like some sort of witchy auction place…” Raph commented. Not to be outdone by his younger brother, Raph separated and started to investigate the place for himself, “How does a grimy grifter get a place like this?”

“Wait a minute…” Leonardo frowned as he looked around, “Wait— I know this place.”

Raph picked up a gem-encrusted chalice, turning it around curiously. “Huh. Fancy.”

“Raph, don’t touch anything.” Leo groaned.

“What?” Raph scoffed, “Guess you don’t want me to do this either, huh?”

He began to juggle the chalice with surprising style.

“Raph, stop that!” Leo tried to intervene, but that only seemed to egg Raph on. He danced out of Leo’s reach, laughing as he pretended to drop the decor before catching it at the last second, “I’m serious!”

Raph only laughed. At least, he was laughing until he actually did drop it— right on the head of a small, purple yokai who had been observing the scene, as still as one of his statues. Raph swore, trying to recover the drop but it was too late. It sank into the yokai’s head as if he were made of pure gelatin, and they could still see the gold through the flesh and skin. The purple yokai blinked, and Raph screamed.

The purple yokai’s skin shifted into flowing rings of yellow and orange that forced the chalice up and out of his head, into his hand. He didn't look like much— something akin to a slug if anything— with a soft beak and a snaggle tooth like Raphael’s only smaller. He breathed onto the chalice and wiped it off with his sleeve before placing it back on the shelf.

“Please don’t touch.”

“YOU!” Leonardo pointed accusingly, “You’re that slug guy who sold me wallet-stealing hair! You’re Monroe?!”

“That’s a talking slug—” Raph withdrew back into the crowd of his brothers, eyes wide. 

Donnie gasped, pulling his goggles down over his eyes and advancing as quickly as Raph had retreated. The slug drew into himself, his entire body constricting like a squeezed stress ball. Leo visibly cringed, while Raphael and his brothers didn't seem all that bothered beyond a few yawns or comforting pats for Raph.

“This is incredible— there’s compounds in him that fail to be isolated or traced!” Donnie picked up one of the slugs arms to investigate every inch of him. “He doesn’t even seem to be carbon based at all; there’s elements I can’t even identify— what…?” Donnie pulled up his goggles as the astonishment gave way to a confused frown, “Is— is he a mutant?”

“No.” Donatello scoffed.

That was met with three very confused box turtles casting side glances. 

“Are… are any of them mutants?” Leo asked.

Leonardo laughed, “What? You though every yokai in the Hidden City was mutated by Draxum and his army of mutant mosquitoes? Ha! W-what dumb idiots would think that?” Leonardo was visibly sweating.

“Not these dumb idiots, that’s for sure.” Donatello tried to brush past, scratching his neck.

“W-wait, so none’a them guys we passed were mutants?” Raph asked, pointing back at the door.

“Well, some of them might have been, but the majority? No; they’re yokai and cryptids.”

“Yokai…” Donnie breathed, and that astonished look returned to his face as he continued to circle Monroe, “They exist in your world? Oh my kama this just keeps getting better—“

“Don.” Raph whistled as if Donnie was a dog, “Buy first, geek later.”

Monroe’s eyes lit up at that and he pulled himself away from Donnie to give a polite bow to the rest of the group. “If sales you wants, sales I’s gots! I gots artifacts from all around the world, from the tombs of Giza to the ancient Amazons. If you needs it, I gots it!”

“Great!” Raphael clapped. “Cause we need a high quality rifter.”

Monroe sank into himself. “Not that’s I don’t gots…”

A visible vein twitched in Leo. “What?”

“I solds out…” He frowned, tapping his nubby hands together.

“WHEN?”

“Like ten minutes ago, don’t yell at me.” The slug quivered, his eyes like saucers.

Leonardo sucked in a slow, deep breath, “Who bought them, Monroe?”

“Oh, an andoroido with a nice voice ands such manners. He’s having buying all my rifters. He’s very rich.”

“All of them?” Raphael whimpered, “Y-you don’t even got a… a small busted one in the back?”

Monroe shook his head. “Not one! He was be very insistent he gets alls of them. But I do has a very special hover pod with your name witten all over it if you—“

“Not interested.” Leonardo quickly dismissed, pulling on his face in his frustration, “Great. We— we’ll find somewhere else to look.”

“But I is to be assuring you that no other shop has rifters worth your while…” Monroe said.

“That's what every illegal rifter peddler would say!”

“Not this illegal rifter peddler, I swearing it to you!”

“And I swear I’ll bust your teeth in if you’re lying…” Leonardo seized Monroe by the collar and lifted him up.

“Leo.” Raphael was quick to correct. His eyes met Leonardo’s for just a moment. That was all it took for Leonardo to relent and release the Yokai. Raphael made a quick point to help Monroe fix his shirt. “Sorry ‘bout that. If you happen to find a rifter you missed, could you give us a call?”

Without having to be asked, Donatello had already written up his phone number and placed it in Monroe’s hand.

“You wouldn’t happen to have any more contacts, do you Don?”

Donatello took a long, slow breath. “I’ll see what I can find.”

[freebooter4ever]

A fic inspired by @kanhatomame 's Lovely Drawing of Eugene dreaming about Snafu ^_^ Set in Mobile after the war, Eugene deals with pining and memories, and that wordless connection to another person that never really leaves you. (angst ish with happy ending)

__________

There are so many ghosts in Eugene's head it's quite crowded there. But the only one he clings to is Snafu's. Naturally, this also means it's the one that feels most nebulous and impossible to chase down. Sometimes, when Eugene sees other couples together, touching each other, looking at each other, the connections to his own vivid memories feel stronger.

But he and Snafu were never a couple, should never have been a couple. Their few kisses were stolen behind doors and in the shadows. They could never have danced hand in hand like the boys and girls are doing now at the OMM ball.

Eugene stares at the dancers, himself half hidden behind a potted plant. A silly form of camouflage, and one that wouldn't even work if someone looked his way. It certainly fails to hide him from his brother. He can see Edward eyeing him disapprovingly from across the room. Edward's arm is wrapped lovingly around his wife's waist. She leans into his shoulder slightly - Martha is small and petite and fits perfectly.

Eugene takes a deep breath and refocuses his eyes to the center of the dance floor. He slowly allows himself to relax, concentrating on one memory of a touch. Snafu was never one to lovingly cradle Eugene, but whenever they would sit down around camp - at the slop shoot, or the movies, or when naked on the beach after a swim - Snafu would sling his arm behind Gene's back and angle his whole body in Gene's direction. He kept it casual, usually joking and laughing as if using humor to distract the rest of the guys from this habit of his. Except there were always times when Snaf would make a particularly ridiculous wisecrack and Eugene would feel compelled to turn his neck to roll his eyes at Snafu, and the minute his eyes would meet Snafu's, the other guy's face would be glowing with joy. Joy reserved only for one person - Eugene.

