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m0srael · 3 years

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Torch Your Inhibitions

2k | E | Read on Ao3

Third installment for @magpiefngrl's 2021 Summer Writing Challenge. Prompts: Bonfire + Sex Pollen + Unreliable Narrator. I joked about making this just a whole lotta nature-based group sex and...well... Thanks @nv-md and @devilrising for making this even better!

“Malfoy, are you sure the invitation says no pants allowed?” Harry says to the mirror as he grimaces and tightens the rope holding his robe closed around his hips.

“Yes, Luna has been very clear about the order of this evening’s events, and frankly it just seems... neater to me. You disagree?”

Harry forgets to reply for a moment, distracted by the broad swath of pale chest Draco’s own robe has left exposed, one hard, pink nipple on full display. Draco doesn’t notice that Harry’s jaw has gone slack as he’s too busy readjusting himself under the thick, burgundy fabric that makes his hair seem more golden than usual.

“Well, I mean, she’s not going to check, is she?” Harry manages to say, despite the marked blood deficit in his brain. “Bloody hell, what am I saying, it’s Luna of course she’d check.”

“Right. So…” Draco murmurs , matter-of-factly, as he moves to stand close behind Harry, making eye contact in the mirror, “knickers off, Potter.”

Harry tells himself he doesn’t know what Draco is about to do, but the moment he feels the fabric shift against his arse he freezes, hoping beyond hope that he has guessed correctly.

“Alright?” Draco whispers on a smirk into his bare shoulder as an unsupressable shudder shakes through Harry.

Harry can’t speak, so he just nods.

Draco slowly gathers up the bottom of Harry’s robe in his fingers until he can slip his hands underneath it, letting it cascade down his wrists. He hooks his thumbs in the elastic band where it wraps around Harry’s hips.

Harry’s eyes fall closed as Draco’s fingers drag against his skin, down and down Harry’s thighs, until his pants fall to the ground.

Draco makes a soft sound. When Harry’s eyes fly open he realizes that Draco’s gaze is fixed to the tent in his loose robe, all the more obvious now that his cock is free.

“Steady, Potter. We haven’t even made it to the party yet,” Draco growls, before turning quickly and stalking out of the bedroom.

Harry groans and covers his flaming face, letting his head thunk against the wardrobe door. He doesn’t understand what it all means.

He and Draco have been living together for a year and a half. For the first six months they avoided one another almost entirely. The eight or so months after that had been punctuated by short, fiery conversations as they felt each other out, slowly arriving at some mutual understanding and even cautious friendship.

The last few months, including the very moment Harry finds himself in presently, have been an unending nightmare. He never realized how tactile Draco is with friends, but he touches Harry all the time.

When Draco needs a glass from the cupboard over Harry’s head, he plants one hot palm firmly on Harry’s lower back to steady himself. When they sit on the couch watching films, Draco always slides his cold feet under Harry’s thigh for warmth. It only takes half a pint at the pub before Draco’s leaning into Harry’s side, and another half before Draco drops his head onto Harry’s shoulder and presses his nose into Harry’s throat.

Draco also apparently has some aversion to closed doors. Harry is sure it has something to do with growing up in the Manor, being shut in for so long with such terrible people. It doesn’t really bother Harry, who also hates feeling trapped.

Though...he did accidentally walk in on Draco in the shower, mid-wank, last week.

Harry had stood, mesmerized in the doorway, watching for longer than he would ever admit (even to himself). He only averted his eyes when Draco noticed him, and said, “Are you going to stand there gaping, or are you going to help, Potter?” He laughed mockingly as Harry hurried down the hallway shouting apologies.

A tiny part of Harry’s brain recognizes Draco’s behavior as flirtatious. The other part--the louder part--knows that never in a million years would Draco Malfoy share Harry’s secret desires. This is just how Draco is with everyone. Harry only started to notice it once they lived in the same house.

“Harry...I know you told me to stop asking, but...you’re sure you’re okay with this? You want to go? The details of the ritual were pretty clear, and Luna did say that no one was obligated to--”

Gods, did Draco think he was that naive and squeamish? No, he would see this through, if only to prove a point.

“Yeah, yep...yes. I’m okay. I mean, I want to go. I’m...curious. NO! I mean, well...I want to...support Luna, so…” Harry trails off as he joins Draco on the front steps.

“Uh huh. Convincing,” Draco smirks, “if you want to leave, you can. Okay?” he finishes in that soft, pedantic way of his before taking Harry’s hand and apparating them to the coordinates from Luna’s invitation.

Luna had insisted everyone arrive rested and well-hydrated, and Harry was glad he’d taken her advice.

Before the sunlight faded completely, they set up the May Day altar together, followed Luna in a series of prayers for fertility and abundance, and danced around the maypole. Neville had even brought everyone a seedling to plant somewhere in the forest or take home to plant in their garden.

Harry would be feeling a little silly about all the neo-pagan pageantry, if his stomach weren’t tying itself into knots the further the sun falls below the horizon.

Before he knows it, Seamus is tossing a lit torch onto a giant pile of logs in the center of the forest clearing.

“Happy May Day, everyone!” Luna sing-songs as they all assemble around the bonfire.

She reaches into a fold in her robe and pulls out a small pouch.

“It’s time for the most important rite of the evening. I hope you all took the time to read the pamphlet I included with your invitation. If you’d like to forgo participation, I suggest you step away from the fire before we begin. If anyone is still unsure about what this part of the evening entails, please let me know now! There are no silly questions!”

Harry watches as a few people say their goodbyes and apparate away. He lifts one foot slightly as if to move away from the fire before catching Draco’s eyes across the circle. His brow is furrowed—he looks upset. His eyes are glowing in the firelight and he flicks his tongue out along his bottom lip. Harry plants his feet, nodding slightly as if to say yeah, I’m okay, I’m staying.

“Alright, everyone! Take the hands of the people beside you!”

Harry’s hand closes around Neville’s on one side and Pansy’s on the other. He makes eye contact with Neville and can’t stop the manic, high-pitched laugh that ekes its way out of his throat. Neville just smiles warmly and squeezes his hand. Harry’s stomach flutters.

“Have you all got the kits we sent with your invitations?” The group murmurs affirmatively. “Good! Just in case, there are extras in the basket over there! Can’t be too careful!” says Luna as she opens the pouch and dumps sparkling powder onto the fire.

The flames turn a brilliant deep purple color and leap up six or seven feet, giving off thick plumes of lavender smoke. Neville inhales and sighs deeply.

Harry closes his eyes and lets the fragrant smoke overwhelm his senses. He feels a soft breeze caress his hot skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. He gasps as his robe rustles around his thighs.

Every ounce of nervousness melts out of him and into the earth. He’s distantly aware that there are people moving around him but he can’t be bothered to open his eyes and look at them; he feels better than he’s ever felt in his life.

Gentle fingers slide into his hair, making his mouth fall open to receive an eager tongue.

“Harry…” Neville whispers into his mouth before kissing him soundly. They stand for a while, lips sliding over each other’s mouths and palms moving over each other’s bodies.

“Mm, s’good…” Harry slurs as someone unties the rope around his hips and slides his robe off. He shivers at the sudden kiss of cool air and curling smoke.

When he finally pries his eyes open his view is full of the top of Neville’s head, now on his knees in front of Harry. Harry rolls Neville's head in his palms until their glassy eyes meet. Harry hadn’t realized he was so hard--he groans as Neville takes him in hand and begins to stroke him lazily.

A hand slides around his chest from behind and a soft, warm body presses flush against his back.

“I always thought you were fit...” Pansy mouths against the back of his neck. Her small fingers tease his nipples as she rolls her naked body against his.

Harry shivers again when the thick smoke parts and his eyes land on Draco across the fire. He’s kissing Seamus deeply, one hand wrapped around the back of his head, as he strokes them both with one hand. He gasps when Draco opens his eyes and turns his head slightly to look right at him.

Making sure he didn’t chicken out, probably.

Harry’s head falls back onto the top of Pansy’s as Neville takes him into his mouth, inch by inch, humming around him. Harry’s first orgasm rolls through him almost without his knowledge, every cell in his body pulsing as Neville moans and licks him through it. He watches as Neville pulls off and strokes himself to completion, one hand gripping Harry’s thigh tightly.

He’s on his knees in front of Pansy, who he’s backed into a tree at the edge of the clearing, his face wet and hot, when he hears that voice.

“My loves,” Draco purrs. The clearing is filled with the sounds of heavy panting and urgent moans.

As Draco leans over Harry’s shoulder to kiss Pansy, his cock rests hot and heavy on Harry’s shoulder. Harry slides his tongue out of Pansy, replacing it with two fingers, to press his mouth to Draco’s throbbing flesh. Draco curls his fingers in Harry’s hair, pulling hard.

“Harry...need you…now...” Draco pants, pulling his head further back so they can make eye contact. Pansy moans loudly and Harry can feel her tighten around him, hips rocking forward onto his fingers.

Draco pulls Harry away from the clearing, the light and sounds from the bonfire growing distant and muffled. He urges Harry onto his back on the forest floor before straddling his hips.

“So...beautiful,” breathes Harry as he runs appreciative hands over Draco’s scarred chest, “want you so much…”

“Want you too, for so long, Harry,” Draco replies as he pops open the cap of the little bottle of lube Luna had sent them. The handmade label reads ‘A Happy May Day is a Lubricated One!’ complete with little drawings of butterflies.

“What?” replies Harry, hands stilling in confusion.

Harry can’t temper the sound that tears out of him as Draco wraps his wet hand around them both and begins to roll his hips. Harry thinks he’ll come again from that alone, but before he can Draco’s hand is gone.

“Aren’t you glad, now, that you listened to the no-pants rule--ah--Potter?” Draco quips as he lowers himself slowly onto Harry.

“Mmmm, yes, yes you were right,” hisses Harry as waves of heat and sensation roll up his spine.

“There, that wasn’t so difficult, was it?” Draco teases on a breathy laugh that quickly becomes a low moan.

Harry’s hips press up to meet Draco’s every slow, languorous thrust. Harry drifts, pulled under by Draco’s fingers and his lips at Harry’s ear whispering all kinds of incredible things.

You’re all I want, Harry. Need you, all the time, not just tonight. Please, I’m yours, I’m yours, Harry.

When Harry comes, he cradles Draco’s face in his hands, open mouth pressed against the corner of Draco’s mouth. Draco immediately follows, breathing out Harry’s name again, and again.

Harry can’t stop the laugh that forces its way out of his chest, and he’s delighted when Draco laughs along with him, folding forward to rest his forehead against Harry’s.

When Harry wakes up the next morning his memory of the night before is complete in his mind, but it feels wrapped in a purple-tinted haze. It takes him a moment to realize that he’s not alone in his bed--Draco is tucked up against his side, breathing gently.

Harry turns to watch him sleep in silence for a moment, finally admitting to himself that Draco really had been flirting with him the whole time. He wants to laugh at the absurdity of it all, but he doesn’t want to wake Draco.

It takes him a moment to notice that Draco’s eyes have blinked open sleepily.

“Mine?” whispers Harry.

“Yours, Harry.”

#2021 summer writin #drarry fic rec #drarry fanfic #drarry #Luna doesn't f*ck around when it comes to bonfires #Except that she does if you know what I mean #mosewrites

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insomniamamma · 3 years

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Prickle: Ezra x F! Reader

A/n: Okay, so don’t know what the hell this is. I was trying to go to sleep a few days ago and this just kind of popped in there, the idea of Ez giving the reader a weird nickname. I swear I have a more serious, put together fic in the works, but this demanded my attention first. I meant this to be short, but I suck at keeping things short.

warnings: language, angst, mild violence, lil bit of fluff, no beta

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He calls you Artichoke. Since hiring you on, Ezra has thrown a string of nicknames at you, mostly botanical or avian, some referencing things you have never heard of, and this is the one that stuck. Cee is Little Bird most of the time, until she indulges in teen-age surliness and then she's Channel Rat. You are Artichoke. Which would be fine, except you don't have the foggiest idea of what an artichoke is. Nothing about the word triggers anything in your brain.

You are not so well-travelled as Ezra and Cee. You grew up on Falnost, a dusty little fly speck of a moon, only colonized because it orbits a gas giant with lush rings, perfect for ice-mining operations. Falnost has one port city that caters to people who come downworld on leave. The rest is cattle and corn. Nothing to do but pull rocks out of the ground, dig irrigation ditches and spread the sandy dirt with live bacteria concentrates in hopes of convincing the ground to grow something. Not a place for fancy words or much beyond a standard technical education. You scrimped and saved and bought your passage off-world as soon as you could, and you've been drifting ever since. Puggart Bench was the closest you've been to civilization, and even that seemed overwhelming and a bit weird. You suspect artichoke is something from the inner worlds, but you have no idea what it could be. What if it's something bad, or nasty like a channel rat? What if Ezra's been making fun of you, calling you this name? It started two drops ago on Sammana. You were there to harvest lattice corals. Sammana once had a deep liquid ocean, but now all that was left were vast, glittering salt-flats. It was hot on Sammana. The air, while not toxic, stank like sun-dried shit. The corals themselves were fragile and you had to dig through the salt-pan with hand tools to get to them. By the end of the first day, your hands were raw and sobbing from a hundred salt-burnt cuts. You were hired on as muscle, but Ezra's been teaching you the trade as well. Many hands make light work, he said, and dimpled at his own joke, being down one hand himself. The dig did not go well. The corals you were finding were few and of mediocre quality at best. Enough to keep you fueled and flying, but little else. There was less than a cycle before you had to catch the slingback and even Ezra's mood was dark. "I'm callin it," he said, after a small and brittle coral crumbled in his hand. "We got enough to get us onto the next job. Fueled and flying, right?" "Fueled and flying," you echoed back, grabbing the railgun and taking point. Camp was some ways and the sun overhead felt like a physical weight grinding down on you. The railgun was heavy, sweat ran into your eyes and pooled under your body armor. So much miserable effort for so little reward. Today's pull was a pittance, a little extra fuel, a little extra data bandwidth and that's all. You swiped the sweat from your eyes for the hundredth time today. You were over it. Camp resolved itself out of the heat-glitter rising up from the salt crusted ground, the drop pod sitting in a crater of shattered salt, the tent next to it, hooked up to the pod's RTG by a thick braided cable. The tent's flaps were open. Someone was moving inside. "Oh, hell no!" You pelted towards camp, railgun raised, the figure paused, and then continued rifling through the tent. He had your trophy case at his feet, what little you've been able to collect over the last cycles and this bastard meant to take all of it. "Hands in the air motherfucker!" The thief dropped his haul and raised his hands. "The fuck out of the tent, right fucking now!" You felt Ezra and Cee behind you, heard their hard breaths. "I didn't mean nothin," he says, "I thought this camp was abandoned--" And something snapped in you. Never in your life had you been this angry. "Bullshit you did! Abandoned with the pod still hot?" You primed the railgun, and aimed through the scope right between this dumbass's eyes, and then you felt Ezra's hand on your arm. He spoke low and close to your ear. "Ease up on the rails, there, Artichoke, ain't no need for bloodshed yet." And for as angry as you were, you did as he asked, relaxed your stance some. Ezra walked toward the kid, no mercenary, this, just some dumb local. "My friend here wants to shoot you," Ezra said, "And she is well within her rights to do so. We have toiled long to get what little we could out of this bitter ground." "I'm sorry!" said the would-be thief, "I didn't mean nothin--" "What you meant or didn't mean is not the issue here," said Ezra, "What you do next is going to determine whether you walk away or I tell my over-eager associate here to indulge her violent nature. Here's what is going to happen. My partner, Cee, knows every stitch of equipment we own. You will dump your pack for her, turn out your pockets and give back everything that's ours. One aggressive move and Artichoke here will kill you. Rely on it. You do what I say and you get to walk away with your life. Clear?" "Clear," he said. He dumped his pack as instructed and Cee picked through the contents, reclaiming several items. "We're good,"said Cee, and gave the thief a shove, "Get out of here." He turned and started running, you fired a few shots that crackled into the salt-pan at his heels. Later, as you broke camp, you and Ezra got into the first real argument you'd had. So far you've managed to keep things professional, but the anger was still there, hot and pulsing behind your eyes. "You should have let me shoot him," "It doesn't always have to come down to shooting," said Ezra, "Things turned out right in the end. We kept our harvest and that foolish boy gets to keep on breathing." "He was trying to steal our whole harvest," your voice rose, "Gods be damned, Ezra, you know what that means. You of all people--" "He was a kid," Ezra's eyes were wide and dark, "Not much older than our Cee. Would you have that kind of blood on your hands?" There was no good answer. Ezra had all the words, you struggled with them. There was no way to speak back. Ezra sensed something shift in you, something in the slump of your shoulders. He laid his hand on your upper arm, gave a brief squeeze. "It's alright, Artichoke, We're all safe. It's alright."

