#now if we could get a new sauna that is more home sauna like instead of spa 😌

[4giorno]

dish drying rack (???) over the sink in the sims???????

[senashenta]

Coffee Break

Title: Coffee Break

Pairing: Hijack

Rating: NSFW

Warnings: Smut, language.

Summary: North has to leave the house to actually go in to work and studying get tedious and boring, so Jack and Hiccup take a break for a cup of coffee. What happens from there? Well, teenaged boys will be teenaged boys, after all, and Jack’s Dad IS out of the house…

Notes: I’ve been so buried in my SPN fic lately that taking a break to work on Snowflakes And Dragons was actually REALLY NICE? Kind of cleared my head. So, I wrote this fic as well, since I was so into the last one. I’ll be going back to SPN fic now, but I’m going to try to make more regular forays into the Hijack stuff again, I’ve been neglecting it for too long. (I have the next chapters of Marked and Chemistry open in Word as I type this!) So, more Hijack to come!

Except not in November. November is the NaNo and I am DETERMINED to beat it this year. >|

Also available to read on AO3. <3

COFFEE BREAK A Biology Side-Fic By Senashenta

It was May and it was already starting to get unbearably hot out, which didn’t bode well for the summer. Luckily, Jack’s house had central air, and they were able to just switch that on for days like this, so that made it much more livable. That also meant that he and Hiccup did a lot more hanging out at his house instead of the punk’s, but that was, in general, fine with both of them. (It was actually probably better, since Hiccup’s Dad still didn’t know about their relationship.)

Today was a Sunday, and Hiccup had arrived early, showing up at ten in the morning hauling a backpack full of textbooks, notebooks, pens and pencils. Jack had just barely been up and dressed when he got there and was yawning into a bowl of oatmeal at the kitchen table when North answered the door and let Hiccup inside.

The older boy came straight in, dropped his backpack by the doorway, and headed over to place his hands on Jack’s shoulders and press a kiss by his temple. “Mornin’.”

Jack hummed and smiled, perking up considerably. “Good morning. You’re here early.”

“And you look like you just woke up.” Hiccup’s chin came down on the top of Jack’s head and he gave an amused chuckle, “you know we could’ve met up later. Not that I’m complainin’, the A/C in here is the fuckin’ best. My room is like a Goddamn sauna right now.”

Jack could believe it. Hiccup’s house was warm at the best of times because his father liked it that way, and the other boy had his bedroom in the attic—the hottest part of the house, with only two small windows for ventilation. It could get stifling. Jack knew for a fact that Hiccup was riding out the heatwave in basically just his boxers, sometimes less, when he was at home. Jack had joined him on occasion when they were hanging out at his house on particularly hot days.

“Mmm… yeah but we have tons of stuff to go over.” Jack picked up his spoon and started eating his oatmeal instead of just staring at it sleepily. It didn’t take long for him to finish it off and soon he was pushing his chair back, jostling Hiccup away in the process, to go and take his bowl to the sink. “Sorry.”

“You’re not even.” Hiccup accused, sounding amused. “Want me to just take my shit up to your room?”

The white-haired boy nodded and glanced over his shoulder, already rinsing the bowl to put it in the dishwasher. “Yeah, I’ll be up in a minute. Dad wants to talk to me when I’m done in here.”

“Right.” Hiccup didn’t particularly want to be around for one of North’s Talks, so he headed off, grabbing his backpack on the way past and disappearing upstairs while Jack tucked his dishes into the dishwasher and finished tidying up the kitchen from breakfast.

Then Jack headed out of the kitchen, through the living room and toward North’s study, where he knocked lightly before cracking the door open and peering inside. His Dad was working on a project at his desk, probably some new toy design, and glanced up when Jack cleared his throat and asked, “you wanted to talk to me?”

North glanced back at him and lifted a hand, motioning for him to come inside. When Jack stepped in, he offered a smile and spun his chair around to face him. “Jack, I have to go into the shop today.” He informed his son; “it’s fine that Hiccup is over, and I know the rule is for you to keep your door open when he’s here, however…”

He seemed to hesitate, there. He glanced away briefly before looking back at Jack again. “I am not stupid. If something… happens, while I’m gone. Please close your door. I do not want to get home and walk in on the two of you—”

“I GET THE IDEA, DAD.” Jack interrupted, face bright red. He had his hands held out in front of himself almost defensively, and he was already edging backward to flee. “Thank you for letting me know!”

North coughed and glanced down, then simply swung his chair back around and went back to work, obviously embarrassed, himself. Jack took that as a cue to leave and practically bolted out the door and up the stairs to his bedroom—this time closing the door firmly behind himself.

Hiccup was seated on his bed, pulling books out of his backpack, and looked up in surprise when Jack next thing to slammed the door closed. Green eyes blinked once, then twice, and finally he said slowly, “uh. Jack. I’m pretty sure that’s supposed to stay open. Your Dad will fucking murder me.”

Jack just shook his head, red all the way back to his ears, and replied, “no, not today. He, um… he’s going out and doesn’t want to walk in on anything when he comes home.”

That prompted a boisterous laugh from Hiccup. “Your Dad is totally giving us permission to screw!”

An even darker blush from Jack, but he admitted, “…basically.”

Not that North had had any real problem with them sleeping together, not since the very beginning, not even the very first time when he had cornered them the morning after to give them the Safe Sex talk. Sure, he’d had a problem with their relationship, to begin with, but once he had moved on from that, he had proved to be very accepting about most everything since then. He just didn’t normally talk about it.

Now, Jack rubbed the heels of his palms against his eyes for a moment before crossing the room and dropping down onto the bed next to Hiccup, his cheeks still flushed red all the way back to his ears. Hiccup just shuffled over to wrap an arm around him, an amused grin on his face. Jack buried his face in Hiccup’s shoulder with a mortified noise.

“It was so embarrassing.”

“Pretty fuckin’ funny, though.”

“Hiccup.”

“Sorry, sorry.” The punk snickered but ducked down to press a placating kiss against Jack’s hair. When Jack lifted his head again to look up at him, Hiccup leaned down once more to kiss him properly. Then he offered; “c’mon Frostbite, I’m here to study, so let’s study.”

Jack made a soft agreeing noise and extracted himself from Hiccup’s hold to go over and get his books from his desk, a hand up and rubbing at one cheek absently. “Math or biology first?”

“Ugh, math, I guess? I fuckin’ hate math. Let’s just get it over with.”

They had actually gotten together today because they had tests in two of their shared classes in the week coming up, math and biology. There was no test coming up in their third shared class, chemistry, thankfully, but either way they needed to study, and they both figured they might as well study together.

Remarkably, they usually did pretty well with studying together. They could stay (mostly) on task and get things done, and anything that one of them was stymied by the other seemed to know. The few times they were both stumped there was always the Internet. It was why Jack’s Dad didn’t mind him doing so much studying with Hiccup, nowadays, because when they said they were studying, he could trust them to actually study.

Well. Most of the time, anyway. There were some days when they were waylaid by less… scholarly pursuits. Hence North’s warning about the door today, he knew full well what could—and likely would—happen with him out of the house. They were teenaged boys, after all.

“Math it is.” Jack dragged his math textbook and notebook over to his bed and together the two of them settled in together to study for the rest of the day, or most of the rest of the day. There would of course be breaks for drinks or snacks or just to get their heads out of the books. Possibly make out a little.

Two hours later, it was lunch time and Jack’s brain was so crammed with numbers there was no room for anything else. He still continued working, though, until a few minutes later when Hiccup next thing to face planted into his textbook and uttered a low, frustrated groan.

Jack patted his shoulder gently and then closed his own book before shifting around to scoot to the edge of the bed and climb off. Once he was standing, he turned back around and ducked to kiss against his boyfriend’s hair with a smile. “Come on, time for some food.”

Hiccup grumbled, grouchy, but climbed up after him, and the two of them made their way downstairs to the kitchen, where Jack pulled out a frozen pizza (Hiccup made a face at that but allowed it) and stuck it in the oven. A few minutes later they were eating the cardboard-crusted monstrosity while Jack started up a pot of coffee, feeling the need for caffeine. Once they were finished with the pizza they cleaned up the box and set about getting their coffee ready.

It was probably ironic that Jack drank his coffee black, while Hiccup needed cream and sugar in his. The punk defiantly claimed that he had taste buds, thank you very much, while the nerd more quietly proclaimed that so did he. It was one of the things they agreed to disagree on.

Now, they stood together in the kitchen, Hiccup doctoring his coffee to make it palatable and Jack already sipping at his, a little amused smile on his face. His father had already left, and if he was going to the shop he wouldn’t be back for a while. Possibly not even for dinner. Jack wasn’t entirely displeased with the idea, though he never would have admitted that out loud.

“Hey… Hiccup?” Blue eyes watched Hiccup move around the kitchen for a moment and he hesitated briefly before swallowing and asking, “um… I’ve been wondering…”

“Hm?” Hiccup finished doctoring his coffee and dropped the spoon in the sink, replacing the sugar and cream where they belonged before coming over to lean against the table next to where Jack was standing. “What, Jack?”

And this was… awkward. What he wanted to ask about. Jack’s face was already turning red, and he hadn’t even said anything yet. Hiccup took a sip of his coffee and looked at him, eyebrows raising in question. Finally, Jack cleared his throat and asked hesitantly, “you’ve… been with people before me. I know that. I was just wondering…”

Hiccup’s lips quirked and he offered, “two girls, three other guys. The girls just ‘cause I was tryin’ to figure myself out, I guess. Never been as close to anyone as I am with you, though, Frosty.”

“Really, never?” Jack asked softly, halfway to a sip of his own coffee and eyes searching Hiccup’s.

“Jack…” Hiccup reached to set his cup on the table, then carefully took Jack’s from his hands and set it aside as well. Then he brought his hands up to grab at either side of Jack’s face and leaned in to kiss him gently. “I love you,” He murmured finally, and nipped at Jack’s lower lip just lightly. “I’ve never loved anyone like I love you. I’m so in love with you it fuckin’ hurts.”

Jack blinked at him, eyes a little wide—and then leaned in for another kiss. “I feel the same way, you know.”

“Anyone before you was just… a pastime, I guess. Just someone to screw around with. They didn’t matter.” The punk offered him a little smile, just soft and fond, and Jack returned it in kind. “You matter.”

“So do you.” Jack told him in a quiet whisper, a fond smile on his face.

“Great,” Hiccup kissed him again, then handed him back his cup and told him; “so now that we’ve established that we’re both head-over-heels for each other, finish up your coffee so we can go back upstairs, and I can fuck you absolutely senseless.”

Jack was halfway to a drink of his coffee—and paused, flushing red and coughing lightly before agreeing, “yeah. That—that definitely sounds like a plan.”

The coffee break part of their lunch only lasted twenty minutes, and that included the time to brew the coffee, have their little talk, and drink the coffee once it was ready and doctored up, in Hiccup’s case. It lasted that short amount of time because both of them practically gulped their drinks down in their haste to get upstairs and shut the door behind them again. They even left their coffee mugs on the table, something Jack made a mental note to tidy up later.

Then they were back in his room and Hiccup had him pinned to the back of the door and they were kissing as if their lives depended on it, until they could barely breathe and needed to break off for air or risk passing out. Jack leaned heavily back on the door, his hands fisted in the front of Hiccup’s shirt, holding him close, and took shuddering breaths until Hiccup pulled him away and over to push him down onto the bed, shoving their books aside and sinking down over him a moment later.

Jack wrapped his arms around his punk’s neck and drew him down into another kiss, this one slower and deeper, full of longing and passion and, yes, lust. Hiccup just returned the kiss in kind, rubbing a knee up between Jack’s legs and grinding against his already half-hard cock through his pants. Jack muffled a moan against Hiccup’s mouth and rocked upward into the friction lightly.

“Hey,” Hiccup asked as he drew back slightly, licking his lips and then ducking in for another quick kiss, his knee still grinding, “you ever wonder what it might be like to switch?”

Letting his head fall back, Jack took a shuddering breath and asked weakly, “switch?”

“Yeah,” The brunet began trailing hot, messy kisses down Jack’s neck to nip at the crook where it met his shoulder. “Like if you were fucking me, instead of me doing the fucking. Switch.”

Jack froze, eyes opening quickly, and swallowed hard as he looked down at Hiccup, breathing coming almost panicked, abruptly. “I—I don’t think—”

“Relax, Jack, I didn’t mean today.” Hiccup chuckled against his neck, and lifted up to look at him properly, an amused smile on his face and a twinkle in his green eyes, “it’s just something to think about for the future.”

“Have you…?”

“I’ve bottomed before, once or twice. It’s pretty great. But then you know that.”

“Yeah.”

“I have to trust a person a fuckin’ lot to let them do that with me. I guess it’s probably the same with you.” Hiccup leaned down for another kiss, and Jack kissed back almost automatically, his thoughts whirling, “and I trust you that much, so I was just thinking… maybe some day, right? If you wanted to.”

Jack looked up at him for a long moment before finally nodding his head briefly. He licked his lips and tugged the older boy down for another kiss; “not today, but… yeah. Maybe some day.”

That was good enough for Hiccup. Even if it was something he was thinking about, would like to do some day, he would never push the issue with Jack, not if it made him uncomfortable, and it clearly did. He dropped an apologetic kiss against Jack’s lips—then just kissed him again, and again, deep and slow, relaxing kisses meant to break the tension that was admittedly his own fault.

Slowly, Jack began to unwind again, until a few minutes later when he was completely relaxed under Hiccup again, kissing back easily and muffling little groans when the punk ground his knee into his still-hard dick.

And yeah, maybe the idea of being the one to top between the two of them made him nervous, but it wasn’t a terrible idea, really, it was something to think about—and Jack knew something he could do right now that Hiccup would definitely like immensely. So, after another few minutes of making out heatedly, hands wandering and rutting against each other through their clothes—Jack brought his own hands around to shove at the older boy’s chest, pushing him back and off to the side.

When Hiccup made a soft protesting noise, Jack just gave a little quirk of a smile and pulled him to sit up, then over to the edge of the bed.

Jack wasn’t normally a huge fan of giving Hiccup blowjobs, mostly because he was afraid of hurting his boyfriend with his braces, and that seemed a particularly awkward way for things to go when they were supposed to be being intimate with each other. He would, however, do it once in a while, on occasions like this, when they had the house to themselves, and he could take his time and be particularly careful about the act. Hiccup always seemed to appreciate it when he did do it, and today would be no exception.

For now, Jack just slid down off the bed and onto his knees, shuffling around to settle between Hiccup’s legs, and reached to pull at the waistband of his jeans, pulling him closer to the edge of the mattress. Hiccup went along willingly as it clearly clicked in his head where Jack was going with this, licking his lips slightly even as Jack began making quick work of undoing his pants and tugging them down slightly—Hiccup lifted his hips to make that part easier, and Jack flashed him an embarrassed little smile.

Then it was the simple task of pushing his boxers aside and reaching to pull his cock out—and Jack swallowed thickly because Hiccup was already hard and throbbing in his hand, just from their making out and rubbing against each other. Belatedly, he lifted his free hand to take his glasses off and reached to set them on the nightstand, making Hiccup chuckle lowly.

“Shut up, I’m just worried they’ll fall off my face.”

“I get you. Ah, fuck, I definitely get you. You’re just cute when you do this, that’s all.”

Jack’s face burned and he ignored that comment, instead focusing on stroking his hand up and down Hiccup’s swollen dick until the punk was shifting restlessly and cursing above him… and then Jack leaned in to lick up the underside of his boyfriend’s cock and across the sensitive head, being on-so-careful to keep his teeth, and braces, out of the equation.

“Shit, Jack...”

More swearing from Hiccup, but Jack ignored it, ducking his head to carefully take the other boy’s cock into his mouth, sucking and tonguing at the head before easing deeper. He was still a little awkward at this. Hadn’t had much practice, really. But he put his everything into it and Hiccup seemed to appreciate that.

Now, the older boy brought one hand up to tangle in Jack’s snowy hair, kneading there restlessly while the other clenched tightly in the blankets by his side—and Jack continued to suck him off, all hot and slick and fucking perfect, even if he was holding his mouth at an odd angle because he was afraid of his Goddamned braces. It still felt amazing—and after a couple of minutes Hiccup gently pushed down on Jack’s head, urging him to go deeper.

“Gn.” Jack made a muffled surprised sound but didn’t protest, instead just doing what Hiccup wanted, pushing deeper to swallow around him, then starting to bob his head, a little awkward but it worked—Hiccup’s head fell forward, and he gave a soft little groan, his breath coming harder, harsher now.

“You can… close your jaw more, Jack, ah fuck… you’re not gonna hurt me…”

Blue eyes had been mostly closed, but they opened properly on those words, and Jack pulled off the punk’s dick with a quiet wet noise. “Are you sure? I really don’t want—”

“Yes, I’m fucking sure.” Hiccup moaned out, the hand in Jack’s hair tightening slightly—and then loosening again. “I swear, I’ll be fine. Just—” A little strangled noise and his hips bucked just once; “I’m so Goddamn close…!”

Oh. Well. In that case. Jack just nodded and ducked back down, taking him into his mouth again, sliding deep and beginning to suck and bob his head, making a point of closing his jaw a little more this time—more contact, more friction, he supposed—and pouring his everything into sucking Hiccup off until the other boy was breathless and moaning, his hips twitching as he fought the urge to thrust up into Jack’s perfect fucking mouth.

It didn’t really take long after that before Hiccup was tensing up, the hand in Jack’s hair tightening again, holding him in place as he spilled himself down Jack’s throat. And Jack just swallowed everything down easily, eyes closed and lashes fluttering, because actually? That was his favorite part about giving Hiccup a blowjob. It made him feel even closer to the punk than they already were, somehow.

When Hiccup’s hand loosened again a moment later, fingers carding through Jack’s hair gently now, Jack pulled off his softening cock, swallowing and licking his lips, to look up at him and ask, “it was good?”

Hiccup gave him an incredulous look, followed by a grin, and then flopped onto his back with a laugh. “Was it good. Was it good? Jack, it was fucking fantastic, your mouth is just… shit, man, Goddamn perfection.” He huffed a still slightly breathless sigh and lifted his head to look down at Jack, still grinning; “you really don’t have to worry so much about your braces, though.”

Jack pushed off the floor and crawled up to settle next to Hiccup on the mattress. “I just worry.” He said, which, obviously; “sometimes my braces catch my own lips, and it stings, I don’t even want to think about how it would feel on your… ah.”

“Cock. The word is cock.”

“Yeah. That.”

“You can suck and swallow, but you can’t even say the word?” Hiccup chuckled and leaned over to kiss by Jack’s ear. “You’re so fuckin’ adorable, I can’t even with you.” He was currently working on getting his dick tucked back into his pants and his jeans done up properly again… and then shuffled around until he could swing one leg over Jack, straddling his thighs. Then he was leaning down over the younger boy and grinning down at him. “How ‘bout I return the favor, then, Frostbite?”

Not that Jack would have said no, but Hiccup was already undoing his pants anyway.

THE END

[pastrygeckos]

Felt soooo bad for Flan last night, she had managed to get the shed off of the most of her body after we helped with her face, but after an additional 24 hours and two saunas, we had to help out with her toes and such, plus we needed to have a look at her eye and flush it a bit. And on top of it all, she'd apparently bit herself in the tail during shedding, so when we came to get the skin off she started bleeding a little and I absolutely panicked thinking it was our fault (but upon flushing and disinfecting with reptile-safe wound cleaner, we could clearly see the little dotted marks from her tiny teeth) 😩 We're still not sure if we're getting anywhere with her eye, she definitely did get the new shed/cap off herself, but it's almost like it's actually her eyelid that's more affected than the eye now hhhh.

She's really splooting down onto the heat for naps recently (she likes her heat mat a little bit hotter than the others, 32-33°c instead of 31-32°, but the ambient temperature has been going down recently as the weather cools).

I'm adding a cut here, for long post reasons. More in-depth info about the current situation.

Basically, the next step if we're not able to work it out ourselves, would be to take her in to the vet to put her under to really get in there, but we're not very confident that she would actually survive that. So between digging into info, getting help and advice from an admin from Geckos Unlimited, observing her at home and attempting various treatments (we now know it's not an infection, or the antibiotic drops would've helped, and after seeing the vet apply dye, we know it's not a cut or an ulcer), we are also really desperate to leave her alone as much as possible. It's gotten more difficult for us to get a good look at her eye, because she's caught on, and now closes them whenever she sees us. Obviously yesterday we had to help her out, and flush her eye, so now we wait ~again~ and cross our fingers once more.

All in all, the things we've been doing, include:

Keeping her humid hide moist

Keeping a paper towel sauna with an opening in the tank that she can go in and out voluntarily

Keeping a small dish with moist cotton on the warm side to increase humidity (conveniently, she likes laying her face right on top of it)

Adding vitamin drops with Vitamin A and retinol in her water dish

Gut loading feeders with lots of vegetables and insect food formula

Giving her a full-on sauna every 3-4 days in an (aerated) feeder tub by putting wet paper towel into the tub, closing the lid, and placing it over the heat mat so it steams up with condensation (she goes in for 10-15 minutes)

Keeping a close look on her eye

Note any changes in her condition

Flushing her eye with saline as needed (in attempts to flush away foreign objects and/or eye goop)

If you have any other additional advice or anything (would something like a video of the eye help?), please let us know.

Took her to the vet, they saw the swelling but she wouldn't open her eye after having dye put into it, and it looked a bit 'sticky' so we did a course of antibiotic eye drops. When we came back home, we were able to see her eye properly while the dye was still there, and confirm there were no cuts or marks on it

Adding a rough rock to rub on, in addition to various cork bark

She's mad grumpy lately but I can't blame her!

[tobiasdrake]

We're here. The final leg of our mission: Glacial Peak.

Every bone in my body has fragmented into shards. When I move my limbs they crickle-crack like maracas. T-T Also Luana was not kidding when she said it's cold as balls up here.

I hate this. I hate everything about it. I want to go home. Working for the postal service sucks. ._.

...hmm....

HMMMMMMMMMM

This ring perplexes me. Getting over to it is fairly simply but why would it be here? It's a graplou target but. It's in a corner. There's nowhere to reach by graplou-ing onto it.

What purpose could this possibly serve?

Oh well. Moving right along, we are just about finished here.

I have not! ^_^ Pretty sure once we drop off this Scroll at the summit, we're in the clear. We're probably like 90% through this adventure by now.

Looking forward to getting it done with and then maybe a relaxing spa trip. I wonder if any part of Bamboo Creek is still functional as a spa? They had a pretty cool high dive but I'm looking for more of a hot tub and sauna situation here. It's very cold.

Oh, thanks for the tidbit, I hadn't fucking noticed you dickweevil.

Sitting here all comfy in your room beyond time and space. Some of us have jobs, you know.

...yeah, okay. I've kind of been glazing through most of your stories since they don't really seem connected to anything but something about this one just... It sends a chill down my spine I can't quite explain.

I don't know why. I don't have a lot of mentors or responsible guiding figures to look up to. I've lived my life according to the teachings of an immortal being of limitless wisdom--

"19-year-old girl who, purely because of a well-timed nudge, tripped over her left ankle and fell backwards into incredible cosmic power. But don't mind me. I may or may not be an 'assclown'."

...an immortal being of limitless wisdom and eternal grace.

So I don't know what about this one called out so much to me. I guess it's just something I'll have to mull over.

...I'm touching your cabinet out of spite.

Honestly, this place isn't so bad. Sure, it's a little slippery here or there and the footings aren't great and also it's so heavily demon infested oh god I've died five times just from plunging to my doom

Is that the fucking Shopkeeper?

If he is Resh'an then Luana's going to have some choice words about him getting a statue. And most of them will be expletives.

The lanterns are frozen to keep me from going over there. That just makes me want to do it even more. But my sword and shurikens are useless against ice.

Sure do wish I had something to burn.

Also, sleeves.

No, at this point, I'm expecting it at every pit. ._.

Oh! Sorry, I was so focused, I forgot to tell you. Yeah, we've made to to Glacial Peak. I met two huge muscle-men that wanted to wrestle with me in their loincloths. One of them showed me his dick and then they apologized by breaking every bone in my body, and that's why we're freezing to death in this miserable place.

Honestly, can this place get any wo--

But I don't want to be perforated today. T-T

It's okay. Utilizing this weird new concept of patience and moderation, I think I've figured out his fighting style.

A careful and measured approach feels so heretical and yet so satisfying. It's like I'm working inside of my human limits to overcome the insurmountable!

See you around, warping wonderfuck. ^_^ Okay, I take it back; I'm feeling pretty good about my life right now. I can take on any--

Well, that's just rude. Okay, back to blazing the trail by skidding on my face across rock and snow.

Oh my goddess, trees. Actual living things instead of sheer cliff drops and onto bonesplitting rocks.

I think I'm here. I think I actually fucking made it. At last. I'm ready to drop off this stupid fucking Scroll, go home, and move on with my life--

Wait, my home burned down in a demon invasion. Right. Shit. Well, we'll deal with that when it comes. For right now, I should see what Shopkeeper has to say about--

...uh....

...

...

Hello?

...

Assclown?

...

...

I'm touching his cabinet.

...yes. Yes, I did.

But I WANT one.

I don't believe you. I think you have the secret to everything in this cabinet. The cabinet is life. The cabinet is my dreams. I belong in the cabinet.

[buckaroosboogara]

911 week - Day 4:

“It’s always been you.” + love

(1700~ words, Buck and Eddie, blackout fic.)

@911week

"How long have we been here? Are you okay?" Buck asked, his throat begging for water.

"We have been here for," Eddie looked at his watch, the only source of light in the elevator. "3 hours."

"Are you okay?" He asked one more time.

Eddie's silence dragged for almost a minute before Buck spoke again.

"I need to know if you are hurt."

"I'm fine... physically." He finally said, taking air sharply. "The darkness and tight space... it reminds me of..."

"The well accident. Fuck."

The first thing Buck noticed when he woke up was that he was in a dark place.

It was hot, closed, and pitch-black. Tight.

He didn't like the implications of that.

He tried to move from his laying position only to be stopped by a stabbing pain in his skull.

Buck hissed as he laid on the floor again and a voice sounded in the dark, quiet but worried.

"Hey, hey, Buck, you are awake," The voice said out of breath. Buck felt a hand come to his shoulder clumsily and pat him. "Welcome back."

Buck grunted. His throat was dry and his mouth felt like sand, contrary to his skin which felt soaked in sweat. At least the pain was more bearable.

He turned on his back to sense the voice's owner, Eddie, sitting next to him on the floor. "What happened?"

"What happened was that we were helping a woman out of this elevator when the lights went off again and the elevator went down some stores before I pressed the emergency button." Eddie explained, with his breaths still shaky. "You hit your head pretty bad and I bandaged it with what I could. The radios don't work here, so I'm hoping Bobby will notice we are not out there with them."