There's a specific shine in Snafu's eyes that he saves solely for Gene. And those delicate bits of eye contact were more intimate than all the loving touches in the world. And often they preceded Snafu pulling Eugene into some dark hideaway, and pressing his full body up against Gene, still teasing him, tempting him with no kisses, no gentle lover's touch until Eugene finally got fed up and molded their mouths together.

Eugene will never forget the shape of Snafu's hands.

"Eugene? Baby brother?" Edward is snapping his fingers in front of Eugene's face.

Eugene blinks rapidly, comes back to himself, completely loses the relaxation in his body, and glares at Edward.

"Thought you were in a trance or something," Edward grins lopsided.

"I was thinking," Eugene sighs.

"No duh," Edward says, "You do too much of that, little brother."

"What else is there to do?" Eugene sighs continuously. He shouldn't have opened his mouth because the next thing he knows Edward tells him 'don't move' and disappears further into the house to find some poor victim to foist awkwardly on Gene.

It's been like this all evening. Eugene's talked to more girls in the past hour than he ever has in his life. All of them brought to him by Edward, eagerly introducing the girls to his younger, naive brother.

This latest one is named Victoria, and she's got long curly brown hair that looks soft to touch, and a porcelain face like a doll.

"She's very pretty," Eugene says truthfully when Edward corners him and demands to know what he thought after Victoria is called away by friends.

"Gene, I don't understand you," Edward shakes his head, "You're the son of the city's best doctor, you've got all your limbs intact, you're a war hero… why I'll bet you're the most eligible bachelor here. If you just learn to play it up a little bit…"

"I'm going outside to smoke," Eugene interrupts flatly, "Come get me when it's time to leave."

His voice brooks no argument, and he promptly ducks out of the house with only one direction in mind. He fills his pipe, lights it, and slowly lets the smoke start to relax him again. His lips suck on the wood between them, and the ghost of Snafu seeps in with the nicotine. The memory of the first time when Eugene sucked Snafu's finger clean (of mashed potatoes) - after Snafu tried (and failed) to start a food fight. It pairs well with the memory of sucking off other parts of Snafu too… certain parts he doesn't have a clear picture of in his mind. He sort of blurred the image as it happened, out of embarrassment or sheer awkwardness. If he ever got the chance to do it again, he'd memorize every square inch.

"Eugene, your brother asked me to come find you," his mother breaks his reverie, "Your father is having the car brought around."

Eugene nods, his shame from his thoughts bright red on his face, but luckily hidden in the dark. He follows his mother to the driveway and wordlessly climbs into the backseat. Martha and Edward are taking their own car. So Eugene has plenty of room to forego seatbelts and lie down across the back. His head is swimming a little bit, from that punch he kept drinking. He couldn't taste it, but he suspects it was spiked.

The car starts up, and starts rumbling, shaking his entire body. The seat is warm - the heat from the engine flows through the entire undercarriage. Eugene closes his eyes. He listens to the sound of the road under the wheels, a smooth wash like constantly crashing waves.

Waves lapping at the toes of his feet, and bathing half of Snafu's entire leg in water up to his knees. Snafu lying naked on his back in the sand, with Eugene straddled on top of him bouncing vigorously. All Eugene remembers is the intensity, the sounds, and the feeling. Half weird gritty discomfort, half absolute pleasure.

The car turns and rolls Eugene against the back of the car. He turns his face to the smooth leather, seeking that pressure of something - anything - against his skin.

Eugene recognizes when they reach their house's street because he can feel the jittering rumble as the car crosses the wooden bridge. The jitter shakes him to his bones, and he shivers although the night is hot and sticky. He closes his eyes and counts the streetlights behind his eyelids until they reach the driveway.

Had Eugene been paying attention at all, looking out the window of the car instead of losing himself to ghosts, he might have noticed the beat-up rusted brown truck parked just outside his family's gate at the end of Georgia House's long private drive. Though truthfully, even if Eugene had been looking he might not have seen it. The cloud cover darkens the sky until the only light source is the single lamp marking the start of the Sledge's driveway. And the truck is parked under a tree, throwing even more shadow over it. The only hint that someone is there is the soft glow of a cigarette luminating a haunted face and skinny legs dangling over the truck bed where he sits.

Snafu arrived in town hours ago - just in time to watch Eugene leave. He's been sitting on top his parked truck ever since. Judging from their fancy clothes, Snafu knew they'd likely return that night from an outing and sure enough. Here they are. He wedges the cigarette tighter in his mouth and jumps down from the truck bed.

Eugene's window is on the first floor, so it shouldn't be hard to reach except for the damn kudzu covering a mass of bushes and thorny plants underneath. Snafu suspects they might have been roses at one point. They're dead now. There's live ones elsewhere in the garden, but the ones under Eugene's window are long gone.

Fucking symbolic maybe.

Snafu shoves the window open unceremoniously and throws his leg in. He sits on the sil and stares down at Gene in the bed. Eugene didn't bother to change, he's still in that same expensive looking suit, his tie askew and his shoes kicked off with one sock missing. Snafu settles himself comfortably against the window frame, puffs on his cigarette, and watches Eugene sleep.

He doesn't get to watch for long - Eugene sleeps fitfully, just as Snafu remembers, and ends up kicking and thrashing in his bed. Snafu watches him with intense regret. When Eugene fell asleep peacefully on the train, for the first time since that initial week on Pavuvu, Snafu thought maybe civilization had kicked Eugene's nightmares. That maybe Eugene was gonna be able to go back to 'normal'. Clearly Snafu was wrong.

He waits a few more seconds, till Eugene's fit is at its peak, and whispers sharply, "Sledgehammer."

Gene sits bolt upright immediately and silently. He stares blankly for a split second, till his eyes snap to Snafu's. Then he stares silently at Snafu.

Snafu takes his half finished cigarette and grinds it into the wood of Eugene's window. It leaves a mark. Eugene watches this without expression.

"You're real," Eugene whispers.

Snafu shrugs.

"I mean you're not a dream… for once," Eugene says.

"You've been dreaming about me?" Snafu grins.

Eugene lunges forward, grabs Snafu's forearms and drags him onto the bed. Snafu falls awkwardly on top of Eugene, but it's easy to shift their positions and overpower Eugene to pin him to the bed. "I really hope those nightmares of yours wasn't you dreaming of me, cause if they were we might have to figure out a way to give you better ones."