Since that crazy day on Sammana, you've been Artichoke, and you don't know what to make of it. You can't ask Ezra directly. Ezra has ten different words for everything. You don't always understand him. You don't know if he's doing it on purpose, but sometimes he makes you feel stupid. You can imagine his self-satisfied smile as he explains the why of your nickname. You're not about to ask him. So you decide to ask Cee. It's morning and you hand Cee a dented metal cup with fake coffee in it. Ezra shoots you a look and you shoot him one right back. You shouldn't give her coffee, he'd said, it'll stunt her growth, to which you'd said, Kevva's sakes, she was processing Jhata Balu at twelve. I think she can handle a cup of coffee. Ezra is a morning person, one of the things about him that infuriates you. You and Cee have barely joined the land of the living and he's up and about and doing maintenance on his suit. One handed, he struggles, but you've learned not to offer help. You did once and the look he gave you made you want to strap your body armor a little tighter. So you just tune out the string of muttered curses coming from the other end of the tent. You've learned to tell when Ezra is talking to himself. "Hey, Cee?" "Mmmh?" "What's an artichoke?" You pitch your voice low, but there's heat prickling in your neck. Cee sips her coffee and smiles, a slow, one sided grin, like she's been expecting the question. "It's a Terran plant," she says, and pulls her battered notebook and pen from under her pillow, furrows her brow as she sketches. She turns the notebook so you can see. "It looks kind of like this." And now you are even more confused, presenting with what looks like a scaly ball on a thick stem. What this has to do with you, you can't even guess.

"Why does he call me that?" You ask, and Cee just stares over her coffee cup like she's staring into the black hole at the center of the galaxy, "Cee! Why does he call me that?" Cee smirks and jerks her head up. And the fact of the relative silence hits you, Ezra's muttered string of curses is done and you hear him chuckle close and behind. You bow your head, heat rushing to your face.

"If you wanted to know the reason for your moniker you could have just asked," says Ezra, you're not looking at him, but you can practically hear him smirk. He's gone and done it again, set a snare of words, and you've bumbled into it. You clench your hands and jaw and turn to face him, best to absorb whatever little humiliation he has planned for you so you can get back to your coffee. "Fine," you say, and it comes out angrier than intended. It is too early in the morning for this. "Why do you call me Artichoke?" His brows furrow briefly and his smirk softens into a warmer smile, the kind that crinkles his eyes at the corners. He squeezes your upper arm, like on Sammana, but there's no body armor between you. "I call you Artichoke because I believe that, like an artichoke, you conceal beneath your prickly exterior a tender, delectable heart." He drops you a wink and then jams his helmet on and out the tent flaps into the sticky heat of day. "Good one, Ez," Cee calls to his retreating back and the purr of the zippers pulled back up, "Real subtle." "What. The. Utter fuck?" You mutter into your cup of shit fake coffee. You shake your head. You and Cee suck down your coffee in silence for a beat. "You know he likes you, right?" Says Cee. "Well, I should hope so," you say, "We're crew." Cee is giving you a look of pity and condescention that somehow only teenagers can manage. Oh. "Oh. Oh no! No no no no no!" The realization comes pouring out of you and Cee giggles. "Nope! Not in a million years! Hard no!" But part of you thinks this is wrong even as you say it. Part of you likes the idea of being Ezra's artichoke, his tough and prickly thing with soft insides. Part of you wonders what would happen if you let him in beneath your spiky outer layers, just a little.

#ezra prospect x reader #ezra x reader #ezra x you #ezra prospect #cee #cee prospect #prospect movie

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cosmiclatte28 · 3 years

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Dream a Dream (Renjun x you)

a/n: Hello! It’s been a while, but happy new year! Sorry for not updating any stories, as I mentioned in previous post I have several stories stuck because of home works and a busy week.

So, here marks my first oneshot of Renjun and first oneshot after the Christmas project! Without further delay, here we go!

Warning : angst but of course it ends beautifully you can also see I am simping Renjun now :D

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　

For the second time, you sigh and look into your brother’s eyes trying to find help. The dining room suddenly feels so suffocating and you try to cower yourself to feel smaller in this room. Across you is your brother, Jeno, and on his right is your father beside you sit your mother.

“I have told you, you are not going to Japan, not to study there.” Your mother continues her rambling. It is dinner, but she doesn’t seem to care. The atmosphere is ruined, for you, to enjoy the heartful dinner.

You want to backlash at her words, saying that no matter what she says, you will find a way to get that scholarship offer and fly to the Rising Sun country to pursue a degree. However, you know better to be quiet now if you still want to try and coax her tomorrow.

Earlier you were saying that your application to your dream university in Japan is accepted, Jeno was delighted when he heard this but your happiness come to an end right the second your mother went into your room and snatch the acceptance letter. Her eyes widened and the next thing you know, she stormed out of the room with a hard look on her face.

When your father arrives home, everyone is seated in their chairs and mother decided to talk about the acceptance letter and how you are not allowed to go.

“I’ve told you (y/n), you are my only daughter and I do not want to lose my only daughter.” She at first calmly says this. Then she continues “Didn’t I tell you already that you’re beautiful, pretty, charming, and those traits are enough to ensure you a rich husband that will fulfil your life perfectly.”

Your father doesn’t seem to object nor care, well you believe he is already tired listening the same thing going on for the last three years. Since your freshman year in high school, you’ve been telling your family of your dream to study in Japan, but since day one, your mother objected. Her reason was not because you’re dumb or your family cannot fund the tuition, it’s merely because she believes a daughter shouldn’t live a hard life. Studying and working hard are the responsibilities of the men she said, and women like you just have to find the rich husband, dress nice beside them and be their good companion.

“Mom, I know, but the world has changed. I want to pursue my dream like Jeno hyung.” You politely speak up.

Her grip on the spoon stiffens and she looks into you sternly, “Jeno should earn his degree so he can work successfully and provide good wealth for his family. You darling, I am offering you an easier path and I know just the perfect place to find you the dearest, rich husbands. Now enough of this talk, finish dinner and help me clean up the dishes.”

Jeno kicks your leg under the table to at least send you a signal that he is going to stand on your side. His face shows he is sorry for you, but he knows now is not the right time yet to speak up.

Dinner ended and you help your mom to wash the dishes. Well you do have maids, but they do not stay the night at home. The maids are only here from morning to noon, dinner must be taken care by your mom and you.

“(Y/n), for the sake of god. Stop acting foolish. I’ve seen you sneaking around to extra science classes at school, instead of going to the socialite gathering I signed you up for.” She said in disappointment.

You sigh, well in your private school for elites there is a silly community where the rich gathers and make bonds, attend weekend parties or social events, and if you’re lucky win one of their hearts and got asked a hand for marriage.

“It’s just a science club, they’re fun and I only go there once a week.” You lie, you go there every Tuesday, Thursday, Friday and just pop into the community once in a month.

Your mother chuckles, “You think I am stupid? I know you do not attend the socialite gathering, you always go home to finish a lab report. I mean you being in your room, without any loud voice of the TV nor any sound of you calling anyone means you either read or do something. You don’t read because your books are in the library.”

You curse in your heart, she really is as smart as Sherlock, why can’t she allow you to use your similarly brilliant brain to study rather than prepare to be a good wife.

“I am texting the school’s principal to ban you from that science club, you must attend the community’s events. Also, stop seeing that man from your science club, Huang? Huang Renjun is it? He isn’t as noble as the others, instead I suggest you learn more about that son of NA CORPS, Jaemin.” she wipes her wet hands on the towel and leaves you speechless.

You stand in front of the sink, perplexed that your mother knows everything about your secret. More surprisingly she knows Renjun, now who is spilling the secret here?

You go up to your room and sit on your bed. Your eyes drift to the duffel bag you’ve prepared this week. Your phone rings and you pick it up with a big grin.

“Renjun-a!” you greet him as you fling yourself to the big soft mattress in your lavender room.

There is a soft giggle from the other end, “Hey there princess,” he greets. You blush at the nickname, Renjun has been your best friend since the first day of school. You share a table with him and he shares the same timetable as yours. He is a fun guy with angelic features, blonde hair, and beautiful voice. Both of you love nature and has been in the science club and scout team for three years. This Friday there is a scout camp going on until Sunday and Renjun had helped you sign up for it, since your mother would maybe die if she knows her daughter is not only a science club member but also a scout girl.

“So, are you packed up for Friday?” he asks just in case you need help from him to get supplies.

You shake your head, “No need. Mom actually thought I am going to stay over at Victoria’s house. Well she promised she won’t spill any tea and lie for me as I promise her Jeno’s number.”

Renjun giggles, he knows you will find a way and he has no doubt that 97% of them always work.

“Great then, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow. Good night luv, take care!” Renjun sends a flying kiss through the phone and you blush at this. He is not your boyfriend, but look at how comfortable he is to flirt around with you.

“Bye bye Injunie,” you squeak and close your phone right in time when the door opens and a wild Jeno appears.

“You’re staying in Victoria’s house?” he asks, apparently your mother told him not to pick you up tomorrow because you’re staying over.

You pull him into your side and glance on the door. “Shh, I lied. Keep it a secret, I’ll be in the mountain tomorrow. So, if there is no signal or bad reception.. please cover up for me.”

Jeno shakes his head, “Cover up? I need to lie again?”

You plead him with your puppy eyes he always lose to, “I’ll accompany you to the cat café next month for the whole week.”

He smiles “Nice, don’t worry I’ll pretend I know what you’re doing.”

You grin “Oh please work on the lie with Victoria, so if mom cross checks you two won’t be caught lying. I have put her name under your contact list.”

Jeno looks surprised, but just shakes his head. “Come here,” He pulls you into his arms and hugs you.

You breathe in and relax your shoulder, “I am sorry for what mom always do to you. I’ll try to talk with her when you’re away. Just take good care of yourself and have fun okay!” he ruffles your hair and kisses your forehead.

“Thank you hyung,” you whisper and detach yourself from him.

The next day, you’re very excited to finally leave behind your problems with mom and just enjoy your freedom in the camping grounds. It’s just near the mountain and the track is not hard. You and Renjun are a part of the officer team, considering the fact that both of you are senior here.

“Need help pitching that tent?” Renjun pops up behind you and you shake your head, “Nah, I’m good, almost done. Why don’t you help the juniors?” you point your chin at a group of struggling kids, well it is not surprising some of them are never raised this way but they have to choose one activity outside subject and the scout activity is always the one with least student. So, those who are late in registering will end up here.

You finish setting up your tent, help the others too and go with the activities. There’s nothing much to do, you just have to prepare dinner with Renjun while the other instructors will lead the troop to explore the areas and learn basic nature things.

You admit Renjun cooks better than you, although his cooking skills are just to the point where it is edible, yours are worse.

“How is this?” Renjun brings a spoonful of the red kimchi stew he is making, and you take a taste test.

Your eyes lighten up, “Hm this is way better than what you always make for me.” He sends you a death glare, but you’re used to it. “Hey at least I am saying something good.” You bump his shoulder and his smile relights.

“Look at the cute couple here, what are you two making this time?” A familiar mischievous voice makes the two of you turn your heads to sigh at the man coming to the cooking area.

“Haechan,” you sigh, “We’re not a couple and what are you doing here? What’s your duty?” you ask as you continue helping Renjun cuts up tofu and onions. Haechan is the most annoying yet dearest friend of yours.

“I am the guarding team, my job is basically in the night with Mark. Don’t worry, I won’t bother you two if you’re going to spend a time alone in the woods.” He winks and you throw him a spoon, that missed but he’s happily running away. Renjun stays quiet somehow after Haechan’s appearance but you don’t really take matter of it. He’s always quiet when he’s focused.

Dinner went amazingly well, all of the tired students enjoy Renjun’s kimchi stew and you’re glad you don’t have to wash the dishes, the students played a game and losing team has to clean up.

The night activity too was like the usual one, where we sit around the bon fire and tell stories. It is dark and now you’re alone with Renjun left by your side. He grabs a guitar someone brought and after taking glance around, Renjun picks the strings and start playing a piece of melody. You lean into his shoulder, something you’ve always done to him and watch as the starry night move above you.

“That is beautiful but why are you playing such a sad song?” you ask Renjun after the pretty angel plucks his last string. You cannot lie listening to a sad song in the night alone with Renjun hurts so much. You suddenly remember the small quarrel with your mom and you feel like you have to tell him this.

“Injun-a, do you know that there’s a lot of thing I want to share with you but sometimes I can’t find the right time to say it.” You avert your gaze away from his soft eyes.

“First and foremost, I am sorry that…” your voice trails off but Renjun stays there to listen, “I am sorry I cannot fulfil our promise to leave for Japan together.” You sigh.

It’s a small promise you made with Renjun on your first month of friendship and since then both of you have been working hard to get good grades and prepare the requirements for entering the university.

Renjun did not look surprised, but he is the best man in covering his feelings. Unlike Renjun who can read you like an open book, you cannot read him at all. He just plays with his fingers and after a while looks into your eyes.

“(y/n), I know it’s not your fault. Don’t blame yourself, besides we can still figure out a way to fulfil this dream of ours.” He calmly threads your hair.