Buck's hand climbed to his wet forehead where a piece of cloth was held to his skin with two pieces of tape. Rough but it would work.

"What happened with our coats' flashlights? And our helmets?"

"They ran out of battery, we used them for 8 hours straight Buck." Eddie yawned. "I took mine off as well as yours, this place feels like an oven. And the helmets... they are somewhere here."

"I kind of became desperate when I couldn't see or hear you. I haven't been able to look for them." Eddie huffed.

"And how long have we been here? Are you okay?" Buck asked, his throat begging for water.

"We have been here for," Eddie looked at his watch, the only source of light in the elevator. "3 hours."

"Are you okay?" He asked one more time.

Eddie's silence dragged for almost a minute before Buck spoke again.

"I need to know if you are hurt."

"I'm fine... physically." He finally said, taking air sharply. "The darkness and tight space... it reminds me of..."

"The well accident." Buck said with a huff. "Fuck, Eds I..."

"I am fine." Eddie forced out through his gritted teeth.

"Eddie-"

"No. I'm fine. End of conversation, we need to keep the oxygen."

Buck nodded although Eddie couldn't see him.

So he would of course avoid the topic.

He heard Eddie place his head against the metallic wall and breathe with difficulty.

Buck rolled his eyes, he knew how stubborn Eddie could be and he didn't need that in stressful moments like that one.

"Have any news about Chris?"

"Nope. My phone died like an hour ago," Eddie answered. "I couldn't find yours."

"Well, that's because mine is..." Buck muttered as he looked for the device on the back pocket of his pants. "Safe on my ass."

Eddie snorted a laugh and Buck smiled, mission accomplished.

The phone almost slipped from his hands and the air was taken from his lungs.

He turned it on and the light made him hiss. He could now see the elevator - it was indeed very small - and he could see Eddie, who was very much shirtless. His shirt was on his shoulders, missing the piece that was on his head.

"I-I guess I'll have to buy a new one. Great." He said, avoiding to look at the man by his side.

The device buzzed with a notification of very low battery, only 5%, and Buck noticed the screen had cracked in the fall.

"I could buy you one, after all, it's my fault that it's broken. Now give me." Eddie spoke and Buck did as told.

"So, what's the diagnosis doc?"

The former medic proceeded to turn the flashlight on and crouched in front of Buck to check his pupils.

"Pupils are matching, but you will need a CT scan once we get out of here."

Buck groaned again. He hated those.

Eddie passed Buck his phone but stayed still in front of him for some seconds.

Apart from being very much shirtless, Buck noticed he was very much pale and shaking. There was fear in his shiny eyes, which were scanning him in detail.

A hyperfixation.

Buck closed his eyes as he sighed, he should have known.

"Are you having a panic or anxiety attack?"

Eddie went back to his side feeling embarrassed and huffed a humorless laugh, "Honestly... I don't know. It just feels bad."

Buck shifted positions to look fully at Eddie. "It's okay. I'm here Eddie, I just need you to breathe. Will you do it with me?"

Eddie nodded, the world went black again.

His phone had died.

Eddie's breaths went faster.

"No, no, don't do that. You are going to hyperventilate and we don't want that." Buck grabbed Eddie's hand and squeezed it. "I'm here okay? I'm here with you. We are going to breathe together, how about that?"

"O-Okay."

"Inhale, one... two... three... four... yeah like that, and exhale, one... two... three... four..."

Some minutes later Eddie could calm down, the shudders went away with the cold sweat and they stayed in silence. Buck's hand was still tangled with Eddie's, on the other man's lap.

That encouraged Eddie to voice his thoughts.

"I... I hadn't remembered what it felt like until today. Not for years." He whispered into the air.

"I could have died. But I remembered a promise I made Chris once." Eddie turned his head to watch Buck. He found pitch-black that somehow made it easier to talk. "That I would always fight to come back to my family."

Eddie looked at the front again and simply said, "You are my family."

He felt Buck's body tensing by his side as he started stuttering. "I- I Eddie-"

"Why did you think I changed my will? I trust you more than I trust my own parents." He scoffed bitterly, squeezing his hand.

"I... I thought you only saw me as your best friend."

"If you knew..." he shut his mouth quickly. He had gone too far.

How could he have gone that far? Voicing his thoughts didn't mean telling Buck the truth about the things he felt for him. About the warm wave of happiness that washed over him every time they locked eyes. Every time Buck smiled. Every time Buck was with Chris.

The feeling of home never faded whenever he was with Buck, instead, it gained strength every time they saw each other.

"If I knew... what?" Buck asked and Eddie could feel his look on his side. His cheeks started to burn.

"Eddie-?" Buck was cut by hot lips on his cheek, giving him just a sweet short peck and going away. He gasped and Eddie tried to untangle their hands but Buck grabbed him tighter.

With his heart running wild on his chest, he reached a hand into the darkness and found a chest, he went up until he found Eddie's chin and clumsily made their lips meet halfway.

The kiss turned to be as good as a kiss in the darkness could be.

So unexpected, so romantic.

It was a mess. Both were a hot, sticky mess - in the good way, not the horny one - in a dark elevator at 5 am, sealing their mouths in their first kiss.

Buck loved it.

Eddie loved it too.

They separated to catch up with their breaths and smiled to the dark.

"If you knew," Eddie started, feeling Buck's head resting on his chest. "That it’s always been you, Buck.”

"I always saw you, Evan Buckley. For who you are, your good things and your bad things. I've seen your worst and your best, and I wanna be there for and with you in them for the rest of our lives."

"Ever since I saw you in the firehouse for the first time, since I saw you smiling in your car when we went to look for Christopher after the earthquake, since I saw you pinned under that truck... I have always known it's you. You who I want to experience life. You who I wanna watch Chris grow. You who I wanna marry someday. You who I wanna grow old with." Eddie answered with a smile.

"I love you too."

"Eddie... Oh god, all this time you... Fuck, I- I want that too." Buck chuckled, placing his hand carefully on his jawline and pulling him for another kiss.

"I love you."

The last thing they expected next was to hear the 118 outside the doors, having heard half of the conversation.

"As much as I love listening to you two getting your shit together-" Hen's voice cut through the elevator's doors. "And I really love it, we need to get you two outta there so, Albert! Bring the jaws!"

Then cheers were heard as both were freed from the elevator, coming out half hugging the other.

"You should have told me it would take you some hours in a sauna to get together! I would have gladly paid!" Chimney teased them.

"Amen, you said it, Chim." Hen agreed, making Buck seat on the gurney and transporting him down with the rest of the crew.

She checked both of them once they were in the parked ambulance and exclaimed to the street, "You all owe me 20 bucks each!"

The couple heard the whole 118 groan before they closed the ambulance doors and started making their way to the hospital, the light of the sunrise illuminating the city which was slowly recovering the electricity.

"You had a bet on us?" Buck whined from the gurney.

"Yup, and I just won. Took you three years and a month, but who's counting?" Hen smirked.

Eddie rolled his eyes fondly and took Buck's hand. "You can have all the bucks you want Hen. I already have the one I love."

(Tagging: @perfectlynervousbeard bc they asked me)

Chimney cried from the front, "Ugh, they are going to be that type of couple."

...

[katsukisprincess-archive]

gala night jealousy | tamaki x f!reader 

a/n: hi hi hi! it’s been forever since i’ve written something and it felt so good to get this out. the jealousy aspect of the relationship is obviously dramatized for the smut. pay attention to red flags in ur personal relationships! i hope you enjoy! my requests are open <3

genre: smut, jealous smut

wc: 2.4k

tags: @tomurasprincess​ @keigos-dove​ @carwolinee​ @catlover7722​ @shoutodoki​ @kimm-ie​ @jennatheebaby​ @dabilove27​ @ttaste-the-rainbow​ @buferfliz​ @dragonchildyuki​ @dymphnasprose​ @usernamekate94​ @katheriinr​ @holopoem​ @engel-hageshii​ @egghoarder​ @kyberhearts​ @mstakami​ @cadesgay​ @noamizu​ @lazywinnerpersonpasta​ @scawberry​ @luxivii​ @flutterfalla​ @pygmy-lurks @lastminaddition @hisoknen

 The flashes of cameras as the door to the limousine opened were immediate. 

For a moment, Tamaki was thankful that you were sitting closest to the door. He watched you step out, careful to accept the hand of the driver and make sure your heel was planted firmly on the ground before rising. He had to think through every second of motion he made to prevent an accident or making a fool out of himself; as he saw the light flicker off the sequins of your dress, he wondered if you had to do the same- or if the gracefulness you carried in your movements was just included in the irrevocable marvel that was you. 

“(Y/L/N), over here, over here!” The paparazzi yelled out for your attention as Tamaki tottered his way to your side, and he couldn’t help but let out a shaky sigh in relief as you laced your hand through the bend in his arm. Even in his mid-twenties he still hadn’t found comfort in any form of public emergence… you were the only thing that grounded him, but especially so tonight. 

You had been off in America for nearly a month with your agency, taking workshops, keeping up appearances as you were being called one of the new Pro-Heroes to keep eyes on. It was nearly two years after graduating with your class from UA High, but still, you were making waves in the Hero scene all around the world alongside your agency partner, who you had grown up with and now worked with- Mezo Shouji. 

Tamaki didn’t dislike Shouji. How could he? He was one of the most respectable people he had ever met, even while going through school years. There was no denying that he was a good friend to you, as well- there were no signs pointing otherwise. You had been dating Tamaki for almost seven years now and while there were mishaps he comforted you through with your other friends, nothing ever went astray when it came to your multi-limbed agency partner. There was nothing to hate. 

Well… maybe one thing. 

You spend so much time with him. 

It nearly had Tamaki itching at this point. He understood the insane schedule of a hero as he lived the life himself, just in a different agency. Time together was sparse, so when you had it, you had to make the most of it, especially now that you were back from such a long trip. The anxiety he felt bubble in his stomach as he watched you be whisked away for pictures with Shouji annoyed him beyond coherent thought. What was the point of getting so upset over this? 

He tried to reason with himself while he stood off to the side, sometimes taking pictures with Kirishima and Togata as they passed, sometimes answering questions for reporters that he wished would just walk away. He trusted you, he loved you more than anything, and he genuinely considered Shouji a close friend at this point. Still… when his pointy ears perked up at the sound of compliments towards you and him, he wondered if he was going to be sick. 

“You two look so good together! Can we get another pose?” One of the reporters chirped, holding her camera up as you and Shouji stood in another position for her. He didn’t realize he was zoning out until he felt Mirio’s hand on his shoulder, breaking him from his reverie. 

“Relax, Tamaki, we’ll be out of here soon! Wanna start walking up?” Always positive and always having his back, Tamaki was thankful that Mirio saw his clenched fists and dark eyes as general anxiety and not shooting arrows into the hand- hands?- that Shouji had currently gripping your hip. 

Giving a short nod in response, Tamaki and Mirio began their trek inside the building, all the while Tamaki prayed for this night to just be over. 

***

He learned quickly that it was far from over. 

If anything could go wrong that night, it seemed to happen. He got to sit next to you for the awards, but Shouji was on the other side of you. This was normal, Tamaki kept reassuring himself. You two were nominated for an award together, which symbolized the best duo currently in the field. You won, of course, and while Tamaki was so fucking proud of you, he couldn’t help but feel that same twinge of jealousy. You looked so beautiful in the dress you were wearing, and all night he could feel his cock straining against his slacks in response. He hadn’t been able to touch you in weeks… and that was all Shouji was doing tonight. 

Little did he know, you were completely aware of how he was feeling. Jealousy wasn’t a new feeling for Tamaki, and you were both very open to each other communication wise. Judging by the way he was groping you in the back of the limo on the way to the gala, you knew you were in for it already. Tamaki tended to take a lot of emotion out during sex, knowing that what he couldn’t possibly describe with words, he could show through actions. Would it hurt to… encourage that kind of roughness? You didn’t think so, fueling your own desires and setting yourself out to be the thing Tamaki couldn’t take his eyes off of all night. 

After the awards, you focused on the little things. Reaching out to touch Shouji’s arm when you laughed at something he would say, or pressing your ass against Tamaki’s boner and pulling his arms to lace around your chest to make it look like a normal, sweet gesture. 

The sharp intake of his breath was enough for you to know you hit a nerve. 

“Careful, bunny.” Tamaki whispered in your ear, rocking forward against your ass just slightly and raising goosebumps across your skin. “I’d be more compassionate if you want that dress,” His hand trailed up your chest, his thumb sticking out to trace the fast-pulsing vein in your neck, “to still be in one piece by the time we get home.” 

Your response was out before you could think about the repercussions. “The reporters said it looked stunning against Mezo’s hair.”  

Wrong move. 

Suddenly thankful that no one around you was paying attention, you barely had time to gasp before you were being yanked out of the ballroom and down a secluded hallway. He was bold to assume that you were able to keep up with his lanky legs in the heels you were wearing, but your fashion didn’t seem to be his top priority at the moment. You played catch up with him, nearly being dragged the rest of the way before he found a bathroom. 

“A bathroom Tamaki? Seri- hey!” 

Your dress was being unzipped and pulled down your body before the door was even closed. After pushing it shut and locking it, Tamaki lifted you out of the mess of fabric and kicked it to the side. You wanted to make a comment about how expensive it was, but judging by how he was literally holding you in the air to kick your heels off of your feet, you figured now wasn’t the best time to talk. 

“What is it about Shouji that has you so enamoured?” He asked in your ear, dropping you to your feet before ripping the panties you had off of your hips. Your complaints fell on deaf ears and you were thanking the universe at that moment that your dress had a bra built in. 

“What? Tamaki, I’m not-��� 

“That’s not an answer. Is it the arms? Do you think about what he could do with arms like that, bunny?” His voice grew deeper towards the end, sounding like it was scratching out of his chest as his arms suddenly turned into a multitude of tentacles, each finding one of your limbs to grab onto to hold your back against his chest. You were on full display in the mirror in front of you, and Tamaki was looking over your shoulder at the complete show he was making of you. “Do you want to feel what all of those can do?” 

With one sticky tentacle trailing up and wrapping around your neck, you had very little room to speak. Instead you laid your head back against his shoulder and tried to look up at him, open-mouthed whimpers ringing off the bathroom walls and drool trickling down your cheek. 

You felt your eyes roll back into your head as his limbs squeezed and pulled at your nipples, one just barely finding your clit between your folds and running small circles onto it. You weren’t able to control the whimpers, or silence the sounds in any way, and you could only wonder through the fog if anyone was listening. 

The thought had you soaking. 

Tamaki, truthfully, was just as much of a mess as you were. With his dress shirt sleeves rolled up, tie undone, and buttons popped on his shirt, he still felt like he was in a sauna. It took very little to get him worked up when it came to you, and seeing you spread eagle against him and nearly crying in his ear before he even took his dick out had him questioning if he would cum in his boxers. 

“Yeah bunny, that’s a good girl,” He panted, pressing a kiss to your temple as he quickly used a tentacle to undo his pants and release his cock. There was no waiting- he could feel your abdomen rippling the way it before you hit your peak and he needed to be inside of you. “Such a good girl-”

Stumbling forward with his pants around his ankles, Tamaki lifted you up onto the countertop between two sinks so that you were on your knees. He was at the perfect height to slip into your dripping cunt from this angle, his tentacles pulling your arms behind your back as he began the process of stretching you out around his dick. You spread your knees just a little wider, causing him to hit a spot deep inside of you that made you yell out for him and fall back against his chest. He used this position to his advantage, beginning to pump himself inside of you. 

“Fuck, you’re so tight.” Tamaki breathed out, his left hand turning back to normal so he could hold your neck again, but this time against his own skin. He picked up his pace with this, but as he sped up and your moans and whimpers grew even louder, he pushed you forward so your hands were bracing yourself up against the mirror. 

This gave Tamaki the perfect angle to watch your reactions, seeing your mouth fall open and the glass fog as he pounded balls-deep into you relentlessly. “Oh, Tama, right there, please, please~” Your strings of words began to barely make sense as he held your hips in a bruising grip, but still, it wasn’t enough. 

Slipping you off of the counter, Tamaki dropped you to your feet and brought you back against the cool tile wall. He wasted no time in picking you back off the floor, utilizing one hand of tentacles to wrap your legs around his waist as he buried himself back in your pussy. 

This position was much more intimate, and fuck did he look like a beautiful mess above you. No matter how many times you two spent time like this, neither of you would ever get sick of it. Tamaki was convinced that you were the best thing he would ever have in this lifetime, and he would be damned if he wasn’t going to spend a lot of that lifetime making you cum around his cock. 

“You feel so good, Tamaki~” You whispered, your lips crashing against his in hopes of swallowing some of the ridiculous noises you were sure were floating through the building at this point. He responded with a long, drawn out groan, his eyes pressed tightly closed as he fought to not cum that second. Your arms fell around his neck and you let your hands wander up into his hair, yanking at the indigo tresses and forcing his thrusts to stutter inside of you. You could tell he was fighting off his orgasm, but you wanted nothing more in that moment than to make him release. “Cum in me, Tama, fill me up, please cum in me~”

Another groan from him, but this time followed by now two human arms wrapping around your torso, pressing you hard against the wall, and fucking you with absolute reckless abandon. Tears fell from your eyes at the sheer impact, and as you bit down on his shoulder, you came harder around him than you ever had in your relationship. You worried your nails drew blood with how harshly you were grasping at him, but with the sheer force of his own hands, you knew you would probably face similar marks. 

Tamaki came deep inside of you, stuffing his load and filling you to the brim. Your first thought once you caught you breath was to clean yourself up since you were already in the bathroom, but before you were even off from against the wall Tamaki had stuffed your pussy with a plug he pulled from the pocket of his slacks. 

Once he backed away you looked at him incredulously, and he couldn’t help but take in your entire look. You were a mess, ridiculously so, and he used the pads of his thumbs to wipe off excess eyeliner and mascara. As he tried to gently fix your hair, he pressed the softest kiss to your forehead. “I’ll help you zip the dress up. Long night ahead.” 

***

Even as you walked back to the main party, you questioned how you didn’t notice Tamaki had a fucking plug in his pocket. You whispered to him about it the whole way there, commenting on how there was still so much to do that night and it could have been so uncomfortable. 

Tamaki could only smile. If you didn’t notice the plug in one pocket, you surely didn’t notice the ring box he had stuffed in the other. 

[remmushound]

Beyond the Bay chapter 3: What we’ve become

@brightlotusmoon @scentedcandlecryptid @selfindulgenz @ilo-artistry @digitl-art-monstr

The yelling started early today. Donatello was already working in his lab when the shouts reached him and he moved only to close the door before continuing his work; the muffled argument was a little less annoying, and he wasn’t going to let that new everyday occurrence disturb him. He just hoped they’d get over it quickly this time. His room felt hot as a sauna with the door closed. Michelangelo was still sleeping when the argument came to its peak and, though he woke up with the violence just outside his door, all he did was curl deeper into the blankets and try to ignore it.

“Why can’t you just trust that I’m right on this one?” Leonardo’s voice was softer than his older brother’s, but carried a viper's poison in the sharp words.

“Because you’re not!” Raphael boomed, his shouts like a deep base drum bouncing off the wall. When he prodded Leonardo’s chest, the slider hardly moved. “You think you are, but you’re not!”

“And you think you know what’s best for everyone, but you don’t, Raph!”

“I never said that!”

“You didn't have to.” Leonardo hissed through his teeth, and when he advanced on Raphael, the snapper kept backing up until he met a wall and could escape no further. “You keep acting like a dictator and won’t take our thoughts into consideration!”

“I DID CONSIDER THEM!” Raphael shoved his way past Leonardo to escape the interaction, “Don’t get in my face, you know I can’t stand that!”

“I didn't mean to.” Leonardo said, and there was truth in the statement; the relapse of calm didn't last very long as he pursued Raphael, “This is a lose-lose situation, Raph, and we need to choose what’s better for him!”

“Or what’s easiest for you.” Raphael snarled, his eyes darkening as he snapped back to look at Leonardo.

“You think that’s what this is about?” Leonardo pulled back, his mouth agape as he stared at his leader.

“Isn’t it?” Raphael flashed his teeth, “You just don’t want to put in the work. Like. Usual.”

Leonardo’s face was hot and flushed, his eyes burning, but still he stared into Raphael’s cold gaze. “You really think I would do that for something this serious…?”

“Right now, I don’t know what to think Leo…” Raphael lost his sharp tone, but his words were still bitter as he turned his back to his brother. 

“Guys.” Donatello knocked on the wall to announce his presence, startling both mutants. “I’m getting a strange inter-dimensional reading from downtown; we should check it out.” 

Donatello took his leave quickly before he could be addressed or questioned. Raphael started to give a response, but Donatello was already gone. Instead, he sighed and turned to Leonardo.

“We are not done talking about this.”

The trip over was spent in silence, Donatello in the lead of his brothers to guide the way. Raphael wanted badly to talk with Michelangelo, but when he saw the look of pure sadness imprinted on his youngest brother's face, he thought better of it. Michelangelo’s eyes were heavy, a small frown etched into his features where there had once almost always been a smile. One by one the brothers dropped into the alleyway, the younger two looking to the left and the older two to the right to make sure there was no obvious danger to them. When their shared mindspace revealed nothing but peaceful solitude, Donatello flipped his goggles down over his eyes to search for the signatures unseen.

“Maybe our friends came to visit…?” Michelangelo suggested hopefully, his voice painfully soft as he fiddled with his mask tails.

“No, there’s only one signature.” Donatello hummed as he started to track the signature, “It’s not mystic, but it… doesn’t seem quite mutant either. There’s definitely mutagenic properties though…”

“So… a non-mutant with mutagen?” Leonardo asked, his doubt creeping into his voice with a scoff. “Makes sense.”

 Donatello pulled up his goggles so he could face Leonardo unobscured. “Or a potential baddie transporting mutagen. Wouldn’t be the first one to attempt to recreate mutagen with his own sick twist.”

“He’d be the first to succeed though.” Raphael muttered, his voice low. “Doctor Feral has been trying for years to get it right according to Draxum.”

“Well today might just be his lucky day.” Donatello commented.

“Or unlucky.” Leonardo said, “Can you track where he or his lackey went?”

“Yes, that should be no problem…” Donatello said, distracted as he started to play around his his holographic screens. 

“Is there a separate problem then?”

Donatello didn't immediately answer. He finished up whatever he was working on, his brothers waiting impatiently, before he responded. “The signature is definitely inter-dimensional and Feral has never shown any interest in the subject. I’m just wondering how he could’ve gotten his hands on something capable of making a controlled black hole without us noticing, or without ripping himself apart. It’s a really delicate process.”

“So maybe it’s not Feral…” Leonardo mused, “Maybe it’s someone else?”

“We’ll just have to see.” Donatello sighed, his spider arms deploying and digging into the stone of the closest building to carry him upward. “Come on, signature’s this way.”

His brothers hopped after him one by one, leaving the alley and its single, hidden occupant in silence.

Following Donatello, the brothers took the rooftops straight for a long while before taking a sharp turn. They passed a water tower, and what remained of Cassandra’s bakery; the brothers stopped for a moment in silent mourning of the burnt-out building before carrying on. Thirty minutes into the search and Donatello hesitated, tapping the device that had been guiding him.

“What’s up, Don?” Raphael asked, approaching his brother's side to peer down at the machine; he couldn’t tell if it was broken or not by just eyeing it, so he asked a followup question. “Is something wrong with the tech?”

“I don’t know…” Donatello mused, tapping the machine several more times with a furious growl. “It stopped calculation…”

Leonardo looked around, and then pointed to the same water tower they had passed by ten minute earlier, “Looks like it was taking us in circles anyway.” 


“Odd.” Raphael said, narrowing his eyes slightly, “Don, explanation?”

“Working on it.” Donatello said, and he was.

“Donnie’s tech malfunctions all the time.” Leonardo commented, a smirk splitting his face as he leaned against a nearby wall to wait. “I’m sure it’s fine.”

“Can it, Nardo.” Donatello growled softly. “It was working just a few minutes ago.”

“If you say so.”

While the rest of the family waited, Donatello paced, mumbling lowly under his breath as he fiddled and tinkered. It didn't take long at all for Raphael to grow anxious; every moment they spent in the same place was another moment they risked being spotted by the Foot Clan or, even worse, the AMA. The city streets that used to be so quiet at this hour weren’t nearly so anymore; catching sight of a small group of humans in the streets below, Raphael and his brothers all ducked for cover. Donatello had to be practically dragged out of view and away from his hyper-focus on his tech issue.

“We can’t hang out here.” Raphael said, “We’re exposed. We can go back to the lair and Don can fix his geek tech, then we can come back.”

“But Feral or whoever it is could be long gone by then.” Leonardo brought up.

Raphael pursed his lips and gave a low rumble. Leonardo had a good point. With new mutants popping up what seemed like every day, they really couldn’t afford even more mutagen being produced and released to the public. They already had enough to deal with as the new super swarm of oozesquitos were emerging, and it would only get harder to contain them. Then he reconsidered again, and when the potential for injury or capture resurfaced, he quickly made his mind up.

“It’s a risk we’ll have to take then. We’re sitting ducks out here, and unless you want to find out if the rest of you are bullet proof, then we should hustle back home. Snipers could be anywhere.” Raphael winced at the painful memory of the bullets striking his shell, doing little damage but still hurting beyond measure.

“Ah yes, the infamous night snipers.” Leonardo rolled his eyes, “Sniping in the night. Gotta fear them.”

“Not funny, Leo.” Raphael snorted, “No time for joking, so let’s head home.”

The lair was painfully quiet when the brothers entered and called out to their father to announce their presence. There was no response, but then again they hadn’t been expecting one either. Raphael gave a nod of dismissal to his brothers before he strode off toward their fathers room. Donatello separated from his brothers quickly, still muttering his agitation at the device that refused to cooperate. Leonardo was waiting for Michelangelo to take off first, most likely toward his room or toward the kitchen for a quick snack, but the youngest brother didn't move. He was taller than Leonardo now, making the blue brother the smallest of the four, but still he clung tightly to his brother's arm like he always did; it was a habit not easily broken.

Leonardo frowned, but then tried to smile as he wrapped an arm around Michelangelo and started to lead him toward the gaming room.

“Hey Hermano, what say we squeeze in a quick game before Don fixes his doohickey? Might be a good way to pass the time.”

“Leo?” Michelangelo pulled away, resisting his brother's attempt to steer him away.

“Yeah, Miguel?”

Michelangelo, not expecting to actually be heard, was at a loss of words for several moments. He averted his gaze, arms folding behind his back as he hung his head low. His feet danced a nervous dance, tracing against the ground. Leonardo put a hand on his brothers shoulder, angling his head to try and get a glance at Michelangelo’s hidden expression.