"My dreams of you only come during the day," Eugene says, much more serious in tone than Snafu.

"Good ones?"

Eugene nods.

"It isn't enough… is it?" Snafu asks. He already knows the correct answer. That's why he's here.

In response Eugene pulls him down into a kiss.

[jujutsubabe]

Consequential choices

Synopsis: You and Itadori play a dating sim!

Word count: 1.7k

A/n: I love Itadori ❤️ that is all. Thank you.

————

“Nice try. I won’t let a creep like you get the chance!” A girl on the console harrumphed before the choices at the bottom of the screen popped up.

Itadori sat up, squinting at the tv, gripping his controller and flicking between the two options. He wiped his sweaty hands on his pants, looking between the options and you.

You looked up from your phone, “Just pick one, we already messed up her route...”

He flicked his thumb down. “No...I’m gonna win this...”

“But Itadori we have more points with the uh...uhm what’s her name? blonde—“

“Mizuki.”

“Yeah, her! let’s try to go for Mizuki instead!”

He glanced at you before pouting and leaning back onto you. The two of you sat on the couch, him laying right atop of you and craning his neck at an unhealthy degree to see the screen.

He had been playing this dating sim, trying to unlock as many routes as possible before the day ended. So far there were three out of seven unlocked...

It was kind of nice, having Itadori turn around like an expectant puppy, ready to get your opinion on his decisions. He was always a tad too impulsive to win any of the routes. Just skipping the dialogue too quick and immediately misclicking on a bad choice with an annoyed groan.

You couldn’t blame him, with the long dialogues and easy skip button it was easy to mess up. But you were at least able to pace him as he played so he didn’t ruin the route’s you two worked on.

The game wasn’t as easy as it seemed, some characters easier to unlock than others, but this character in particular, the classic pink haired tsundere girl, named Aiko would not budge. She always shot down the answers you thought were so right and got offended if you chose something flirty.

At one point you started looking up the answers online, giving Itadori hints as he nodded along.

“Huh? No way...Our interest score went up like almost a hundred did you see that!” He turned to you with a bright smile before pressing a kiss onto your face, “You’re really good at this...”

Every time he did that, it just made your heart swell. He unconsciously did something cute to you whenever the score went up, it made your ego boost up too high, almost as if It was a reward.

When he found out about your little answer sheet, he shook his head, saying it wasn’t fun if you were “cheating.” Making you two continue without a guide.

So it only made sense that you would get a few answers right before deaccelerating and only choosing answers that got negative results. You and Itadori would wince when you saw your like meter shake as it went down, it always hit a littler harder when you could see the point loss.

Your choices all led up to here, what started with a good roll of fifty points went down to ten. You glanced at him, there was no way you could win her over, everything you said or did just made her uninterested in your character, but Itadori was really set on this.

He continued to flip between the two choices, “I’m just gonna do it.”

You held your breath as he shut his eyes and clicked on an option. The screen loaded, processing your answer, ever so slowly. He peeked his eyes through, the both of you holding all the air in the room

*network failure*

Your mouth popped open and Itadori did a double take at the screen. Blinking quickly as you turned to him and the tv. The words shined across, with no intent on changing.

“Is that... Did—did you save!?” You flipped your head his way, sweat starting to build up when he didn’t look back at you.

He stared at the screen with wide eyes like the tv said something to offend him, giving the network failure his full attention. His controller laid loosely in his grip, like he would drop it at any second.

“Itadori.” You pinched his arm and he turned his head.

“I... I think so. Hold on.” He moved to the console, turning it off and on again, the both of you silently hoping it would work.

You chewed on your nails as he kneeled by the tv, the both of you were way too deep invested in this game.

You didn’t remember the last time Itadori saved, there weren’t too many save points in the game, it was just a “make sure you don’t forget before you log off” kind of game.

You had been playing for hours, if any of your routes got undone you were going to lose your mind.

The screen popped back on, the main menu and characters moved across the screen. It took a second before the load files came up, no time zones on them though.

Itadori stood up, standing in front of it like an old dad watching his football game. (Why do men do this...) He loaded the game and before you knew it, a familiar song from one of the scenes played and Itadori groaned.

“What happened? I cant see, move over.”

He stood to the side, “It restarted to the sleepover.”

You cocked your head at the scene, it was the same route you were going for, with the pink haired girl, but this was one of the scenes that showed up before you messed up.

During this scene the two of you had multiple chances to get on her good side, but continued to get her mad as it went on. It all went downhill from this point.

You gasped when your eyes flickered to the stats. “Itadori!”

“I’ts bad but I can fix it...” He rubbed the back of his neck as he sighed.

“No! I mean look at the bar! We’re back to fifty, we have a chance to win.”

He blinked back, his eyes flying past all of the high scores you had with her. You two hadn’t seen it like this in so long, it gave way more adrenaline than needed.

The scene settled on a few of the characters huddled into a classic “truth or dare” circle. It panned to Mizuki, her text filling out on the bottom of the screen.

“So... [player jizzman33],” Itadori smiled like that was the funniest thing on the planet, “it’s your turn. Do you choose truth or dare?” She asked.

Then the options popped up with a small timer clicking on the side. It was going by so fast, you had fifteen seconds to choose your answer.

You scrunched up your brow, not feeling any better when Itadori looked back at you for an answer. The last time you two did it, you chose an option that made the girl you were going for sneer and leave the party, decking your points by thirty.

You racked your mind for something, you had done this scene so many times with the other girls you needed to think hard for her.

“With brunette she liked truth, cause we confessed to her... and then....”

“Uhhh babe?” Itadori gestured to the timer and you waved him off. “It’s at ten.”

You continued mumbling, “blue hair liked truth cause we got closer to her... and then the green haired girl wanted dare... or was that Aiko?”

Your eyes flickered to the clock like it was a bomb.

Five seconds...

You knew this was beyond dramatic but at this point all cares were dropped. You literally had a chance to fix your mistakes, how were you going to let it slip?

You clicked your tongue, you forgot which option she wanted. You had gotten her route mixed up with another girls, trying to differentiate which girl wanted which choice.

Three seconds...

“I think I’ll randomly choose one...” Itadori pinched one of his eyes closed as he moved the stick.

He needed to do anything but that. You started connecting the dots a little faster, almost feeling your thoughts racing inside your head.

Everything went in slow motion as Itadori’s finger hovered over the ‘X’ button. This was more work than any game you’ve played, every decision led to your heart either being crushed or absolutely delighted.