You shake your head, “It won’t happen Renjun, mom looks final with her decision. I am so sorry you have to leave by yourself.”

The young man chuckles dryly, “If you’re not going, then I won’t too.”

You snap at him, “What do you mean? It is your dream too!”

He nods, “It is my dream, and yours too. Our promise is to achieve our dream together right? So if fate decides to leave one of us behind, screw it I’ll stay.”

You can no longer hold back the tears in your eyes, who are you to deserve him? He really is an angel in disguise, always putting your importance first before his.

“Don’t cry, I am not going anywhere if you’re not there.” Was his last promise before he engulfs you into his warm shoulder and hugs you as the last bits of fire flickers in the dark and went out.

It is dark now, with only the moon shining over both of your face. Your glazy eyes met his and without second thoughts, you bring your lips to seal his. When there is no sign of objections you hold it there, letting Renjun takes over instead. One of his arm makes his way to the nape of your neck, gently pressing your head closer to him so he can devour you. So this unexplainable emotions in your hearts can be set free.

It’s not passionate, it’s rushed, full of hurt emotion, and sadness. You feel pain as you try to remember just how soft his lips are, after this you may never see him again. Renjun finally lets go and under the moonlight you can see him wiping away a tear. Your heart cracks, “Injun-ie,” you bring your thumb to wipe his cheek, but he is faster to hold your wrist in the air.

Your face shows surprise, is he rejecting you? He didn’t wipe his tear. Instead, he asks you a question you never expect him to ask.

“Do you ever love me as someone more than a friend?” his sincere question laced with dreadful pain makes you close your eyes.

“I love you to the point that it hurts Renjun,” you reply in a heartbeat.

He closes his eyes and forces a sad smile, “Can you just once, tell me you love me?”

You want to ask him what he means by once? You’ll tell him over and over! But since you’re an open book to him, he answers you first before you can even gasp

“I know you’re forbidden to love me, I don’t want you to say that to me. It’s a sacred word prin- I mean (y/n). You should only say that to the person you truly love.” He looks down on his feet. Your heart burns when he refuses to even call you by his nickname.

He’s not dumb, he knows how this society of the rich works. It is always them choosing their daughter and son’s partner. He knows your mother doesn’t like him, merely because she never invites him to any of the tea party or dinner. The school knows that your family had made a promise to Jaemin’s family that if their children are of different gender, they will tie the bond. It’s just wonderful how the whole school, including Renjun, knows but not you.

Yes, you and Jaemin both know nothing. Both parents just try to make it look “natural” by sending their children to the same school, put them in the same group of community, and make them see each other as frequent as possible.

You stop crying and look into his eyes, “Renjun, you say I just have to say that word to the man I really love right?”

He nods, he knows he is dumb for saying that. He should’ve just asked you out to be his before you and Jaemin become a thing, but that will just hurt you and him. And having to hurt more is not something Renjun needs right at this moment.

“I love you Renjun,” you whisper sincerely. This may be the only chance you get to say it out loud to him. And the brilliant boy seizes his moment too, “I love you too, princess.”

You and Renjun stay together for a couple of minutes in silence. Because sometimes silence speaks louder, and emotions are conveyed better. You did not know where tomorrow will bring you, but at least you’re not regretting your decision tonight that being telling your true feelings to the person you love.

end.

(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ thank you for the supports

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pixie-in-trebleland · 3 years

Text

Just Another Manic Monday

“Chaser, I don’t think that’s how the hinges work on a door.” Jackie stood off to the side of their kitchen table as he watched his husband fumble with the building plans that were covering its surface.

Chase rolled his eyes and straightened his ball cap on his head. “Listen, Jacks, we managed to build the whole fucking building. I don’t know why the fuck this, of all things, is giving me as hard of a time as it is. I mean, seriously, how fucking hard is it to just anchor in the bolt?!”

“Well, maybe having it hooked onto the door might be a great place to start?”

“I didn’t want to put it on the door in case it didn’t latch properly! The guy down at the shop said this would do the trick!”

“Do...you still have the packaging for it?” Jackie asked. He reached for his silver thermos on the counter behind him, smiling a little as he noticed the packed boxes tucked semi-neatly against the cupboards.

Chase sighed and searched for a moment before grabbing the cut plastic package that was once the home of the hinge. It was only a matter of seconds after reading the package’s label that Jackie started to laugh.

“Chase, this isn’t for a standard door.” he explained.

“What?” Chase narrowed his eyes as he grabbed the package back from Jackie, reading it carefully. He couldn’t help the groan that escaped his lips before he threw the package down to the floor.

“How did you not see it was for one of those cat doors?”

“How the fuck am I supposed to know that those bloody doors have a whole separate hinge to them?!” Chase brought his hands to his face at an attempt to hide the shame.

“Well…” Jackie chuckled and took a sip from his thermos.

“Well what?”

“The hinge is way smaller, mon realta.” Jackie picked up the door part in his hand, eyeing in closely. “I don’t think this little piece is strong enough to hold a normal sized door in any way, shape, or form. Maybe the doorknob, if it needed a hinge at all, but...not the door itself.”

Chase slumped in his chair and rested his head against the paper-covered desk, exhausted. It had almost been a full year and six months that they had been working on their new place, and the finishing touches were all that was left. After the honeymoon that had been long overdue, the newlyweds had taken a long, painful look at their apartment and realized that it wasn’t enough for their ever-growing family. With funds set aside for their future endeavours together, the two decided that they were going to build their own place, their way.

Between the cafe’s traffic and the house being built, it was the understatement of the century to say that both Chase and Jackie were tired.

“Listen,” Jackie smiled as he walked towards his husband. He placed one of his hands on Chase’s shoulder and squeezed gently. “We get the truck in an hour, and everything is packed. A hinge is nothing to worry about.”

Chase sighed, leaning into his husband’s touch for a moment. “I wanted everything to be perfect.”

“Who’s to say it isn’t?”

“The hinge. The doors aren’t on yet on any of the rooms. I mean, the front door is on tightly, and the backdoor to with that weird fucking lock you chose for both of the doors, but the doors to the bedrooms and stuff aren’t on.”

“How many doors is that, exactly?”

Chase paused for a moment and closed his eyes in an attempt to count. “There are two for our bedroom, one for Critter’s room, One for Ari’s, another for Ryder’s, and the one for the guest bedroom on the main floor. So...six?”

“Coincidentally an even number?” Jackie teased. Feeling strange towering over his husband for once, he sat down next to him and opted to bounce a leg instead.

“Listen,” Chase chuckled. “I know Jack is a part of this now and he’s opted to stay with his cabin and Ricky Roo Ra, but the extra room will be handy. We can actually have the other kiddos come and visit, or ta mère and sister, or Skye...anyone. We will actually have the space, Jacks!”

Jackie couldn’t help but smile as he watched his husband talk. Chase’s dark brown eyes were alight as he spoke about his plans, his dreams, his motions getting more and more lively as he spoke.

“I really...really hoped it was going to be perfect.” Chase’s voice softened as he spoke. “I haven’t taken Critter yet to see it. I just...man, I really want this to go smoothly.”

“Hey,” Jackie took Chase’s hand gently, the papers rustling beneath their now intertwined hands. “It’s perfect the way it is. The little details that you made sure are in there? I’m sure she’s gonna love it. I’m sure we are gonna love it. Our nesting spot, yeah?”

Chase smiled and squeezed Jackie’s hand gently. “Yeah. Our...our nesting spot.”

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

With the final boxes in the back of the truck, and the bikes and other necessities they decided to keep from the storage space in their apartment complex, Jackie, Chase, and Critter loaded themselves up into the car and moving truck. The cityscape quickly changed to the lush, autumn hues of trees as they drove into the woods. Critter, in total surprise, was glued to the window in the car with Jackie.

“We’re moving out here?!” she tried to keep her excitement contained as she felt her tail wagging gently behind her.

Jackie chuckled and took a quick glance at his kiddo through the rearview mirror. “He really didn’t take you out here to see?”

“Nope.”

“Well, he’s...pretty excited.”

“That’s not how he looked on our way out.” Critter chuffed, getting comfortable once more in her seat. She gave Ducky and Lucky a couple rubs before she turned her gaze back to outside the window.

“There’s been a few hiccups, kiddo, but I’m sure they’ll be fine.”

They drove the rest of the drive in silence, the radio blasting some kind of energetic music. Jackie didn’t know what it was, but he knew it was coming off a playlist that Chase, or Jack, had more than likely made during one of their blaze sessions. It wasn’t long before they pulled into a stone driveway that was connected to a house that would have stood out in the city like a sore thumb.

“We’re here, I guess!” Jackie beamed as he turned the key in the ignition and swung the door to the car open, dodging as his kiddo whizzed by him.

“This is our house.” Critter screamed as she stood in front of the large home with the wrap-around porch. With ash-toned panelling and dark accents along the outside the home, it almost resembled the cottages that would be seen on postcards. To the left of the home, a large tire swing swung gently in the breeze, the moving truck parked near the large shed to the right of the home.

Chase was already working his way through the contents of the truck, moving box after box down the metal ramp with sharp thuds from his work boots. He smiled as he saw his family. Wiping sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, he made his way over to his daughter.

“So?” he panted and dusted off his ripped jeans. “What do you think?”

Jackie bounced over and jumped onto the ramp of the truck, getting to work. He’d been idle for too long anyway, but he couldn’t help the smile that crossed his face. This was their home, now. “It’s amazing, Chaser.”

“Not you!” Chase snorted. “We built this together. I’m asking the kiddo.”

Critter, to say the least, was in awe of the home in front of her. Her tail wagged violently and she swung on her heels, trying to get the excitement out. “This is ours, dad?”

“All ours.” Chase smiled, “Took us sixteen months, give or take, and some heavy duty planning, but...yes. The Brody-Byrnes Burrow. Do you wanna see inside or...are you just going to pitch a tent out here? Cause I think the camping gear is...very, very buried in the moving truck.”

Critter rolled her eyes and gently punched her dad before she leaped up the three stairs, onto the porch, and through the open front door.

Most of the furniture had already been moved in days prior to the rest of the truck being packed, but it still warmed her heart to see just how large and cozy the home was on the inside. With earthy, neutral tones, and furniture that both of her fathers had picked, the living room was set up with two, chocolate brown couches that hugged the edges of the beige rug on the floor. A TV was anchored to the wall, the walls themselves of the hallway and the living room a cape cod blue to compliment the brown tones. The stairway leading to the upstairs was closer to the back of the house, with the kitchen and backdoor also in that direction.

“You should head upstairs while we grab some boxes, kid.” Chase beamed. “Your room is the second door on the left. First door on the same side is the loo!”

“‘Kay, Dad!” Critter smiled as she made her way up the stairs. She called out behind her as she continued upwards, “I’ll be down to help, too. Don’t think that I’m letting you and Dad Two do all the lifting.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, kid.” Chase chuckled and stepped outside towards the truck, grabbing the boxes he had already moved.

Critter, in an attempt to not break anything in excitement, paced herself as she moved towards the room Chase said for her to go to. She couldn’t help but notice that none of the bedrooms were missing doors, but she decided to pocket the question for later. When she reached the room, she froze in place at the sight in front of her.

The room, to say the least, was simple in design, but spoke volumes to her. With soft blue walls and sheer, white curtains blowing gently from the breeze outside, the room was quite large for its location in the home. A Queen sized bed was tucked in the corner near the window, the crisp, white footboard of the bed meeting with the edge of the windowsill. A matching white desk was adjacent to the door, with paint splotches strategically splotted across the surface and legs. It had been a summer project that she and her dads had done as a way to cure summer boredom, but she couldn’t help but smile at the small, blue handprint that was slapped on the side. Critter giggled, remembering Ryder running to place his paint-covered hand on the desk as a gift to his sister.

She stepped inside the room and was overwhelmed by emotion at the sight of a small, silver and gold locket sitting on the desk. Overwhelmed enough, that she hadn’t noticed Jackie standing behind her with a few of her boxes.

“You found our gift, huh?” he asked quietly, a relaxed expression on his face.

“Huh?” she picked up the locket gently, opening it to see a small, black and white photo of her and her two dads on their latest camping trip.

“We wanted you to have something special.” Jackie explained, “It was supposed to be here for your birthday, but as always, there were complications with the order that Chaser did. He said they were the wrong colours or something.”

Tears began to escape Critter’s eyes and she held the locket close to her chest. “Thank you.”

Jackie placed the boxes to the side of the door, and in one fell swoop, pulled his daughter in for a hug. “We got you, yeah?”

She nodded against his shoulder, the warmth filling the room. They both were so full of love as she pulled away.

“We should...probably help Dad out.” She smiled, “Don’t want him getting himself into trouble.”

Jackie couldn’t help but laugh. “He’ll more than likely get stuck between boxes or something.”

As if on cue, Chase could be heard from outside, his voice echoing from the inside of the truck.

“I’m...going to take a guess he got stuck.” Jackie sighed and made his way towards the stairs. Critter was right behind him, giggling.

They were home at last. The Brody-Byrnes Burrow did, after all, have a nice ring to it.

The End.

#Masks ARG #Dudecell #the Aftermath

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miss-kittys-magical-library · 3 years

Note

60. “have you always been this beautiful?” + 68. “You owe me a kiss.” for sean/reader plssss?

Glitter in The Air (Sean X Reader)

A/N: This is just pure Sean Falco bubble gum cotton candy fluff just for Joz ☺️☺️😍

You held your finger above the mouse and debated which road to take:

Add him. It's only been four years, but he's bound to remember you.

Forget it. It’s been four years, how would he ever remember you?!

Without a second thought you clicked add friend on the Facebook name “SeanFalco92.” You typed out a little note just in case.

Hey, Sean.

I'm sorry about what happened at the University. You're a bit infamous. Not every day the quiet Irishman gives it to the campus police. That fire hydrant was ugly anyways.

Y/N, The Dark Room Princess

Then you switched off the internet to prevent yourself from nervously checking every ten minutes to see a response. So you poured yourself a cup of coffee and put your headphones in. It was gonna be an all-nighter on your grad school thesis.

Your computer made a loud ping noise that startled you from sleep you didn't realize you had fallen into. You raised your head and looked at the time “11am.” Thank God, still a few hours until you had to turn in your thesis. Then you were free to never worry about university again, until the loans rolled in. You groaned.

Still you adjusted yourself and your glasses to read the message that had come up alongside the friend request acceptance.

Hey! Yeah it's totally been awhile. How have you been? I felt the wrath of my parents when they bailed me out. Due for a bit of community payback for a few months. Sorry “Service.” Next time I won't get nicked.

Not quite sure about the dark room reference, but was thinking you should meet me at the carnival on Friday. I know I shouldn't be on campus, but I had tickets before everything went down. Care to be my reason for still showing my face after all that humiliation?

Sean

You shook your head and laughed. He definitely didn't remember you, and you weren't exactly sure what he was up to. Who turns down an opportunity to spend the night with Sean Falco?