“Bro…?” Leonardo asked softly, and when no response came, he pressed his nose to Michelangelo’s neck and gave a snorting chuff. Michelangelo giggled and pushed him away, and Leonardo smiled at the response. “Come on, you can talk to me about anything!”

“I… it’s just that…” Michelangelo rubbed his arm anxiously, “Would you wanna have a movie morning in the morning? You know, after Don fixes his thingie and we do our thing? You know, us, April, Casey, and… and dad? It’s just… we haven’t had one in a while and we used to really like them.”

Leonardo nodded slowly, his smile growing more genuine by the moment. He gave Michelangelo a solid pat on the shoulder. “Of course. I’d love to have movie morning with you, baby brother.”

Michelangelo scrunched up his beak. “Leoooo! I’m not a baby anymore!”

Leonardo practically hung on Michelangelo, using his baby voice to further mock and annoy Michelangelo. “You’ll always be a baby to me!”

“We were mutated on the same day, Leo!” Michelangelo giggled.

“Mikey, when you get to be my age—“

“You’re seventeen!” Michelangelo groaned.

“And you’re fifteen~” Leonardo booty-bumped Michelangelo. “And someone has a sweet sixteen coming up~”

Michelangelo bumped him back. “You know mine’s still a month away.”

“You’re already planning it, aren’t you?” Leonardo smirked.

Michelangelo gasped at the accusation. “I can’t plan my own surprise party! Then it wouldn’t be a surprise.”

Leonardo’s expression didn't falter, simply staring at his brother with an even smile. It didn't take long for the box turtle to break under the pressure.

“I have a five page wish list already…”

“Of course you do.” Leonardo ruffled his brothers head, “I’d expect nothing left from the master of all things party!”

“What, say what?! That is not my title!” Michelangelo and Leonardo started to walk side by side toward the gaming room.

“Oh? Then what is it, oh Party Master?”

“Definitely not that!” Michelangelo laughed, “Buuuut I’ll think on it.”

“We have all the time in the world, little bro.”

[combat-wombatus]

Hot Cocoa

Pairing: Iida Tenya x gn!reader

Warnings: brief cursing (mostly just bakugou being bakugou), some suggestive humor (m*neta is involved too)

Genre: fluff (a lil bit of crack bc why not)

WC: a bit over 8k? went slightly overboard with this idea and not entirely happy with the ending but i already rewrote it like 5 times so it is what it is-

(A/N): heya! so this is my first fic and i was kinda nervous about posting it...

it started out as an idea on @todorkihoe’s discord server but then it evolved into this monstrous nightmare so...it took me like a whole week to hash everything out and the logistics of the secret santa thing was an absolute nightmare. but it was worth it!!

It was the holiday season. Most people were taking time off of work to hang out with their friends and family. You had wanted nothing more than to relax in your hot tub with a glass of sparkling cranberry juice and scrumptious holiday cookies, but being a pro-hero meant sacrifices.

You were signed on as a sidekick in the UA Hero Agency’s Tokyo branch. The UA Hero Agency was exactly that: a hero agency formed by the most illustrious graduating class at UA. Not everyone from their class eventually went into the agency, but they were a large agency, with around 36 pro-heroes working full-time. This meant that they had several branches. You, a recent graduate from UA, knew these heroes who were a year above you at UA. They were special. When you started at UA, there were already whispers about “the Class of Legends”. Every single person who graduated the year after had been through enormous trauma during their years at UA. You thought that they were true heroes: strong, unbending even in the face of overwhelming adversity. They were only in their first year when they had been attacked by villains: twice. One of them had even been kidnapped. You couldn’t even begin to fathom how hard they must have worked to get to where they were today. They were resilient, and it showed. The UA Hero Agency is now one of the top Hero Agencies in not only Japan, but also the world. In fact, with their combined power, you wouldn’t be surprised if they happened to make an international branch. You knew that some of the heroes at your agency, Can’t Stop Sparkling and Pony, wanted to start something overseas but didn’t yet have the manpower to make it happen. You were sure that within a few years, their ranks bolstered by new graduates, they would take UA to the international stage.

So it was Christmas Eve. Even though you wanted the chance to chill out at home with some relaxing instrumental jazz and freshly baked sweets, you were out patrolling Tokyo’s vibrant shopping sector instead, on the lookout for villains who wished to ruin everyone else’s holiday fun. The mall was abuzz with shoppers, some hanging out in the verandas with cup of hot cocoa in their hands, others hurrying through, their arms loaded with shopping bags, searching for last-minute gifts they had previously forgotten to purchase. It was definitely not the worst patrol ever. The cozy atmosphere almost had you sighing in contentment, before you heard a voice shout, “thief!”

Of course a villain had to ruin the fun. They had a tendency to do that. You weren’t very comfortable using your quirk in such a loud, crowded area, but you bet that you could catch a small-time shoplifter without it anyways. You raced through the crowd, tracing the voice that had called out moments earlier. You saw a tuft of orange hair weaving unnaturally through the crowd of shoppers, and sprinted forwards, your eyes locked on the target. You followed the path they had created unknowingly for you, trying not to draw attention to yourself. It would only slow you down and light a fire under the criminal, which was exactly what you didn’t need.

Within moments, you caught up to them. Sneaking up behind them, you snatched their wrist and smacked your quirk-suppressing cuffs on it.

“Fuck!” He swore. How did he get caught so quickly? He could have sworn that there was no one chasing him. Pesky heroes. Relying on the comparative lack of heroes patrolling during the holidays, as well as the customary holiday shopping rush, was a sound strategy. He had done the same in previous years without getting caught. If only that damned, nosy civilian hadn’t shouted…

“Please do not resist arrest. It will be easier for all parties involved. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say may be used against you in a court of law. There are eyewitnesses to your crime. Please drop your bags and hold out your other wrist.” You said calmly. You had a beautiful voice. It was calming and had a lilt to it that was a byproduct of your quirk. The villain did as you said, knowing that there would be no escape.

You sighed. Pressing a button on the comms situated in your ear, you reported the situation back to your office. You then called the nearest detective station and waited until their patrol car got here so you could hand the man over. Glancing at your watch, you realized your patrol was almost over. You did one last sweep of the premises, then headed back to the agency.

Today, the agency was the emptiest you had ever seen it. It was a large building, with 20 above-ground floors. In fact, it was essentially a mini-city. There was a heated indoor pool, a sauna, an elite gym that would make fitness junkies drool, a massage and spa, three verandas, and a rooftop greenhouse. It had a café reminiscent of the UA cafeteria, and all types of cuisines were available. In fact, Lunch Rush’s niece was working in the café, and the food was always heavenly. Sometimes, heroes from other agencies would drop off at the UA Hero Agency just for a bite of food after a long patrol. It was the unofficial headquarters of all the hero agencies in Japan, and it certainly lived up to its reputation.

Thinking about the café, you were suddenly hungry for some pad thai. Arriving at the door, you dropped off your comms and cloak at the door to your office and headed down to the café for some food.

“(Y/N)!!! You’re back!” Your friend squealed.

“Yeah Mina, just got off of patrol. Arrested this shoplifter trying to take advantage of the holiday chaos.” Spying her coat in her hands, you realized she was on her way out.

“Cool! You’re always so efficient with your arrests. Anyhow, I’m going to head home. My parents and I are getting some dinner together. I’ll be back for the party, yeah? Don’t open any presents without me!” Mina waved, a grin on her face. You assured her that you would make sure everyone waited for her to celebrate. You wanted to see your parents too, but they were currently on an international tour. They were famous singers, pioneers of a new genre of music. It was a sort of lullaby, but it wasn’t meant to put people to sleep. It was more of an enchanting, calming kind of music present only in fantasy books before your mother brought it to life. She was wildly popular, and your father was only too happy to support her. Speaking of which, your phone rang in your pocket. You took it out and accepted the video call.

“(Y/N)! It’s so nice to see you baby! How’s it going? I know you had patrols today but I forgot about the time difference and your father had to stop me before I called you and distracted you during patrols! He’s always so paranoid you’ll hurt yourself, sweetie. Stay safe, okay?” Your mother was always cheerful.

“Yeah mom, I know. I’m doing pretty well, actually. I arrested a shoplifter today,” you replied, recounting the same story you just told Mina. “Everything’s pretty calm here. How’s your tour going? I missed you,” you asked her.

“That’s good to hear sweetie!” You mom smiled. “The tour is amazing. I’ve never had such an international turnout before! Maybe I need to start considering singing in other languages! Everyone’s always so supportive.” You smiled at her, happy that she was enjoying herself.

“You deserve it Mom. I’m glad that your music is appealing to an international audience. You always work so hard. It’s nice to see that people appreciate all that you’ve done.”

“Thanks sweetie. Here, I’ll let your dad talk to you for a bit.” There was a bit of shuffling on her end as she handed the phone over to your father.

“Hey sweetheart,” your father’s voice boomed through the phone. You held your phone away from your ear, wincing a bit. Quickly dialing the volume down, you responded.

“Hey Papa. Mom said the tour was going well.”

“Yeah, it is. How’s the holidays going for you?” You heard the slight sadness in his voice. You knew that he wanted Mom to take a break in the middle of the tour and spend Christmas with you, but Mom was adamant about it. It was a holiday tour, after all, and tickets had already been booked. Some people were going to see her concerts as a way of celebrating, and she wouldn’t let them down.

“I’m doing good. It’s pretty peaceful here. No big missions or anything,” you say, in an attempt to comfort him.

“Ok, that’s good to hear sweetheart. We miss you.”

“I miss you too, Papa. Don’t worry though, I’ll be here when you guys get back. Have fun in Paris!” You replied, suddenly feeling sad. “Bye Papa! Bye Mom! I’ll see you guys soon!” You blew a kiss to the camera and hung up. Sighing a little, you trotted towards Emiko, the revered chef.

“Can I have a pad thai please?” You asked, putting your phone back in your pocket.

“One pad thai, coming right up!” Emiko beamed. “So, I hear there’s a party tonight. Should I make anything special?”

You thought about it for a bit, then shook your head. “No, you don’t have to. It’s mostly just for the presents. We already have the booze covered. I think Momo is ordering some special hors d’œuvres already and Sato is taking care of the cookies. Are you coming?”

Emiko shook her head. “I’m spending the night with my family and my boyfriend. I think I might make you guys some tiramisu though. I have all the ingredients and I don’t want them to spoil since I’ll be gone for a few days. Desserts are my specialty anyways,” she added. Then, with a knowing smirk, she prodded your arm. “Do you have anyone on your mind? You know, Mina and Ochaco hung some mistletoe up before they left…”

You blushed. Of course they did. Your friends knew all about your one-sided crush. You also knew that he would still be working here. He was always working. You were pretty sure that he had the mind of a robot, focused only on his work and his legacy. With those hand motions he made, you weren’t surprised if he actually was one. You shook your head to get rid of these thoughts. Emiko didn’t know. At least, you didn’t think she knew. You really regretted telling Mina about your little crush. With her tendency to run her mouth, you wouldn’t be surprised if the entire agency knew already. With the exception of your actual crush, of course. He was simply too socially dense to see the signs and too uninterested to pry.

Taking your pad thai, you scurried away from a smug Emiko and plopped yourself down at a table. You dug into your noodles and sighed in contentment. Maybe working during the holidays wasn’t so bad. It wasn’t like you had friends who weren’t as busy as you were anyways.

You finished the last of your noodles, then got up and took your tray to the recycling area. Heading up to your office, you paused by Ingenium’s office. His door was cracked open, and you peeked inside. You had to muffle your giggles at the sight.

He was wrapping presents with such a focused look on his face that you found absolutely adorable. His brows were furrowed, the tip of his tongue poking out of his mouth. He had a spool of ribbons laying on the floor next to him, as well as elegant white-and-gold wrapping paper and a roll of tape. What really amused you was the pile of paper, ribbons, and tape that was bunched together and tossed aside, obviously a result of trial and error. Iida looked frustrated. He had already put his presents in boxes so that they were almost uniform in size and easier to wrap, but he was clearly struggling. You estimated that he had forty boxes littering the floor, but he only had five wrapped. You watched as he ripped off the wrapping on the newest box he had started on, muttering about how hard it was to get straight edges with the wrapping paper. Knocking lightly on his door, you stuck your head around the doorway.

“Need some help?” You asked.

Iida looked up from unspooling more wrapping paper. His face brightened at your offer.

“Yes please, (Y/L/N)-san! I would greatly appreciate your aid. I seem to be having trouble folding the paper and trying to tape it together without it sliding from its position. If you could hold the paper in place while I tape, that would be wonderful!” He looked so excited, almost like a puppy.

You smiled at his eagerness. “Of course, I’d be happy to help.”

You sat down across from him and held the wrapping paper in place while he tore off a piece of tape. The two of you worked in tandem for around an hour, until you finished wrapping all the presents. You sat back, face flushed, and surveyed your work. All forty presents, wrapped with elegant paper and tied up prettily with a gold organza ribbon, were laid out neatly on the floor. It was a satisfying sight. Rolling out your back and cracking your knuckles, you got up from the floor.

“Those were a lot of presents, Iida-san,” you yawned, stretching your arms back like a cat. “Do you want to go down and get some hot cocoa? Emiko already left, but I can make us some.”

Iida got up too. His glasses were slightly askew on his face, and he had a dazed look about him. “That would be greatly appreciated, (Y/L/N)-san. Thank you very much for helping me wrap my presents. It was irresponsible of me to leave them until the last minute.”

“Of course, Iida-san,” you replied. “We were all so busy before the holidays I’m surprised you wanted to wrap everything as fancy as you did. I know that I just stuck my presents in bags, covered them with tissue paper, and called it a day! You didn’t even buy those sticky bows, you tied them with real ribbons. That’s dedication!”

Iida blushed furiously at your compliments. It’s the perfect time to confess to her, he thought. We’re alone, and there’s no one here to see if she rejects me. He took in a deep breath, trying to muster the courage to say something to you, but before he could, you grabbed his hand and dragged him down the hallway for some much-desired peppermint hot cocoa.

Humming lightly to yourself as you lead Iida down the halls, you entered the elevator and pressed the button for the ground floor. Releasing his hand, you clasped your hands behind your back, hoping he wouldn’t notice how they were shaking slightly. Wow, you thought. I really did that. I really just snatched his hand like that. Ugh, he probably hated it every second of the way, he’s just too polite to say anything. God, my palms are so sweaty. Why did I do this to myself?

Unbeknownst to you, Iida was having a mental freak-out of his own. Ahh! She grabbed my hand! And she didn’t seem to hate it! Does this mean she really doesn’t mind my company? Maybe I actually do have a chance with her! No, stop, he told himself. She was probably just tired of how I was staring at her and decided to do something about it. Ugh, I was staring at her, wasn’t I? God, I’m such a creep. Iida wiped his palms on his slacks, then reached up and adjusted his glasses, trying to hide the obvious blush on his face.

“Ding!”

The elevator stopped at the ground floor, and the two of you stepped out into the lobby. The decorations had been up for two weeks already, but it still took your breath away every time you saw it. There were garlands of lights strung high all over the ceiling, and dainty little ornaments hung from the chandeliers. There was a huge Christmas tree next to the fireplace, the floor around it coated in snowy fuzz. You had to resist the temptation to jump in on multiple occasions. You couldn’t help yourself! It just looked so fuzzy and comfortable, like clouds of cotton candy…

The Christmas tree was decorated tastefully. There was a surprising lack of hero-themed ornaments, mostly due to Momo’s elegant decorating. You had all been in agreement when you refused to let Kaminari or Mineta even touch the tree.

Making your way to the kitchen, you relaxed a little when you breathed in the apple-scented candles. It was a surprising choice for a holiday scent. Usually, pine or cinnamon were much more popular scents. You had gotten the privilege to choose the candles though, and although you almost fainted sniffing at every single scent in the candle store, you decided on apple. It was nice and refreshing, with just a subtle touch towards the holiday season. You liked the change of pace from the usual holiday scents, and it seemed it was growing on everyone else too. You stopped at the cabinets that contained the hot cocoa bombs. Emiko had seen these as an online trend with the food community, and she had made dozens of them “as an experiment”. Everyone fell in love with them (because heroes are allowed to be childish!) and they stuck. Now, the agency had an entire cabinet in the kitchen dedicated to the delightful goodies.

“Oat or regular?” You asked Iida.

Iida had, unfortunately, spaced out again. He was thinking about how cute you looked, standing on your tiptoes to reach the cabinet.

“Hello? Earth to Iida-san,” you turned around and waved a hand in front of his face. “You okay there?”

Iida blinked and had to recompose himself again. He kept getting distracted. This was not good. Not good at all.

“Regular is fine,” he replied, his face flushing once again. He really needed to stop daydreaming.

You poured out some milk into a jug and heated it. Then, you placed a hot cocoa bomb in each mug, licking some sprinkles off your fingers as you did so. Once the milk was ready, you filled each mug to the brim, careful not to spill any. It smelled absolutely delectable. Taking a spoon from the cabinets, you stirred both cups slowly, letting the chocolate melt at an even pace.

Iida was watching all of this, and he was still having an internal debate over when to confess. Would it be better to wait until you both finished the hot cocoa? Should he even confess to you on Christmas? What if his confession ruined your holidays? He began to sweat a little, his anxiety rising with each thought. Before he could come up with an excuse to escape, you stuffed a mug into his large hands.

“All done!” You exclaimed, taking a sip of your own cocoa, careful not to burn yourself.

Iida was not so lucky. Distracted by his thoughts, he raised the mug to his lips and gulped.

“Shit!” Iida swore. You blinked at him, a little shocked since he never swore, then immediately put your mug down and raced to the refrigerator to collect some ice cubes. Iida promptly put his offensive mug of cocoa on the counter, glaring at it like it just murdered his dog. Dumping some ice cubes in a glass, you hurried back towards Iida and popped one in his mouth.

“You really should be more careful next time, Iida-san,” you chided. “I just made it! You shouldn’t take such large swigs of a piping hot drink!”

“Sorry, I got distracted.” Iida replied absentmindedly.

“Distracted? By what?” Your curiosity was now piqued.

Iida’s face turned ever redder than before. He averted his eyes and mumbled out some quiet words that you couldn’t quite catch.

“Sorry, what was that?” You gazed up at him. “I couldn’t hear what you said.”

Iida’s hands were stuck to his thighs to prevent himself from freaking you out with aggressive hand gestures, and he didn’t think he’d ever been more nervous in his entire life. He cleared his throat. “I said that I got distracted by you.”

Now it was your turn to blush. “Really?” Your voice was quiet, almost a whisper. You weren’t sure if you heard that right, and your heart was beating so fast you were afraid that he’d hear it.

Iida finally looked at you. “Really,” he confirmed.

You wrung your hands and stepped towards him. Raising your eyes to meet his, your voice a half-whisper, you gulped before your next words.

“I like you.”

Blinking twice, Iida unclasped his hands and pinched his forearm. He winced in pain, then blinked again. You laughed at his antics, then clapped a hand playfully on his bicep.

“I’m real, Iida-san. I’m right here!”

Slowly, a grin crept up Iida’s face. “Really?” He mumbled, obviously still not entirely convinced he wasn’t dreaming.

You chuckled at how you had just asked the same thing moments earlier, but then you grabbed his large hand with your smaller one and squeezed.

“Really.” You smiled bashfully.

The two of you stood in silence for a while, then Iida spoke up.

“I like you too, (Y/L/N)-san.” Feeling bold now that he knew his feelings were reciprocated, he drew his other arm across your shoulders and drew you into a tight hug. You sighed, feeling comfortable and safe in his arms. A part of you wanted to stay like this forever and never wanted him to let go.

“Would you like to go on a date with me on Saturday afternoon at 3?” Iida’s voice rumbled in your ear.

You were bursting with excitement. A date! A real, formal, date! “I’d love to, but why so specific?” You giggled.

“Ahh, well, my patrol ends at 2:30, so I thought-”

Of course Iida volunteered for patrols the weekend after Christmas. Did this man ever take a break?

“No problem at all, Iida-san. That sounds lovely.”

Iida released you from the hug and rubbed lightly at the back of his neck. “You can… you can call me Tenya, if you’d like.”

You were smiling so big that you feared your face would split. “I’d love that, Tenya.” His eyes crinkled when you called him by his first name. “And you can call me (Y/N).”

Iida nodded his head. “(Y/N). I like that,” he said to himself. He muttered your name a few times, getting used to the way it rolled off his tongue. You blushed and hugged him again, pressing your nose into his chest. He was just too adorable.

You wanted to stay like that, but your phone dinging incessantly in your pocket made it uncomfortable.

Mina

(Y/N)!!! my parents ordered this WHOLE-ASS TURKEY for dinner with JUST THE 3 OF US!!! how we gon finish it all?!?

Mina

*burps* we did it. we finished all of it. the whole turkey. (Y/N). we. finished. a. whole. fucking. turkey. pls send help i can’t walk (Y/NNNNNNNN)!!!

(Y/N)

want me to call u an uber … mina mina MINA MINA DID U PASS OUT im calling an uber mina istg

Quickly sending an Uber to the restaurant Mina was at, you put your phone back in your pocket and looked up at Tenya.

“Hey. Do you wanna get your presents and put them under the tree?” You asked.

Tenya quickly straightened up. “Thank you for reminding me, (Y/N). I had almost forgotten about them!”

“No problem!” You chirped. “Let’s go!” You took his hand in yours again and lead the way to the elevator. As the elevator chimed, the two of you waltzed in, hands still clasped together.

Humming a little tune to yourself, you stepped out of the elevator. You and Tenya entered his office, and each returned with an armful of presents, carefully stacked as to avoid damaging the delicate ribbons the two of you had spent so much time tying.

It was a tradition in the agency to get everyone something small. However, you participated in gift exchanges every year. This year, it was a Secret Santa-type exchange, but the UA Hero Agency did Secret Santa’s a bit differently. Instead of giving your partner the gift on Christmas Eve, the gifts were labeled with typed name tags in generic Times New Roman font. Then, there was the guessing portion. Everyone got 3 guesses at the party when they first open it, and after that, they get one guess per week. Whoever held out the longest (avoided being guessed) would win a batch of Sato’s homemade cookies, a week of free food from Emiko, and two patrol coupons (basically the adult version of homework passes). This year, you had drawn Bakugo as your partner. You’d decided to get him a ¥4,000 gift card to his favorite ramen restaurant, as well as a high-quality leather jacket. The gifts were pretty generic, and you thought that you had a chance at the prize. You chuckled to yourself when you remembered that last year, Momo had been so frustrated when she hadn’t figured out who had given her a pretty earring and necklace set after two months that she’d used Creation to make fingerprint dust and swiped it all over the box. It had turned out to be Todoroki. Needless to say, he’d won the prize that year.

The two of you made a few more trips, carrying gifts from his office to the tree. Checking the time, you saw that it had been an hour since Ochaco’s patrol ended. Right as you were about to call her, the front door to the lobby burst open.

“(Y/N)!!!” Your friend screeched, holding up a kitten with fur the color of cinnamon. “Look what I found on my patrol! I had to take her to the vet really quickly to make sure she wasn’t hurt, and she didn’t seem to have an owner. Just look at her!”

You beamed. The kitten was absolutely ADORABLE. And not only was Ochaco safe, she brought a kitten back with her!

“Can I hold her?” You asked.

“Duh!” Ochaco passed the kitten from her arms to yours. Behind her, you saw Bakugou walking sullenly, arms drawn tight across his chest. You stifled a giggle at the sight. He obviously wanted a turn with the kitten too, but his pride wouldn’t let him as for it.

“We were coming back from patrols and I saw this little one stuck in a tree! And when I floated up to take her down, she just looked so sad. There wasn’t a collar on her or anything, so we took her to the vet. It seems like she was abandoned,” Ochaco pouted. “And so we asked the vet to vaccinate her and everything, and we brought her back here! Can we keep her? Mr. Grumpy over there already said yes.”

Tenya looked like he was about to object, seeing as this building had a no-pets policy, but then he saw how your face lit up and the idea and changed his mind. Maybe having a pet on the premises wouldn’t be too bad, he conceded. It’s not like there were other people sharing the building with them anyways.

“Of course we can keep her!” You squealed. Bakugou huffed a sigh. He’d have to deal with all these idiots fawning over the kitten for weeks, and he wasn’t happy about that, but there was no denying that the thing was cute. He’d mellowed out since his high school days and seeing a therapist for anger management classes certainly helped.

The kitten felt warm and fuzzy in your arms, and when you stroked it down its back with the palm of your hand, it let out a satisfied purr.

“What should we name her?” Ochaco asked.

You thought about it for a moment. “Well, since you found her, and her fur is brownish, why not Coco?”

“Coco! I love it!” She beamed. Coco purred again. “It looks like she likes it too!”

You smiled and looked down on the kitty. “Coco,” You murmured. “Welcome to the family.”

Just then, Mina burst through the doors, brimming with energy and not looking at all as if she’d fainted from turkey overconsumption.

“Mina!” You ran towards her. “I thought you fainted or something!” You accused, poking her in the chest. “You didn’t even leave me on read!! You just LEFT!”

“Chill, chill, girly, I’m alive and kicking! Just had to take a quick nap because of my digestive woes,” She flashed you a big thumbs-up. “And what’s this I see? Do we have an agency pet now? Did Shinso sneak it in his pocket from the cat cafe?”

“Shinso what?”

“Cat cafe?”

“I KNEW there was something fishy about his jacket the other day!”

You, Tenya, and Ochaco said at the same time.

Mina stared at all of you, then shook her head. “Never mind.”

Turning around, you looked at Ochaco. “I wanna hear about this later, you hear?”

“Alright, alright!” Mina shouted. “Change into your holiday gear! Let’s get this rolling!”

You had made a sweater especially for tonight. Knitting was a great way to relax, and huddling up in a cozy armchair with the soft yarn, some hot cocoa, and your favorite book, you had finished your holiday-themed sweater in two weeks. Now, you would finally get the chance to wear it. The sweater you made was white, a soft gold-and-silver threading woven through in the pattern of snowflakes. It was a basic winter pattern, but you were proud of your work.

Setting Coco down on the couch, you headed into the locker rooms to change into your sweater and some flannel pajama bottoms. Walking out, you noticed Tenya was still in his business attire, which looked pretty uncomfortable by your standards, although it did fit him nicely.

“Tenya,” you called out. “Are you wearing that to the party?”

He turned around at your voice, looking slightly taken aback. “Yes, as a matter of fact, I am. Why?”

“Nothing, just wondering,” you replied. Good thing that your present to him was a nice, cozy, hand-knit sweater. You may or may not have thought about making him a matching one, but then you’d decided that it was too forward.

“You look…” Tenya stared at you. “You look…cute,” he said, with a small blush on his face.

Blushing at his compliment, you smiled and ducked your head. “Thanks.”