Your leg jittered as you bit your nails, this was going to make you age a few more years, how is this stress healthy for anyone. Why would someone create a game this stress inducing??

That was when something spiked into your brain. Like a quick uppercut, you got it immediately, the planets aligned themselves and all was understood in the universe.

With at least a second to spare you couldn’t doubt the supposed answer now.

You jumped up, way more eager than you tried to be. “It’s Dare! Pick dare!”

He clicked eyes with you before switching his choice and pressing it in an instant. There was no time to check on your answer, he fully trusted you.

As soon as he selected the screen loaded, and the both of you held your breaths again, eyes focused onto the television.

“Ah dare huh? So brave, you’re the first person to pick that...” the Mizuki smiled, “I dare you to kiss the person sitting next to you.”

The screen turned to the person next to you, which happened to be Aiko, “W-well if we have to! You’re the first person to pick dare so whatever.”

There was a cut scene as she gave the main character a quick peck on the cheek before pulling away.

“Don’t take that as anything but a dare! P-pervert...”

Then the stats shot up as hearts flew across her screen. The score went up by twenty more, and it got closer to the goal than you could have imagined.

You and Itadori turned between each other and the screen. Faces absolutely wide in shock and joy, the both of you felt so happy you thought you could cry.

It was such an earned promotion, you felt proud being able to bring that victory to the table.

Itadori turned to give you a hug but froze, quickly turning back around to quick save the game. After it loaded then he came to you, wrapping you up in a very tight squeeze.

“We did so good!” You giggled when he kissed your cheek, “I’m so proud of us!” Kiss again, “I knew we could do it!” Kiss kiss kiss. He smothered your face in kisses, practically pressing his face into your cheeks and squishing you even more.

You smiled as he attacked your face with pecks all over your cheeks.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if the internet went out again...

[alphi-writes]

Thank you for ur answer earlier! It's crystal clear owo)👌 then, may i request jack jamil and kalim with dancing+bonfire? Thank you in advance! Have a good day/night and don't forget to stay hydrated! 🌸

Of course! (*˘︶˘*).｡.:*♡ I'm really sorry it took so long to get these posted, but I tried to make up for it by putting more effort into the writing. Make sure to get at least a bit of sunlight today if you can🧡

Characters: Jack, Jamil, Kalim

Items: Dancing, Bonfire

Jack Howl

Jack decided to join you tonight, since you invited him to the bonfire earlier in the day. It was almost seven thirty by the time you got the bonfire actually going, and you were beginning to think Jack wouldn't want to stay.

"Alrighty then, Jack-A-Boy, let's get to our late night gab session." You threw yourself into the chair sat next to Jack's, leaning over the edge expectantly.

His ears flattened, "Don't you have any activities planned? Usually you'd want to set off a fountain candle or two, and you didn't bring any snacks-"

You leaned over, tipping the chair on its side where the two left feet lifted above the ground. You pushed your index finger to his lips, shushing him.

"It is autumn, and we are going to be festive without fountain candles. This is what normal people do, Jackie, they sit and watch the fire- oh my gosh are we old people now?"

Honestly, Jack felt lost. Maybe he was overthinking things, but you didn't hang out one-on-one with him very often, and if you did, Grimm was always there. This time it was just the two of you.

You sat quietly for a few minutes, may ten, just enjoying the crackling heat in the cool of autumn. Every once in a while, you'd feel Jack's gaze on you, and finally, you caught him.

"Are you... nervous? Is the Jack Howl nervous to be alone out here with me? A magic-less human? HaH! I laugh in the face of your untimely jitters!" He watched as you laughed in your seat, a light heat washing over his face.

Of course he was nervous! He didn't show it often, but he really liked hanging out with you! He didn't want you to know that though because then he would lose his cool-guy bad-boy vibe.

He'd be reduced to a puppy dog if he let on that he enjoyed being around you. And not only that, but your personalities were vastly different.

Jack was ripped from his thoughts when you stood up and grabbed his hands in yours.

You pulled him from his seat and lead him closer to the fire.

"Come on, let's dance! I know this one dance that we did every year at the festivals back home." Jack tugged against you, albeit flustered from the contact.

"Uhm, no, I don't dance." His hand flew up to the back of his neck at his hairline, and you could see the embarrassment in his furrowed eyebrows.

You hummed quietly, nodding in understanding.

"Fine, I'll show you this dance tonight, and if you can't perform it perfectly byyy... tomorrow- I'll just have to find some collateral for payback." You were obviously joking, but he looked visibly distraught by your words.

You only dismissed his expression before starting your dance.

You weren't the smoothest at dancing, and you were stiffer than you should've been, but you knew this dance well.

Your movements were quick and deliberate, sweeping in directions like a gust of wind. Every so often, you'd catch a glimpse of Jack staring at you with large eyes.

His ears were straight up and his tail was wagging so quickly it was only a blur of grey.

You soon finished swaying around, pausing for a moment to catch your breath before grinning at Jack.

"Dancing is pretty cool, y'know, so I hope you'll dance with me some other time." You gazed down at Jack as he sat there quiet.

He didn't speak, and it caused your smile to falter.

"That was- wow, I've never seen anyone dance like that before." His face was burning and his tail had slowed to a wave.

Your smile returned. You laughed loudly, wiping the sweat from nerves and the heat off hour forehead.

"Phew, I thought you didn't like it for a moment there."

Jack jumped up, "No-!" He yelped, "it was great!"

His outburst startled you, and your eyes widened when his hands lightly grasped yours. He wasn't usually like this, and it made you chuckle.

"Could you teach me to dance like that?"

"Of course."

Jamil Viper

Jamil was suprised by the temperature of the air around your dorm.

"Is it usually this cold?"

"No," you threw a bundle of sticks on the formation of branches, "its autumn now so its beginning to cool down some. Its definitely colder than Scarabia though."

Jamil joined you tonight because you invited him to a good old fashioned autumn bonfire, which he's never been a part of.

You remember freaking out when he told you he'd never been to a bonfire before, and you knew that you'd have to invite him to on that exact night.

Sure you didn't plan on having one this night, but the absence of a bonfire in Jamil's memories just drove your determination.

"And it's just a large fire?"

"Yea, it's pretty cool. You'll see the appeal."

He nodded with his fist on his chin, scanning the surrounding area. He stood there awkwardly as you finally lit the brambles on fire, standing in front of the flames with your arms in the air.

"Hell yea, warmth."

You sat down on a fold-out chair you brought our earlier, patting the seat next to it for Jamil.