You took your time replying. Showering. Eating lunch. Printing your thesis and assembling it. Not wanting to appear eager in your reply. He pinged again.

You there? It looked like you were online. Sorry, didn't mean to appear so needy or forward. I just thought it’d be nice to be reacquainted.

You cocked an eyebrow, cheeks flushed a bit and finally returned a response.

Yeah. I would like that. I live in the Madison apartments. Get to Union station (I'm guessing you lost your license?) and we’ll take the Gold Line back to campus. See you at 7.

Sean's comeback was immediate.

It's a date!

Your face grew even hotter. Fuck, it's a date.

-----

You couldn't help but be nervous as you paced around the front steps of your apartment complex. You felt confident in the cute outfit you rushed out and bought impulsively. Or how you bit the bullet and got your hair done too after you delivered your thesis. You claimed it was in celebration of the rest of your life and nothing to do with the tall, lanky Irishman now headed your way.

“Sean!” a bit startled as you turned around in his direction.

Curly hair a bit wild, his jeans looking industrial but you knew they weren't bought that way. The purple tee-shirt he wore somehow made his leafy green eyes positively stunning. His hand was outstretched with a flower held towards you.

“T’ought I might go a bit old-fashioned t’night,” you took the --- from him. “Maybe a bit o’ congratulations for finishing your t’esis paper.”

Glad your hair covered your ears because you knew the tips were bright red. You never remembered his lilt being that strong or noticeable. Maybe for some strange reason it was his nerves too?

“A Peony? Sean, these are my favorites! How’d you know?” you smelled it briefly before you tucked it away behind your ear. Pleasantly surprised. “Thank you.”

“I may have creeped around your photos a bit, hope ye don't mind?” Sean raised his hands and crinkled one of his eyes shut.

“This is my first flower from anyone, so I'll take some light stalking in the meantime. We should hurry though, the train leaves in ten minutes.”

The two of you side by side. You sat turned to face him, back towards the window of the car. Sean faced forward and stole sideways glances while you talked.

“So what does a young lady with a Masters in Art History do fer livin?”

“I want to restore old paintings at the Met in New York, but I'll probably be stuck here in Portland till I'm thirty. What about you, think you can bypass a degree and still be a photojournalist? Maybe and Irish Ansel Adams?”

Sean laughed, “How did you know any of that?” He looked directly at you with a gleam in his eyes.

“You really don't remember me do you?”

You took a chance and slid your hand into his to prevent him from picking at a loose thread in his shirt. Sean easily enclosed it without hesitation.

“Mostly!” Cheek hidden in his smile. “I just thought something about ye clicked in my brain. Can't figure out why, but was hopin’ going out with ye would jog my mind. Is t’at ok?”

There was no time to answer. Soon enough you were back on campus. You talked Sean into some french fries and corn dogs before tugging at his hand excitedly.

“Ok, the Ferris Wheel! Let's do that first? We should be able to see downtown, and it'll be dusk by the time we get on.”

Sean hesitated as his eyes glanced up towards the top. A flash of nerves behind his eyes, but he gave up and shrugged. Obediently following you in line while he ate, a bit sullen.

Surely the guy who just fought a fire hydrant and a cop wouldn't be scared of heights, you thought. Then you flashed back to that day Freshman year and Sean's panicked voice in the dark. His ragged breath and palms that sweat through your tee shirt as he held onto your shoulders.

You shoved a cheese fry in your mouth as the line staggered forward slow and steady. The conversation had died quite suddenly, but you knew you had to take the chance. Cheesy romantic comedy as this all was, who doesn't want to be with a hot guy alone stuck on a ride?

“Uh y/n?” The giggle was back in Sean’s voice now as you broke from your reverie. “You've got some..” His thumb swiped at the corner of your mouth before he lifted it to his own. “Cheese.”

“Thank.. you?” The tension was silent and awkward.

Then, as the two of you simply stared at each other, Sean let out a sound somewhere between a strangled laugh and a snort. It was infectious, and you instantly joined in. That type of laughter you aren't sure how people achieve, but it leaves you breathless and annoying to everyone in your sight.

“I don't know.. why..I licked.. my thumb,” he wheezed around the most childlike giggle. “It was like a weird compulsion.” The way he said the word came out like “way-rd,” and instigated more laughter from deep inside you.

It seemed to ease Sean’s apprehension as the two of you began to board the ride, though. A calm coming over him as you both quieted down. He white-knuckled the bar as it clicked into place over your laps. Eyes wide as it lurched into motion.

You brushed your fingers tentatively over his clenched fist. Sean had a glazed look in his eyes as you slowed and stopped multiple times. You inches towards the top. He really was frightened.

“I've just gotta get over this. I'm confronting my fear is all.” He sounded so serious with a hint of pride, you stifle a chuckle with a bite of a lip.

Sean peered slightly over the edge of the car and looked downwards. Then it halted suddenly and he grabbed your hand and covered it with his massive one. You squirmed around to hold it properly as he squeezed his eyes shut. The car swung back and forth a bit on the precarious side, even for you. One last time, and it would start spinning in its giant lackadaisical circle.

Forward. Pitch to a stop even harder than the last few. This time Sean buried his face in your shoulder, and you relished this surprising role-reversal. But then he looked up at you in the most serious manner.

“Have you always been this beautiful?”

At the same exact time you said:

“First claustrophobia now heights”

You both sat up straight and gaped.

Again simultaneously.

“How d’ye know I'm claustrophobic?!”

“Did you just call me pretty?”

For the moment, Sean was no longer afraid. Your sentiment about his fear distracted him long enough that he loosened up immensely. Long fingers scratched at his mess of curls while deep in thought. Your eyebrows knit together in confusion, heart beating wildly in your ears.

Sean tugged at his chin with a forefinger and thumb. Obviously deep in thought as he gazed off into the sky. It was like a lightbulb finally popped on over his head.

“Jesus (jaysus) Dr Bacher’s photography course. Freshman year!”

You smiled, “By Jove I think he's got it!”

“T’at’s how ye know me. We got right stuck in that darkroom door. It was like a pitch-black tube really. Man I bloody well panicked.”

“I thought you were screwing with me at first! Your hands were so sweaty my tee-shirt was wet from where you were groping me. I kept thinking how every single girl in our class would've killed our professor to be stuck with the hot Irish guy. All that heavy breathing, my teenage brain thought it was sexual tension.”

“I was 18 wedged in a small space with a cute girl. It was claustrophobia, but it was also sexy.”

You bit the inside of your cheek and smiled. The two of you ignoring the ride and it's slow rotations. Still holding hands.

“I don't think I imagined that..” you struggled with the next line.. “parts of you were totally poking into me.”

Sean's mouth dropped open but he repeated his prior sentiment. A bit higher pitched. “I WAS 18 IN A SMALL SPACE WITH A HOT GIRL!” His lilt was more pronounced.

“Who gets a fear.. boner,” you rolled back into the hysterics from earlier on the ground.

Sean's face a deep crimson as his mouth tightened into a straight line. He looked away, but you knew he was playing along. Those eyes betrayed him with a hint of a smile.

“You told me if I got us out you’d take me on a date.”

“I said I'd kiss ye if we got out alive. Never knew how long it’d be til someone found us.”

“You did!” you agreed excitedly. “The door just needed hoisted up and back on the track. Which I did! Then we stumbled out and I practically threw myself in your arms for that kiss.”

“Wait, did we?” Sean turned back to you as the Ferris wheel slowed to another stop. Neither of you remembered it moving.

“No. Stupid ass Derek Sandoval was in the classroom waiting for you.”

“Oi! Watch now, he's still my mate.” Sean's turn to tease now.

“I bet he is.”

The two of you sat back in the car. Your fingers still entwined but the fright had melted away. Sean let out a long steady breath as he really looked out on the carnival and the multicolored lights as they danced around you. The stars blanketed the sky.

“Sean?”

His face heavenwards. “Yeah y/n?

“I think you owe me a kiss,” your words soft, almost a whisper.

Sean’s gaza came back down from the clouds. The music and noise from the crowds seemed to fade away as your breath caught in your throat. Without a second thought, he let go of your hand and put his arm around you. That soft mouth leaned over and almost melted with yours. Your bodies enveloped in a hug as Sean slid the tip of his tongue between your lips. Your own darted forward to fight with it.

Then the car hulked into motion again and you broke apart. A smirk on Sean's face revealed a dimple, and you joined in with a grin of your own.

“Well, that was worth a four year wait.”

Tag list: @joz-stankovich @robertsheehanownsmyass @magic-multicolored-miracle @elliethesuperfruitlover

#robert sheehan #sean falco #sean x reader #fluff!!#sean x request

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mor-beck-more-problems · 3 years

Text

Reading Rainbow || Morgan & Leah (feat. Sundew and her pixie troop)

TIMING: Current

PARTIES: @phoenixleah & @mor-beck-more-problems

SUMMARY: The White Crest Supernatural Literacy Initiative has its first test run. Results are....mixed.

Pixies fly in the sky I can go twice as high Just take a look It's in a book A reading rainbow

“Are you sure you’re good to go?” Morgan asked, rocking along the edge of the woods. She had secured her keys and phone to her carabiner and tucked everything else she needed in her knapsack: water, taser, knife, snacks, offerings, stationary. She’d asked Deirdre for advice on what pixies liked best. She’d gone through her checklist, and she had a good feeling about this expedition. The fae were so insular and some of the smaller of the bunch, so underserved by the world. Living out in the wild, away from even an Aos Si, surely they could use a leg up for when they had to deal with humans, or if they wanted to engage with the rest of supernatural society. Literacy had been Leah’s idea, of course. But while she had seemed plenty excited by it when they’d talked, Morgan still worried about that knack for suppression she’d mentioned, and the wolf injuries that were only just healing. Was this too much too soon? Was she being a bad friend for not waiting longer?

Morgan squinted behind her over the glare of mid-morning sunlight. Her friend’s hiking bag was at least half her sized, packing everything from a small library’s worth of board books and mini books, to shiny offerings, to camping equipment, including a tent, for some reason. She was one strong wind away from being knocked over, and Morgan couldn’t help but laugh a little. “We can always come back if you’re not up to it, or if you feel like you uh, need more supplies before going in.”

Leah looked over at Morgan, adjusting the bag over her shoulder with a determined nod. “I’m fine, really”, she said, although her eyes didn’t quite meet her friends. She was fine, right? She’d gone out plenty of times since her incident with Ada, and physically, she was fit as a fiddle, thanks to Nisa. Still, it seemed every time she ventured out lately- first with Nicole and then with Kaden, she was faced with another monster attack to deal with, all before fully processing the trauma of what happened with Ada. But she wanted to be over it- an encounter with a monster was never much of a bother before, and she was determined not to let it be now. “I’m fine”, reiterated. “I’m excited, actually… I really think we could do something good here.”

They had been talking for months about spreading literacy around White Crest, and so doing it here and now was the perfect way to clear her mind from all the annoying anxieties that seemed to be popping their way in these days. She shook her head playfully, a smirk playing on her lips. Nicole, too, had something to say about the size of her bag. “It never hurts to be prepared”, she said, holding up her hands in mock defense. “I’ve genuinely thought of everything, Morgan. There’s not one thing we could go back for.” As they walked toward a small picnic table in the distance, she glanced at her friend again, smiling softly. “Besides, it’d just be rude to back out now, don’t you think?”

“No, I don’t, actually,” Morgan said. “I can handle this just fine on my own if you wanted to take it easy for today. I know you’re all shiny and healed, but that doesn’t mean you have to go running into the trees to look for pixies.” But Leah seemed sure, and they did have all the supplies they needed, and then some. “Come here,” she sighed, reaching for her friend’s hand. “Thank you for doing this with me. Lets poke a little way’s into the trees, okay?”

She squeezed Leah’s hand, securing her grip, and walked to where nature clustered the thickest.

“Oh no!” She called. “I think we’ve already lost our way back to the park! I sure hope no one comes to try and take advantage of us! Don’t you?” She winked and Leah, encouraging her to add to the ruse.

Morgan’s insistence that she didn’t need her help was sweet, but Leah didn’t want to miss out on an opportunity like the one they were about to take. Maybe Morgan could handle it on her own, but Leah needed to be there, for her own mental health. She took a deep breath, stepping forward slightly and letting Morgan’s hand wrap around her own. She was fine. Her eyes were alert for any tiny creatures buzzing by, knowing that in order to teach a pixie to read, they’d have to find one first.

She nodded at Morgan with a smirk, her eyes becoming comically wide and her arms outstretched. “I do hope we do not run into any tricks, dear Morgan. We are just two small friends, trying to find our way home! However will we solve this predicament?” Her voice was a bit too loud to be believable, but she was really committing to this act they were putting on. “If only there were someone to play a game with us!”

A high pitched giggle emerged from behind them, followed by a slight rustling of the brush. She pressed her lips together to suppress a smile, glancing at Morgan to see if she’d noticed.

“What’s that?” Morgan said, still exaggerating her voice for the benefit of any pixies hiding deeper in the trees. “Did you hear something? It sounded kind of scary, don’t you think?” She turned and started walking backwards, nodding encouragingly at Leah. “I think I’ll stop and have some of this candy to make myself feel better.” She slung her bag to one shoulder and took out a bag of candy fruit slices, crinkling it as loud as she could.

A hum of fluttering wings tickled her ears. Morgan turned. “Hello--?”

“GOT YOUR NOSE!”

The pixie was so close, she could only see a glowing blur of pink and green. There was a quiet pop like bubbles bursting under fingertips and then a gory impression of Morgan’s severed nose appeared in the pixie’s arms. She flitted back, cackling so hard with delight she started flying in backflips.

“I’ll take that!” Another pixie squeaked. The fruit candy bag was ripped from her grasp and plunked to the floor. Morgan turned, dazed, and saw two tiny sets of legs sticking out of the opening and kicking to find their balance.

“Wha--oh, Stars!” Morgan felt for her nose, just in case. She wasn’t sure if she got to grow a new one if anything happened to it.

“Made you look! Willowbud, look how dumb she is! I made her look!”

Sighing with relief when she felt it, Morgan finally let herself laugh. “You sure did! That was--whew!--some big magic. But I have much better candy if you and your friends will talk to me.” She grinned slyly at them. “And I have it on some very good authority that it’s one of your favorites.”

Leah followed Morgan slowly, her eyes still wide with fake fear, trying to grab the attention of the pixies that were sure to be nearby. “I am feeling very, very scared right now, Morgan. Thank goodness you brought so much candy to keep us well fed and nourished.” There was somewhat of a robotic tone applied to her put upon acting voice, but she felt it was doing the job all the same.

It was fascinating to be able to watch the pixies from so close, and she savored every moment, hoping she could remember it all to document later. She had seen a few as a child, and read about them tons, but being this close was a real treat. She wondered if the excitement shone on her face as much as it fluttered in her heart.