“Your sweater…it looks nice,” he added.  

Playing with the hems of your sleeves, you smiled up at him bashfully. “Thanks. I made it myself. I really like knitting. It’s kind of therapeutic.”

“Oh, wow. You are truly very talented, (Y/N)!” Tenya praised.

“Thanks.” You rubbed the back of your neck. It seemed like you had lost the ability to say anything else. Why did you suck so much at making small talk?

Just then, Mina stepped out from the locker room and saved you from any further embarrassment.

“Hey, has Yaomomo come down yet?” Mina asked.

“No, she hasn’t. Do you want me to go get her?” You answered.

“Nah, it’s alright, I’ll just text her real quick.” Mina pulled out her phone, fingers dancing rapidly across the screen, then put it back in her pocket. Minutes later, Momo stepped out of the elevator, already dressed in a red sweater and white jeans. She always looked so put-together. You were sure that she had a second quirk.

“Yaomomo!” Mina screeched, running up to her friend. “You’ll never guess what I ate for dinner!”

You groaned as Mina recounted her dining disaster. You loved Mina, but her tendency to tell her experiences to everyone multiple times could sometimes get a little annoying. Trying your best to tune her out, you tapped Tenya’s shoulder and moved to settle on the couch with Coco.

“Hey, (Y/N)!” Mina shouted. “Come here!”

Begrudgingly, you stood up again, having just sat down moments earlier. “What is it, Mina?”

“We forgot to introduce Coco! Yaomomo hasn’t seen her yet!”

Oh right. You did forget. You lifted Coco with both hands, then scurried over to where Ochaco, Mina, and Momo huddled. Momo let out a quiet “aww” when she saw the kitty and lifted her manicured hands in a silent invitation to hold her.

You gently placed Coco in her outstretched arms and was about to turn and leave when Mina grabbed your elbow. “Not so fast, (Y/N),” she scolded you sternly. “Picture time!”

Mina took out her phone and swiped open the camera app. You girls all huddled together as she snapped a picture for the fans.

Settling back down with Coco on the couch, surrounded by your friends, you didn’t think that you had ever felt happier. One by one, more of your friends and coworkers began to trickle in, until finally, when a disgruntled Jirou arrived with a protesting Kaminari in tow, Mina stood up.

“Alright! Everyone’s here now, so let’s get this party rolling!”

She bounced off to the kitchen to grab plates for everyone. You could smell Sato’s freshly-baked cookies from here, and your stomach growled in response. Remembering the tiramisu that Emiko had made, you followed Mina into the kitchen.

Mina held a stack of plates that covered half her face. It was wobbling slightly, the entire thing almost toppling over multiple times. You had gotten out the fancier cake platter and was currently in hyper-focus mode, carefully moving the tiramisu from its cake mold onto the crystal platter. You breathed out a sigh of relief as the process was finally completed and the cake hadn’t been ruined.

Holding the crystal tray with both hands, you stepped out into the lobby, marched over to the coffee table in the center, and slowly set the tray down.

“Hey guys, Emiko made us some tiramisu,” You called out. “Come here if you want some.” You held a cake knife in your hand and began serving everyone.

Tenya watched all of this with barely-hidden admiration. You were just so competent. So hard-working, so kind, and so wonderfully skilled at everything you do. Even the things that you weren’t good at, you tried your hardest to learn and to improve. He was definitely in deep, and to be honest, he didn’t mind a single bit. You were worthy of being admired, and he vowed that he would let you know in all the ways he could.

As you served the last slice of tiramisu to Ojiro, you carried the cake platter back to the kitchen and sat down next to Shinsou, who was, not surprisingly, hogging all of Coco’s attention. Seeing you, Coco scrambled over Shinsou’s lap and faceplanted into yours. You laughed at her enthusiasm and snorted when you heard Shinsou mutter “traitor” underneath his breath.

“So Shinsou,” you started casually. “What’s this I hear about you stealing cats from the cat café?”

Shinsou’s face immediately turned a tomato red. He put his hands up defensively. “No, wait, you have it all wrong- I swear- who told you about it anyways? Never mind,” he stopped his waving motions. You snickered. You were definitely getting the full story out of him later. For now, you had things to do.

Strolling over casually to Tenya with Coco still in your arms, you very sneakily dropped her, front paws landing gracefully, onto Bakugou’s head.

“Hey! What’s this damn cat doing here!” Bakugou yelped. Coco also yelped, and it came to you that dropping her on Bakugou’s spikey hair was probably not the best idea ever. However, as Coco quickly scampered down and curled up on Bakugou’s shoulder, and Kirishima was sitting next to him to make sure he didn’t kill the cat, you felt a sense of triumph. Bakugo was smiling. Not smirking, not grinning maniacally as he beat someone up, but genuinely smiling. You gave yourself an internal high five as you moved onto your next goal.

You walked hesitantly towards Tenya, and when he turned his head towards you, about to ask what you were doing, you quickly linked your hand with his and started leading him towards the rest of the group.

“(Y-Y/N) ?” Tenya sputtered. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” You replied cheekily. “I want to hold hands with you!”

“B-but, do they know?” Tenya gestured nervously with his free hand.

“Nope, but they’re about to,” you grimaced, thinking about all the teasing you’d have to endure from your friends later. Better to just get this over with during the party, when everyone had the attention span of a goldfish and any embarrassing moments would hopefully be forgotten moments later when more exciting things came along, such as Mineta’s annual lingerie gift. Whatever the powers that be were doing, they were definitely not doing the world any favors when they let Mineta draw a girl for the Secret Santa every single year. But, for all the bad things you could say about Mineta, he definitely consumes enough material to have at least semi-decent taste in lingerie. Surprising, and sometimes gross, but not entirely unwelcomed if you could manage to forget who gifted it. The most disturbing thing was he knew all the girls’ sizes. You tried your hardest to not think about that. It’s not like you could erase his memory anyways.

You settled down with Tenya on a vacant couch, inwardly counting the minutes until someone noticed your position. Tenya looked vaguely uncomfortable, his posture ramrod straight, and you squeezed his hand in reassurance.

“No one’s going to judge or anything, if that’s what you’re worried about,” you whispered into his ear. “And besides, at least half the girls already knew I had a crush on you, so this won’t entirely come as news to them.”

Tenya relaxed slightly at that, then stiffened again when he noticed a pair of eyes glancing his way.

Midoriya had been excited at seeing Ochaco for the first part of the evening, but then had wondered where his other friend had gone. He knew Tsu was in southern Japan, as she couldn’t stand the cold and was operating in the warm coastal areas instead, but Iida being absent was strange. He had searched around the lobby, and when his eyes descended upon you and Iida cuddling on the couch, he was intrigued, to say the least.

He stared at the two of you for a solid minute, not wanting to disturb your peace. Slowly, he turned back to Ochaco, thinking that it wasn’t his place to draw attention to the two of you.

Ochaco, however, had no such qualms. Noticing how Deku began to space out during their conversation, she followed his line of vision to the two of you, blinked twice to check if she was seeing it right, then immediately let out a squeal.

Heads turned at the sound, and in moments, everyone was staring at you and Tenya curiously. You hadn’t noticed the attention yet, but Tenya had, and he grew stiffer and stiffer until you finally looked up at his face with furrowed brows.

“Tenya, what’s wrong?” You whispered. “Do you not enjoy cuddling? I can stop if you’d like,” your lips were pressed together in concern.

“I-it’s not that,” Tenya whispered back. “Look.”

You finally raised your head from his chest and saw thirty pairs of eyes staring back. After a few moments of silence, the room erupted.

“Iida-kun! Why didn’t you tell us?” Midoriya was the first to raise a question.

“(Y/NNNNNN)!!!!!!!!!!!” Mina practically screamed as she ran towards you. She clasped her hands dramatically over her heart. “YOU DID IT YOU DID IT YOU DID IT OMG YOU GUYS ARE SO ADORABLE EEEEE!!!!!!”

Half the room winced at her loud tone, and you quickly moved Coco from your lap to save her from the incoming bear hug.

Mina launched herself in your arms, then stepped back and shook your shoulders until you felt your brain rattling around in your skull like soupy mush.

“(Y/N)! What did I say, huh? Bitch I TOLD you that he liked you too, and you wait three goddamn months to finally make a move!?! Honey-”

Your face flushed red. Gently, you pushed her away. “Mina, stop,” you whispered, horrified that she was making a scene. It was too late. Ochaco and Hagakure rushed towards you, Momo trailing more slowly behind them. The boys were stunned for a bit, since you had always seemed so quiet and shy, much less Iida’s feelings towards you. As their initial shock wore off, Midoriya trailed after Momo to approach Iida.

“Congratulations, Iida-kun!” He held up his arms in front of his chest. “You and (Y/N) are really cute together!”

“Yeah bro! That’s so manly that you finally confessed!” Kirishima added, with a quirk of his lips and a thumbs-up.

“Tch. Fucking coward. Took you idiots three fucking months to confess, huh.” Bakugou smirked, but you could tell he wasn’t really annoyed. You actually somewhat got along with him, due to all the times Mina would drag you to hang out with her friends.

You struggled vainly against the arms of your friends encasing you. “Guys,” you pleaded. “Let me out, please.”

Reluctantly, the girls let go, and you immediately tried to redirect their attention. “Shouldn’t we start opening presents?” You asked hopefully.

“Oh, you sneaky little thing,” Mina wagged her finger in your face. “Don’t think we’ll forget about this, (Y/N), but you’re right, we should start opening presents or we’ll be here all night.”

“We’ll be here all night anyways,” Todoroki pointed out.

“You knew what I meant,” Mina sighed.

Mina enlisted the help of Ojiro and Shoji to pass out the Secret Santa presents; you’d all open the rest of your personal presents later.

The best way to go about this, after years of trial and error, was for everyone to open their presents at the same time. It would simply take too long for everyone to open theirs one by one, and you’d all realized that the people who opened theirs first had a significant disadvantage when it came to guessing who their partner was, as the ones who opened theirs later had the benefit of some options already being eliminated. When you opened your present, you tried your hardest to hold back a squeal. It was a limited-edition album from your favorite artist! You hugged it close to your chest, and immediately knew who gave it to you. Jirou. Her parents were musicians too, and you had bonded over your love of this artist. It was a thoughtful gift, and you were glad that she had given it to you, even though it immediately gave her away.

The rest of your friends opened their presents. Poor Momo. No wonder Mineta had looked so gleeful earlier. He had been her Secret Santa and had gotten her a lacy black lingerie set. Her face was so red you were beginning to get scared that she would hyperventilate, but you had to admit that it was a pretty nice set. Mineta was basically drooling at this point, and Jirou was trying to comfort her while sending a death glare towards Mineta. Mineta, meanwhile, had received a new video game. Sero had received a large pack of farmer’s market coupons, as well as some homemade mochi from Ochaco, who had blushed and apologized profusely for not being able to afford something better for him. Sero just grinned and gave her a thumbs-up, saying that it was completely okay and that he appreciated her effort into gift-giving. She had brightened up a bit at that.

Koda had received a new hamster wheel along with some toys for his various pets. Shoji had been gifted a comfortable-looking poncho, as well as three pairs of matching gloves. Ochaco had received a generous sum of money, Midoriya had gotten a new set of comic books, and Iida had received a beanie and a multiflavored pack of tea. Aoyama had received a makeup set, and had gifted a makeup set as well, evidenced by his inability to contain himself and pounced on Hagakure, asking if she liked it. Hagakure was ecstatic, babbling about how she could finally show her face and how she’d never really been able to afford a full set before and how Aoyama was so considerate.

Sato had received a new baking pan, as well as cute mittens and a trending recipe book. He had given Setsuna a batch of cookies, as well as a gallon of frozen cookie dough with instructions on how to make it. There wasn’t really a point in him trying to win the contest, since he would be one of the people providing the prize. Mina had gotten fuzzy socks and a blanket, Kirishima had received a new pair of tennis shoes, and Jirou had been gifted a new pair of headphones. Ojiro had received some sort of custom tail armor with spikes along with an Amazon gift card, and Todoroki had gotten a hand-made red-and-white sweater with a red reindeer nose smack in the middle, along with a gift card to a hair salon, tucked into a bouquet of red-and-white candy canes. The only person you could think of that would go so far into the color scheme was Hagakure, who seemed like just the type to make an ugly sweater for fun. Shinsou had received earmuffs, a silk eye mask with a note (“to help you sleep”), and some gourmet coffee beans (“in case you still can’t”). Mina had seen the little notes that came with his gifts and started teasing him relentlessly about how sweet his Secret Santa was and how it was so cute that he had a secret admirer. Shinsou looked very nonchalant about it all and grumbled about how he just wanted to pet Coco and then go to bed.

Finally, Kaminari received some Pokémon cards to add to his collection (yes, he collected Pokémon cards, what was wrong with that?) along with another Pikachu plush, as per usual. It was an unspoken tradition that whoever drew Kaminari for their Secret Santa would get him a Pikachu plush along with whatever else they decided to give him. He had about twenty, collected over various years from birthdays and holidays. If this kept up, he’d be able to fill an entire closet with them once he retired.

As the chatter slowly died down, you snuggled into Tenya again. At some point during the present exchange, Shinsou had stolen Coco from the couch you occupied. Stifling a yawn, you pulled out a bag and handed it to Tenya.

“What’s this?” He asked, a slight smile on his face.

“It’s your gift, silly,” you booped him on the nose with your index finger.

“Ah, I see,” he replied, still smiling. “Do you want me to open it?”

“Duh,” you giggled into his chest. “What else would you do with it?”

Chuckling lightly, Tenya removed the tissue paper from the top of the bag. He stuck his hand inside, then pulled out a sweater. The sweater that you’d knitted for him. It was navy, the color of the yarn matching his hair, with gold and white snowflake detailing. His heart skipped a beat when he realized that you had made this especially for him, with your own hands. Putting the sweater down beside him, he wrapped his arms around you and pressed his face to your hair.

“Thank you, (Y/N),” he whispered. “I love it.”

You flushed, but you hugged him back. “You’d better,” you teased. “I spent two weeks on that.”

“Well, I appreciate it.” Tenya ruffled your hair.

The two of you stayed like that for a while, just soaking in the pleasant atmosphere. Yawning, you stretched out your arms, careful not to hit Tenya in the face. You gently pushed his arm off of your torso and got up to go to the bathroom.

When you came back, Tenya was nowhere to be seen. You searched around the common area and stepped briefly into the kitchen, but he wasn’t there. Sighing, you grabbed your parka and padded outside.

“Tenya?” You called out as you stuck your head around the doorframe. He was with Kirishima and Todoroki, clearing the entryway of the building of snow. You leaned back along the handrails of the stairs and watched. Your friends were all just so nice. So caring, so wonderful, so kind. As Todoroki evaporated the last bit of snow, you stepped aside to let them all head back in. As Tenya reached you, he paused briefly, looking up.

“What?” You tilted your head up also, curious to see what he was staring at. Oh. So this was where Mina and Ochaco had decided to hang the mistletoe. If Tenya hadn’t looked up, you would’ve missed its existence entirely. You looked back down at Tenya to gauge his reaction.

He gulped, and softly taking your chin into his hand, he leaned down and pressed a chaste kiss on your lips. You leaned up to meet him, rising slightly on your toes and wrapping your arms around his neck. The kiss was long and sweet, and you were both a bit breathless when you let go.

You smiled sweetly up at him and took his strong hand in yours. Standing on your tiptoes again, you pressed another soft kiss to his cheek.

“Merry Christmas.”

Masterlist

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

Stop the World

I’ve finally done it. I’ve finally come up with the dumbest soulmate au ever.

“Stop the World I Wanna Get Off With You” - The Arctic Monkeys

no tws, just nonsense

---

When Priss and Essi had bumped into each other at one of Jaskier’s school recitals they had sung a gorgeous ballad about love and faithfulness, outlining their future adventures together and reassuring both women about their mutual compatibility. It had been a lovely, soft thing that ebbed and flowed like the evening tide. It hadn’t been very long, but it was gorgeous.

The dance they’d done as they sang together was simple. They swayed back and forth across the floor in each other’s arms, smiles brightening both of their flushed faces, two heads of nearly-matching golden hair shining in the flickering candlelight, Essi’s skirts swirling against Priscilla’s colorful tights. 

Jaskier had been jealous of his friends’ early discovery, of course. He wanted nothing more than to meet his soulmate. Their song, whatever it was, would be beautiful! It would be fantastic! It would be something to cherish for a lifetime; he could feel it in his very bones. He and his beloved were meant for great things and he wanted to get started on their journey together sooner rather than later.

It was no surprise to anyone who knew Jaskier that once he’d obtained a degree in the seven liberal arts (with honors) from Oxenfurt University, he immediately took to the road. He hunted high and low across the Continent for his other half, crossing whatever borders necessary and sneaking into whatever parties or back alley gambling dens or theatrical functions he could to find out where his soulmate was hiding. He really did try everything, it seemed.

But Destiny helps those who help themselves, and Jaskier had been putting in a lot of effort. 

He’d been on the road nearly two years before that fateful afternoon finally arrived. He was hungry, tired, and disappointed in himself. None of his original songs were doing very well and his funds from home were running out. When he finally reached an inn that would let him play, the patrons seemed less than enthused about his presence. He knew he needed to perform anyway; he hadn’t eaten in nearly two days and he hadn’t bathed in the last week either. Jaskier’s morale was very, very low. 

Still, he needed some coin to survive. If not coin, perhaps the audience would be irritated enough throw some half-edible food his way, and that would be enough to get him to the next town. He strummed his lute and began his song, thrusting his hips and wiggling his eyebrows with every innuendo. Usually country folk loved the bawdy tavern songs, but Posada seemed to be an outlier. They hated it.

They hated him. 

After he’d finished a handful of questionable ballads he knelt to collect the rolls they’d thrown. When he lifted his gaze to search for a place to take inventory, his eyes settled on a figure in the corner. A man with a relatively young, handsome face and an old man’s silver-white hair. He was glaring down into his mug with an expression like coming thunder and his nose was flared in annoyance with something.

The handsome stranger was moonlight-draped in the middle of an unusually warm spring and Jaskier felt his heart filling with something deep and unfamiliar as he stared from across the tavern floor. The sensation bubbled up from the depths of his soul and flooded his entire being from head to foot, magma-hot and thrilling. Like jumping from a sauna into a snowbank. Like falling from a great height into chilly water. Like- Like-

It felt exactly like falling in love all at once.

Jaskier could hear an unfamiliar heartbeat echoing through the back of his head, slowly transforming into a drumbeat, and he prayed that the stranger would look up. Quietly, a man nearby whispered, “Open Sesame.”

“We’ve places to go,” he sang, surprising himself. The words had ripped themselves out of his throat, unknown and unbidden until the moment of their conception. Oh! It’s happening! The music picked up and got louder. It’s really, actually happening! 

Another line of song burst from his mouth: “We’ve people to see.”

“Let’s put ‘em on hold,” the villagers added, playing the part of Chorus harmoniously enough. The stranger in the corner was definitely looking at Jaskier now, his black-gloved fists clenched where they rested on the tabletop. The bard crossed the room in a rush, still singing, the predestination of their story taking over him: “There's all sorts of shapes that I bet you can make; when you want to escape, say the word.” 

The stranger’s jaw clenched in an effort to bite back his line of the song and Jaskier’s heart, just a moment ago so full of love and excitement over this development, crashed to the floor and shattered into a million pieces. His soulmate was fighting their Destiny. He was refusing to sing along. Still, the lyrics persisted, flowing through Jaskier again, instead: “Well I know that getting you alone isn’t easy to do…”

“With the exception of you, I dislike everyone in the room. And I don’t wanna lie but I don’t wanna tell you the truth,” came the gravelly, soft baritone from his mysterious partner. When the stranger finally looked up, Jaskier noted that his soulmate’s eyes were a lovely honey-gold, shot through with lines of ochre. The bard, already head-over-heels and now suddenly more besotted than ever, gasped and smiled his way through his next line.

“I get the sense that you’re on the move and you’ll probably be leaving soon.”

“So I’m telling you,” they sang together. The stranger rose from his seat, fist unfurling slowly as he gently, nervously took Jaskier’s hand in his warmer one. They continued in harmony, “Stop the world cause I wanna get off, with you.”

“Stop the world cause I wanna get off,” Jaskier began.

“With you,” the stranger finished. They gasped when the music stopped as suddenly and strangely as it had begun. Their hands were still joined, fingers intertwined.

A few of the peasants clapped their congratulations to the new couple. Most of them shrugged and returned to whatever it was they were doing before, nonplussed by the predestined meeting of two souls right in front of them. 

The world resumed its spinning and with it went Jaskier’s sense of stability. He stumbled forward, only to be caught against a broad chest by strong, capable hands. 

“Why don’t we sit down and introduce ourselves?” his soulmate asked with that gloriously deep, sexy voice. Jaskier nodded and allowed himself to be guided gently into a chair. 

“I’m Jaskier,” he smiled. The bard noted the heavy sheath leaning against the wall. It held two swords, each with a distinctive handle. His soulmate wore heavy black armor even in the midst of an unseasonable heatwave, and the wolf medallion around the man’s neck shone in the midday sunlight. Jaskier’s heart picked up its already frantic pace and he beamed. “You must be Geralt of Rivia, the infamous witcher!”

“Yet you do not flee,” the man raised an eyebrow. He was looking at Jaskier the way small animals looked at particularly boisterous children. Like he was curious but ready to run at any wrong movement. 

“Why should I?” Jaskier shrugged. “You’re the one I was made to be with. Why shouldn’t I be with you?”

“You just said yourself that I am Geralt of Rivia, infamous witcher.”

“And?”

“Infamy doesn’t do bards well.”

“No,” Jaskier smiled shyly. He held everything before him: his heart, his meager belongings, his education, his talents… He just hoped it was enough to tempt his devilishly handsome, silver-haired soulmate into giving him a chance to prove himself. “But love does.”

[jade-of-mourning]

theformat wrote, "im floating with the birds im talking to the weeds look what youve done to me"

in which i spontaneously take several hours to translate nate’s awfully punctuated commentary on dog problems into Comprehensive English Words. partially so i can write my stupid essay on it for fun. but yes here you go, 4.2k words from a 2006 livejournal archive that i managed to snatch out of two saves. here’s a link if you want to read it from the source, but i’ll have you know it’s a nightmare. early 2000′s nate ruess learn how to type properly challenge.

theformat wrote,

[@ 2006-5-18 18:44:00]

"im floating with the birds im talking to the weeds look what youve done to me"

Hi,

Sitting on my couch, watching ESPN. Damn, it’s good to be home. Things have been pretty crazy the last 6 months. As a lot of you know, we were dropped by our label — we went and recorded a new record, labels became interested, [and] we decided to release it ourselves. We went on tour, and now I’m [...] home for the next week: my first week off in six months. What do I do? 

Well, my roommate and I got memberships to the YMCA down the street from our house. It’s an amazing place. Downtown Phoenix is pretty much an amazing place. It’s not like the rest of the state — speaking of which, I’m declaring war on Scottsdale, it’s the opposite of Downtown Phoenix.

Anyways, so I wake up at 9am every morning. I don’t know what it is, really — I’ve been a "pro" musician for about 3 years now, [and] we are supposed to wake up at 11 or 12. I know some dudes that wake up at 1, but no; since I’ve been home the last few days, I’ve been going to bed at 1 and waking up at 9. My roommate has a job, [so] I think it has to do with that. 

See, there are 3 showers total in our house. I have the big bedroom, so I have the big shower, [and] since I’ve been off on tour and recording, he has gotten used to the nice shower in my room (Which is fine — anyone that’s gotten close to me knows I’m not too fond of showers, so it’s not like I use it that much). So every morning around 8:45, I wake up to my door opening and my roommate going through my room to use the shower. 

You know what it’s like when you’re half asleep but you want to act like you’re awake so as not to freak someone out with all the crazy babble, but you just end up saying all the same crazy babble? I do that every morning. I turn and look at him and try to act like I wasn’t just dreaming about tootsie rolls and parrots that shatter like glass. "Hey [Roommate's Name], that was some game last night" [is what usually] comes out of my mouth — something to that extent — and I think he feels sorry for me, but continues to walk right into my bathroom, and use the shower. 

At this point, I’m awake. I usually have to pee, and I have to then use his restroom. It’s a terrible swap, and it always ends with me wide awake on my front porch (har har) smoking a cigarette and wondering how the hell I’m gonna fall back asleep when the air conditioning is broken. Ah, what a wonderful life at home, [but] that’s the weird thing — I love it. Now we wake up and we go to the [YMCA]. We run, we play basketball, we jump in the pool, we play pool basketball, we get yelled at for dunking the ball. We don’t use soap before we go into the sauna, and the night usually ends with a poker tournament. This is the life I love to live when I’m away from the road. It too is the opposite of Scottsdale. It’s who I am, [and] it’s pretty much who I’ve become.

See, for the last 23 years, it’s been about the highs and the lows for me. I’ve got an addictive personality, [so] I stay away from a lot of things because of this; however, when I find things, I get generally excited. I go crazy. It’s all I think about and all I do for the next howeverlong. For the first 23 years, it was either talking non-stop or locking myself in my room. It’s either great or terrible; not good or bad. Dog Problems changed that.

Initially, Dog Problems was supposed to be that — the original concept of Dog Problems was to be 2 sides of music, the first half taking over where Interventions [+ Lullabies] had left off: "We'll be together in the morning…"

We weren’t, in fact. We were over before Interventions was even released. We were over two weeks after it was recorded, [and] I spent the next 2 years feeling terrible. We got back together… we broke up… we got dogs… we broke up… we got back together and got dogs…

I was still miserable, but I wanted Dog Problems to get me through everything. I wanted it to help me, not anyone else — just me. The first side was supposed to be me down in the dumps [and] everything that went down: how the two of us were dealing with it differently, [and] the second half was supposed to be a realization.

The first inkling of realization was a day [when] we were on tour. We were all laughing about something I’m sure Marko or Adam said. Here I was supposed to be depressed, but the fact that I can spend all of my days in different states with my best friends, all of us doing what we love — that was major! Then my mom called… I’ve got my parents! My friends! What else could I possibly need?

At that point, I felt as if a relationship in a Michael Bolton sort of way didn’t mean anything. It was the people you surrounded yourself with — those were the people that made the difference, and that was going to be side two. I was convinced that when I just closed my eyes and thought about the wonderful people around me, I was going to be great. Not good, [but] great.

I didn’t get that far, no. I got back into the relationship. 

I was sure it was going to work. At that point, life would be perfect, and we all want perfection right? [But] things went right back to far from perfect. Things went to terrible. I couldn’t stop feeling sorry for myself, but I had a concept. At that point, I figured that even by singing and recording these positive songs I was going to feel better, so Sam showed me what was then just a short acoustic guitar version of Snails.