He sat down, staring at the fire. He was used to heat and fires like this one, but he'd never been in crisp air while a fire was going. It was a bit odd, but he liked the feeling of autumn. Maybe not more than the temperatures and winds of Scarabia or the Hot Sands, but he could see himself sitting here often.

"Oooh, Jamil, you dance, yes?"

He nodded, turning his head towards you.

When you met his eye, you began to think maybe you shouldn't ask him to dance. Your face began to tingle and you sunk in your chair.

"Why?"

You wrung your hands together, "ah, well, it's nothing, nevermind."

He sat quiet for a moment before standing up.

"I can dance for you, if that's what you want." He had a small smile on his face as he stood up and stretched his back muscles.

You panicked slightly, "No, you don't really have to Jamil-!"

"Do you not like my dancing?"

"Wh- no it's not that," you threw your hands up, "I just dont want you to feel like you have to dance for me."

He chuckled quietly at your panic.

"Its alright, I want to dance for you."

And he did.

He danced for what seemed like only a few moments, but was really about half an hour. Even in that time frame, he never once faltered, never once seemed tired or out of stamina.

He was so fluid, moving as if he were water in the wind. He was elegant, beautiful, gorgeous.

When he was finished, he swung to a stop, a large grin on his face. The largest smile you've ever seen him bare.

You were up in a second, glomping him in glee.

"Jamil, you were amazing! Oh my gosh, you were gorgeous!!" He chuckled while you peppered him with compliments.

When he brought his eyes back up to yours, his breathing hitched quietly.

The look in your eyes.

Not lust or hunger, not an emotion that was anything derogatory.

Just pure, utter, true love.

Your lips curved up and you chuckled quietly.

"Jeez, are you gorgeous." You whispered, gently bonking your head on his chest.

You felt his chest rise and fall steadily before his arms loosely wrapped around your back.

Kalim al Asim

"There you go, the last branch." You threw the last branch on and brushed the excess branch bits from your hands.

Kalim cheered happily, unfolding the chairs for the two of you.

Kalim was practically jumping in joy, "This is gonna be so fun!" He exclaimed.

You chuckled, "Yea."

He was always so exuberant and obnoxious, but it was just another part of his charms.

You were planning to have a bonfire by yourself, and when you mentioned it earlier today during lunch, Kalim jumped at the idea.

You couldn't just say 'nah you can't come to my bonfire in which I am the only attendee'. You weren't some monster.

So of course you invited him, and not begrudgingly, no, you were ecstatic to have him join you. He even helped build the bonfire.

"So you' ve never had a bonfire?"

"Not one like this!"

"What other kinds of bonfires are there..?"

You laughed it off, lighting the sticks ablaze.

"Burn baby, burn, said the pyromaniac!" You laughed as the flames grew.

Kalim grinned at you, moving closer to the fire to feel the heat.

"Its always hot in the Land of Hot Sands, so it's nice to feel heat while theres still the pinch of cold in the air."

It was quite relaxing. Although you liked the nip of cold, you loved the feeling of warmth just as much.

You weren't one for Scarabia heats, but a normal, balanced heat was the best for you.

Kalim swayed as he took in the heat, closing his eyes and grinning up at the night sky.

The way the light of the flames danced on his face made his dark skin light up with oranges and yellows. He looked so warm and peaceful. So happy.

When he opened his eyes and looked down at you, you averted your eyes quickly.

"I have a great idea! Lets dance!" He was already grabbing your hands before you could utter a word.

Now, before you even began to dance, you already knew Kalim was a solo dancer. Sure he would dance near others, but they were never dancing together.

He was attempting the common waltz, and although he was raised as royalty, you could tell that the fairy tale books weren't all factual.

Kalim often stepped on your feed, apologizing quickly. He bonked his head against yours a few times, and even accidentally tangled his leg with yours.

"Okay, let me lead, Kalim." You said through your laughter.

He nodded sheepishly, instead moving his hands to your shoulder and left hand. You intertwined your left hand with his, and rested your right on his waist.

You were close enough that your could feel his breath on your face.

"Okay, we'll start off slow so you can get the hang of the foot movements."

You looked down at his feet, motioning with your left foot for him to step backwards.

Your left foot went forward and his went back, then both of your right feet went outwards.

"This is the box step, the most basic form of waltz. Right foot forward."

You went around your imaginary boxes a few times before he actually began to understand the formation.

Left foot back, right foot out, right foot forward, left foot out. The dance was simple, and the box kept moving as you rotated around the bonfire in a circular motion.

He was a quick learner, and soon you found he could perform the steps without having to look at his feet.

"Y/N, I think I have a hang of it!"

You chuckled quietly, nodding, "I believe so!"

Although the box step wasn't usually performed around a bonfire, yours moved perfectly.

Now Kalim could go back to his dorm to tell Jamil about his partner dance.

"This is actually really fun." His voice had lowered to a whisper, and he was looking at you with a smile.

You smiled back, gently butting your forehead against his.

"Well yea, and it's simple too!"

The box step was a simple four-step rotation dance. Some would even call it boring if it drawled on for too long.

But the two if you continued on waltzing late into the night. You took this as time to share your thoughts and woes, held closely together, hands knitting to each other.

This was your time with Kalim. Just you, Kalim, and the autumn air.

[luvidzy]

fishes and kisses | hvc

☆ tct summer collection masterlist

☆ genre: fluff

☆ pairing: hansol vernon chwe x reader

☆ summary: vernon and reader go to the aquarium. that is it.

☆ word count: 1.7k

You bounced your leg up and down as you sat beside Vernon on the train. The scenery outside whooshed past, but there was only one thing on your mind: the aquarium. Vernon smiled at you fondly as he watched you practically buzz with excitement. You had been talking about going to the aquarium for months, reminiscing about your childhood and how you hadn’t been to an aquarium in ages. Then Vernon decided to surprise you with a date to the aquarium. It was his way of making up for the fact that he had been really busy with his summer classes lately and unable to take you on a proper date. 

So here you both were, on the train that was going to take you to the aforementioned aquarium. Your brain was already formulating a strategy on how to see everything you wanted to see within the couple of hours you and Vernon had before dinner. Vernon was watching as you pulled out your phone to make a list of the animals you wanted to see. He knew that the minute you got into the building the list would fly out of your head, but it was cute to see you so excited about something.

When the train finally stopped, Vernon was quick to grab your hand, partly because he wanted to hold your hand but also because he was afraid that you were going to run off and he was going to lose you. You two walked hand in hand down the street towards the aquarium. It wasn’t too busy, seeing as it was a Wednesday afternoon and most parents were working. You were practically jumping as Vernon paid for your tickets and led you into the aquarium.