Strands of her hair floated above her head, and she heard the faint buzzing of wings as another pixie held it up, pulling and prodding as if it were the most interesting thing the pixie had ever seen. It flew directly in front of her face, it’s glow shining bright on her nose. “You’ve got a stain on your shirt!”, the pixie squeaked, pointing down toward Leah’s chest. She looked down, mocking shock, before it flew up playfully, poking her in the nose. “MADE YOU LOOK!”

The other pixies erupted in fits of giggles before marveling at Morgan’s news, all rushing toward the candy offered to them. Leah, for her part, got to work on setting up the mini chairs and table she’d borrowed from her niece’s play set, a perfect size for the pixies before them. “You can even sit down, if you’d like!”, she offered, grinning slyly and excitedly at Morgan. This plan might actually work!

Morgan eased to the ground, tearing open a handful of pixie sticks and hold them out. The pixies abandoned the candy fruit slices and flitted over, pulling at their favorites and dousing themselves in sugar.

“That one’s mine!” One of them cried.

“I saw it first!” Said another one.

“It has my name on it! See? It’s Appleseed!”

“They all say the same thing!”

“It’s okay, I have enough colors for everyone!” Morgan said. “But maybe one of you can tell me what these words on the candies do say?”

“Why? Don’t you know, Dummy-Boob?”

Morgan squinted. There was something strangely familiar about this one, the way she fluffed her pollen-strewn hair or flew a little ahead of the others, like she was the boss, or the name she called her. “I asked you first,” she said. “What’s your name, anyway?”

“Sundew,” the pixie said. “Can I have yours?”

“No. Deirdre told me all about your little tricks, and she would be mad if you used our friend offerings to trick me. You wouldn’t make a fae mad on purpose, would you?”

The pixies swarmed into a tittering argument about whether Morgan could possibly mean their Deirdre, and who had last visited her and knew how she was doing, and could they trust this human to know anything about her?

“Not a human,” Morgan tried to interject. “And you can call me Morgan, and you can call my very good and also not-human friend here, Leah!”

“Oh! The Morgan Thing! Yes, yes, yes, I knew it all along,” Sundew said. “I remember you! Your face still looks like a Dummy Boob, but I guess since you gave us Pixie Stickses, you’re good for something.”

That was definitely not how to pronounce Pixie Sticks, but Morgan could see the mistake froSundew flew lazily down to the doll furniture and started munching on her treats. Only then did the other pixies join in. If Sundew thought it was alright, then they could enjoy what was being put in front of them. Morgan side-eyed Leah. She had never been especially good at speaking queen bee unless she was bartering something she knew was wanted, and how were they supposed to convince the pixies that this was a ‘them’ thing?

Leah had no doubt that Morgan would be well versed on how to deal with the pixies, especially after she avoided Sundew’s trick about names. She chuckled at the attempt, observing how the other pixies deflated with disappointment as Morgan refused.

She smiled shyly at the pixies as she was introduced, offering them a small wave as some of them swarmed around her in curiosity. “Morgan’s good for a lot of things, actually”, Leah said, noting how much the other pixies seemed to follow this Sundew’s lead. If they needed to get through to any of them first, it was definitely her. “If you think her Pixie Stickses are good, just wait until you get a look at her flowers and cakes.” Locking eyes with Morgan, she sent her a quick nod, a plan quickly forming in her head.

“Here’s the thing, Sundew. These human treats that the Morgan thing brought?...”- she glanced at Morgan at that, amused, before continuing. “...there are tons of them, all over the world. And they’re totally delicious, right?” The pixies around them tutted tiny noises of agreement as they munched on their own, and Leah sat down on the grass before she continued on, planting a dramatic, sad look on her face. “The problem is that Morgan thing here only brought us the very best tastes. Some of the tastes of the treats? Just awful. You get your tongue on one of the bad ones, it’ll be the only thing on your mind for weeks!”

Dramatic gasps erupted around them, and Sundew seemed to lean forward in her tiny chair. “There’s only one sure way to know which taste you’re about to get, Sundew, and that’s being able to read what flavor treat you’re about to eat.” She sighed dramatically, sitting back on her hands in the grass. Maybe, if Sundew thought this was her idea, she’d actually go for it. “Do you know how to read, Sundew?” She stared at the sky as she asked, as if the question was as casual as asking someone if they knew how to ride a bike (reading was obviously much more important).

“Of course I can read, Lee-lee,” Sundew said, puffing out her tiny, glowing chest. “And I can write too! Which is more than a dummy boob can do. How else would I know it says pixie stickies?” She proudly rippled open a blue pixie stick and dumped a heap of it onto her face to wipe and lick off her face.

“Okay, well, what about you?” Morgan asked, pointing to another pixie. “How do you know which one tastes the best?”

“Your face knows which one is the best!” Sundew interrupted.

“Obviously red always tastes best,” the other pixie said. “That’s why I get all the red ones.”

“See? We knowsy-knows everything we need to, Morgan Dummy Boob,” Sundew said. “You can tell Deirdre thank you for all her presents and I got that sexy spriggan’s number for her just in case she changes her mind, you’re welcome very much for--”

“Okay, moving on!” Morgan said, growing shrill.

Another pixie flitted up to Leah, pulling on her ear to get her attention. “Do you have any more of the stripey ones with the crinklies? I love the minty ones so much, they’re so good, and the stripes are so pretty and then if you get them sticky, you can put them under people’s fingers and toes and make them scream and it’s sooo much fun.”

“What’s this?” Two more said, picking at the doll furniture she’d brought. Together they pulled up one of the tiny cabinets with mini books and spun it around before letting it fall and tumble on the ground. Then up again, and down again, higher, letting the doors snap on their fragile hinges and all the carefully assembled books fall into the dirt.

“Oh, but you wouldn’t want to make people scream, would you?” Leah chided, tilting her head to the side. “That wouldn’t be very nice.” She was too focused on the pixie in front of her to notice the rumblings of Sundew and some of the others, who conspired with tiny whispers and giggles behind her.

Leah let out a sharp gasp as her ear was yanked, the action taking her off guard and causing her heart to flutter. She closed her eyes and let out a breath, and a flash of snarling, hungry werewolf teeth snapped into her vision. She had sworn that the flashbacks were over with, that they’d no longer be disrupting and distressing her at the drop of a hat, but somehow, she kept being proved wrong. Opening her eyes with a start, she swallowed a hard lump in her throat, attempting to focus all of her energy on here, on now, on this.

She reached into her bag, about to feel around for another candy cane to hand over to the small fae with some more coaxing toward reading when the commotion with the doll furniture caught her attention. “Don’t!, ...-stop!” All that hard work, all the arranging and careful planning she’d done, it was a waste if the pixies weren’t going to take it seriously. She reached forward, ready to pull the furniture away from them and carefully piece back together, but the pixies were quicker than she was.

“Don’t stop? Okay, we won’t!” one of them giggled, picking up the nearly destroyed, tiny books and dropping them again and again.

She pushed herself up into a standing position, determined to snatch the books and furniture away from them for good, when the pixies who had been conspiring behind her let out another raucous round of giggles, and Leah only realized why when it was too late.

In a matter of seconds, they had managed to tie her shoelaces together, causing her to tumble back toward the ground with a scream, landing on her hands in front of her with a grunt. Her mind flashed again, and suddenly, she could feel herself tumbling down her hall stairwell with the wolf, breaking and bending and bruising something new with each passing moment. No. No no no. She didn’t want to break anymore, she needed to get away and find a way out and-

“I think we do want to make people scream, Lee-Lee. Even not-human people, like you!”

She wasn’t in her house, it wasn’t that night, everything was healed. So why did she still feel so broken?

As she attempted to push herself back up, the pixies swarmed her, tugging at her hair, her ears, her fingers, her clothes- anything they could to elicit more silly screams and prove their point. Tears stung at her eyes, but she was essentially useless against their tricks, and even as she successfully pushed herself up into a sitting position, they continued to taunt her.

Morgan tried to shield Leah with her body, but there was no point when the pixies could fly over and around her to keep pinching, pulling, and laughing at Leah. “That’s enough!”

“You’re right, we should move onto tickle torture!” Sundew squealed.

“No, that is not what I mean--”

“But she’s so funny when she screams!”

“I know, a-and I understand that but…” But what? What was more important to a pixie than tormenting someone for fun? Panic tensed through Morgan’s muscles. She couldn’t hurt them. She couldn’t scare them. “WHAT IF I KNEW A BETTER WAY!” She shouted. “I know a better way to mess with humans!”

The pixies didn’t stop, but they did look up with eager faces, and some paused in pulling on her hair.

“It’s so fast, once you really know how, and the humans make it so easy, they won’t even know it!”

Sundew folded her arms and flitted up to stare Morgan in the eyes. “Oh, yeah? And what’s that?”

“I won’t tell you anything about it until you leave Leah alone.”

Sundew didn’t seem to like putting a stop to her fun, but she and the other pixies came to the same conclusion with one exchange of looks. Yes, finding easy ways to trick the humans did sound like more fun.

One by one they let go of Leah and flitted over to Morgan and as they each crowded around her vision, she realized that she had no ideas in her head but one, and she would have to hope very hard that this went over very well. “I--need you all to come over here and give me a little space while I show you.”

She took out a notebook and one of the markers she’d brought and wrote very carefully, one word on each set of lines. She was tempted to add an artistic flourish but remembered from her friend crying behind her that these pixies were not as child-like as they seemed, and she wasn’t in the mood to have her art critiqued. “Okay,” she said, donning her teacher-voice. “Can anyone tell me what this says?”

Silence from the pixies.

“This is a way to get humans to do almost anything you want,” Morgan said. “If you can get them to say this or agree to this in writing, You can have so many kinds of fun. Better kinds. And, it works both ways, so you should probably know how to read it.”

“That doesn’t look like anything so special to me,” Sundew said, glaring skeptically.

“We can break it down. It’s definitely a long phrase. You all know the first word, right?” They did. “And the second one?” Only Sundew knew agree, which she was very proud of. But when they got to terms and conditions, the little pixie folded her arms and stuck up her little nose.

“If you’re lying about these words, you’re going to be in sticky-sticky trouble,” She said. “No one gets away with lying to pixies.”

Morgan held out the marker to her. “If you really think I’m lying, then you should be able to check the box without any worries, shouldn’t you?”

All the pixies looked at her, waiting to see what would happen.

“I could tell you first, though, if you want to trust me,” Morgan said.

Sundew got as far as hovering the marker above the checkbox before her doubt came in. “Fine,” she huffed. “What does it say?”

And Morgan told her which each word meant, one by one, helping the others sound it out slowly. “Alright, so put together what does that mean?”

“I agree to your terms and conditions!” Willowbud cried. Her face fell as she realized what she’d said. “..Oops.”

“That’s okay, Willowbud. I release you,” Morgan said. “But you see, you don’t have to speak words to make them powerful. You can do all kinds of magic if you learn to write them down and leave them for other people to find. And there’s even more words than that out here. I could teach you some more of them, but, I’m definitely going to need you to do some things for me first.”

Sundew reluctantly agreed and the rest of the pixies let out the rest of their enthusiasm. Morgan would exchange one lesson in exchange for staying on task while they were in the learning area, which would be in her garden next but might change and be established by her later. And she would get one favor for releasing Willowbud so quickly and recognizing Sundew as her very special teaching assistant. When this was settled, Morgan helped the pixies gather all their candy into the spare dinner napkin they’d brought and waved at them as they flew away, carrying the stash between them all.

When the pixies were gone, really, completely, and not even in earshot gone, Morgan sagged on the ground with relief and crawled over to Leah. “Hey…” she said gently. “That was uh...pretty wild huh? Definitely not how I planned to do things. Are you okay? I brought some first aid stuff, if they did anything to you. Is it okay if I take a look? Leah?”

There was no end in sight, no stop to the pulling, and picking, and flashbacks. The torment- it was everlasting, even with Morgan’s muted voice in Leah’s ears trying to talk the pixies down. But the endless did have an end, even in the darkest of moments, and slowly but surely, whatever Morgan was saying seemed to lure them away.

As soon as it was possible, Leah pushed herself up, crossing her arms over her chest and walking briskly away from the group to lean against a nearby tree, trying to steady her breathing. The trees around them, despite staying in the same space, felt like they were closing in on her, inching and inching until she’d soon have no space left to breath. Suddenly, she was pinned under the wolf again, with no way out of the darkness that encompassed them. There was a sweat above her brow that hadn’t been there earlier.

Why did she still feel like this? Why couldn’t it just be over? She knew she was safe, she knew a bunch of pixies couldn’t hurt her- so why did her brain keep insisting on flashing back to that one, fateful night?

Something in Morgan’s tone shook her out of her thoughts, and Leah’s attention was turned back to her friend and the pixies, who were now surrounding Morgan. How much time had passed since she walked away from them? It had felt like hours, at least, but the position of the sun suggested it had merely been a few moments.

I agree to the terms and conditions.

Suddenly, a new wave of panic bubbled up inside her at what Morgan was saying, at what she was doing, and she closed the distance between them in a flash.

“Morgan-”, she warned, but it was too late- the pixies were already fluttering away with satisfied grins, clearly already planning the tricks they’d play with all they’d learn from Morgan. Her body slunk back down to the ground, in shock and disbelief at what her friend had just done.

“What did you just agree to?” she asked, her eyes wide and angry. Her voice sounded foreign in her ears. It was raspy and uneven and held emotion that she was not yet ready to let spill over. “Why would you… They’re going to torment the whole town, Morgan! Do you have any idea how dangerous what you just did is? How much damage it will do?”

She ignored Morgan’s offer of first aid, too enveloped in the thought of what the pixies might do with all they were about to learn. She was fine. She told Morgan as such, crossing her arms over her chest again.

Morgan flinched back, bewildered. “What did I--” Leah didn’t look tormented anymore, she looked furious. Instinctively, Morgan inched further away. She replayed the last few minutes, but the only thing she could see as wrong was abandoning her friend for so long. But she couldn’t have done things any faster. Or if she could have, but she didn’t know how. “I--I did what I could. I negotiated a no mischief or violence in the learning area agreement so this doesn’t happen again! I got them to leave you alone! What do you mean damage? They--it’s gonna be fine. They’ll have to write a whole lot more convincingly than Sundew’s chickenscretch before they can scam the town into hopping on one foot til they pass out.”

She still had this impulse that she should do something. Her bag was close by. She should check Leah for injuries, right? But stronger than this impulse was her confusion. “I--don’t understand what’s happening right now, Leah. You need to tell me what’s happening because I don’t--I-I know it wasn’t great but isn’t this what we--what is it you think I should be doing?” Morgan finally met her gaze, her look accusing through her hurt.

This was too much. There was a thought, somewhere in the back of her head, that maybe Leah wouldn’t be reacting the way she was if she hadn’t just been tormented by the pixies- if she hadn’t spent the last few weeks tormented by nightmares of being attacked by werewolves, and tiny snowmen that liked to stab your ankles. If the town hadn’t been plagued with people falling into sleep and never woken up again. “And you don’t think they’ll find a way around that? They’re pixies, Morgan. They’re known for their tricks! Giving them the power of those words is like tossing a lit match into a dry forest. They’ll learn… they’ll teach each other, and handwriting be damned, they’ll torment the whole damn town with this.”