This was it. This was my first chance to prove to myself that life can be beautiful. The thing is, I had never been more miserable. I remember writing the lyrics to Snails: my roommate was at work, I was on the bed, on my night stand was a giant bottle of booze, and somewhere off in California she wasn’t calling me back on a Friday night. So I went to work, listened [to it] over and over. I wanted to get it right; I wanted to be positive. I passed out, then I woke up the next morning [with a] big headache (P.S. drinking is not really that cool; it’s cool when you condemn it for the first 22 years of your life, then it becomes not cool, then it becomes ok when you moderate yourself) and I started writing everything positive I could think of. [...] Snails was, in Sam’s mind, supposed to be a 2 minute kid’s song, [but] I wrote so much that there was no going back. I thought that was it — Snails solved all of my problems.

It didn’t get that far either. Nothing could shake the depression, [and] I really started to worry about myself. Here I want to feel great, but I only feel terrible, [and] a few months later it got really really bad. I had to go to my parents house that night, I didn’t want to be at my house. I wanted to feel like a kid.

It’s funny how we always want to be adults when we're younger. We want to drive cars, we want to have girlfriends. I still didn’t consider myself an adult — all I wanted was to come home, be tucked in, know that everything was going to be alright. I woke up the next day [and found out] she met someone new. I’ve got to figure myself out…

In the meantime, we've got 4 songs we are recording over at our friend Aaron’s house (he is an amazing producer and [...] musician, and his house and his roommates have gotten me through a lot of tough times. They’re some of the only people I know who would rather spend their Saturdays getting dinner and watching a movie instead of going to a party. I like that). All of this turmoil in my relationship was going on at the time, and I was trying to write side two [but] I couldn’t. There was more fuel to side one. These songs have to be done, so I wrote about what I knew, and at that point I knew how to feel terrible.

So much for side two. Dog Problems is going to be one giant mess of depression and "look what you’ve done to me".

Atlantic got those four songs, as well as a few others. They were not psyched, to say the least, but some people at the label actually cared about it enough to say "go record". So we were able to pick our producer, we met with a few people, talked to a few more. Things were looking up. Dog Problems was going to happen. 

I remember meeting Steve McDonald at his house — Sam and I were excited to be [there] because we knew his wife Anna would probably be there. Anna was the lead singer/songwriter for a band we used to obsess about called "That Dog", her brother was one of the ten drummers in the world that I actually liked, so Steve couldn't be so bad. And he wanted to produce our record, so he had to be pretty cool! 

He was just that, and more. Sam and I were eating every word that came out of his mouth. He had stories; he was young, hip, energetic, and yet very all knowing. We saw someone that was going to let us do whatever we wanted to do, and in the meantime he was going to make us laugh and make sure we didn't lose our minds. From that point on, I knew there was someone I could always trust. I made a friend pretty quick.

Things were moving forward. Steve McDonald was to be the producer. I hated Los Angeles so there was no way in hell I was going to record there, [so] we decided Palm Springs would be perfect. Weird, but perfect. I had a phone conversation with Steve that night and we were finalizing everything. I was going to call Atlantic in the morning and let them know just how everything was going to work, [but] I didn't get that far.

I was sleeping in a blowup bed at the house when my phone rang. I didn’t wake up and answer like it was my roommate and he was coming into my room to use my shower, [because] this call felt different. Right away, I was awake.

It was our manager: "You’ve been dropped." 

When I heard that, the first thought going through my mind wasn’t "Oh man...how are we going to be famous now and make boat loads of money?" It was more like "fuck...but Dog Problems. We were supposed to go make Dog Problems."

The thing is, Atlantic wasn’t into Dog Problems. They were into whatever it was they thought we were. Never had The First Single made more sense — what was supposed to be a song about getting the band started and doing something with it had actually turned into a song about how stuck we were in the labels eyes because of the song. I was past that; we're proud of something we wrote when we were 19 and 20, but when I think of music, I think of progression. 

I think of all of the wonderful records I had been introduced to when I had nothing to do riding in a van. I think of all of the new influences, all the instruments, all of the "How did they do that?" And I think of how much it gets me through everything.

Music has been the consecutive[ly] great[est] thing in my life. It’s been that one thing, and with Dog Problems, it wasn’t about "I want everyone to sing along because I can write a catchy song." It was about feeling. It was paying tribute to all of the bands that we obsessively listened to. It was for Harry Nilsson and Van Dyke Parks, it was for Jellyfish and XTC. It was our way of saying thanks for making our lives better, whether it be lyrically or musically. It was never about being something, being told something, and sticking to something. It was an adventure, for the artist and for the listener.

[And] they didn't get that. They wanted the old record, the old songs, just with different words and a few different chords here and there. They didn’t care about Snails or Dog problems [or] what it meant to write those songs. They knew it wasn't going to be huge; the guitars were not big enough (if big guitars are your thing that’s fine, it’s just not really our thing right now); it wasn’t going to be competitive, and so they dropped us. And rightfully so: we weren’t going to change, and obviously the major label business is never going to change, [so] now it comes down to who goes down first. And we weren’t ready to go down.

Sam and I had conversations about it, whether the business end of things have been fucking with us so much that we'll never be sane enough to just enjoy it. We thought about getting out — it wasn’t [be]cause we hated each other, or the songs; it was because we hated the business.

Steve called to let us know that he was still onboard, label or not, [and] we let him know we were still on board. We were going to make this record, [and] I was going to feel great! But the record was going to cost something. How could we afford it? 

We were lucky that we had a management company like Nettwerk. Not only are they the most forward-thinking music business people around, [but] they’re also (for the most part) Canadian. Oh, and they care a shit load about the music we make. They could have waited for the ship to sink, but they told us they would pay for the record if need be. Fortunately, we were able to get money for getting dropped — Atlantic actually paid us to leave, so we could afford the recording ourselves. The only stipulation was that it had to be done quicker, and when you want something quick, you have to go to the "right here, right now" capitol of the world: Los Angeles. I was a little irked at the thought at first, then Steve said it was his personal goal to make LA a wonderful city for me. Like I said, I would jump off a cliff if Steve said it was the best way to get coffee, but I wasn’t jumping off of cliffs. I was too excited to make Dog Problems, [so] LA it was.

Sam and I moved to the "Silver Palace" in Silverlake California in the middle of December. We found an amazing studio in Burbank, California and an amazing engineer in Ken Sluiter, and our goal was to just do everything free from a record label and someone constantly messing up the recording process by saying things like "that’s not high octave enough". The only pressure we had at all was from our manager saying "You have a tour you accepted in March, [so] get it done by then.” Other than that, it was me, Sam, Steve, and Ken working 13 hours a day for 6 days a week.

It became our lives we were putting so much of ourselves into. Everyone that worked and played on the record was the same way when they were there contributing. I would leave the studio at 2 in the morning and wake up at 10 to be at the studio by 11. There was no free time — the four of us were so invested in this. We all bought into the concept. 

In the meantime, things outside of the studio were getting interesting. We had a lot of labels calling and constantly asking about it. During one week of recording, I remember at least 3 different label people coming down to the studio. Our minds weren’t made up as to what we were doing with the record once it was recorded — all we wanted to do was finish it — but we kept our options open and let people sit in the big chair and listen to what we had been working on. The response was overwhelmingly positive, but we didn’t really think about it too much beyond the compliments we were receiving. Sam and I got used to LA — I was 10 minutes away from where I had been the previous summer when I was back "on" in my ��on and off" relationship. I was ten minutes from her, she was calling every day, I was singing about it… but how was it not getting to me? Why did I not care?

My phone was off. I woke up in Silverlake one morning and started wondering why for the last month I had a smile on my face. Sure, I was down at times, but the thing that had been bringing me down for 3 years was now the last thing on my mind. Apparently, it had been that way for awhile. Something that took 3 years to get over… I was finally just okay with it. No big realization — just the fact that things happen. People make mistakes. And I came out of it alright. I was good; not great… I was good, and that felt good.

I wasn’t looking for great anymore. I was okay. The last song on Dog Problems is all about that. Here, this record was supposed to be the downs, and the ups, and it ended with the middle: the realization that I don’t need to be talking; I don’t need to be locked in my room — I need to enjoy what’s going on around me. And if things go wrong, they go wrong. There’s always tomorrow.

Dog Problems means so much to me in so many different ways. I’ve never been more proud of anything in my life. I cried so many times during the making of the record. All the money I had spent on therapy, and all I had to do was go make a record, realize that I’m alright, and realize that I made something that I’ll forever be proud of.

Shit… the record was supposed to be about how California can change you for the worse, [but] it played a huge part in doing the opposite!

So as we were putting the finishing touches on the record (all our friends came in and recorded! A ton of people we admired came and worked on the record! All of their responses were so positive that it's hard not to get an ego about it. These are the people I worship. They’re the ones I wanted to pay tribute to, and they think we've made something unique and special. It’s like Michael Jordan telling you that you have a nice jump shot (no more sports references… I swear I’m done)) and we started to think about what we were going to do with it. How we were going to release it. Labels were getting pretty into it, and we knew we would have to make a decision soon.

After much debate and discussion, we decided that the record was something we had made completely on our own, so why not release it completely on our own? Nettwerk was going to take care of the distribution so it would have a major label distro. It would be inside all of the Best Buys; what more did we want? We didn’t want a big fat check — we did that last time. It made us miserable, and nothing came out of it. Barely anyone at the labels helped us, we weren’t making music videos, our songs weren’t on the radio, so why would we take their criticism? After all, everything that we’ve done — any success we’ve had is from being real people who make music. From showing up to play, from 3 years on the road. 

On Interventions [+ Lullabies], there might have been an Elektra logo on the back of the record, but it ended right there. We were the ones SHOWING people who we were. I wouldn’t have it any other way — no one knows us better than ourselves, so why not release it ourselves? To me, it’s not only a testament to the hard work we put into the band (Mike, Don, Marko, Toco, everyone else involved in putting these songs to life — you guys are the best thing we have. It’s pretty special when your best friends are some of the most talented musicians), but I really feel like the people who come to our shows are such good people that they don’t give a fuck what label it’s on.

They are there because we are doing something positive, and because we care about them as much as they care about us. So for the time being we've said "fuck the middleman": we're the only people we can blame at this point. I’m so tired of even talking about major labels and the split and everything like this. The music is the only thing I care about. Dog Problems is the only thing I care about, so why let someone else ruin it?

The Vanity Label was born.

The record got finished. We had no time to rehearse, and we had to go right back out to tour. Our first show before the Motion City Soundtrack tour was in Nashville — I remember the last time we were in Nashville, there were about ten kids. Reuben’s accomplice kept asking them why they hate whales, so we figured why not go there and get some of the rust out of the way. After all, we haven't toured in a year so there should be like 3 kids there; we can mess up if need be.

Unfortunately, we were not allowed to mess up. On a Sunday night in Nashville, with Ted Leo playing across the street (I <3 Ted), our first headlining show outside of Arizona in almost a year was over sold out. What the fuck happened? 

We thought we were going to have to play for another 3 years just to get back to where we were when we left, and yet it’s sold out on a Sunday night? It didn’t end there either — the whole tour went like that… night after night ("nite after nite?"). I couldn't believe it. As if having Dog Problems wasn’t enough, now we have people showing their support in the most positive way: coming to the shows, being there from the only thing they knew before. Those two months were such good months. It was the last thing I expected. Thanks so much to all the bands that played with us, and thanks so much for everyone that came to the shows and sang along. We'll be back in July.

In the meantime, things were going great on the Vanity Label front. Business actually felt natural. We are shooting a video with the directors we had always dreamed of doing a video with (it won’t be serious...no pouty face). There were magazines like AP and online magazines like AP taking notice, supporting the whole idea and concept. We actually took press photos. I’ve never been through any of this before, it’s exciting. I don’t think it’s going to change who we are, not one bit, but it’s still exciting to see people who can help out actually help out.

So where does that leave me now? Sitting on my bed. I’ve rambled for hours, the air still doesn't work, and I’ve been told that Dog Problems (something that isn't supposed to come out till July) has been leaked. Not the best news when you just got out of the pool, but it happens. I freaked out at first — I thought I was going to lock myself in my room. After all, this is something that we spent over two years making. It’s something that you have to take the time… listen to in headphones… play loud… listen to in order of the tracks… the artwork… Sam did the best artwork he has ever done. The packaging is something we paid extra for because Sam’s concept was so brilliant, and now… it’s leaked on the internet? I was locking my door, then our manager called.

"Hello?" 

"We're releasing it on the website today." 

"Wow."

So, here goes. You’ve read enough. I shouldn’t have to go on about it anymore, but I will say, if you wanna wait for the full hard copy release then do so. It’s July 11 — we are gonna be touring right after that — but if you want to get it now,.please do it by purchasing it right here. We released it, it’s our money, it’s our little baby — you should take the time to listen to it all the way through, free of distraction. You should turn the songs into your own. It’s an adventure, and it’s something that we put everything we have into; and if anyone deserves it first, it’s you guys who have been here with us all along.

Without further ado...

"Dog Problems"

- Nate

[yutahoes]

Otou-Chan

Yuta Nakamoto x Reader (Y/N) Smut

(Chapter Thirteen)

Summary: 𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐝𝐮𝐥𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐡𝐰𝐚 𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝.𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐘𝐮𝐭𝐚’𝐬 𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐬.

Warning: Fluff(?), Mentions of Sex

Word Count: 1.9k

Masterlist

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ ❤️❤️

13. Stubborn 

But Y/N didn’t call that night or that morning. Does she even know his number? But Jaehyun said that she didn’t have a phone, right? How can she even call him? Should he drop by her office? Pretend that he’s meeting someone nearby? Or he can just visit Jaehyun. 

Taeyong was just chuckling when he invited him to have lunch and visit Jaehyun. He’s too obvious for his own good. “For a CEO of your company, you have plenty of time in your hands.” He teased that made Doyoung laugh. “He says it’s a withdrawal syndrome.” The younger one explained which made Taeyong laugh. Yuta was annoyed, why are they ganging up on him? 

He was more annoyed when Jaehyun showed up at the nearby restaurant. “Why are you so obsessed with her? Is it because she’s giving you the best head?” Yuta glared at his friends who were just laughing. These blabber mouths. “She called earlier, she’s working from home.” 

“Called?” Yuta repeated. He said she doesn’t have a phone so how can she call the office? And if she can call, why is she not calling him? “Did she say why?” But Jaehyun shrugged. 

Taeyong gave a heavy sigh. “Why are you so worried, Yuta? Did something happen?” If there is one person from his friends who really knew him, that would be Taeyong. Or maybe it’s just too obvious that he’s worried about her. Well, who wouldn’t? He saw how scared she was that day at the police station. He knew that she wanted to run away from her dad and although he didn’t ask much, he knew she was being abused. Why isn’t she speaking up? Why is no one worried about her? Where is her mom? Any relatives? 

Maybe she really is indeed a damsel in distress and he wanted to save her so badly. Wanted to take care of her. To call her his and give her everything she deserved. But how can he do that when she obviously doesn’t want him in his life? This is causing him real distress. Why is she hung up on her when she’s not even crazy for him? Heck, a lot of girls would go to war for him. But why is his mind always drifting to her? 

--

He found himself in the restaurant near her home, that small shop that sells amazing hangover soup. He’s not drunk but this is the only way that he can find something about her. “Aren’t you the guy with (Y/N) last time?” the old woman asked and Yuta nodded, focusing on her rather than the soup she served. “One of her boys?” Her boys? “Well she did bring a lot of guys here.” She shared. “Didn’t you hear that she moved out?” That spiked his attention. Moved out? “I guess she’s living with some of the guys she’s with. That girl will just break your heart.” Funny, he thought, she had done that a couple of times already. But where could she be now? 

Their house is quiet but her father went outside the tiny home, staggering as if escaping something. He really did go out of jail. But if the woman in the restaurant is saying the truth, does this mean that (Y/N) left their home alone? Where could she be staying now? 

It was six pm when Jungwoo went out of the publishing house, surprised to see a guy standing by a shiny, black car. He had seen him only in pictures before and honestly, he’s surprised that (Y/N) drew him well. “Hi. I’m Yuta Nakamoto.” He introduced himself and he chuckled, continuing that he knew him since he’s (Y/N)’s friend. Friend? From one of her boys to one of her friends? “Do you have any idea where she is?” 

The guy handed his phone at the other. “She called using this number. Maybe you can find out where she is.” He said and Yuta quickly copied the number from Jungwoo’s phone. “Can you please take care of her? I’m sick of her not taking care of herself and just letting anyone boss her around.” Yuta nodded. That was what he intended to do anyways. To take care of her. 

--

Yuta found himself in a sauna house because of the address that the cell phone owner gave him. Is she here? Well, if she really did run away from home it is possible that she’s staying here. Since this is his first time here, the older man from the counter was more than willing to help him especially when he said that he’s actually from Japan. Being a foreigner really is a great help during this time. 

He showed him that orange shirt and shorts to use, even handing him the towel he can use for the sauna. But what annoyed him is the fact that the man brought him to the men’s area. How can he find her here? And why are they all naked? Does this mean she’s also naked at one part of this sauna house? Can he really see her here? 

Yuta was getting snacks at the second floor of the sauna house when he saw drawings from a piece of paper, pinned by the counter. “Excuse me.” He said quietly that made the young girl eye him widely, gasping. “Who drew this?” he asked in Korean. 

The girl was just staring at him when another girl went beside him. “Another sikhye.” She said that made Yuta turn to the owner of the voice, (Y/N). “Yuta?” she called, looking surprised that he’s here. “What are you doing here?” 

“Unnie, you know him?” the young girl asked and she nodded as she took the sikhye. (Y/N) ordered the younger girl to give Yuta anything he wants and that she’s going back after delivering the orders. “Oppa, are you unnie’s boyfriend?” Boyfriend? That has some nice ring to it but he’s not. Sadly. 

When (Y/N) returned to the counter with the payment for the sikhye, Yuta was just eyeing her and she just smiled at him. The girl ordered eggs and sikhye for her and him, gesturing to the vacant table nearby. The younger girl helped out in delivering triangle kimbaps to the two of them and the older laughed at how obvious she is. “Oppa, if you’re not unnie’s boyfriend, can you be mine instead?” 

“Yah! Do you want me to tell your mom?” (Y/N) scolded. “Don’t you have cram school to attend to?” The girl pouted making the older girl smile then stared at Yuta. The younger bid farewell and Yuta smiled at her, waving back. “Yah! Are you into younger girls?”

The guy smirked. “I don’t like girls who call me oppa, I want girls who call me otou-chan.” he claimed while leaning closer to her, winking. 

She blushed at that, coughing lightly. Isn’t Yuta so cute? “Is this your first time here?” she asked and he nodded. (Y/N) only giggled as she fixed the towel on his head, “Did you come here alone?” 

Yuta nodded. He wanted to take care of her but why is it the other way around? “I’m worried about you so I asked Jungwoo.” She only bit her lip in answer. “Is it true that you ran away from home?” She nodded then faced the table, away from his inquisitive gaze. “Did your father hurt you again?” Instead of answering, she broke the egg on his head that made him sigh. “Are you alright?” 

She nodded at that, handing him the peeled egg then the sikhye. “You should try this if it’s your first time here.” The girl opened the kimbap and ate some before sipping on her own sikhye. The guy reached out for the other triangle kimbap, staring at it. (Y/N) giggled when she realized that this might be the first time that he encountered such food. “Rich kid.” She teased while shaking her head, taking the kimbap from him and opening it with ease. “Why are you here, Yuta?” 

“To see you. Do you have to ask that?” he asked then ate his own kimbap, humming in delight. “You promised to call me. Do you really like to keep me hanging, (Y/N)?” she revolted that it isn’t the case and he confirmed the fact that she doesn’t really have a phone. Yuta laughed at that, “Excuses. Do you really hate me that much?” 

The girl shook her head which made him relieved. “I did want to buy a phone but I wanted to save up for a tablet to use for work first.” She said then ate the peeled egg. “I shouldn’t have gone to Paris.” She sighed. But that was how they met each other. Is she regretting that now? “Aren’t you busy with your job?” 

Yuta laughed. Well, he left everything in Doyoung’s hand today just to hunt this girl down. To see her and make sure that she’s safe. Luckily, she is. “Come with me.” Yuta claimed, reaching out a hand to her then stood up. The girl had a confused look on her face but took Yuta’s hand either way. 

--

She was forced to change to normal clothes since they’re going somewhere that surprised her. She didn’t even realize that it’s almost nighttime. Where are they heading to? 

The car stopped in front of a large warehouse that made her wonder. What the hell are they doing here? But Yuta kept holding her hand as he talked to the security guards who greeted him. “Don’t be burdened but I want you to choose whatever you want, understand?” it only made her curious. Choose what?

But everything became clear to her when they went inside a room full of electronic gadgets. Yuta brought her to a warehouse to choose a phone? “What the hell?” she blurted out loud and he just laughed, asking the worker the latest designs of mobile phones. “Yuta…”

”Just choose. Our company manufactures these gadgets, we have plenty of these.” He claimed then disappeared somewhere while talking to the worker. So this is their family business? Why is she so surprised? She should have listened to Jungwoo when he said things about Yuta. Now, she seemed too pathetic for him. He owns this much and she can’t even pay for one of the mobile phones displayed. Her eyes stayed at one tablet design. Isn’t this the tablet Ten is using? That’s a last year edition? It would be really nice to have something like this. “Have you chosen?” 

The girl shook her head, pouting at him. “Don’t you have cheaper phones?” But he smiled at her. “I mean I don’t really like calling and stuff, I don’t need a phone.” 

“Okay. I won’t force you to get a new phone if you really don’t want to.” She grinned at that. “But stay with me tonight, until you find a place to stay.” She rolled her eyes at that and he clenched his jaw at that action. Why is her stubbornness turning him on? “I wouldn’t let you stay in that sauna house alone. Have you seen those naked guys?” 

(Y/N) laughed at that. He’s actually worried about that? “Then let me stay in your place tonight.” She claimed that actually surprised him. She actually said yes? “I’d rather see you naked than those guys anyways.” She noted that made him laugh. 

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ ❤️❤️

Chapter 12 / Chapter 14

[tsarisfanfiction]

Throwing this to ya for Scotty.

Exposed To The Elements

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Teen Genre: Hurt/Comfort/Angst Characters: Gordon, Alan, Scott

Slowly plodding my way through these, sorry for the delay!  (And yes, feel free to keep sending them in; empty inboxes make me sad)

Oh hey, well this looks like fun.  Scott, what are you doing in an abandoned building with a fever?  I think we need to find that out so I’m gonna just jab my muses out of their bad mood (we’ve been stuck dealing with uncooperative programs trying to kill everything I’ve written so far for my major uni project all day and are grumpy) and then we can find out!

(Unfortunately for Scott, when Tsari’s grumpy, she gets whumpy... more so than normal, so this might get pretty bad for him.  Hmm, what can I do with a fever?)

Spin the wheel of whump and give me a character!

He’d been missing for days.  Up and vanished without a trace, leaving John clawing at his holograms and data with none of his usual calm façade in place, and Gordon’s other brothers frantically tearing the planet apart to find him.

They all knew Virgil could tear the world apart when it came to family; that wasn’t a surprise.  What shouldn’t have been a surprise was how scrappy Alan could be, how many connections he’d managed to form just by playing video games online and occasionally rescuing a few like-minded individuals.  Brandon Berrenger’s twenty-something million followers came in useful at times like these, and even Conrad had pulled some strings in a few places to get some possibilities rolling.

Gordon had been the one Alan had run to when one of those contacts had paid off.  Not because Alan chose him specifically, but because he was the first one he saw.

Apparently Alan could get info himself now, but at least he still knew better than to go haring off alone.

The building at the co-ordinates he’d acquired was run down.  The roof was completely gone, and ivy had a stranglehold on the walls that hadn’t yet crumbled.  How anyone had thought to check here, Gordon didn’t know.

He grabbed Alan’s arm as his younger brother tried to dart out of Thunderbird One - borrowed for this very urgent rescue mission, and Gordon was sure Scott wouldn’t mind.

“Me first,” he said.  Alan had played enough video games to know derelict old buildings were never good news.  Gordon wasn’t letting him go in first.

Someone ran out of the building as they left the Thunderbird, and Gordon shoved Alan behind him to a squawk of protest.

“Alan Tracy?” they gasped.  A teenager, with once-spiked hair that now looked like it had been stuck to his face with art paste.

Gordon hadn’t even registered the rain, but now he had, he was all too aware of the water thundering down around them.

“Fifteen-eight-two?”  Alan ducked back around to stand next to him, and Gordon glanced warily between the two teenagers.

“That’s me.  He’s here.”  The guy was still gasping for breath, and looked a little in shock.  “My bro’s in there with him still but we can’t get close.”

“Lead the way,” Gordon ordered, stepping forwards and past the external walls.

The floors were uneven and broken, moss and grasses poking up through it and currently bathing in a shallow river of water.  Clearly it had been raining for some time, and Gordon glanced up at the roof - or where the roof once was.  No shelter.

An inhuman sound, somewhere between a snarl and a whine, reached his ears and he tensed.

“Come on, man,” another voice pleaded - the teenager’s bro, he assumed.  “I’m trying to help.”

The sound repeated itself, and Gordon sped up, aware of Alan right on his heels as he followed the voices.

“International Rescue!” the second teenager exclaimed as he rounded a crumbled corner of wall and found himself in a large room.  He barely paid the teenager any mind, sweeping right past where he was hovering by what was once a door and making a beeline straight for the crumpled, snarling heap in the middle of the room.

Scott made the noise again, and behind Gordon, Alan gasped.

Gordon didn’t blame him.  Scott looked terrible.  His clothes were tattered and torn, and the fabric was plastered to him by the water still soaking them from above.  Blue eyes were bright, but it was the wrong sort of bright; too bright for there to be any coherency, too bright for recognition.  Fever bright.

“Hey, Scott,” he said, crouching down so they were on the same level.  The new angle showed him iron hoops in the floor and wet but strong rope linking them to Scott’s wrists.  His brother snapped at him, looking just like a cornered animal.

Had he been there the whole time he’d been missing?  Who had done this? Why had they done this?

Scott’s chest was heaving, every breath was a rasp dragging through his throat, and Gordon knew he was in trouble.

He also knew he didn’t want Alan seeing this, and nor would Scott, if he was in his right mind.

“Alan, take your two friends and go wait for Virgil,” he ordered.

“But-”

“Go.”

It was hard enough for him to see Scott reduced to this, whatever this was.  Some fever-induced nightmare.  It had to be worse for Alan, who had basically been raised by Scott, had always seen Scott as the one to go to when something was wrong.

“But-”  But Alan was a Tracy, too, and turning his back on someone who needed his help went against everything he knew.  Gordon switched tactics.