“Where do you wanna head first?” Vernon asked, turning to you. You looked around at the signs that were pointing you guys in the direction of different exhibits. You read each sign before your eyes widened.

“Can we pet the stingrays?” you asked, eyes wide and pleading. Vernon’s heart melted at the sight of your pouty lips and he nodded to you, watching with a smile as you let out a small cheer. You began down the hallway towards the stingray exhibit, humming contentedly to yourself as you pulled Vernon along.

When you finally entered the room, you couldn’t help but smile widely. Turning to Vernon, you were jittering with excitement.

“Come on! I see an empty space over there,” you said, pointing to an empty spot by the tank where the stingrays were happily swimming around.

“I’m right behind you, Bubs.” Vernon followed you as you rushed to claim the spot, eyes following the stingrays that were swimming contentedly around the tank. You reached your hand out and let your hand be submerged as you pet the creature. Your eyes were wide with happiness as you giggled when the stingray swam past, slowing down when it felt your hand.

“I think he likes me, Vern,” you said, sending him a grin. Vernon nodded.

“I don’t see how he couldn’t. You’re amazing.” You flushed at the compliment, watching as Vernon smirked at your reaction to his comment.

“Are you going to join me in petting the stingrays, or are you just gonna ogle me from afar?” you asked, an eyebrow raised. It was Vernon’s turn to flush, moving closer to you and slowly reaching his hand down. A stingray swam past, giving him the chance to pet it. He smiled at the little creature, turning to see you grinning wide at the sight.

“Come on, let’s wash our hands and head to the next exhibit!” Vernon followed you to the next exhibit you wanted to explore, which was the whales. The aquarium you were at had 2 whales in their custody, a beluga whale and an orca whale. You walked up to the glass on the beluga whale enclosure, staring in wonder into the water. In the distance, a shadowy whale figure was swimming along the walls and little pillars in the tank. Vernon felt you squeeze his hand as the whale grew closer and closer until it was directly in front of you both. 

“Vern, look! He likes us!” You waved at the whale, nudging Vernon to do the same. With a chuckle, Vernon waved at the whale alongside you. The whale swam around for a bit more, enrapturing you both with its every move.

“Come on. We don’t want the orca to feel left out, do we?” Vernon asked. You smiled at his silliness, walking alongside him as you moved to the next whale tank. The orca was already out and about. You walked over to the plaque, reading the words that were etched in.

“Her name is Millie. She’s only 4 years old!” You said, looking at the small orca. Vernon smiled as you both walked over to her. She was swimming around, seemingly playing around with a little ball that sat on the surface of the water. 

“I almost feel bad, she’s all alone,” you said, pouting slightly. Vernon looked down at you, before wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you close. He planted a soft kiss to the top of your head.

“But she’s got all these people that come and visit her. I’m sure she’s content.” You looked up at him and nodded, pecking his cheek as revenge for his head kiss. 

“Come on. I think the dolphin show is going to be starting soon.” Vernon and you made your way to the show area, making sure to get the perfect spot to watch the dolphin show. You snuggled close to Vernon, holding his hand tight as the stands got more and more crowded. Vernon smiled to himself, secretly loving when you clung to him like this. He would never admit it, but he was soft for moments like these.

The minute the show started you sat up a little straighter, taking in every word the dolphin trainer said. You occasionally whispered a comment or joke to Vernon, who would just snort or laugh in response to you. You both clapped as the dolphins did some tricks.

“Who wants to see Macy splash?” The crowd cheered and before you knew it you were getting splashed with water. You gasped at the cold water on your face, squeezing your eyes shut. You heard the audience cheer and laugh as you turned to Vernon who was tensed up from the sudden chill. You burst out into laughter as you ran a hand through your now soaking wet hair. Vernon opened his eyes to look at you, laughing at your expression of pure joy. 

After the show, Vernon pulled you aside near the wall and reached into his bag.

“Vernon, what’s up?” You asked, giving him a strange look. He pulled a sweatshirt from the bag and handed it to you with a gentle smile.

“I’ve noticed you’ve been shivering since we got splashed.” He said. You stared down at it, a large grin spreading on your face as you pulled the sweatshirt over your head. It was far too big for you, nearly covering the shorts that you were wearing and giving you sweater paws. Vernon felt his heart thump at the sight of you wearing his clothes. It wasn’t the first time, but for some reason it made him feel warm inside. You stared up at him and gave a smirk.

“I hope you know you’re never getting this back.” Vernon groaned jokingly, already well aware that you were a notorious clothes stealer. With a new item of clothing on your body, you took Vernon’s hand in yours and continued on throughout the aquarium. 

You let Vernon take the lead for a little bit, smiling when you saw he was leading you to the otter enclosure. The otters were out and about, splashing around and playing. You smiled excitedly as one of the otters came up to the glass by you and Vernon and chirped. 

“He’s so cute, Vern,” you said, eyes wide with happiness. Vernon pouted jokingly.

“I think I’m cuter.” You turned to him and gave him a small smile, squeezing his hand.

“You’re absolutely right, baby.” Vernon grinned down at you, before turning his attention back to the pair of cuddling otters that were lazing around in the water. 

Before long you and Vernon began to head to the exit. In order to get the entrance again, you needed to pass through a large tunnel that was submerged in one of the tanks. When you entered you were entranced by the fish and aquatic animals that swam around and above you. You moved to the side, with Vernon, not saying a word and just taking it all in. Vernon wasn’t looking at the tunnel, but instead at you. 

Vernon knew he liked you a lot. You were beautiful, funny, and smart. You kept up with his stupid humor and even though you were dating, you were also each others best friend. But watching you stare at these creatures, the light from the tank illuminating your face while you were in his sweatshirt made him realize that he was in love with you. That he wanted to spend every moment with you. 

You and Vernon hadn’t said ‘I love you’ yet. You were both of the mindset that ‘I love you’ was a special phrase, and neither of you liked to say it unless you really really meant it, that way it kept its meaning. But after a few years of dating, Vernon finally knew that he was in love with you. He wanted to come to the aquarium with you for the rest of his life, see you wearing his clothes everyday, and get to stare at you whenever he wanted.

“I love you,” Vernon blurted out before he could stop himself. Those words drew your attention and you turned to look up at him with wide eyes.

“What?”

“I love you,” he said with much more confidence. Waiting for your response felt like ages, but Vernon’s heart nearly combusted when you smiled so wide he thought it might hurt your face. You grabbed his other hand and leaned up, pressing a light kiss to his lips.