She held Morgan’s gaze for a moment, her breathing shallow and heavy, before sucking her teeth and looking at the ground below them. “I don’t know”, she muttered finally, her voice small. “I don’t...know”. A panic began to rise in her chest, building and building in neverending wave of worry. “Everything feels like a big deal, Morgan. Everything feels like it’s about to come crashing down, all the time and all at once. I can’t differentiate between real danger and everyday mishaps, I can’t-...” She let out a sob and put a hand over her chest, struggling to catch her breath.

“No! They’re not going to take over the world! And what’s wrong with appealing to what they like? We’re not here to change them or make them like humans! I don’t--I don’t--I---” Morgan sputtered, quivering as she tried to assemble the pieces between them faster. Her mind whirred in place, nothing made sense, nothing fit. Weren’t they supposed to accept supernaturals the way they were, as long as there wasn’t recreational murder involved? Sure, the pixies might get up to some intense stuff, but education wasn’t about programming people to be like you. The pixies would always be themselves, that wasn’t something to fix.

But Leah breathed, and then she quieted, and then she cried, and then she panicked. Panic, Morgan knew how to handle.

“Hey. Hey, Leah...can I come close?” She inched towards her, hands in plain sight. “I just want you to breathe with me. You know all about breath control, yeah? It’s, um, it’s actually a nice game to play when your lungs don’t regulate themselves anymore because you’re dead.” She let out an uneasy laugh, unsure if levity was something that would help at a time like this. “Breathe slowly with me, and tell me how you feel.” Tentatively, she reached for Leah’s hands and tapped the familiar rhythm on her knuckles. “In, hold, out. In, hold, out. Where did you go, when they hurt you? Come back to me, help me understand…” She kept tapping, kept breathing, and strained all her dead senses toward the earth, searching for more answers.

Leah’s ears felt like they were clogged, and Morgan’s words were far away and muffled, and she could barely make them out. But she continued to hold her eyes, silently pleading with her to help stop whatever magic the pixies had sprouted that was making her lose her breath. This had to be the pixies, right? But then Morgan was requesting to come closer, clear as day, and Leah did what she could to let out a nod. Breath control. Yes. It was one of the first things she learned as a child in phoenix training. Controlling your breath was often the first step in controlling your fire, or even in focusing your heat. Focus, focus ,focus.

She tentatively let Morgan take her hand- it had felt like an anchor on her chest, as if before Morgan had reminded her about breath control it was the only thing keeping her grounded. In, hold, out. It was hard, now, but she kept trying. In, hold, out. Focus. In, hold, out. “I-I...my house, that night…” In, hold, out. She was here, not there. There was far away and gone and didn’t exist anymore, right? “...with A-...with the, ...werewolf”. She let out another sob, squeezing Morgan’s hand tight. “I… it’s still… I can’t stop…” In, hold, out. In, hold, out. “I thought I could… be over it. I thought I could forget. I can’t even get myself into my fucking guest room to clean up the mess we made, I … I can barely sleep through the night without waking up with a start thinking she’s there again, I…” She looked at Morgan again, clinging to her for answers, or comfort, or anything. “...I can’t stop feeling like this.”

“Oh, Leah,” Morgan whispered. She pulled herself closer to her friend and put her free hand on her shoulder and tugged, gently. You can fall, she wanted to say. I’ve got you. Let me catch you. I’ve got you. “Keep focusing. In, hold, out.” She did it with her even if her lungs didn’t need the exercise. “You’re with me now. You’re not alone. I’ve got you, and I’m not going to let anything happen to you. You’re safe now, Leah. Keep breathing with me.” In, hold, out. In, hold, out…

Steadily they went, one round after another, and all the while Morgan told her I’m here, you’re safe, I’m here. At last, when the worst seemed to be ebbing away, Morgan said, “You can’t hide from it, Leah. It’ll just jump out of the shadows at you like this. Love sorrow. She is yours now, and you must take care of what has been given.” She reached up to comb her fingers through Leah’s hair. “I’m sorry. I am so, so very sorry you must carry this with you. That you can’t pretend like it never happened, that you can’t go back to being someone this hadn’t happened to. But you can control it, if you look at it, if you hold it long enough, you can keep it calm and quiet, and one day it won’t be so big or so heavy.” She tugged on Leah again, urging her into her arms. “You have to be the one to decide, though. We don’t have to talk about it right now if you don’t want to. Whatever you need is what we’ll do. I am your friend and I love you and I am here for you as much as you’ll let me.”

In, hold, out. It was helping, Leah thought. In, hold, out. It seemed to be helping. The breaths started entering her lungs more willingly, although the pit in her stomach didn’t cease. And she let herself let go. For the first time since the incident, she let herself be cradled and held and cared for. It wasn’t to her sister, or Bea or Jas, who’d all offered countless times to help her pick up the pieces, but it was here, with Morgan, in the middle of the forest, when her resolve finally cracked. It felt ironic, but she didn’t know why. She listened to Morgan’s words, her voice grounding and soothing as she let herself be pulled back to earth. As she was wrapped into Morgan’s arms, she closed her eyes, her breathing finally… finally feeling steady enough to speak.

“I don’t know...how to look at it”, she admitted, anxiety bubbling up in her chest again. “I-... I’m so used to… I know about the supernatural, you know? I know how to d-deal with them, and handle the dangerous, and help them, and I thought that if something like this ever happened, I wouldn’t be so… sh, so shaken by it.” She let out a quick breath, bringing her hand up to wipe away at the tears that were falling down her cheeks. She swallowed a hard lump in her throat, slowly sitting up and pulling away from Morgan, a bit embarrassed at the whole ordeal. “I didn’t mean to yell at you”, she told her friend, catching her eyes.

Morgan bundled Leah into her arms as tight as she dared. She would have fallen to the forest floor with relief if she could have. Leah’s cries sounded as though they broke her body on the way out, as if her pain had become an invisible creature, clawing its way out. Morgan did her best to soothe the monster away with soft hushes and circles rubbed into Leah’s back, but that was only a bandaid at best. “Hey, don’t worry about me,” she said, brushing the issue aside. “We don’t have to talk about that today. I know you didn’t mean it now.” She kept on, soothing Leah while she held her and hoping with all she had that her dead arms were enough.

“You’re still a person, Leah,” Morgan said into her shoulder. “You can’t theory your way out of being a person, or suffering. You can’t skip around your pain. And feeling pain, carrying suffering, doesn’t make you any less strong or kind or wise, Leah. You are still every bit as valuable, as yourself, as you ever have been. And it’s so hard to feel that sometimes, I know. But nothing is going to be taken away from you if you look at it. If anything, Leah, you will understand more and have an even greater capacity to help people who’ve been hurt after you face this and learn to carry it better.”

Morgan’s skin was an interesting contrast to Leah’s, her friend’s cool and icy while her own burned red hot with embarrassment and sorrow. It was soothing. She let herself sink into it as she closed her eyes and listened to the logic that was flowing around her. She had been so in her head about everything that had happened with the wolf, and all that had happened after too. The snowmen with Nicole, the ballybog and vodnik with Kaden, and now the pixies with Morgan- they seemed to all be adding to an ever piling list of emotions that Leah was determined to deal with in some sort of metaphorical ‘later’ that she would never let come. But now, Morgan offered an out- a way to start digging through the pile and know she could still be herself once she reached the other side of it. And what better way to start than to just… look at it? To see it, to relive it, so that when the flashbacks inevitably came again, they wouldn’t be so jarring or scary. The idea scared her beyond belief, but it made so much sense that Leah couldn’t deny it was a good one.

After a long beat of thinking and sighing and breathing again, Leah let her eyes lock with Morgan’s, wondering if they looked as vulnerable as she felt. “You’re right”, she said finally, her voice just starting to sound like her own again. “I… I’ve been working so hard on pushing it all back- burying myself in work and scribe things so that I could move on and forget about what happened… but how can I expect to forget about it when I’ve not even let myself really remember it?” As she spoke, she picked at the grass awkwardly, needing something to do with her hands. She was fully embarrassed at the scene she’d caused, even if it was just between the two of them. Because of that, her attention was brought back to the mess the pixies had left- the wrappers and doll furniture were strewn about the grass around them, left without a care in the world. “Perhaps we should start cleaning up…”

Morgan took Leah’s face gently in her hands and held her steady while they looked into each other’s eyes, gently and clearly. “So remember. On your terms. And it doesn’t have to be alone.” She stroked her friend’s hair as she looked at the mess around them on the forest floor. “That won’t take so long. I still have the store bags, we can put the wrappers in one until we find a recycling bin and put your niece’s furniture in another. Maybe order her some upgrades to make up for the damaged stuff.” She smiled, relieved and confident. “What I want you to do is think about where you want to go next. Anywhere in town, as long as it’s just for you. No tumbling back into work, okay?” Giving Leah one more knowing look, a gesture to show that they were really okay, Morgan reached into her bag and started scooping up the mess.

Leah let herself sink deeper into Morgan’s touch, losing herself in the sheer gentleness that was presented to her. She let out a slow breath and nodded. “On my terms”. As they cleaned up, she thought about what Morgan said. Normally, she’d probably head to the library basement after an encounter like this, and write down everything she could remember. But she wanted to be better- to stop feeling like the world might fall apart at the drop of a hat, and so for once, she opted to take a break and take Morgan’s advice instead. “Morgan?”, she asked as they picked up the last of the garbage, moving on to the tiny furniture. “Would you like to go to the movies when we’re done here?” She leaned down to pick up the small table, one of its legs barely hanging on. “The Nordica is showing old classics tonight… it might be fun.”

Morgan beamed down at Leah as she stuffed the last of the wrappers and tied off the bag. “Oh, yeah? Hmm, I don’t know…” She scrunched up her face, pretending to give it some very serious thought. “You, me, and the rom com double feature with Irene Dunne and Katherine Hepburn?” Then she burst into laughter and pulled her friend up with a helping hand. “I would be delighted, Leah.”

#reading rainbow #wr leah #wr chatzy #wr leah chatzy #wr pixies #wr pixies chatzy

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hotchscotchh · 3 years

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Reimagined; Chapter 9 - Aaron Hotchner

You cannot convince me that Spencer Reid is not a cat person.

Also, I made this gif?? I might do more. It was fun

Summary: Aaron makes a decision.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Spencer Reid

Warnings: ANGST, mentions of past drug use

Word count: 2k

Read on AO3

Chapter 8 ---- Chapter 10

Aaron Hotchner was disgusted with himself. He was disgusted that he let this happen to him. The he wasn’t smart enough, strong enough, to keep Foyet away from him and everything he cared about. Well, not quite everything. He still had Spencer. Kind of. He had yet to see Spencer since he left the hospital, both practically unable to function outside of their own apartments, whether it be from their ability to move around or the fear and paranoia that came with PTSD.

So, as a result of not really being able to do anything, Aaron spent a long time staring at his wall and thinking, his only interruptions being the rest of the team’s check-ins. They all made a point of stopping by his apartment every day. He hoped they were as consistent with Spencer, but he never asked. Dave brought him alcohol that he couldn’t drink because of the overwhelming cocktail of medication he was currently taking (some for pain, some for preventing infection, and a few for depression and anxiety), JJ brought Henry and a smile, it was nice for him to have the company of a child, no matter how much he wished it were his own. Emily brought updates about Foyet’s case, descriptions of what he was missing at the BAU. Garcia brought gift baskets, freezer meals, and books and movies to keep him occupied. He always enjoyed her visits the most, they always made him forget about what was really happening in his life, the reason for why she was there, even if it was only for a few minutes.

Derek Morgan, though, his visits were almost depressing. They came with a frown and constant reassurances that he had checked on Reid today. That he was healing well. That he would get Spencer to pick up the phone and call him one of these days. At first, Aaron didn’t understand why Spencer wouldn’t call him. But then he remembered the decision he had made. He talked to Spencer once before he had made the decision, and twice after, all while he was in the hospital. Of course he had figured it out, the man was smart. A genius, actually, and one of the most adept profilers Aaron had ever met. Of course he had figured it out.

One of those days, after Derek had left (he was always the last to come see him), he made another decision. He was sick of the paranoia. He was sick of living with the decision he made as a constant weight on his shoulders. He knew that decision could change everything. No, it would. There was no doubt that everything would go to absolute shit after he acted on this, but it needed to be done. He was sure he would regret it in the future, hell, he regretted it now, but he hoped that, in the long run, it would be worth it.

----

Spencer spent his days after coming home from the hospital reading, watching Doctor Who, writing to his mother, he’d even picked up knitting (he was determined to make the fourth doctor’s scarf). He needed something, anything, that would distract him from the prison that was his mind. Anything to keep him from breaking down and becoming nothing put a sobbing mess. Anything to keep the intrusive thoughts screaming “you weak son of a bitch, just get the drugs!” out of his head. Sure, the visits from the other team members helped, but they weren’t there when he laid awake all night, willing the tears away from his eyes, knowing he was going to lose one of the last things that was keeping him grounded. The weren’t there when that fucking voice came back. He didn’t want the team. He wanted Aaron. But, with the decision he knew Aaron had made, he wasn’t going to get him.

The second week he had been home, Garcia made her way to his apartment with her arms full of another “just put it in the oven” casserole, a few grocery bags (he couldn’t see what was inside them, but they looked heavy), and a basket that had a blanket over it. She set the items down on the island in his kitchen and when he crutched over, he noticed that something underneath the blanket was moving. He had just opened his mouth to ask what the hell she had brought into his apartment when the basket meowed. It fucking meowed. He looked at Garcia with an expression that said, “I cannot believe you right now.” He lifted the blanket off of the basket and found a pitch-black kitten that he guessed to be about twelve weeks old staring up at him. He pushed his crutches to the side and sat down on one of his barstools. He stuck a tentative hand out, and stroked a cautious line down the thing’s body. He looked up at Garcia with his eyes soft. Penelope though he might cry.

“Can I pick it up?” he asked quietly.

Garcia matched his tone saying, “of course. It’s a her, by the way.”

“Is… Is she for me? Do I get to keep her?”

Penelope thought she might cry now, too. She could see the tears brimming in Spencer’s eyes. “Yeah, Spence. She’s for you.” After few moments spent just looking at Spencer holding this precious thing (the sight was almost too much for her, if she was being honest), she added “what do you want to name her?”

Spencer looked up at her again. This time a tear had fallen. “What do you think of Pluto? Like, from Edgar Allan Poe’s The Black Cat?”

The kitten was purring loudly now, loud enough that Penelope could hear it from the other side of the island. “I think it sounds perfect, hon. It sounds like she likes it too,” Penelope answered with a giggle.

Spencer moved to the couch when Garcia left, still holding the kitten, and was almost asleep when a knock sounded at the door. He looked at the clock. It was seven pm. No one ever came over that late. Normally, he would’ve just called out an “it’s open,” but he had absolutely no idea who it could be. He set the kitten on the couch and waited for it to settle into a blanket that was there before he got up and moved to the look out the peep hole in his door.