“There’s too many of us here,” he said.  “He’s not going to calm down while he’s outnumbered.”

“But it’s us,” Alan whined, and Gordon took his eyes off of Scott for a moment to look up at where he was standing instead.

“He doesn’t know that right now, Allie.”  He’d kept his voice quiet, gentle, but Alan still flinched as though he’d been struck.  “Go.  Wait for Virgil.  He’ll need you to guide him in.”

Virgil would just bust through every single wall until he reached them and they both knew it, but trembling, Alan finally took the lifeline for what it was.

“Call if you need me,” he said.  His eyes were wet but Gordon couldn’t tell if it was the rain or something else.

“I will,” he promised, and watched his younger brother herd the two teenagers out before facing his biggest brother again.  “That better, Scotty?”

Scott didn’t answer, but when Gordon made a tentative move to approach, he whimper-snarled again.  Gordon stopped.

“I need to get you out of that rope,” he said, keeping his voice low and gentle.  “It’s okay, Scott.  I’m not going to hurt you.”

He tried again.  Too-bright eyes watched him, and a whimper escaped his brother’s throat, but there were no more snarls.  Maybe Scott wasn’t as delirious as he’d first appeared.

Then Gordon laid a hand on the rope, and Scott jerked wildly.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Gordon coaxed.  “It’s okay, Scott.  I’m just gonna get you out of these ropes, okay?”

Scott quivered, reminding Gordon of that young nervous colt they’d had on the ranch once upon a time.

“I’m here to help,” he promised, and risked a slow, gentle touch to Scott’s shoulder.

When Scott didn’t flinch away, Gordon edged closer, keeping his movements slow, steady and obvious as he oh so slowly folded his brother into an embrace.

He was burning up.  It didn’t surprise Gordon in the slightest, but the sheer sauna his brother exuded was almost too hot to touch.  He held on anyway, cradling that too-hot forehead against his shoulder and feeling sodden hair plaster itself to his cheek.

“I’m going to get you out of here,” he promised quietly, resting one hand on the back of Scott’s head.  “I’m going to untie you, and then we’ll get out of this rain until Virgil comes to take us home.”

Cutting good rope was a crime, but even if this was functionally sound rope, it wasn’t good rope, and Gordon was afraid of what would happen if he completely released Scott again, so he plucked a multitool from his baldric with one hand, making sure to keep hold of his brother with the other, and began sawing at the rope.

It was sodden and squelched as the tool worked its way through - not good rope, then - but Gordon didn’t show it any mercy, continuing until it surrendered and released his brother.

Scott didn’t move.  Gordon wasn’t even sure he was still conscious.  With the rain still slamming down at them, he couldn’t hear if he was breathing.

They had to get to shelter.  Somewhere marginally less drowned, where he could protect Scott from the worst of the elements.

Gordon wasn’t naïve enough to hope that Scott had the strength to stand, let alone walk, and he knew he couldn’t carry him all the way back to Thunderbird One.  Virgil wouldn’t be long, a few more minutes at most.  There was a chance he’d already landed, the rain drowning out the roar of thunderous engines.

One of the walls was slumped over.  Not by much, and certainly not enough to classify as shelter, but it was close enough to reach, and better than the unprotected centre of the room.

“Okay, Scott,” he said, putting the multitool back before wrapping his arm around his brother again.  “We’re gonna move now, okay?”

There was no answer, even when Gordon shifted his grip and cautiously nudged him over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry.  Scott fell limply across him, and he staggered to his feet, clutching his brother tightly as he carefully picked his way across the uneven floor to the not-shelter and set Scott back down on the driest patch of wet he could find.

It was far from ideal, but it was a fraction better than where they’d been.  Gordon positioned himself so he was between Scott and the prevailing direction of rain.  The additional shelter he provided was negligible but it was still better than nothing.

Scott’s eyes were closed.  His skin was white but his cheeks were flushed, and Gordon didn’t even have to touch him to feel the heat he was emitting.  A measurement of his pulse showed it to be weak and faint.  Too weak and faint.

“Hold on, Scott,” he coaxed, grasping one limp, white hand in his, and catching sight of wrists rubbed raw by damp rope.  They were flaming red, swollen and no doubt infected.  “Virgil’s coming.  You’ve just got to hold on a little longer.”

Scott didn’t reply, but Gordon chose to believe he didn’t just imagine the limp hand squeezing his lightly in answer.

[wonderlustlucas]

four - hwang hyunjin

⇢ prompt They say good things come in fours. Who? Couldn’t tell you, but they especially do during Christmas. Maybe that’s just Saint Nick. ⇢ pairing hyunjin x female reader ⇢ word count 11.7k ⇢ genre fluff ⇢ warnings swearing. mentions of alcohol & s e x. teenagerz being teenagerz. insane amount of fluff & stupidity. kind of ends w a smutty cliffhanger. ⇢ summary After suppressing how you felt about Hyunjin back in high school, you thought you were done going back on your feelings. Turns out, a little time apart, the spirit of Christmas, and an accidental nap is the perfect cocktail for falling in love with your best friend.—friends to lovers!au ⇢ a/n hello & merry christmas! here is a gift for you all on this very merry day. also, thank you for 1,000 followers! that in itself is one of the best presents i could ask for. thank you for all your kindness & support on my blog & for following me in the first place! it truly means so much to me. i hope you enjoy reading! ♥︎

big tiddy jinny🍯🧸🌟🖇[now] Sorry! I just woke up

big tiddy jinny🍯🧸🌟🖇[now] Whats wrong fool

big tiddy jinny🍯🧸🌟🖇[now] Did u rlly think 12 texts were gonna wake me up?🤦🏻‍♂️ godt damn u on some WACK shit

You roll your eyes in time with each consecutive text that Hyunjin sends, waiting for the lock screen of your phone to blacken after reading them. He’s about as useless as pedals on a wheelchair, you think, ignoring the texts and forcing the device into the snug back pocket of your jeans before transferring the last two excessively packed grocery bags into the trunk of your car with an exhausted huff. Christ, if the bagging lady put one more item in those bags, she would be the one to blame for six cans of soup rolling about the parking lot.

The license plate rattles when you slam the trunk lid closed before hurrying around to the driver’s side and anxiously hopping inside to start blasting the heat. It is obnoxiously chilly for the first of September. Well, not really. Your body is just beginning to get used to the ungodly wrath of summer’s sweltering heat leaving you in a constant state of sweat and nausea for the past three months. Not that you’re complaining, of course. You nearly did somersaults of joy when the morning news reported a temperature of sixty-one degrees with some wind gusts and welcomed the beginning signs of autumn with open arms.

You would never admit to Mom who told yo uon the way out to change out of a tank top or at least wear a jacket, but yes— you are, in fact, cold. But now you have godsent warmth blowing from the vents and the seat warmer on its highest setting beginning to thaw away the goosebumps painted on your skin. Giving your arms one last rub, you lean up enough to retrieve your phone and open the conversation with Hyunjin.

[2:37 PM] YN: please. smell my balls

[2:37 PM] YN: nothings wrong btw. i was GOING to ask if u wanted any specific snacks for tn buttttt someone didn’t answer

[2:37 PM] YN: and excuse u i called too. i may be an idiot but im not stupid

[2:38 PM] YN: ik u would never hear a text when ur having wet dreams of yeji

You stop there with a smug smirk when the three dots on his side appear, knowing you’ve hit his funny bone with this one.

[2:38 PM] big tiddy jinny🍯🧸🌟🖇: Bruh

[2:38 PM] big tiddy jinny🍯🧸🌟🖇 :I’ve literally never have had a wet dream ab Yeji pls stop

You cannot fight your shit-eating grin, thumbs circling over the keyboard in thought as he apparently deletes whatever other text he was going to send when the three dots disappear.

[2:38 PM] YN: mmhmmmm

[2:38 PM] YN: because last time you slept over you weren’t whimpering her name in ur sleep

[2:38 PM] YN: sureeeee

You decide to end your teasing there and continue once you’re home. It is starting to get late, after all, and Mom will begin to worry that the creepy employee always in aisle sixteen has abducted you. Plus, you’re cruel and like to watch Hyunjin suffer. Switching the ringer off, you throw your phone into the cupholder and drastically lower the heat and turn off the seat warmer. It’s starting to feel like a sauna in here, and not in a fun way. Can’t understand how anyone enjoys hanging out in a sauna to begin with anyway, but to each their own, you guess.

In the five-minute drive it takes until you are pulling into the driveway, Hyunjin calls three times. He is incredibly peeved at your lack of a response to his distressed texts and still wound up from your text about Yeji. As if! You’re already a clown not realizing his ever-growing affections for you, but to think he had a crush on Yeji? You’re the whole damn circus!

By the time he calls a fifth time, now sat up on his elbow in bed and strumming an annoyed beat of his fingers at his thigh because he really just wants to yell at you for being the most annoying person alive (and maybe to hear your voice, too), you have brought in the last of the bags and look to Mom who has started to put the groceries away and expects you to half-heartedly do the same.

“It’s Hyunjin. He’s having an existential crisis because I haven’t answered his texts,” you explain to her, unenthusiastically holding your phone as it vibrates against your palm. Half of you wants her to ask to finish putting everything away first just so you can torture him even longer. Alas, such extravagant wishes are denied, because when it comes to Hyunjin, your parents would undoubtedly throw you under the bus just to keep that boy happy. And so, just like any other time, Mom’s undying love for Hyunjin has her dismissing you from the kitchen with a hearty laugh.

“Jesus Christ! What?” You hiss, halfway up the stairs when you tap to answer his call on the last ring.

“Wow! Look who finally decided to answer!” Hyunjin shouts back, the swoosh of his sheets once he finally falls back against his pillow again rustling all too loudly through the phone. “I was driving,” you spit, marching into your bedroom and collapsing against your bed, the same rustle of your blankets sounding loudly into his ear. “There’s a thing called the speaker, ___. Ever heard of it?” He retorts, evidently shutting you up and he knows he won this round if your silence is anything to go by.

“Whatever,” you groan, using all your toe strength to kick the sneakers off your feet by their soles, “what was so important that you couldn’t wait and had to call me five billion times?”

“I had a question. And you hurt my feelings.” Well, shit. You can practically hear and see his pout through the phone and your heart positively swells in your chest at how undeniably, unjustifiably cute he is. You sigh.

“I’m sorry for making fun of you about Yeji. I’m going to do it again but next time I promise I won’t pull the wet dream card,” you apologize frankly; because, in all honesty, it would be worse to say you are not going to do it again when you most certainly will. Bullying Hyunjin is fun, what can you say?

Hyunjin heaves an exasperated breath from his lungs because he knows there is no point in arguing with quite possibly the most sarcastic human he knows and that’s the best form of an apology he’s going to get. Whatever. He’ll make sure to wipe his morning snot and droll on your shirt in the morning. “Anyway,” he grumbles, in the background you hear Kkami bark from a few rooms over, “I was going to ask if you wanted to come over my place instead? I know your parents probably want to see me and stuff but mine are out of town for the night so we can sleep in my bed until like three without Mom waking us up to force feed breakfast.” You roll your eyes. Of course your parents want to see him.

“Plus, Mom just put that grey comforter I know you really like on my bed so we can cuddle all night and watch stuff on YouTube,” he quickly adds as a convincing afterthought. He’s really got his sales pitch going on this one. Truth is, you have only slept in his bed with that stupidly soft blanket twice last winter break, but it’s still sweet that he remembers how much you loved it (aka how quickly you fell asleep and how grumpy you were being woken up because it’s just that darn cozy). Either way, you would never pass up an opportunity to snuggle up with Hyunjin in the comfort of his own bed with his citrusy, floral scent on the pillows luring you to sleep.

“My Mom is going to be heartbroken, Hyunjin,” you tease, “but who cares. You had me sold at sleeping until three. Do you still want me to bring the snacks I got?”

“Oh, thank God. I love your Mom’s cooking but I haven’t left bed all day and I really want to keep it that way. And yes, please. I’ve been eating dry cereal for the past two hours.”

“Hyunjin, have you brushed your teeth yet?”

“No. Didn’t you just hear me? I said I’ve been in bed all day. Eating cereal. When would I have brushed my teeth?”

“You’ve officially taken breakfast in bed to a whole new level, Jin. I’ll see you in a few hours. Oh, and please, you have no concept of personal space so make sure you brush your teeth before I come over.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Love ya, bye,” Hyunjin promptly hangs up, probably eager to get back to binging whatever drama he’s watching before you lecture him about his hygiene again. Not that it matters, anyway; chances are, it went in one ear and right out the other and you’re going to drag him out of bed later to brush his teeth.

Damn. You didn’t even get the chance to say love you back. Not that it matters.

It doesn’t, you quickly shut down the pesky thought that keeps you up at night and force it back into the storage part of your brain labeled ‘Deal with Later,’ because, really, you’ll have to think about that later. It’s not that you don’t want to think about it yet… you just don’t have the time to stop and really figure out what your feelings toward Hyunjin actually are. Yeah. That’s it.

And now isn’t the time, you tell yourself, scooting up the mattress in order to bury your face in the pillows to suffocate the pounding throb in your head. Hyunjin is nothing special.

Well, no. That’s a lie. Everything about Hyunjin is special. Anyone with eyes, ears, even a nose can sense that. You had quickly found out just how wonderful he is when you met him freshman year of high school. At the time, he was everyone’s sweetheart by the first day, but it just so happened his eyes were all on you.

He was obviously adorable, and every class you had together he always made a point to talk to you and returned your sarcasm with an impressive level of expertise. So, when it came to him asking you to the first homecoming, the answer was yes without a second thought. But during the last slow dance of the night, with his hands gently holding your waist, he at last listened to his conscience and revealed that as much as he liked you, he truly did not want to date in high school. Or right then, at least. And honestly, you were glad; Hyunjin was quite possibly your favorite person you had met thus far, and you would have rather kept him as a friend than commit to a relationship the second month of school and risk losing him later down the road.

And boy, keep him as a friend you did. As it turned out, Hyunjin grew to be your truest, best friend in high school. Sure, you each had your own friend groups, but the two of you were the iconic pair everybody knew. But strictly platonic, despite the rumors and wishes that went around for the next four years. You like to think that neither of you ever developed feelings past what everyone feels toward their best friend— an innocent, wholesome sort of love.

But when had things changed? Hormones, as always, were definitely a big part of it. Hyunjin was always a cutie, but it wasn’t until he grew into his own skin and developed a newfound confidence did you start to see him differently. Until everyone saw him differently. Neither of you missed the way people stared him down, pupils dilating every time he ran his fingers through the black tufts of his hair, hearts aching for some sort of interaction. Or when you started attending parties, groups of girls would fling themselves at him in a blundering disarray, most of which he would turn down with a gentle dismissal that flew over their heads, too drunk to actually care.

But then there were times his dick made the decision for him, desperation and deprivation weighing in on him and you’d watch with a tight jaw as he’d leave the room with the pretty girl of the night skipping after him. You never realized it was only on those nights did you wind up in the back seat of Han Jisung’s car.

But even after the physical attraction sizzled out over time, things were not the same. Hyunjin wasn’t your hidden little treasure anymore. All eyes were set on him and it took more than a glass of water to swallow your jealousy. But why? Why were you so resentful all of a sudden?

It’s hard to share Hwang Hyunjin, you decided. Once established that you were his main hoe and he was yours, it became a significant burden watching others try and get in between. Not that they did it with a malicious attempt to separate you, but it still hurt. You’re selfish, and you admit it— Hyunjin, quite frankly, is the love of your life. Romantic or not, nothing could change your feelings toward him. It goes beyond his unfathomable beauty and spunky personality. Everything about him from his nose to his hands, to his distaste for onions and the way his face scrunches up when he lets out that giggle of his and even to the way he prefers to sleep against the wall but will force you to when you’re over so he can “protect you in case there’s a monster” all mount into this big, giant section of your heart set aside for Hyunjin.

So despite your efforts to ignore the pang of jealousy each time he would find a potential someone or the joy whenever he’d find his way back because “they kept wanting to hang out in the morning even though I said I don’t wake up before noon,” this Hyunjin-shaped hole in your heart seems to only grow the longer you ignore it. Kind of like every medical condition out there: the longer you ignore it, the worse it gets. So, basically Hyunjin is your heart disease.

Yikes. Sounds a lot worse when you try putting it into words.

Well, he won’t be your heart defect for long if he keeps ruining those pearly whites of his by only brushing once just before bed, you chuckle to yourself, rolling to your side at the sudden lack of oxygen between your face and the pillow. There’s a fleeting moment without thought when you unconsciously reach for your phone to check for any notifications before the fattest revelation of them all falls from the ceiling and smacks you right upside the face.

Shit. Looks like you’ve gone right ahead and totally dissected each and every fiber of your feelings for Hyunjin.

Blinking up at the ceiling, the weight of your emotions isn’t as heavy as you expected them to be. Instead, it’s more of a breath of fresh air, as if you have finally accepted the way things fell instead of ignoring them. Your feelings for Hyunjin have always been there. It just took a little effort to get them out.

Nevertheless, it is going to be difficult hanging out with him in a few hours with your exposed emotions still needing to be processed. Especially when he will pull you to his side and keep you nestled there the entire night. Rubbing your temples, you realize it will take some serious self-control to put everything on the back burner and just enjoy the time spent with Hyunjin.

Sighing, you check the time on your phone again. 3:21 and a text from Hyunjin asking if you could bring green tea.

“Mom!” You yell, defeated. “You were right!”

You used to think Hyunjin lived far away. Truthfully, he’s only fifteen minutes away if you go ten over the speed limit. But the only way to get to his house entails driving through the chaos of the mall and town center, which adds an extra ten minutes sitting through traffic no matter the time of day.

Now, Hyunjin’s college campus is two hours away. Well, technically five from you, since you’re almost three hours away in the opposite direction. So you’re lucky if you get to see him once a month with how hectic school becomes and how difficult it is trying to plan to come home the same weekend. Fortunately, it has worked out this semester. And while you should spend this time with your families, they know how much you crave one another’s company as the weeks drag on. The twenty-two minutes it takes getting to each other’s homes is totally worth it.

You expect Hyunjin to tell you to use the key hidden underneath the resin meditating frog statue in the front garden to unlock the front door when you text him you have arrived, but to your utmost surprise, he’s there, awake, to open the door for you.

“Stinky!” You yell, dropping your things on the floor to burry yourself in his embrace, standing on your tippy toes to wrap your arms around his neck in order to really get the full experience of hugging your favorite giant. “Poopy!” He shouts in return, long arms winding tightly around your waist and even going so far as to lift you up a few inches. God. Hate when he does that.

“Why are you up? I thought I’d have to let myself in with you sleeping all your problems away,” you ask, smiling gratefully when he bends down to pick up your bag. “I realized Kkami hadn’t been out all day, so I came down to let him out and find actual food,” Hyunjin explains as he makes way into the kitchen, opening the back door to let said dog back inside. “Aw, poor thing,” you pout, squatting to scratch at Kkami’s neck when he zooms faster than the speed of light to you, “does that mean you brushed your teeth?”

“I did, actually,” Hyunjin snorts right back, scrunching his nose at you before turning away to open the fridge. Sitting on the floor with Kkami in your lap, you take the opportunity to finally get a good look at Hyunjin now that he’s distracted. And of course, he looks good. Really good. Last time you saw him he still was a brunette, a look he rocked during the spring and summer months. This is the first time you’ve seen the freshly dyed black hair in person. Even though he always looks handsome, something about Hyunjin with black hair completely changes his aura. Brings back memories of how badly you wanted him in high school. You shiver at the thought.

And, to top it all off, how he manages to stay in such disgustingly good shape despite his atrocious eating habits never ceases to amaze you. Like, come on. The boy eats worse than a raccoon seven days out of the week, lives off boba, works out maybe five times a month, dances in his free time and still keeps his body in tiptop shape. God, you hate him. His pediatrician probably hates him, too. You even go as far as to sniff the fries in your dining hall and you gain five pounds.

Even now, he looks unnecessarily regal in the baggy material of his sweatpants and flannel. And the warmth of his kitchen’s ambient lighting does nothing to suppress the heavy thumping of your heart. So casual is his dress, yet how immaculate he looks rummaging the cabinets for a snack.

“Are you hungry?” He asks, the familiar softness of his voice shaking you from your daze as he closes the refrigerator door after his unsuccessful search. Here’s the thing: you really aren’t hungry, but Hyunjin clearly is, so if you say no then all he will be thinking about is food until you decide that you are hungry. “Yeah,” is what you say, nudging Kkami off your crossed legs to stand, “I brought green tea and a few snacks, but we could order Chinese food or something. The place near Dunkin’ and the gas station makes bubble tea now, too.”

Hyunjin’s brows shoot up, flashing his boxy smile. “Is it good?”

“I mean, I’ve only had their pork dumplings and mango tea before, and it was pretty good. I don’t know about their noodles or anything, though,” you shrug, moving to stand beside him at the kitchen island. Distracted by Kkami trying to jump onto the sofa in the living room, you don’t look to Hyunjin until the poor dog is successful in doing so. Startled to find him already gazing down at you, your heart truly is not prepared for him to go right ahead and wrap his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder. Totally not freaking out or trying to overthink his need to constantly cling, you justify his actions by quickly recalling the time he said, “My head is too godtdamn big for my godtdamn body.” More like his head is too heavy because instead of a brain it’s just a chunk of cement up there. He just needs to rest his head sometimes.

Yeah.

“Mm, I don’t know,” Hyunjin hums, swaying your body with his to an unheard tune. By now, any coherent thought has dissipated into thin air and all you can do is melt against him. “Why?” You manage.

“’Cus if we order anything that means I’ll have to get up and get it.”

“Oh my God, Hyunjin, really?” You laugh. Your hands naturally glide to where his are linked at your stomach, pressing to interlock your fingers overtop his. “If that’s the only reason for your uncertainty than I could always come get it, idiot.”

“No! It’s okay,” Hyunjin says, jumping back before you can even process it, “I’m not that hungry anyway.”

“Ohhh ‘kay,” you laugh breathlessly, whiplashed by the whole thing. Good thing you aren’t hungry, because when was the last time Hyunjin turned down food? Blinking at him precariously, he doesn’t seem to notice until one too many seconds of silence pass by.

“C’mon,” he demands excitedly, jumping back into reality, “my roommate told me to watch this anime called Soul Eater but I wanted to watch it with you.” Once again, before anything can even register past every single That Was Cute™ alarm ringing in your brain, Hyunjin is grabbing your bag and reaching for your hand, leading you out of the kitchen and upstairs.

You and Hyunjin binge aforementioned anime until he falls asleep first around 2 AM, only stopping to order food an hour in (he’s an indecisive man indeed), to get up to retrieve it, and to actually eat while catching up. For most of the night, you are able to forget the way his heartbeat against your back mirrored your own in the kitchen. But then, a little while after you fall asleep yourself, Hyunjin unconsciously shifts closer and you spend another hour blinking at his relaxed hand twitching against your abdomen, trying to keep the hurricane inside your heart at bay.

You can’t make it home October. Hyunjin texted you to let you know he was going to be the third weekend in, and you tried desperately to manage your time in order to make it work. But one group project in chem lead to another paper in psych and before you knew it, your roommate was listening to you sob over a boy and curse out your classes.

September left you emotionally wrecked, to be totally honest. You hate Hyunjin and you hate the way he makes you feel and you especially hate how realizing you have a crush on him makes you unsure if everything he does is his way of hinting he feels the same or if he’s always been this touchy and you are just now recognizing it. So, missing a month of seeing your favorite human being essentially means missing another day of trying to decipher which actions of his go in the Friend list, and which go in the Questionable list. And that, my friend, is unacceptable.

You absolutely cannot not go home this month. November is the calm before the storm (the storm being exams looming the second week of December), and while it would be beneficial maybe staying on campus to continue preparing, you tell yourself going home will be just as helpful. Mental breaks, and stuff. Totally not just to see Hyunjin.

Either way, Hyunjin asks you if you would join him on the seventeenth to go to his second cousin’s christening and you absolutely cannot say no when you know how bored Hyunjin gets at family events when they aren’t for him. And so, fast forward to the third Sunday of November and you are ready to pass out ten minutes after entering the church.

“I’m so happy for you two! I always knew you would last into college,” one of Hyunjin’s aunts exclaims, pinching your cheeks but the only pinch you feel is that of your heart.

Clearly she is misinformed, or just prone to jumping to conclusions but yet again, you can’t really blame her with how couple-y you and Hyunjin are. Past the single tunnel vision of your gaze, you watch her smile falter when Hyunjin goes rigid beside you and oh my God this is the most embarrassing moment of my life, his whole family thinks we’re dating and here we are still stuck in each other’s friendz—

“I’m glad you think so, imo,” Hyunjin suddenly picks up, sneaking an arm around to rest his hand on your hip, tugging you close, “I don’t know what I’ll do if she ever decides to leave me.”

It’s nice to think that he means it, to imagine that you are here not as a tag-along but to join him in a family ceremony because you are part of the family. The thought turns your blood to sugar and everything surrounding you falls apart; you listen to the rest of their conversation without processing it, the precise detailing in the marble pillars blurs into a mass of white, and you still feel his strong hold on the curve of your waist yet you are lost in the swam of possibilities.

How lovely it would be to live up to her assumption. To ‘last into college’ as a couple, not as best friends. To be able to call him yours even when you’re not together, to come home and kiss his lips, to sleep in his bed and it mean more than the laziness of blowing up the air mattress. At some point, he leads you into the third pew to sit beside his parents, and when you greet them with a hug all you can think about is them viewing you as more than their son’s friend.

God, you hate it.

You’re not as religious as Hyunjin and his family. But for the first time in years, you find yourself looking to the crucifix during the service and praying to whoever is up there to give you some strength and patience, because Lord do you need it.

Hyunjin is a funny guy.

Or so he thinks.

It’s not that he isn’t funny. It’s just— compared to your friends Minho or Changbin, he isn’t at the top of the list. When you think of Hyunjin, the first words that pop up are soft, loud, and dramatic.

It’s not that he isn’t funny. He’s just weird.

Insanely, ridiculously weird. For example, the time he called Jeongin a vitamin. Or the time he slapped half a bottle of sunscreen on his face. Or his random bouts of dancing at inappropriate moments. Just to name a few.

After the Baptism, Hyunjin acted like nothing happened. Didn’t even bring it up. Not even a joke. After the ceremony, you joined his family for a luncheon, which just involved the two of you being weird and making peculiar dancing videos on SnapChat with the swirly filter and complaining about school for a few hours until he drove you home. Obviously you stopped for food again on the way.

But that was it. Things went on as normal, and you returned to campus later that night and forced the whole experience to the back of your brain. It was officially grind season, and grind season meant studying for exams. No parties. No boys. And certainly no Hyunjin.