“I love you too, Vernon. I love you very very much.” Vernon smiled down at you, before giving you a hug. You hugged back, making sure to give him a squeeze as you hugged him. You loved being his arms, and you loved him.

As you both walked out of the aquarium, hand in hand, you smiled to yourself. You loved the aquarium, but you loved Hansol Vernon Chwe more. 

[thrillridesz]

no other ▫ sunwoo

➳ pairing: sunwoo x older!reader ➳ genre: fluff ➳ word count: 2.7k ➳ requested?: yes

“Does this look good on me?” 

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, it does.”

Sunwoo narrowed his eyes at Eric, who was sitting on the bed and clearly too preoccupied with his video game to pay much attention to whatever he was asking him. So much for having a second opinion from Eric. 

“Wow, your opinions are so useful,” he bit out each word in a sarcastic tone, feeling more irritated by the second as Eric waved a hand nonchalantly without even tearing his eyes away from the screen for even a millisecond.

“Don’t mention it.”

Before Eric even had the time to react, a pillow was hurtled towards his head at a speed that would make even professional football stars kowtow. Alarmed, Eric dropped his phone onto the floor with a loud clatter as he glared at Sunwoo.

“What was that for?”

“The least you could was give me your honest opinion. Seriously, I don’t think I’m asking for much here.” The latter replied dryly, his expression void of any form of remorse. “I didn’t ask you over to play games on your phone while I model in front of you like an idiot.”

Rubbing his face, Eric groaned, “All of this just for a date?”

Sunwoo glowered at his words and a steady, growing heat crept up to his cheeks.

“You know how much I’ve been looking forward to this date with y/n.”

“Yeah but still.” Eric shot back, picking up his phone and inspecting it for cracks. When he found none, he heaved a deep sigh of relief. “Man, if there were any cracks, I would have had your neck.”

“Oh please, I could you take out in a minute.”

Sunwoo had to resist the urge to shake him as he kept his fists clenched tightly at his sides. Sometimes, hanging out with Eric felt like he was voluntarily giving up years of his life while trying not to lose his temper. Taking a deep breath, he turned back to the mirror and focused on his outfit. He can’t afford to get anymore creases on his forehead because of Eric of all people.

Red flannel, denim jeans and black converse sneakers. Scrunching up his nose in distaste, he asked, “Do you think I’d look better if I...” - he reached over to his cupboard and grabbed a black beanie, placing it over his head - “Wear it with the beanie or without?”

Eric regarded him for a second, pursing his lips as if deep in thought.

“Without. For sure, without the beanie.”

“Thank you,” Sunwoo rolled his eyes. “For being actually helpful for once.” Tossing the beanie to the side, he mussed up his hair and frowned as he scrutinised himself in the mirror. Seemingly unsatisfied, he flattened his hair again and noticed Eric’s incredulous expression from the reflection.

“This is honestly the first time I’ve seen you care so much about something.”

“Well obviously, you don’t know me enough if you’re saying that. I care about a lot of things.”

Eric rolled his eyes. “Just not me, huh.”

“Yeah, nah. You’re not worth my time.”

Eric clutched onto his heart and wailed in a fake cry, “Ouch. I’m hurt.”

That was the thing about Eric. He was always able to make him smile no matter what. Smiling, Sunwoo quipped, “Stop being dramatic.”

“Why are you so hung up over this anyways?” Eric questioned as he laid back on the bed. “It’s just a date.”

Sunwoo stiffened. He couldn't possibly tell Eric that this was his first date ever. He would never hear the end of it. 

“Yeah, sure. It's just a date but it’s with y/n.” As he said that, his expression softened as his thoughts drifted to you. 

The two of you had met on his first day at school as a new transfer student. He wasn’t what you would call a model student and he certainly didn’t look the part. With a scruffy demeanor and unkempt hair, nobody had really dared to approach him. It didn’t help that there were rumours flying around that he had only transfer to your school because he had gotten in serious trouble in his previous one. 

Students avoided talking to him and teachers would regard him with caution and suspicion in their eyes. It wasn’t like Sunwoo cared all that much about what people thought about him but deep down, it did hurt a little although he would never admit it. As he packed up his stuff at the end of the day, his ears picked up on the sound of whisperings not too far from him.

“I heard he beat up a guy in his old school...”

“Really? That’s terrible....”

When he turned, the group of students jumped and immediately dispersed as if a single glance from him was enough to scare them off. Although there was an expression of indifference on his face, he gripped tightly onto the straps of his backpack as he made his way past them. It was almost comical how they inched out of the way while he walked by. The day had gone by quietly as humanely possible and not one single moment, did Sunwoo ever open his mouth to make conversation with someone else. 

“Whatever. Their loss,” He thought to himself, a bitter taste in his mouth. Rounding a corner, he walked smack into someone and various art supplies spilled out from the box the student was carrying. 

“I’m so sorry! I should have been looking!” You apologised, a flustered look on your face as you held your hands out to help him.

“You should really watch where you’re going.” He replied, frowning as he dusted flecks of dried paint from his sleeves. Bending down to help you pick up the fallen supplies, he got his first good look at you and nearly lost his balance.

Woah.

He always did have many admirers and have been on the receiving end of quite a few confessions, all of which he appreciated but did not reciprocate. None of them have ever managed to get him to feel how you made him feel within seconds. As you smiled at him and reached out to take the sketchbook from his hands, Sunwoo felt a jolt of electricity run through him when your finger briefly touched his. That beautiful, kind smile of yours did things to his heart and for a moment, he thought himself to be crazy. 

What is this feeling?

“Thank you! I’m really sorry about that by the way, I guess I wasn’t looking. I’ll see you!” You said with a sheepish smile, wrapping your arms around the large box piled high with brushes, palettes and drawing materials. The box was clearly too big for your frame and you struggled to get a proper, firm grip around it. The contents inside the box were dangerously close to spilling out as you balanced it precariously in your arms. He stood stock still as he watched you walk away before he shook himself back to his senses. 

“W-Wait!”

Since you couldn’t turn back without risking everything from falling out again, you could only crane your head back. 

“Yeah?”

Sunwoo willed himself to approach you although his legs were starting to feel like jelly and his heart was pounding so furiously against his chest. This was the first time he felt so nervous around someone else, yet there was also a strangely warm feeling he couldn’t help but crave already. 

When you looked him in the eye, he actually felt his heart stutter and there was short pause as he struggled to find words to say. 

“Can I help you?”

“I... No, I was just wondering if you needed help with those?” He asked, holding out his hands. You beamed at his offer but shook your head.