The absolute last person he expected to be standing there was Aaron Hotchner, but there he was. And he really shouldn’t be surprised. He knew Aaron knew he knew, and he thought they would just leave it at that. Skip the conversation. He didn’t want that pain. He opened the door anyway. Maybe he’d get some kind of closure, at least. A promise of return one day.

“Hi,” he said when the door was fully opened.

Aaron waved. Spencer turned and walked back to his couch, leaving the door open as the only sign of an invitation inside. Aaron followed him, closing and locking the door behind him (“damn PTSD”). He was going to sit on the couch next to Spencer, but stopped when he saw the kitten.

“What’s this?” Aaron asked.

“Pluto,” Spencer answered, “Pen brought her over earlier today.” He picked the cat up and settled it in his lap after resting the foot of his injured leg on the coffee table. Aaron took that as an invitation to sit down in the now vacant seat.

Spencer broke the silence. “I know what you’re going to say, and I can’t exactly say I want to hear it, nor that I agree with you.”

Aaron looked down at his hands, wishing he had something to do with them other than just letting them sit there. “I need to do this, Spencer. For my own peace of mind. He took my child away from me. I’m not going to let him take you too.”

“Aaron, do you hear yourself? That’s exactly what you’re doing! If you push me away, we’re going to lose everything we have. You’ll be feeding right into his plans, playing his game.” He didn’t expect to be this angry.

The older man had tears running down his face now. “No, Spencer, it’s not. I’m putting a stop to our personal relationship because Foyet is watching me. I know he is, and you won’t convince me otherwise. Don’t you dare say it’s my goddamn PTSD talking. I’m not crazy.” Spencer opened his mouth to interrupt, but Aaron put a hand up. “Let me finish before you say anything. I’m stopping this because he’s going to notice. Because when the rest of the team stops coming around my house every day and it’s just you, there’ll be a target right between your eyes. We always say serial killers are the best profilers. But, Spencer, if we stop this, and go back to what we used to be, just friends, then that target will disappear. You’ll just be another one of my team. I’d rather lose you as a lover than as a whole.”

Spencer’s anger had dissipated about halfway through Aaron’s speech. He looked down at the cat in has lap and reached his shaking hands up to forcefully wipe the tears from his face. Aaron reached over and pulled Spencer’s face up by the chin, forcing him to make eye contact. “Tell me you understand. Please.”

Spencer nodded. “I get it. I do. That doesn’t mean I have to like it.” He took a deep breath. “Just do one thing for me?”

“Anything, Spence.”

“Kiss me. Just one last time.”

Aaron nodded and leaned in slowly, giving Spencer a soft and passionate kiss, hoping his lips could convey how much he hated doing this better than his words could. They both had tears streaming down their faces when they pulled apart. Aaron stood, and Spencer followed. The pair walked to the door together, and Aaron opened it. He turned around just before he walked out and gave one last, “Goodbye, Spencer.” Spencer nodded and put his hand over his mouth, trying his hardest to hold in the sob threatening to escape. Aaron looked like he wanted to do anything but leave. No, he wasn’t Aaron anymore. He was Hotch. And Spencer was Reid. And here they were. Just two colleagues.

Aaron finally turned to walk out the door, and found himself face to face with Derek Morgan. If looks could kill, Hotch would be dead. He looked at the ground and pushed his way around the man, walking out of Reid’s apartment as “Aaron” for the last time. For now, at least. Morgan made his way inside. He had a litter box in his hand that he dropped on the floor before quickly closing the door the second he saw Spencer’s face.

Morgan moved to grab the man before him before he collapsed. He pulled him into a tight hug, his crutches falling to the floor beside him, that sob finally making its way out from behind his hand, his hands fisting in Morgan’s shirt. Morgan carefully maneuvered them to the floor, being extremely cautious of Spencer’s knee, and just held him. Spencer cried into Morgan’s shoulder for what felt like hours but in reality was probably only about fifteen minutes.

When the crying slowed, Morgan began to talk in a soft tone. “Penny told me about Pluto. I brought a litter box for you. She didn’t think of it before, and sends her sincerest apologies.” He took a deep breath, letting it come out in a sigh. “Do you need me to stay with you tonight, Pretty Boy?” Spencer nodded into his shoulder. “Okay. Let’s get that pretty face cleaned up and some comfy clothes on you. I’ll order some Chinese and we can watch one of your weird foreign films. How does that sound?”

“Good,” Spencer answered quietly, a weak smile on his face. Maybe things could go back to the way they were someday. He had to make himself believe that. It would keep him going.

Taglist: @wheelsup @endingsbeginnings (If you would like to be added to my taglist please send an ask/reply/dm! <3

#Aaron Hotchner x Spencer Reid #Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid #Hotchreid #Aaron Hotchner #Spencer Reid #Derek Morgan #Penelope Garcia #Jennifer Jareau #Henry LaMontange #David Rossi #Emily Prentiss #Criminal Minds #Angst #a lot of it #by a lot i mean a lot #im sorry for this #but not really #hehe #have fun

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wanderingcas · 4 years

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☆ for @cottondean, as a part of her benefits on my Patreon! thank you so much for your support:’) ☆ prompt: a college au where big, tough (*cough* softie) football player!Dean calls entomology major!Cas to come get a spider out of his kitchen because his roommate is gone

. . .

There’s a certain part of the quad that Castiel loves to sit. It’s a small field of grass with two large oak trees, far away from the busy shuffling of students walking from class to class. It’s the only patch of nature he can seem to find within a five-mile radius in the bustling city.

Before he buries his head into the textbook for his Insect Behavior lecture, he takes a moment to tilt his head back against the tree and squint up at the sun, shattered by the hundreds of leaves fluttering in the gentle wind. He takes a large breath and sighs. It’s the calmest part of his day. The only peace he can find with his back-to-back classes, labs, homework, and it’s just lovely to be able to sit and—

His phone buzzes obnoxiously in his jeans pocket. He opens an eye and glares at it. Closes his eyes and tries to find his peace again. The phone vibrates again, this time louder and more insistent.

With a sigh, he fishes out his phone and flips it open.

Hey, this is Cas, right? It’s Dean Winchester, we were in Biology lab together last semester. Okay this is a weird thing to text, but you like bugs and everything, right? Well I don’t, and there’s this spider and it’s HUGE like this might be a freaking tarantula and can you kill it? Kevin usually does but he’s out of town.

Castiel stares at the block of text. Another text message comes in:

Kevin’s my roommate. I should have mentioned that

He’s pushing the button to respond when another text buzzes in his palm:

OMG it’s on my cookies!! Wtf!!

“What the fuck indeed,” Castiel agrees in a low tone. He clicks the call button and holds the phone to his ear.

“Oh hey,” comes Dean’s deceptively breezy voice over the receiver.

“Dean?” Castiel asks. “Are you okay? Your texts seemed very… distressed.”

“Me? Distressed? No way. You can ignore that. I took care of it. I just—” Dean abruptly makes a very high-pitched noise.

“The spider is still there, isn’t it?” Castiel asks.

“It’s staring at me, Cas. I think it can smell fear.”

“Oh my god.” Castiel pinches the bridge of his nose. “I can be at your apartment in five minutes. Do you still live in the same room?”

“Yes,” Dean whispers.

Castiel stands and shoulders his backpack. “Why are you whispering?”

“Did you not hear me when I said this is a devil spider?”

Castiel sighs as he begins to walk to the Circle Apartments across campus. “Well, just make sure not to make any sudden movements, or it may think you’re prey to hunt.”

“Oh my god, Cas, why the fuck would you tell me—”

“I’m kidding,” Castiel sighs. “I’ll be there soon.”

Another text comes in as he ends the call. Charlie’s quick text flashes across the screen.

U @ the tree?

Castiel texts back, No. Going to help a friend.

ooOOO who??

Castiel glances around before typing out, Fall semester hot lab partner.

Rolling his eyes at the caps locked letters he gets back from Charlie, he shuts his phone. Telling only his best friend Charlie about his crush on Dean Winchester is already one person too many.

Castiel remembers Dean’s apartment’s location from the night they studied for the Biology lab final together. They had sat on Dean’s bed, listening to Led Zeppelin while Castiel quizzed Dean (being an Entomology major, he knew most of the material from his AP Bio classes in high school, so didn’t need to study as much). He still remembers the tint of blush in Dean’s cheeks whenever Castiel praised Dean for his correct answers.

“You’re actually making me think I can get this stuff,” Dean had said. “I always thought I was too dumb to get this science crap. Not a ton of time to focus on academics, with the football scholarship and all.”

“Of course you can get it,” Castiel said. “You’re far from stupid, Dean.”

When Dean had grinned widely at that, Castiel had decided that he’d love to put a thousand more smiles on his handsome face.

Castiel shakes his head as he climbs the stairs to Dean’s apartment door. He lost his chance with Dean months ago; he needs to remember that.

He’s barely rapping his knuckles against the door before it bursts open. Dean yanks him inside. “Hurry, it disappeared! I think it went under the stove!”

Castiel stumbles into the narrow hallway, catching himself with a hand against the wall. He stares at Dean, who is dressed in nothing but gym shorts and a thin white t-shirt, oven mitts on his hands and a colander on his head.

“What in the hell are you wearing?” Castiel asks.

“Defensive gear,” Dean replies, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Castiel blinks. “Um—”

Dean grabs Castiel’s arm and pulls him toward the kitchen. “C’mon, dude, it’s getting away!”

“Dean, it’s not going to hurt you,” Castiel says as he trips after him. “Most spiders in this region don’t even bite.”

“Yeah, most, but knowing my luck this one will.” Dean pushes Castiel forward, hiding behind his back. “Okay, now, go do your… bug whispering.”

“My chosen major does not mean I whisper to bugs,” Castiel says.

“You know what I mean. Go, like… beat it into submission.”

Castiel sighs. He carefully walks across the linoleum kitchen floor, careful not to step on the small creature in case it decides to run under his feet. He spots the spider climbing its way up the side of the stove.

“Hey, little one,” Castiel says softly. Based on the lack of distinct marks on its brown body, it’s likely a harmless cellar spider. Holding out his hand, he stops the spider’s trek with his fingers, cupping it in his palm. He ignores Dean’s horrified gasp behind him.

“You’ve had a busy afternoon,” Castiel murmurs to the small spider in his hands. He stands and turns toward Dean. “Can you open a window?”

Dean scrunches his face into a frown. “But it’ll just come right back in.”

“It’s warm outside. It’s likely that it’ll simply go look for food.”

“Ugh. Fine.” Dean tentatively steps past Castiel and opens the balcony screen door. “Put it out here, I guess.”

Castiel walks out onto the porch and carefully deposits the spider onto the railing. “Good luck,” he says as it scurries away.

“You’re safe now,” he tells Dean tonelessly as he walks back into the kitchen, sliding the balcony door closed.

Dean sighs and pulls off the oven mitts. “Thanks. I hate those things.”

“May I suggest that you may have arachnophobia?” Castiel asks.

“How can you not with those things?” Dean dramatizes a shudder. “They’re nasty.”

Castiel shrugs. “I think they’re quite beautiful.”

Dean gives him a strange look. Huffs a laugh. “You know, I forgot how quirky you are.”

“It has been a few months since our class concluded.”

“Yeah. I guess.”

Castiel pointedly does not mention, or think about, the awkward moment that made them stop speaking again after the end of the semester.

Dean waves a hand. “Well, anyway, thanks man. For helping me out, and all.”

The moment that Dean had leaned toward him on the bed, only inches between them, his eyes closing—

How fear made Castiel quickly jump off the bed, avoiding the kiss at all.

“It’s no problem,” Castiel says quickly, shutting off his line of thinking. He avoids looking at Dean’s lips. “I should probably get back to studying.”

“Oh, yeah. Sure.” Dean rubs at the back of his head. His hair is sticking up wildly after taking the colander off his head. “You know, I’m in another Biology class, actually.”

Castiel’s eyebrows raise. “Oh really?”

“Yeah.” Dean grins. “Kinda was inspired by you, actually. You made me like that last class, so I thought… why not another one?”

Castiel feels something in his chest lighten. He smiles. “Oh, that’s—that’s good.”

They both stand awkwardly, staring at their feet. “You know—” Dean says as Castiel begins, “I should—”

Dean smiles. Castiel hides a laugh behind his hand. “You go,” he says.

“I was just gonna say, uh—” Dean waves a hand toward the living room. “I was actually about to study, too, if you, well… want company?” He quickly adds, “I can make you dinner for helping with the spider, too.”

Castiel says, “I do remember your cooking being delicious.”

Dean’s face lights up with a grin. “So you’ll stay?”

“Yes. Besides, if any insects come flocking at the smell of food, I will need to be here to protect you.”

Dean rolls his eyes and aims an oven mitt at Castiel’s head. Castiel ducks, this time letting his laugh resound throughout the kitchen.

They barely get any studying done; Castiel doesn’t mind. He’s perfectly content sitting in Dean’s sunny living room, watching Dean animatedly show Castiel each of his records and ramble off facts over the booming bass. Castiel complains about his classes, propped against the counter with a glass of wine in hand, as Dean cooks pasta.

They watch Casablanca on the couch; it was Dean’s mom’s favorite movie, and coincidentally, Castiel’s. Not that they make it far; they’re in each other’s arms, kissing and ripping off each other’s shirts like their lives depend on it, barely five minutes into the movie.

Castiel is lying contentedly on Dean’s bare chest and listening to his heartbeat when he murmurs, “I hope more spiders come into your kitchen.”

He feels Dean kiss the top of his head. “Y’know what? Me too.”

. . .

☆my patreon☆ ☆my ko-fi☆

#destiel fic #destiel #THIS WAS SO FUN TO WRITE THANK YOU <33 #patreon prompt

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smolbeandrabbles · 4 years

Text

Trade Off - Andrew ‘Pope’ Cody x Reader (Animal Kingdom)

@wltz-bby @happyskywhale

@mandy23b - in advance please forgive this ridiculous little AU.🙈 GIF CREDIT: X

Author’s Note: Look - it’s my favourite scene in the whole movie, OK? Let me have this slight AU! But we all know in the happy universe in my head it all worked out after this right?

Also, for those unaware, yes... you can sing about stock trading! Imagine how happy I was to find fitting lyrics!

Disclaimer: AK has nothing to do with me / I really tried to gloss over/layman's terms stock trading... I don’t know if I did a good job / Lyrics & gifs not mine.

Premise: After Baz pitches to Andrew the idea of stock trading it’s clear his friend is fairly dismissive. Baz enlists your help to follow through...