You both were home for winter break in the blink of an eye. And in normal Hyunjin style, he sort of vanished for the first week. Probably catching up on his strict sleeping schedule, you presumed, and accepted the fact that it was going to be a few days before you saw or even heard from him. The only anticipation you felt was wanting to give him his Christmas gift.

After what seems like an eternity away from Hyunjin, you get out of the shower on this fine Saturday before Christmas to find a slew of texts from him.

[5:52 PM] big tiddy jinny🍯🧸🌟🖇: Aloha mamacita

[5:52 PM] big tiddy jinny🍯🧸🌟🖇: How do u feel about getting froyo tn

[5:52 PM] big tiddy jinny🍯🧸🌟🖇: We can get fat and then u can sleepover aaaand

[5:52 PM] big tiddy jinny🍯🧸🌟🖇: We can stare at the wall for a few hours

[5:52 PM] big tiddy jinny🍯🧸🌟🖇: And

[5:53 PM] big tiddy jinny🍯🧸🌟🖇: *cough*

[5:53 PM] big tiddy jinny🍯🧸🌟🖇: Exchange Jesus gifts

See? Weird. Who wants froyo when it’s thirty degrees out?

[5:53 PM] YN: “aloha mamacita”

[5:53 PM] YN: uHmmmMMM

[5:53 PM] YN: im down mr president

[5:54 PM] YN: why do u want ice cream in winter tho. don’t u want like

[5:54 PM] YN: hot chocolate or seomthing

Obviously not. Two hours later, Hyunjin arrives to pick you up for froyo despite all your efforts in convincing him maybe you could take the train to the city and watch a light show, or simply drive around and swoon over the rich people houses and their Christmas decorations. He didn’t budge. This leads you to your second question of the day: why is it that when you threw on sweats for the occasion you called yourself a hag, but upon entering Hyunjin’s car you make a mental note of how hot he looks when he’s wearing the same exact thing? You groan at the thought. It’s because it’s Hyunjin, of course.

“Bonjour, mademoiselle,” he greets, flicking your forehead once you settle into the seat of his Subaru WRX because he’s a hotshot and likes to flex that he can drive a manual. Not really— the car is absolute garbage by now, having been his Dad’s old car (his Dad likes to flex too, apparently). However, Hyunjin takes care of it enough for it to seem five years old instead of ten, and, either way, watching him work the stick shift is unexplainably hot.

You swat his hand away. “Drive, bitch,” you huff, twisting to buckle yourself in. Once he’s reversed out of your driveway, you glance back to find him fighting against a devilish smirk.

“So,” you start once he has navigated out of your neighborhood. His brow twitches up. “Are you taking Hawaiian and French at school? You’ve been throwing quite a lot of languages at me recently.” Hyunjin shoots you an unamused look. You return it with a wrinkle of your nose.

“Anyway,” he ignores your teasing, pausing to switch gears for whatever reason so he can make it through a yellow light, “how did your exams go?”

“Well, you know…” You trail off, looking to your window. It feels a lot later than eight o’clock. With it getting dark so early in the evening nowadays, it feels as if nighttime is always following you.

“You know… what?” Hyunjin interrupts your daze, concern laced in his voice. “They were fine. I passed everything, I’m just worried about my major,” you explain sadly, barely glancing at him before you are turning back to the window to stare at the moon. Must be nice being a moon. Just get to hang out in the sky watching everyone and being watched.

“I mean, if you want to switch, now’s the time. Better do it now before the second semester,” Hyunjin advises, wise as always. Not really, but he’s right. “What are you thinking of going into?”

Yikes. He’s going to kill you.

“Nursing,” you blurt.

“Oh my Lanta, ___, are you serious?” He groans, stopping at a convenient red light presenting the perfect opportunity for him to smack his forehead on the wheel. Dramatic. “How are you gonna manage that? You’ll practically be two years behind everyone else!”

“I know,” you sigh, throwing your head back on the headrest, “that’s the problem. Bio just isn’t doing it for me. I don’t think I can spend the rest of my life in a lab watching mitosis. I need something more rewarding, so theoretically nursing is a perfect start. I don’t know, though.”

“Why don’t you switch to interior design or something? We could get our own HGTV show, ___,” he says, but you don’t meet his gaze when he glances over because beneath his words, you can sense some serious hopefulness. Interior design would be cool, but you’ve never considered that as a career choice. You once helped your parents pick out everything when they redid a bathroom at home and that turned out great, but as a major?

“I don’t know, man. I’ll have to talk to my counselor about it, I guess,” you shrug, pulling the hood of your sweatshirt over your head and tightening the drawstrings until the material covers your eyes, “why can’t you audition to be a K-pop star or something? I could be your manager. Heck, even your makeup artist. I’ve done your makeup before, remember?”

Hyunjin laughs, loud, and the sound sinks deep into your heart and makes you feel warm all over. Stress? Gone.

For the next few minutes or so, the ride is comfortably quiet. At some point, he turns on the radio and Mariah Carey’s “All I Want For Christmas Is You” floods your brain and reminds you to look forward to exchanging Christmas gifts later. God, you hope he likes it. You really went out on the sentimental gifts this year.

Hood shielding your vision, you jump when his large hand suddenly comes to grab the top of your head, squeezing hard and you imagine he’s trying to press some hopefulness into your brain. “Hand on the penis stick, Hwang,” you bark, blindly reaching for his own head across the way and pulling his ear when you do so. Good Lord, you hope no one can see into the car because… what.

Hyunjin lets out a giggle this time, reaching to pull you into a headlock and even though he’s got your head shoved up against his sturdy chest and goes on to give you a noogie, you’re stuck being all high and loopy on the sound of his happiness. And hey, it’s nice to know you’re the cause of it.

“We’re literally parked, idiot. If you had your hood down you would’ve realized,” Hyunjin snickers, releasing you after watching you struggle for a few seconds. Jerking away from him, you swiftly pull back your hood. “Oh,” you laugh, reading the flashy Yogo Factory sign above the building in front of you, “you could’ve just told me instead of watching me bask in misery.”

Hyunjin suitably ignores your moaning and groaning by getting out of the car and standing in front of the car, illuminated by the headlights. Why? Why must he look so scrumptious in his black hoodie and grey sweatpants and four-year-old white Nike sneakers? He has no gosh darn right!

After fixing the mess he made of your hair, you at last join him outside the car, shooting him another glare and moving ahead of him to open the shop’s door without waiting for him. “From now on, we have to start texting each other what we’re wearing before we go out, ‘cus this looks a little ri-donk-ulous,” Hyunjin whispers in your ear as you make your way to the cup selection, trying to ignore all the stares you— no, he is getting along the way.

“What do you mean?” You ask, plucking two medium sized cups up before turning to look at him. Then you look down at yourself. Oh. Looks like you’re both wearing the hoodie from junior spirit week. “Nice.” Just Couple Things™!

Back to Hyunjin being weird— why did he drag you all the way out here just to get a cup of chocolate frozen yogurt and maybe half a scoop of peanut butter chips?

Meanwhile, he watches in absolute disgust as you blow through your own dessert. Vanilla yogurt with probably every topping offered because you physically cannot make a decision, especially when they have chunks of cookie dough up there.

“So,” Hyunjin starts, trying not to look you in the eye considering you look like a goblin shoveling globs of diabetes down your throat, “have you talked to Jisung recently?”

You choke on a Fruity Pebble at his inquiry, prompting him to reach across the table and slap your back a few times until your esophagus is cleared. “Ugh,” clearing your throat one last time, you take a few sips of water while shooting him a glare. Jisung? Really? “How dense are you?” You hiss unintentionally.

Hyunjin raises his hands in defense. “Just a question.”

Yeah, just a question. Dumbass. “I mean,” you laugh awkwardly, “not really. We have a streak on Snap and sometimes we’ll talk occasionally but I don’t text him every day or anything. How about you?”

He shrugs, concentrating instead on stirring his yogurt into a goopy mess. “Eh. We still use our group chat a lot but that’s it. He’s too busy making music in Malaysia.”

You chuckle at this, picking out the boba from your own cup and leaving the rest now that it has started to look like something sold at the Chum Bucket. “That sucks,” you offer, not the best at giving him consolidation, you opt for linking your feet around his own in some weird act of intimacy, “isn’t he coming home for the holidays, though? I’m sure you can all have a reunion soon.”

“Yeah, he is,” Hyunjin hums, suddenly too focused on trying to escape your trap under the table. Annoyed Hyunjin is cute. “Stoooop,” he whines, kicking at your shins before breaking into boisterous laughter at your relentlessness, “I will not hesitate to throw this cup at your face.”

“Yeah, right,” you scoff, “I’d like to see you try.”

At this, Hyunjin drops his stupidly long arms beneath the table and easily captures your foot by the ankle, pulling hard enough for you to slip down your side of the booth. “Hyunjin!” You shriek, panicking slightly at your sweaty hand’s insecure grip against the leather. You’re going to fall. You’re going to fall flat on your ass underneath a table at a frozen yogurt place because the boy you like pulled your foot too hard. Fantastic. Ignoring you, he starts to wiggle your shoe off your foot no matter how hard you try to squirm out of his relentless grip. “Stop trying to eat my toes in the middle of Yogo!”

Finally, he releases your foot, letting it fall limp against his thigh.

“God,” you huff, breathless as you squirm back up your seat, cheeks burning ferociously, “you are such an ass.”

Behind the playful smirk he fails to hide, something darker glints in Hyunjin’s eyes and it makes your heart skip a beat. Then, “We should go.” The suggestion makes the heat of your blush scorch even hotter down your neck and you instinctively turn away, only to find the customers on the other side of the shop watching you with just as perturbed looks. Fantastic, part two.

“Okie,” you squeak out, blinking after him in complete and total bewilderment as to what just happened when he gets up to throw his trash away. Whatever. Following after him, you too toss your cup out before quickly finding your hand engulfed by his larger one as he leads you back outside, the sudden sharpness of the cold air bringing tears to your eyes. You desperately want to ask him what that was about, or why he’s acting so sneaky, but you stay silent, too afraid your voice will come out shaky and vulnerable. Instead, you let him tug you into his side and try to keep up with him no matter how badly your knees threaten to buckle with each glance you sneak up at him.

It’s silent when you enter the car, watching warily as he reverses out of the parking spot and maneuvers through the lot. Your heart rate seemingly cannot slow itself down, adrenaline taking the place of oxygen the longer you stare at him, at the concentrated scrunch to his face, at the cute tip of his button nose and at the swell of his lips and you distantly wonder what would happen if you pulled him into a kiss at the next red light.

In the midst of your daydream Hyunjin clears his throat, bringing you back to reality and you realize with a startle that he has caught you. Jesus Christ! What has gotten into you? You mentally smack yourself upside the head, instantly turning away from his cocky little gaze and staring straight ahead in search of something else to focus on. “___,” he sing-songs, slow and sensual and entirely demolishing the walls you have built around yourself. It is at this red light you wish to simply open the door and run.

“Yes?” You manage, wincing at how small your voice sounds and while looking out his window instead of into his eyes, you notice him grip the steering wheel hard enough to turn his knuckles white. The tension is insurmountable, weighing in heavily on your chest and you desperately wish to arrive home, even though that means having to survive the next twelve hours with him. Anything is better than the small confines of his car.

“What do you want to do when we get home?” He asks, cool as a cucumber. You pale. It is a dangerous question and you do not know if he realizes that. “Um,” you cough, scooting to sit up straight, “whatever you want.” You whisper the last part, genuinely petrified because you have absolutely no idea if your brain is twisting everything to make it seem like Hyunjin is flirting or if things are totally normal. No idea.

“Hm,” he offers, tilting his head in thought, “we shall see.”

Yeah. We shall.

The rest of the ride is quiet, comfortably or uncomfortably you cannot say because you are too busy trying to calm the Spongebob burning office scene occurring inside your own head, hopelessly telling yourself that everything is fine, Hyunjin’s fine, you’re fine. Just pretend like nothing happened, you tell yourself when Hyunjin pulls into his driveway with practiced ease. “Ugh,” he groans after retrieving your bag from the back seat, and you watch with a raised brow as he skips up to his porch, yelling, “I have to pee!”

“Begone with you, piss boy,” you tease, holding the screen door open for him as he struggles to unlock the storm door and pulling on one of his hoodie’s drawstrings just to annoy him. “Stop,” he growls, low and playful but nevertheless sending a swarm of butterflies to your tummy. You ignore him. Finally unlocking the door, Hyunjin shoves the keys into his pocket and seizes your wrist, yanking your arm down with enough force to nearly topple you into him. “Why are you being so annoying tonight?” He frowns at you, nose and brows scrunched in irritation and it is only because of his proximity do you finally soften up.

“Sorry,” you pout back, bringing your other hand up to boop his nose, “I just missed ya.”

“Ew,” he snorts, stepping past the threshold and kicking off his shoes. You follow suit, closing the door behind you and clicking the lock into place as Kkami comes sprinting over. “B-R-B,” Hyunjin announces, presumably bouncing away to the bathroom.

“Oh, boy,” you huff, squatting to pick up the fluffy little dog and hugging him close to your chest, “your dad is making my life very difficult.” Pressing a quick kiss to the top of his head, you put Kkami back down and grab your bag before heading upstairs, knowing Hyunjin is going to take his grand old time and probably take a shit while he’s at it. Plus, you’re impatient and dying to take your bra off.

Aside from what light his Gudetama nightlight offers, Hyunjin’s room is ultimately left dark. Here’s the thing: he used to have a lamp on his dresser, but then he took it with him to college and only brings it home for summer because he’s lazy and sleeps the majority of the time he’s home, anyway. Instead, he put up his little remote-controlled Christmas tree in addition to the lava lamp he has beside his bed. Perfect. For Hyunjin, at least.

Switching both of these on, their subtle glow offers just enough to keep you from banging your toe against something. It’s happened one too many times. Hyunjin’s room isn’t messy— he really isn’t a messy person to begin with, but he will reorganize the furniture in his room fifty times a year and you never know where the crooked leg to his bedside table will be to ambush your pinky toe.

Setting your bag onto his bed, you excitedly fumble past all your layers and unclasp your bra, maneuvering out of it with a delighted exhale just as Hyunjin begins his ascent up the stairs, steps creaking loudly under his heavy trudging. “I’m an idiot,” he grumbles, leaning against the doorframe to catch his breath.

You don’t bother to look at him, opting to quickly retort instead, “We been knew.”

“Ugh,” Hyunjin groans, exasperated, and you finally turn to him after successfully jamming aforementioned undergarment into your bag, “anyways. I don’t know why I didn’t just come up here, because I have to wash my face anyway and you do too and now we’re both going to have to share a sink.”

“Aw,” you coo, tone dripping with sarcasm as you pat his arm, “poor baby has to share the bathroom.”

“I’m actually going to strangle you,” he sighs, nevertheless following after you into the bathroom.

“Kinky.”

Hyunjin glares, unamused as he opens a drawer for his pink bow hairband and your striped pink and blue one that he bought for you, but keeps here for sleepovers. Yeah. He throws it to your face. “Sorry,” you offer, pulling the soft headband up to hold your hair back, “I’ll try to stop. I’m just so used to annoying you.”

“Clearly,” he scoffs, flashing his stupidly cute teasing smile and in your head, you imagine raising a white flag in surrender— he’s got you, he’s won, it’s over. Time to call it quits and head home. Evidently shut up (for now), you offer him a roll of your eyes before turning on the sink to wet your hands before pumping out some of his scrumptious watermelon face wash. Maybe if you scrub hard enough, you’ll manage to rinse away all the overwhelming thoughts of the night, too.

Barefaced Hyunjin is immaculate. Well, Hyunjin is immaculate twenty-four hours out of the day, but barefaced, freshly washed, hair messy, ready for bed Hyunjin is immaculate, and you are one of the few people lucky enough to see this eighth wonder of the world as often as you do.

Now, maybe it has something to do with the unexpected ambiance the light from his laptop, Christmas lights, and lava lamp have created together that makes him look so unfairly beautiful at this given moment. Or, you’re just insanely pussywhipped and looking for an excuse. You try not to think about it.

“Why are you so squirmy tonight?” He asks, frustrated enough to interrupt Kermit singing ‘Shawty I don’t mind’ playing from his laptop. “I’m not,” you defend, a weak argument indeed, given that you have just finished adjusting your position beside him for the umpteenth time.

“I mean, four female Ghostbusters? The feminists are taking over! I’m an ad—”

“___, you’ve touched my dick like four times. Don’t try and tell me you’re not squirmy. What’s wrong?” Hyunjin interrupts a second Vine, and even goes on to talk over ‘I have the power of God and anime on my side!’ like a lunatic. Oh Christ, you have? Surely you would have noticed. “Sorry,” you mumble, embarrassed as you bury your face into the curve of his pectoral and instinctively move your leg settled between his away, “I’m just hot, to be honest.” Technically, it is not a lie. Hyunjin’s family definitely keeps their thermostat at a higher temperature than yours and you always manage to sweat your ass off every time you come over. This time, however, you are certain it has more to do with the assault your heart is facing rather than your sweat glands.

At the sound of his tap against the spacebar to pause the video, you wordlessly and reluctantly sit up from your comfortable spot beside him in order to rid yourself of your heavy sweatshirt. Now, here lies the problem. Sweatshirt: off. Nipples: out. Realistically, Hyunjin has seen your boobs a number of times over the past few years, and even if he hadn’t, he probably wouldn’t even bat an eye. But right now, your heart is on the line, you’re embarrassed and you’re trying to play it extremely safe.

You toss the hoodie to the floor and nestle right back where you were anyway, slinging your right arm over his torso and ignoring his sharp intake of breath when you snuggle closer. “Better?” He asks, voice strained and it literally makes you nauseous. “Yep.”

He resumes the video. You had started early in the night watching Pom Poko, which unsurprisingly ended with the two of you crying at the bittersweet ending, then moved to TikTok compilations on YouTube to cheer up before moving on from them and onto the classic Vine compilations. You paid good attention for the most part, chuckling along with him to ‘What up, I’m Jared, I’m nineteen and I never fucking learned how to read,’ ‘Bruh chill, I don’t know why you in a big time rush,’ and all the other absolute comedic masterpieces. But after the fourth or fifth video of the same six second clips with an occasional rare one, you began to grow bored and decided to do what you do best: admire Hyunjin.

Sure, ‘Come get yo juice!’ followed by the loud smash of the oven made you smile, but you found the flashing lights casting shadows beneath Hyunjin’s eyes and lips much more fascinating. Of course, this is not the first time you have been held so close to him. But it is, however, all too easy to get lost in the sight of him and you’ve noticed recently that you are in desperate need of a map. Whether it’s due to your time away from him or simply an appreciation for untouched beauty you do not know.

Even now, your gaze flickers to his laptop once you hear ‘Get to Del Taco,’ but having already watched it five thousand times you tilt your head upward to catch Hyunjin’s silent giggle at ‘free-sha-voca-do.’ It’s a vicious cycle, really, going back and forth between wanting to simply enjoy the night and realizing enjoying the night lies totally in Hyunjin’s presence. And so, you continue to fall into this trap each time until you pay no mind to the videos at all, basking in the brilliance of Hyunjin’s joyous smile and the warmth his happiness makes you feel. It is this thought that slowly tugs you to sleep, a fight to keep your heavy eyelids open lost until finally, you give in to the comfort and allow yourself to drift off to the sound of ‘Step the fuck up, Kyle.’

You think you are dreaming.

You think.

“___,” the softness of Hyunjin’s voice at the crown of your head eases you from the clutches of sleep and you stretch your locked limbs before curling further into his side. “We didn’t open presents.” Even though you can’t see him, you can hear his pout, and you realize you must be awake to hear the disappointed words caught sluggishly between his lips so vividly. You hum, hesitant to open your eyes because you really want to go back to sleep. Just for a little while. And so, you ask, “What time is it?”

“Just past two,” he whispers.

You hum again, trying to formulate a sensible sentence in the parts of your brain still asleep, “We can… wake up at four. And open gifts. Okay?”

“Okay, weirdo,” Hyunjin chuckles to himself, sliding lower down the mattress after shutting his laptop.

You think you are dreaming.

You think.

You can’t remember ever falling asleep facing each other. But yet again, your brain is clouded beyond capability and now, you know for certain you are dreaming. Hyunjin never faces you.

Blinking slowly, it takes a few seconds for your eyes to adjust to the impenetrable darkness and you struggle to make out the features of Hyunjin’s face. You know you are dreaming, and so you tug him closer, throwing a leg over his thigh and an arm over his waist. Even in your sleep, you feel the sadness pricking at your heart, for even it knows this is only what dreams are made of. You like to make the best of it.

“You know I love you, Jinnie, right?” Your voice comes out funny, drawn out and mumbled like your tongue is numb and you fight the urge to feel for yourself.

“Of course I do. I love you too.” His reply surprises you. You thought he was asleep and, either way, hearing such fond words from him puts your heart at ease. He must be misunderstood.

“No. I mean like… I like you, love you. Like I want to kiss you… kiss you good morning and before bed love you. Send you hearts and take stupid couple pics and… go on dumb dates love you. You know?” Your words feel garbled and incomprehensible the longer you go on, trying to express how you feel when nothing is real proving to be increasingly difficult. God, if only you could do it when things are real.

You start to feel yourself slipping as he mutters a reply, mind in free fall and fuck, fuck, fuck, he’s whispering and you can’t hear him but you are too tired and helpless to wake yourself up to hear it. No, too lost in the next dream to go back. You can’t tell what is real and what isn’t. Christ, were you awake? You can’t tell. All you know is that you are warm, so, so warm and letting sleep take over you once more is the best answer to all your questions.

Hyunjin always says he hates waking people up. Because he’s normally the one needing to be awoken, whenever the roles are swapped he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do.

This time, however, he takes it upon himself to repeatedly smack your face with his pillow. Not a fun experience when it’s coming from someone who fails to recognize his own strength. “Jesus, fuck! Okay!” You hiss, the cloud of sleep abruptly ripped away from you with the slap of his pillow against your skin. Arms raised defensively in front of you, you catch his next swing and tear the pillow out of his grasp to shield yourself all before you have even opened your eyes. When you do so, with the blatant intention just to find where he is and hurl the pillow at him, you are met with the harsh light from his ceiling fan and have to squint past the stinging white light to see his shit-eating grin.

“Was that necessary?” You groan, undeniably annoyed and wanting to glare at him more but needing to rub the ache out of your eyes. “Yes,” is all he says, reaching for your bag and catapulting it to you. He is incredibly lucky you are quick enough to catch it before it thumps against your head. What has gotten into him? Did he eat an entire bag of Pixy Stix while you were asleep? You watch, still dazed from sleep and reeling from the whole pillow smacking attack, as he flings open his closet door and turns back around with two neatly wrapped boxes. You squint to make out the dancing Santa T-rex wrapping paper.

“Oh,” you chirp, understanding, and you unzip your bag to retrieve the large box taking up the majority of space, “thanks for waking me up. I’m surprised you remembered. Did you stay up?”

A rosy blush burns its way across his cheekbones. Odd. “I, um— yeah. No, actually,” he stutters, really odd, given he was bouncing off the walls not even thirty seconds ago, “I set an alarm. You made me sleepy.” Hyunjin sits beside you once you have scooted over, leaning against the wall and crossing his long ass legs. He keeps his eyes trained on the boxes in his hands. “Oh,” you hum, looking to your own gift and suddenly wishing for the mattress to swallow you up, “sorry. I haven’t gotten as much sleep as you on break so far.”

“I don’t think anyone ever has,” he jokes and you finally look to him, sharing a cheeky smile before he gets all shy again, tongue darting out to wet his lips, “um, Merry Christmas, ___.”

It’s a simple phrase, but it makes your heart swell. “Merry Christmas to you too, Hyunjin.” Leaning over, you wrap your arms around his shoulders in an awkward side hug, but still end up feeling all drunk and loopy on love when he eagerly returns the gesture, arms curling around you.

“Okay,” you huff, sitting back, “me first.” You dramatically hold your gift out to him, jittery and nervous all over. Buying for Hyunjin is always hard. He’s just so easy to please, but when you want to do more than just please him it’s a constant battle trying to decide how far out you are going to go for him each year.

You watch impatiently as he tears the wrapping paper open first, and then finally lifts the flaps of the box up. “Aw,” he whimpers, pulling out the quokka plushie and attached certificate, “you adopted a quokka for me?”

You grin when he hugs the soft stuffed animal to his chest, the weight on your shoulders partly lifted from his positive reaction. He reaches back into the box, brow scrunched in thought as he regards the framed picture. “The First Day…?” Hyunjin asks, perplexed as he reads the title above the constellation poster. You scoot closer, leaning over to look it over once more. “This was the constellation of stars on our first day of freshman year. The day we first met.”

“Oh,” Hyunjin sniffs, “that’s really awesome, ___. Thank you. This is coming with me to school.” At this, he hugs you again, probably to hide the tears you know are threatening to spill because Hyunjin is Baby and cries every year. “Anything for my favorite fake Aussie,” you smile, leaning your head on his shoulder as he reads through the quokka adoption letter.

“Okay! Your turn!” He exclaims, setting his gifts back into the box and passing you the smaller one of his. He catches your curious glance to the second one he keeps by his side. “We have to open this one together.”

“Christ, okay. Looks like I’m gonna be crying tonight, too,” you sigh sadly. “Ooh,” jumping ahead of yourself, you wiggle your eyebrows at the white box before you, “Hyunjin if you bought me a Fitbit… I swear to God. How many times have I said I am not working out with you?” However, once you finish tearing open the wrapping paper you find it is not, in fact, a Fitbit.

“It’s not a Fitbit, idiot,” Hyunjin scoffs a second too late, waiting for you to slip the lid off the box. “They’re bond touch bracelets.”

“Explain,” you murmur, enamored but confused at the two little house arrest looking bracelets.

“So basically, we each wear one,” Hyunjin starts, taking one of the bracelets out and a burst of color blooms across its small screen at the motion, “and if you touch it, mine vibrates and I ‘feel’ your touch.” As he explains, he buckles it around your wrist, twisting it so it lies correctly. You silently take the second one and help it on him, brain too caught up to actually say anything.

“Try it,” Hyunjin whispers, suppressing his excitement.

You gingerly bring a finger to the little screen, tapping it once, twice. Nothing happens. Frowning, you try again, tapping and holding, then a second time, and finally— a strip of pink light appears and the bracelet gently vibrates as you tap and hold a random pattern. In response, the bracelet on Hyunjin’s wrist lights up blue, buzzing in the same pattern.

“Oh, Hyunjin,” you sniffle, fighting back your own tears because you refuse to let yourself ugly cry in front of him, “this is amazing. Now I can annoy you year-round. Thank you so, so much. I love you so much.” He hums, pulling you close when you turn to give him a proper hug. To your utmost surprise, however, instead of letting go he curls one fist into your side and helps swing your legs over to straddle his lap. “Oh.”