“It’s alright! I’ve got this. Thank you so much for offering though,” you replied, heaving the box up a little higher when a paintbrush slid dangerously close to the edge.

“I insist.” He smiled shakily.

Sunwoo later found out that you were a part of school’s art club and even though he didn’t have an ounce of artistic talent or drawing skills in him, he put his name down on the sign up sheet anyways. Seeing you at every art meet would be the highlight of his day and after that first run in, you had recognised him and struck up a conversation with him before he could talk to you. Internally, he was glad that you did because it meant that he wouldn’t need to worry about messing up in front of you yet on the other hand, his heart was almost bursting with anxiety. 

The two of you grew close as the days passed and because of your friendship with Sunwoo, people started being less intimidated by him. People were starting to talk to him or even invite him out on outings. If it wasn’t already impossible, he felt himself liking you more and more as the days went by. Before long, he found himself working up the courage to ask you out. 

This was a tricky thing for him since firstly, he had never been on a date and secondly, you were older than he was. When he had told Eric, the one person he trusted second to you that he harboured a crush on you, the man had burst out laughing. There was a certain sort of stigma in school around liking a senior if you were a guy yet Sunwoo didn’t care. Why should age be a factor in liking someone?

When he had finally worked up the courage to ask you out, he almost chickened out at the last minute. What if you rejected him? What if he somehow messed this up? Sunwoo wasn’t a guy who easily got shaken or afraid but when it came to this, he would honestly have much rather leap off a cliff than go through the jitters of it all. 

One can only imagine the sheer joy and relief he felt when you uttered the answer he so desperately wanted to hear from you.

“Yes. Of course, I would love to go on a date with you!”

Call him a drama king but it was like fireworks erupting around him when you said yes. You know that feeling when you ace a test when you thought you had messed it up once and for all? That was exactly how he felt. That joy was short-lived however, as he realised with a start that he had to now impress on the date.

“I just really want this date to go well.” Sunwoo declared firmly, straightening and giving his reflection a final once over. 

“Alright, dude. Good luck!”

Grabbing his keys and fixing his shirt, he asked absent-mindedly, “What’s the time anyways?”

Eric squinted at the time displayed on the digital clock at the bedside table. “It’s 1:16pm.”

Wait... What?

Immediately, the colour disappeared from Sunwoo’s face as he turned to look at the time. The red digits on the clock stare back at him and he felt his stomach churn. He was supposed to meet you at 1:30pm at the cafe!

“Oh. Oh, hell no. I’m late!” He shrieked frantically as he made a mad dash for the door, almost tripping over his own foot.

“Classic. I’ll just carry on with my game,” Eric yawned, picking up his phone as the door closed behind him.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Crouching over with his hands on his knees, Sunwoo could hear his heart beating in his ear as he gasped for air.

He might have busted a lung but he didn’t really care. As he panted, he whipped out his phone to check the time.

1:45pm. Fuck. He’s 15 minutes late to the date.

Quickly, Sunwoo pushed open the door to the café and his eyes immediately brightened at the sight of you sitting at a corner near the window. Mentally, he willed himself to calm down as he tried to steady his breathing. His hair was sticking in all directions, his entire body was sweaty and his face was red and blotchy from exertion but he didn’t have a choice. He had to make do.

“Y/n!” He called out, voice slightly trembling from his nerves.

You turned around at his voice and smiled, causing his heart to clench. Why do you always have to look so beautiful? It’s not fair. You always look so effortlessly amazing and he’s just a sweaty, nervous wreck whenever you were around.

Grinning brightly, Sunwoo started towards you. He should really have seen the guy incoming on his left but he realised that a little too late when he felt the boiling hot chocolate drink spill out onto the front of his shirt.

It took him a split second to react and with a yelp, he probably made himself look like a total clown as he scrambled back, wringing his sore hands of the sweet, hot liquid.

Gasps could be heard and as Sunwoo clutched onto his reddened hand and grazed his fingers over his burned waist, he couldn’t help but feel extremely embarrassed. His hand and waist may feel like it’s burning but it was nothing compared to the heat in his cheeks. So much for a perfect first date and with you no less. He was sure he’d made a fool of himself right there and then.

He barely even registered it when you rushed forward, a look of concern on your face as you held his hand.

“Oh my god, are you ok? We need to get you some ointment immediately!” You said as you held onto his hand.

Sunwoo nodded quietly with face was downcast as though he couldn’t bear to look you in the eye.

The two of you sat underneath a giant oak tree at the park as he lifted up his shirt to expose his raw, now angrily red torso.

Your eyes widened as you realised just how toned and chiseled he was but quickly masked it over as you squeeze out a dollop of burn cream onto your fingers. Dabbing gingerly at his wound, you hesitated as he flinched, his teeth gritted in pain as you made contact.

“Does it hurt a lot?” You asked softly.

“Um... Yeah, a little,” he replied in a small voice, his eyes avoiding yours. There was a pause before he added, “Look, I’m really sorry for how this date turned out.”

You stopped what you were doing and gazed up at him in total shock. What was he saying?

Sunwoo’s face was turned away as he continued on.

“It’s all my fault this date is ruined and I know you probably don’t expect much from me but this must have been even lower than your lowest expectations. I may be younger but I swear I can be as good as the seniors, it’s just that today just wasn’t the day I guess. I showed up late, clowned myself-”

You quickly placed a finger over his plump lips, shushing him immediately as he gazed at you in surprise.

“Don’t say another word! This isn’t your fault, Sunwoo. Please don’t blame yourself.” You said in a tone of disbelief. To think he would beat himself up over this was completely beyond you.

His eyes softened and he murmured against your finger.

“Weely?”

The feeling of his moving lips on your skin felt searing hot as you withdrew your finger, your body tingling at the sensation and blood rushing to your cheeks.

“Yes. There is no other like you. I wouldn’t have traded this date in for the world.” You smiled as you watched his lips tug into a huge, genuine beam.

“That... That meant a lot to me... Thank you.” He whispered, suddenly shy.

You can only chuckle at how cute he was before you stood up, holding out a hand.

“Let’s just enjoy our day together, okay? We could start by shopping for a new shirt.” You laughed, gesturing vaguely at the large darkened stain on his shirt.

Sunwoo looked up at you. The sunlight was shining on the side of your face and it brought out the liveliness in your eyes, your hair framing your face in the most elegant way possible. If you didn't already look beautiful in his eyes, you certainly were now. 

He felt his heart flutter wildly and he grinned as he clasped his hand with yours.

“Okay.”