“___,” Hyunjin sighs thoughtfully, fingers playing with the sleeves of your tee, “I love you, too.”

You nearly spit up your coffee. If you were drinking coffee. Instead, you’re left with a dry mouth and a slack jaw at his words. Huh?

Glancing to the constellation picture peeking out of his box, and then to the matching bracelets you both wear, you find your mind reeling trying to make sense of it all. Yeah, you say the forbidden L-word to each another all the time, but most certainly not with you on his on lap and his lips mere centimeters away. The answer is so obviously clear as day you have trouble believing it.

“Fuck,” you laugh all of a sudden, as soon as the realization hits you, “I wasn’t dreaming, was I?”

Hyunjin lets out a joyous giggle, hands linking behind your back. Unable to hide his smile any longer, he clarifies, “You were not, madam. We literally just finished talking about when we were going to open gifts and then I got ready to sleep. Two seconds later you dumped your heart out to me, but when I answered, you were asleep.”

“Bruh,” you wince, hiding your face with your hands, “I am so sorry you had to deal with that.”

“No, don’t be,” Hyunjin comforts, reaching to tug your hands away. Your gut does somersaults when he intertwines his fingers with yours. “I was actually, uh, planning on doing some sort of confession to you anyway, but then you went right ahead and did it for me. So thanks for that.”

“Wow,” you chuckle, trying to wrap your mind around it all, “does that mean you, ahem, perhaps like me too?”

“No, I just got us really couple-y long distance relationship bracelets, pulled you onto my lap, and kissed you because I just want to be friends.”

“You didn’t kiss m—”

The sly little fucker interrupts your retort by quickly dipping down to press a fat smooch to your lips, missing miserably and you don’t know if he did it on purpose but you quickly fix the problem, releasing his hands to cradle his jaw and tilt his head the right angle. Finally, finally you kiss him, breathing in the smell of him like some sort of aromatherapy and whimpering into his mouth when his tongue swipes against your own. It is like nothing you have ever experienced, the taste and feel of him making you tremble and igniting a burst of electricity through your veins. You could kiss him forever, you think, sucking on his plump bottom lip greedily until he finally pulls back, desperate for air or trying to reel himself in you can’t say.

“You have to open your other gift,” Hyunjin reminds, chest heaving, and your gaze follows his long fingers as they comb his hair away from his forehead. Automatically, as if kissing Hyunjin once grants you some kind of free pass to do the same, you brush a few stray strands away from his face before leaning back to admire him. “Stoooop. You can’t do that and not expect me to kiss you again. Open. Your. Gift.” Hyunjin whines, squishing your cheeks and turning your head away.

“Okay, don’t blame this on me,” you huff, reaching for the second box before jabbing a finger into his chest, “you, sir, need to stop being so beautiful for like, two seconds.”

He scoffs, helping you rip off the wrapping paper, “You’re the beautiful one here.”

“Ew,” you wrinkle your nose, most certainly not used to Hyunjin dishing out such compliments, “this is too Hallmark Christmas movie for me. Let me open my gift in peace, ugly.” This box, unlike the bracelets’, is simple cardboard and when you lift open the lid, a brown leather book looks back at you. “You remember Up?” He asks.

On the leather, it reads Our Adventure Book in mismatched colors. “Yeah,” you whisper, flipping open the cover to find two baby pictures glued on the paper, one of Hyunjin, and one of you. At the top, it’s labeled ‘Before Shit Went Down.’ You laugh.

On the next page, there are random photographs from middle school, and then finally each other’s eighth grade graduation portraits. Then, written at the top is ‘Here It Begins,’ followed by a selfie he randomly took with you a few weeks into school freshman year, and then some from homecoming. Silently flipping through the rest of the book, your tears flow freely now, touched beyond comparison at all the photographs and all the memories accompanying them. Some are from large events like prom, others from random moments you don’t even remember, but each and every one comes together to form a special mold fitting perfectly into that Hyunjin-shaped hole in your heart.

The last picture is from the christening last month. Of course, it isn’t one of the nicer photos his mom took of the two of you, but a SnapChat selfie with the flaming sunglasses filter. He’s mid-laugh and you’re pressing a kiss to his cheek. Funny thing is, you don’t even remember taking it.

The page next to it is blank, aside from what’s written at the top of the page. “Togetha Foreva,” you read aloud, voice choked up and God, you cannot fathom how gross you look right now. “What the fuck, man!” You sob, punching Hyunjin’s shoulder before wiping your nose and cheeks with the back of your hands. “I didn’t sign up for this cock and ball torture.”

Hyunjin laughs loudly at this, pulling you into a hug and giving you a few seconds to recover. “Hyunjin, this is like… seriously the best thing anyone has ever done for me, holy shit. God, you Pinterest son of a bitch, this is such a good idea,” you groan, flipping back through the pages and getting teary-eyed all over again, “I can’t express how much this means to me, Jinnie. Thank you, really.”

Flashing that toothy grin of his, Hyunjin tugs you to lie back down with him and tilts your head up to press a much more accurate kiss to your lips. “I meant what I said before, ___,” he murmurs, “I don’t know what to do without you, and I know we only get to see each other once a month but I can’t keep living as just friends. You’re so much more than that. And I hope all the pictures we add from now on will show this new chapter of our lives. If not, well, then I guess I’ll just burn the book.”

“Are you asking me to be Kkami’s official poop-picker-upper?”

“Yes. Wait— what? No!”

You break into a fit of laughter, only to be interrupted with him pinching your side and causing you to let out a yelp. “Hey!” You bark, jumping closer to him and away from his hand until, finally, you give in to your self-indulgence and go right on ahead in swinging a leg over his hips and pinning him beneath you.

“You ruined my serious love speech, ___,” Hyunjin pouts, face scrunched up at you.

“I’m sorry, baby, go on.”

You pause, blinking slowly at him. He blinks back, the silence in the air weighing in heavily as both of your two brain cells bounce around trying to figure out what did you just call him?

“Never mind,” Hyunjin says, voice a low rumble of thunder as he reaches for your hips and easily flips positions, “I think you’re on the same boat.”

You laugh, tilting your head back and eyeing him indignantly. Fuck, he looks unfairly delectable hovering above you.

“Okay, how many more times do I have to tell you I love you for you to formally ask me to be your girlfriend, stupid?” You scowl, bringing your hands to cradle his neck, thumbs brushing delicately against his jaw.

“Call me baby again and we’ll see about making that happen.”

You raise a brow, tugging his face closer by the chain of his necklace. “You’re lucky it’s Christmas, baby.”

[nightklok]

Why hello it's time for me to be a nuisance and post my detailed Picklegail manifesto after a year of keeping this hidden underground, now it will be raised upground as part of my revenge plan-Under the cut is how I would've wanted their relationship to progress throughout the series-I converted a twitter thread i had into something readable so apologies if some things still don't make sense sdflkj

I like the challenge of trying to keep key elements of the show the same so Abigail won't be introduced until season 4 because I am like this. However, she would be mentioned in passing throughout the series by Pickles. The scene where Nathan mentions wanting to be a regular jackoff in Dethdoubles would probably have a few more lines by Pickles about 'settling down with that nice person you still think about' though the rest of the guys would think it's weird to think that. This would officially start in Snakes N' Barrels Part 2, the scene where Pickles began describing LA.

"Oh yeah, here's where I hosted my first concert in this small club. Got to meet a lot of fans and stuff. Especially this one girl, shit, wonder where she's at now."

This would also kinda explain why Pickles never even seemed to show interest in finding romantic partners throughout the series; almost everyone had an episode where they had a crush on someone even if it never went anywhere in the end. Pickles just never bothered dating because he knew that finding someone genuine as a celebrity was tough and he knew he wouldn't be connected as well as he did with that girl he met back in the 80s. There might also be a scene in Rehabklok where the doctors mention 'letting go of the past', which could also mean both letting go of his trauma from his family and letting go of the idea that he will get the relationship he really missed.

Season 4 comes around and now they all meet. Nathan notices how Pickles looked at Abigail like you would with trying to figure out if you recognize someone.

Nathan: "oh hey was she the chick you went out with back in the 80s?" Pickles: "Ehhh I dunno she is familiar though"

Will it get addressed by the characters? Probably not. Will it instead be painfully dragged out long because the readers will know? Yes, as per the MTL way :D

The two do eventually get some alone time. Abigail interacts with Nathan, Skwisgaar, and him one on one since they're the brains of the band and she wants to get through to them to help get progress on the album. Pickles and Abigail would get more one-on-one time; he especially becomes her translator when it comes to trying to understand what the boys are talking about when brainstorming.

They end up warming up to each other, making jokes, and probably the first time they really did comfy with each other was when Abigail asked Pickles to read the sheet music and he says seriously “I can’t read music”. she laughs thinking it’s a joke (he’s really not)

Abigail: “You know, I met someone back in the 80s who wanted to be a musician but didn’t know how to read music.”

Pickles: “Really? That’s crazy haha wonder if I met em too”

(this is in fact to piss readers off. There will be more dialogue to describe how oblivious the two really are.)

In the background of this, Nathan would be trying to impress Abigail. Her mistake would be beating around the bush instead of telling him upfront, causing very minor miscommunication.

But overall, the progress in the album is coming faster than ever thanks to Abigail's efforts. Though once again Nathan gets the dreams telling him the album isn't ready.

Pickles and Abigail pull an all-nighter to finish one of the last tracks. They get to talking a lot more about their personal lives, finding themselves having quite a bit in common. Abigail mentions meeting a singer back in the 80s who had inspired her to take up music production. After all, it would've been very hard for her to go to college at the time but the man had his own secrets too (being LGBT+ in the 80s) and he somehow managed to be successful. They don't kiss despite the tension but they do fall asleep on the couch together. Nathan sneaks into the recording studio while they're asleep and assumes they're dating which made him quickly back off on trying to flirt with Abigail. It would also make Nathan feel guilty as he realizes that Pickles is still mad at him if he won't tell him about his relationship. However, he wasn't there for that.

He catches the glow of the monitor and sees the album is almost finished. It isn't ready. He quietly attempts to delete it but the light of the monitor changing for him to delete the files slowly wakes Pickles up. He is groggy but then he realizes what's going on and attempts to stop Nathan but once again he's too late.

Abigail wakes up and quickly snaps out of her grogginess when Pickles explains frantically what happened. They both yell at Nathan for destroying their months of progress but Nathan only says, “it’s not ready. We need a better album. Trust me.” But since he doesn’t give a thorough explanation it’s hard to trust him.

Now is Going Downklok. They are in the submarine, Nathan is trying to fix things between him and Pickles but Pickles won’t have it. So he decides instead to let Abigail and him have as much free time as possible.

Nathan just talks about how great Pickles is to Abigail, accidentally dropping hints that she may have known him as the guy from before. And he does the same to pickles though he doesn’t talk to him much anymore and ignores him.

Pickles and Abigail are once again alone at the recording studio, both ranting their frustrations over working with the album once again. Eventually, it carried over to their own personal lives. And finally, they have the braincells to realize that maybe they did meet so many years ago. The room is so stuffy it feels like a sauna and only adds to the growing tension between. It only increased when they tried to leave the studio to remain as professional as possible but one of them instead locks the door. They both end up making out and eventually having sex in the recording studio.

Years of pent-up frustration, loneliness, and overall everything that had led up to the moment washed over. They decide to keep a secret relationship afterward because even though they did find each other, much like in the past, they found each other at the wrong time.

The dinner scene comes up. The two sit feet apart just to make sure no one would be suspicious. Nathan is at his height of frustration because he knows he had to delete the album but everyone is mad at him. He gets a little too drunk, and like the friend he is, outs their Relationship like a drunken wedding speech. Pickles quickly refutes that, instead he screamed at him over broken trust, deleting the second album that Charles had made sure the public wasn't aware and finally decided to quit the band. The news spreads like wildfire.

Abigail is quickly put to blame however it lasted very short since there became other conspiracies surrounding it. Nathan did say quite a lot after all to the point where it’s clear Abigail wasn’t part of the equation. But of course, some people blame her still and she decides to lay low. Pickles has to deal with his own consequences too so he decides to stay at her parents’ place with her as they wait for the news to blow over. While he’s happy to finally be with her, he does miss music terribly. Specifically, he misses playing with Dethklok.

She reminds him he can always talk to Nathan to sort things out but he knows Nathan isn't the type to apologize. The day of the concert comes, things happen as expected in the show. He doesn’t come home because they are in the submarine and he has to explain everything to her through a phone call where he’s beginning to break down, saying he has a terrible feeling that things will never be the same. She tries to calm him down but given how Selacia’s appearance is all over the news, she has the same feeling. They reunite briefly before the funeral.

I haven’t decided on the official ending so here’s ending one:

Toki offers to give up his seat so Pickles can sit next to her. He accepts as he doesn’t want to sit anywhere near Nathan. Magnus seems bothered but doesn’t say anything. There would be a funny scene of them just recreating 'Hello Magnus' 'Hello Pickles' once again.

But Magnus' tension quickly dies down when he hears them whisper to each other. He sees them hold hands discreetly and relaxes.

Magnus: "So I see the rumors are true between you two?"

Pickles: "I-yeah. What are you gonna fuckin' do about it?"

Magnus: "Nah, nothing. Just happy for you, is all."

Magnus does gain Pickles' trust enough to let his guard down by just sharing small talk. When the service begins, MMA texts Magnus over why Toki is sitting so far and how the plan is ruined. Magnus is hesitant to respond for a few moments (regret over what's to come, perhaps?) but he goes through and texts back that there is a change of plans but this plan would be better.

Well, couples would do anything to make sure the other is safe in such extreme circumstances.This plan could be much better, after all.

Ending two: pretty much exactly as canon. Pickles probably a lot more emotional- The end :D

[engaged19times]

RHONJ Recrap - season 11, ep 1 - C U Next Tuesday!

Greetings fellow prostitution whores and welcome to my new weekly recrap of American institution The Real Housewives of New Jersey! Before I jump in I’ll introduce myself by saying that I’m a housewives super fan (I even watched DC, an experience I wouldn’t wish on my worst sister-in-law), an underemployed comedy writer (I can’t define “napalm” either, Lauren Manzo), and nothing makes me happier than to watch 6 bedazzled hypocrites in Cheesecake Factory mansions argue etiquette and loyalty between physical altercations in the world renowned cultural hub of Paterson, New Jersey. I know essay recaps are a bit of a relic but I am fond of ye olde written word so please enjoy this blast from the past, you scumbags!

We open without fanfare mid-scene to red-eyed Jackie and dead-eyed Teresa sitting in Margaret’s partially finished, wallpaper smothered home. We get the Bad Girls Club black-and-white flashes but unlike in Beverly Hills we’re not flashing to “three months earlier” but instead to “three days earlier.” It might take women of less gumption precious time to build to a production-halting confrontation but it only takes these agents of chaos half a week to get the meatball rolling.

Let’s back up a little to the ominous “three days prior” and catch up with our hot girls. It’s Jackie’s giant hot husband’s 46th birthday so she’s throwing him a party under a tent in the parking lot of a Greek restaurant. We learn that Teresa and Joe’s father has sadly passed in the offseason and Dolores Thee Stallion and Margaret have both had full cosmetic overhauls - Dolores with a second butt enhancement that left her with a giant hip scar rivaled only by Sally from Nightmare before Christmas and Margaret with a boob lift and apparent nipple sharpening (is that a procedure?) that she advertises in a blush silk top with no bra. Never one to be outdone at a parking lot birthday party, Joe Gorga arrives with his storyline - I mean wife, Melissa - also smuggling raisins under a skin tight children’s white T-shirt. Nipples are trending, ladies!

The Nightmare Before Christmas.

A beautiful boob lift.

Tarzan’s headlights.

Margaret’s hot employee Lexi and Teresa’s hot realtor Michelle (both of whom are official friends-of this year), as well as iconic social wrecking ball and Aydin Center for Plastic Surgery mascot Jennifer all saunter in for car park cocktails at this 3D nipple fashion show and as the night devolves we see the cast getting truly shit-housed on shots when out of nowhere storyline sniper Teresa drops the bomb that she heard sexy birthday Bigfoot Evan is cheating on Jackie... more specifically, that he “does stuff” at the gym but mysteriously can’t remember any details or where she heard this head-scratching accusation that draws as many gasps as it does “huhs?” Honest straight people question: do y’all hook up at gyms? And if so, where? Are there co-ed saunas now? Also can one of you explain the allure of Mike and Molly to me? Moving on. Most shocking was that the Perez Hilton of North Jersey doesn’t just drop this wild accusation once, she gleefully skips through this asphalt soiree like a goddamn town crier, addressing everyone she passes like Belle through the town square.

The next day the hard partying crew of Jersey Shore: All Grown Up recovers from their throbbing hangovers and we see cool mom Melissa traipsing through her particle board mausoleum in see-through sweatpants with a visible thong in front of her kids’ friends (you girls keep me young!), Marge Sr. driving a blue Mini Cooper with eyelashes on the headlights (which I assume are like the spinning rims of the Jersey Grandma community), and a flashback of Margaret’s Joe puking next to a tree (relatable, my dude).

Marge Sr.: Fully Loaded.

You girls keep me young!

Over at Jennifer’s palatial child farm we learn that her parents fight so much these days that she moved her father (Carl from Up!) to her multi-generational compound which has only angered her mother more.

Jennifer’s sweet dad.

We then find out Dolores’s dry boyfriend David with whom she shares the burning passion of a melting ice sculpture now lives with her bulging slab of a son Frankie Jr. in the house he and Delores built together but Dolores curiously still lives with her also bulging but slightly slimey ex Frank Sr. in her original house, a near Braunwyn-level web of over-explained but still vague relationship fuckery of which none of them seem on the same page. Dolores hid her surgery from David until the day before, David still works constantly so she hangs out with her ex all the time, and I can’t help but think that we aren’t getting the full story on whatever the fuck is happening under these two roofs. Are they brother-husbands? Is Frank Sr. piping both of them? Can Frankie Jr. DM me his nudes please? The only one being straight-forward in these duel households of confusion is Dolores’s dog who is simply named Dog and I honestly appreciate his refreshing transparency.

Dog Catania, king of transparency.

Finally, Jackie calls Teresa to organize an infamous Jersey sit-down because she somehow got wind of the out-of-thin-air accusations that Teresa all but presented with a bull horn and a PowerPoint at Evan’s parking lot social. They decide to meet at Margaret’s partially constructed house/ wallpaper showroom because it’s neutral territory to hash things out in a relaxing landscape of ladders and contrasting patterns and the tension is so thick you could cut it with one of Margaret’s newly renovated nipples.

Jackie pleads with Tre to clear her husband’s good name and Tre enters a baffling Kelly-Anne Conway bullshit loop which includes such hits as “woman to woman, if I heard this you wouldn’t want me to tell you?” (a reasonable point which is actually working against Teresa because it’s the opposite of what she did), then explaining to Margaret the immediately contradictory “I didn’t tell her and it’s not like I told Evan, I told my friends” (which is an explanation of what she obviously did wrong but said in the tone of a defense), the wacky last ditch nonsense deflection “Alright let me tell you the reason why I did it. This year, now, you know I’m single now. I’ve been approached by a lot of married men that think that it’s OK to have affairs,” and finally just saying fuck it and rewriting history “I did not spread a rumor, I heard a rumor.”

The truth is that Teresa was retaliating for a cheating rumor Jackie entertained about her last year but neither can be held to such unreasonable expectations like addressing reality or admitting fault which is actually ideal because if I cared to see emotionally mature community leaders converse thoughtfully I’d watch Oprah’s Super Soul Sunday not this unhinged turnpike circus.

Jackie’s rival won’t budge so she chooses the nuclear option, looks the reigning matriarch of Paterson in her vacant eyes, and declares confidently “I heard Gia snorts coke in the bathroom at parties” which stopped time on Earth as far as I’m concerned. Is this wild accusation true? Probably not. Was this retaliatory tit equal to the offending tat? Debatable. Do I blame Teresa for immediately whipping into a tailspin and storming out screaming the C-word (no Kathy Wakile, not “canoli kit”) at Jackie no less than 80 times? Girl, no I do not. Jackie has since clarified (backtracked?) that this was an analogy not a rumor she heard which... OK, and whether or not either of the atomic bombs dropped in this breakneck premiere were true, I’m excited to watch our Paterson superstars battle it out for another batshit season!

Esteemed poet laureat of Paterson, NJ.

Join me and my own rock hard nipples next week to recrap a girls trip to Lake George, more developments in the case of Jackie vs Teresa: Jersey Crime Story, and hopefully another cameo by breakout superstar Dog Catania! Please share this recrap with the prostitution whores in your life if you enjoy and follow me on Tumblr (engaged19times), Insta (@engagednineteentimes), and Twitter (@_engaged19times)! I’m recrapping weekly but I don’t get screeners (yet) and it takes me a few days to catch up so please be patient!

XO engaged19times

[flow-green]

New Home!

I guess I can finally reveal the bomb: we have a new home! Oh, those insanely long days and nights and chaos and the rollercoaster of emotions that brought us to this point were still pretty tiring. Many times we thought about what and where we want to go, there were several options on the table. What was certain, however, was that our faithful and loyal caravan, which had been home for most of the years - excluding, of course, the crisp winter and autumn months, which we spent in not so much warmer house - had to be sold. We were pretty late with our sale announcement, but completely unexpectedly we received a call in September from potentially interested people, who became new happy caravan owners last Saturday. Those weeks when we had to take a lot of time to prepare the caravan top notch sale-ready, were filled with completely wall-to-wall ideas for where to go next. One of the most probable options was to buy an apartment in Rakvere, Pikk Street. We had more than half of the money to buy an apartment, but no bank wanted to give us the last missing amount. You can be an exemplary employee with years of experience all you want, but in the eyes of the bank, it is the complete red light when you have been unemployed for a month now. The freshly founded company does not have enough collateral either, so we planned to rent the same apartment for a while. We had already basically shaken hands with the apartment owner when we received a completely unexpected offer: to move in here, next to our car repair shop in beautiful built-up living quarters with a sauna, a large bathroom and a pellet heating boiler. Hell, yes!

The last week with the caravan came to an end this Saturday, and I have to admit that I remember very little of that time: I HATE moving! For a whole week, I had to worry about how and where we would move our stuff, when we would check and fix caravan’s electrical systems,  where we could get a new TV and OH MY GOD how much there is to pack. All Friday, when we were preparing to take the caravan away, I walked around, whining and crying like an annoying child. I still don’t understand how Gert managed to stay so calm. Throughout our maniacy running around, Charlie looked us anxiously and didn't understand why we suddenly emptied his home and why the hell it was so clean.

On Saturday morning we set off and gave a last look at the caravan around noon. Gnashing my teeth, because now moving to the workshop living rooms awaited and it was another horrible thing I didn't want to do, especially knowing that I had clothes up my throat and we wouldn't have a wardrobe and a bed until a few weeks later. When I arrived, of course, typical me, I wanted to start organizing things right away and get back to work, but Gert forbade it. We brought only what was necessary into the room and instead organized a small housewarming party for two with wine and a sauna.

On Sunday, I tried to unpack as much as I could in time, but my main priority was to get to Jõgeva alive and well by five o'clock, because I had accepted a noble invitation to be my best friend’s right hand, who, as the editor-in-chief of Vooremaa, decided to cover the most exciting live feeds from Jõgeva County election parties. So I tried to store energy as much as I could.

Sunday night, on the other hand, was mind-boggling and awesome. I was afraid I couldn't pull it off because I had never attended such events, I hadn't filmed or photographed. But the evening went very well and we got quite a few videos with four of us strolling around, directly from the election parties, I managed to take some really practical pictures, which were also featured in today's Vooremaa newapaper. The culmination of the whole evening was when at one o'clock in the night, when we were all already assembling our latest posts and videos in the hotel, Kerttu received the speech of every journalist's dreams: a coalition was formed in Jõgeva municipality and we had the honor of a quick interview with the union. I was afraid all day that after such a chaotic weekend it would be impossible to drive to Rakvere from Jõgeva at two o'clock at night, but this final touch of adrenaline rushes kept me fully awake until I got to the workshop.

Today, I have unpacked almost everything into our new home, but the clothes are still waiting in the corner for my future closet. I already did the first schedule cleaning today. In a few days, Charlie had already been able to create a nice coat of hair on the whole area.

What are the emotions right now? Awesome! Although it's nice to have a caravan, there are times when you want to stretch your legs in a room with a slightly larger area than exactly 3 steps from the caravan table to the bed. I missed the real stove and OVEN and the refrigerator, so I can buy wine cartons, because there’s now ROOM!

It is also convenient to do business directly at the workshop. The living room is an office space during working hours, so customers have a good opportunity to sit on the sofa and read magazines, for example, while wating for mechanics to  change tires. Today I even bought some magazines to browse.

Of course, I'm not sure how fast Gert will get tired to live near the workshop, because the tense and fast times are ahead, the tire change will come in at full speed and, in addition, our very first advertisement will be published in the newspaper on October 22. I can't imagine how emotionally exhausting a way of life can be with two steps and you're at home, but you know that right here at the same door are all the car repairs in progress that await again tomorrow. I therefore try to make being here quiet and the environment as cozy and relaxing as possible.

Oh, the main joy: I can do my laundry!

In any case, the small goal of getting a permanent nest under the roof for my birthday has been fulfilled. Now I gotta start preparing for Halloween and house warming party!

On those busier days, physical acticity and proper nutrition were in the background: a lot of junk food, take away, and most days I did not hit the oh so mainstream 10,000 steps. I have to admit, I was pretty vicious about myself on Sunday. Yesterday's run also did not happen due to errand runds, I was pretty distraught. It took a little willpower and writing in my emotion diary to make it clear: life is not an uneditable training and nutrition plan in PDF format. Sometimes life just happens and it's only natural. I have to admit that lately these voices and shouts have risen again from somewhere in the back of my mind: when to eat the last meal of the day, when the first, how much can I eat, and I have also started to count calories from food product packages or trying to calculate an estimation in my head from time to time, although I should not be doing it. I’ve come to the understanding that these patterns of behavior want to emerge just when there are harder or faster times in life. At least I can see these patterns from a distance and I can take actions or react accordingly.

Overall, I feel that our decisions and actions have been the right ones. This year has been really tough, and I have to admit that many times I was almost stepping out the door and away with it all, because the constant quarreling and each other's outbursts of anger were becoming unbearable, but just yesterday we realized how calm and happier we have become. How much more do we understand each other and know what we expect and want from each other. I have also started to open myself a lot more and I don't go around my head and thoughts most of the time and get lost in my world so that I don't even understand what I want to do or should do. Also, I myself have stated what I do not like or what the other has to do a little differently if we want us to move forward well. And it seems to be going well.