Words: 4126

Warnings: Swearing / brief mention of drugs / Slight AU

_____

Your gonna break my bank before too long I'm taking out a loan But when you turn your kind of lovin' on Honey I just can't say no, no no no no no no

Your gonna break my bank before too long I'm running out of dough But when you turn your kind of magic on Honey I just can't say no, no no no

Maybe I'll play the stock market Put some money in my pocket Ain't no telling what your gonna need next I need to steal a Sherman tank Just to break into a bank All my buddies think it's funny 'Cause I'm spending all my money On some honey like there's something to prove 'Cause for a little of your lovin' There ain't nothing much that I wouldn't do It's a business doing pleasure, a business doing pleasure with you

---

With the amount of time Andrew and yourself seemed to be spending around each other these days, you weren’t sure why one of you hadn’t taken up permanent residence in the others home. That deduction wasn’t exactly fair – he was with you to hide from the police for yet another thing he’d gone and done (that you didn’t want to know about), and he wasn’t about to leave the house you’d just pulled up at. Maybe Baz would eventually be able to persuade him that living with you was the good idea, but you weren’t sure you’d be able to do it alone. Of course without Baz you wouldn’t be here right now with all your gear – but you understood why this wasn’t a conversation that could come through Andrew. He’d never talk about it, maybe bury it in the back of his mind and forget the discussion ever happened with his friend. Baz had got home and immediately called you, to try and keep the idea on the table. By involving you Baz would create two fronts for the same goal; perhaps you’d be able to collectively persuade something out of Andrew yet – out of this house and out of this life… You weren’t about to hold your breath. But you’d take anything as a start. When you reached the front door and knocked, you were surprised for it not to be opened by your partner (or his partner in crime). Andrew usually headed you off at the sound of your engine, instead you came face to face with a teen you didn’t recognise. He also clearly had no idea who you were, by the fact that he stood there blinking with a blank expression. You took a step back and surveyed the driveway; okay, one car was missing but you doubted that absolutely everyone was out at once. You wouldn’t expect Andrew to venture out under anything but the cover of midnight with the cops probably still out there looking for him… having said that, apparently the lead up conversation had happened in a supermarket, so what did you know. “Uh,” You turned back to him, looking super awkward and not at all a part of the house he was standing in, “hey. Are the guys in?” He straightened a little, “Uhm, some of them are y-yeah, would you like me to get them? I mean I can-” He pointed back, then squinted at you, trying to recall if he had ever seen your face and if there were a name to go with it. Concluding the answer was no, he asked the question; “Uhm, who..?” “Y/N.” Your eyes flicked behind him, “Though you can also hold that thought.” “I’ll take it from here, mate.” The teen turned to Andrew, a few steps behind him up the corridor, and also who you were now staring at. “Oh, sure.” His back up against the wall already let you know what the power play was. “Hey-!” You stopped him before he left, “What’s your name?” “…Jay.” “Jay? Jay… Jay…” You pondered for a second, because Andrew had mentioned this before, “Oh! Julia’s son! Yes! It’s nice to meet you, Jay!” and with a smile on your face, to Jay it was almost startling that anyone to do with this family – Andrew in particular - would give him such a thing. “You too, Y/N.” Andrew shot him a look that seemed to suggest he forget your name in the next 3 seconds or face consequences, before turning those blue eyes on you. “What are you doing here?” You kept your reply level to his blunt question. “You just left. Which I expected, but you left some stuff. Not why I’m here, though.” You indicated to the house, “May I enter?” Andrew took a step back and nodded, beckoning you forward. You looked left and right with an affirming nod that you weren’t followed and hopped inside, arms winding around him immediately. “Oh my god, Andrew, are you okay?” “Fine.” You closed your eyes, burying your face in his shoulder, waiting patiently until he returned your embrace, “I know it’s stupid,” you mumbled, “but every time I hear sirens, I…” “Don’t. Don’t do that to yourself.” He only murmured it, hand to the back of your head, “…Why did you come?” “Oh, well-” You didn’t want to pull away but you wished to explain, moving your laptop case around, “I hear you don’t have a computer – and failing that, I do have every decent stock trading newspaper you could possibly hope for!” Andrew blinked slowly a few times, bemused by your encouraging grin, “Baz.” It wasn’t a question. “Mhm!” “You’re both crazy.” You weren’t about to let him dismiss this, and followed him into the back of the house – by the looks of it only he and Jay were in, “Wait-! I thought it was a good shout! Will you at least hear us out?” “No. It’s ridiculous.” “Andrew…” He paused and turned to your defeated tone, “Humour me.” He sighed heavily at the look on your face, “Okay. Fine…” He held his hand out for yours, and you linked your fingers with a gentle smile, it was a start. Hopefully Andrew would be receptive to the rest of the information you had to impart. ***

You slid your laptop out of its bag and powered it on, Andrew sat tentatively next to you, clearly unsure about the whole thing. You were certain that by the time you’d talked him through this, and made it so easy for him to understand what to do, with Baz’s help you could turn the tables. You didn’t think this was going to be an overnight miracle, but if it did anything at all that would be an achievement.

As you waited for your own profile to load, you opened today’s selection of newspapers to the trading pages and lay them out in front of him. Right now they looked like a bunch of funny letters with green, red or black numbers. And occasionally a confusing looking graph. It wouldn’t be long before Andrew Cody was reading these like a pro. “Woah.” Andrew’s eyes flicked from the papers to your screen, and he jabbed the number in the top right, “What is that?!” You supposed to him ‘that’ was an eye watering amount of Australian dollars. “That’s how much my portfolio is worth right now. It’ll fluctuate but it’s always somewhere around there. I always tend to go safe - but that means buying high and usually they stay high. You can buy low and have something grow exponentially, but also risk investments blowing up in your face. As you’re starting, maybe you’d like to invest in a bit of both. It’s all a guessing game Andrew, so there’s no wrong answers. If I set you up a profile and get you started, you can do it at your leisure. If you don’t want the hassle of a computer, then it’s as easy as collecting a paper, I can manage your portfolio for you. Or you can go the other way and pay someone else to do it. And if you trust them, then it’s as simple as giving them your money and they make the trades for you. But that’s maybe not so much fun if you’re looking to make a living out of this, which you certainly can. It’ll give you something to do, at least.” “Yeah, but how does that work? How do you make money?” You supposed you were happy that he had questions, and was cutting straight to it. You’d expect nothing less from this Cody. “Two ways. Your shares pay out dividends to you – i.e. a share of company profits - a few times a year, best to spread your portfolio over companies that pay out in different months to have a steadier income! Or you buy low, sell high as you can, or buy high sell even higher and make money like that. Then you keep the money or invest it, so on and so forth.” Baz had explained to you that he'd put thousands into this and was making good money and that he’d mentioned this to Andrew, met only with confusion. It was your job to untangle that.

You pointed to the number he was still staring at, “If I sell everything I have right now, I can have that in the bank, right? Instead I get paid steadily throughout the year. If you’re gonna make a living out of this,” you made sure to give him a look that would get Andrew’s stare back on you, because you meant it, “you’ll probably want to do a bit of both.” “Where am I getting the money for this, exactly?” You folded your arms, he surely had money of his own but you wanted all this to be as clean as possible, “If you’re prepared to take this seriously, I’m prepared to front you the money. I can make recommendations too if you want that. But I was gonna help you pick a few out for yourself...” “I don’t even know where to start.” Andrew’s voice strained for a second as he ran a hand through his hair, blowing out a breath. “Baby, baby...” The last thing you needed was for him to start winding up on you, you took his hand “that’s why I’m here. We do this together, slow or fast as you like, okay? Let’s see what you like the look of, alright?” “...I- I don’t know...” “Andrew.” You moved your hands to his thighs, face close to his, “This is yours, you’re not expected to be an expert overnight, but you have help now. This is a real chance for you... and I know that counts for something. You can’t want to spend the rest of your life like you have the past few months?” You didn’t want him to either, and as he turned from you again you scraped your nails through his hair, as if to tuck it back behind his ear. Andrew’s blue eyes searched your screen for an answer, hand laying on top of yours, not holding you, but still there. “Hey, maybe you and Baz can go into trading together.” You thought that might have been Baz’s idea and motivation anyway, and if Andrew had someone to do this with, in times that you weren’t around, that might help his desire to be involved. His eyes returned to yours, this look hard and piercing, like you were insane. Andrew instantly began to set you straight: “You really think this is just gonna end?” “No.” And that was the truth. You knew better. “But I’m optimistic that it would wind down and you can change.” “It’s too late for that.” “No. It isn’t. Andrew you can’t write yourself off. No one else has - we’re here and we believe in you.” Baz and yourself, your family… The people that really mattered, the people who would actually support him. This time you linked his fingers with yours, “Baby, I want a future with you... I’m scared that one day someone is going to turn up at my door and tell me you’re dead.” It was obvious how serious you were by the tone of your voice, that little waiver you weren’t holding back. “Y/N...” “Andrew, I will beg you... please just- have a go and think about it, and I just- I don’t want to lose you.” He looked back to your portfolio - as if a bunch of numbers and charts and virtual money was going to give him all the answers. But how could it? How could this be the key to the way out of the life he was living? He didn’t see it - and yet you and Baz so desperately believed in this. Andrew didn’t want to let you both down, and yet maybe he could get a kick out of proving you both wrong. Crime was the only way... but crime isn’t the only way... Heck you already had tried labouring the point that drugs wasn’t going to cut it with you. But there were track marks still in his skin, weren’t there. You couldn’t save him, but you tried so hard... you probably deserved him trying. “Okay.” His voice was quiet, but he looked back to you with a nod, “Show me.” You explained it all in as basic layman’s terms; most important to you was that he didn’t have any excuses for not being able to follow though once you left. You taught him how to read the numbers and exchange names in the paper first, green up, red down, black unchanged. That as long as he had noted what he bought them at he could always make sure to sell at profit. Then you spent a little while setting up his profile on your website and Andrew began trying to figure out where he wanted to invest the money you were saying you’d front him. You had a lot of fun watching him scrunch his face in concentration and try to reason out why he should invest in this particular thing. Some of it was way off, but you guided him - he’d get it, of that you were certain. Andrew was sharp, this was all new. You wouldn’t be surprised if later tonight you got a call: Y/N, I can’t sleep but I’ve been thinking about these investments and... You kept flicking back to your own to show him that he could start with what looked small and yet end up with something like this relatively easily, and you knew Andrew was starting to get it when he could interpret a graph without you telling him what it meant. And there was a hint of enjoyment on his face when you would smile and nod and say, “Yes exactly!”

The next time you heard footsteps, Baz was the one waltzing into the room. “Ahhh! Jay told me you two would be hiding someplace and HOLY SHIT-! Is that an investment portfolio!?!” He jogged his friend’s shoulder, “Oh, so it’s hard if I ask, but when your girlfriend pulls up you can put one together, huh!?” Andrew tipped his head, pushing Baz back, “You’re in this together, don’t give me that bullshit.” Baz cackled and hugged you, “Ah! That’s my girl-! You got him invested in you yet?!” “No, that could go wrong, very wrong. I didn’t even mention my company.” Andrew’s eyes flicked between you, causing Baz to smirk, “There you go Pope, you can get your criminal activity in there instead-! Invest and break the law! And you don’t even have to go outside to do it!” “Don’t encourage him!” You folded your arms, mouth open in disbelief - the goal of this was the complete opposite! This was Baz’s big plan, what was he doing!? “What?” “Insider trading.” You turned to Andrew, “Like, buy shares of my company and, as CIO, I tell you when you buy or sell depending on what we’re up to that will have the stock market value pushed up or down.” “Oh, you can do that?” And then at the look on your face Andrew changed track, “But it would be illegal. I get it. Can I invest in your company though?” “Knock yourself out, but I’m not telling you anything!” “This is your chance to have her never talk about work to you ever again, Pope! I’d take it!” “Shut up!” But there was even a small amused smile on Andrew’s face as Baz laughed this time around. “See all you need is to know some people within companies and you can do insider trading all over your portfolio!!” “I thought we were getting out of crime not getting you in more trouble!” “I’m trying to encourage him!” “Can’t believe I’m about to say it’s better than drugs, but we are not starting with insider trading! Oh my god-!” “Ah! But it is better than pushing drugs! Right Andrew?” Andrew looked to you, and you dare him to say it, “She thinks anything is better than drugs.” “I cannot believe you two.” You turned back to Baz, “Leave right now-! Before he latches onto this...!” “I was only kidding!” But he motioned to leave anyway, grabbing Andrew’s shoulders again, “I know she’s joking but seriously no insider trading, mate, you’ll lose her!” “I’ll lose my job too probably!” “Ah-! Yeah, definitely not-!” Baz waved, “See you later, happy investing!” Then turned back, “Oh yeah! Pope, remember to make sure that portfolio also supports your uptown girls’ lavish lifestyle!” He looked directly at you, tongue in cheek. “WHAT?!” “Gotta cost to run a Lamborghini everywhere in your designer heels and purse, darlin’.” You let Baz know you were not impressed, but that only made him laugh as he started back down the stairs. Andrew watched him go with a shake of his head; “He’s a fucking moron.” “His heart is in the right place.” You mused, turning back to your partner, “Yours is sometimes, too.”

Before long Andrew was leaning on his arms staring at your computer screen with a blank look on his face. You thought that meant that his interested attention on this was just about over. You made sure your movement was slow as you ran your hand up his arm and shoulder, stroking his back gently before sifting your fingers through his hair. Andrew’s eyes remained on your screen as he blinked slow, but the quiet hum you pulled from him was enough; he was content. When you moved to shut everything down, he simply nodded and let you continue to stroke his back for a few minutes; he closed his eyes, moving his head to rest across his arms and you knew Andrew felt safe, he trusted you enough to simply do that. Baz gave you a general call soon after: “Kids! We’re eating if you wanna come grab something.” Andrew was slow off the mark, wanting to stay with just you for a little while longer, but when he followed you downstairs, Baz and Jay were out of the way of the main room and kitchen. You sat yourself up on the counter as you both continued your conversation, sometimes with words and sometimes in silence but fluid, there was no break in communication, not even once. Andrew remained as close to you as possible and you ate in comfortable silence, still content to sit up on the counter. He seemed a little too into touching you today, nearly always keeping a hand on one part of you – you were prepared to call him possessive; it was surely Jay’s presence making him do this. If not you’d welcome a change up, but you highly doubted that after all this time Andrew would do such a thing. You let him if only to revel in the attention, making sure to afford him affection back, hand over his, or touching him in the same place. All very delicate – and yet kissing you was a step too far, no matter how close he got. You’d persuade one out of him eventually, you were sure… You spent a little time after that talking with Jay and Baz, glad that the other three weren’t present. Although not entirely sure why, also not eager to find out. Andrew’s participation in the conversation barely registered, attention on you the whole time. Today not hard to keep, and very much wanted. If only you could guarantee such a thing more regularly… and yet maybe if Baz and yourself managed to achieve something, and start something here, perhaps you really could. Eventually your mobile rudely interrupted you. “What? No! Stay!” Baz protested. “Much as I would love to,” you glanced to Andrew, “and I really would – David’s in town so I gotta go meet him.” “David?” “Brother.” Andrew answered for you. You noticed how it never quite got back to his family that your foster brother also happened to be a cop. Long may it remain that way. “Aw, bring him here!” “Uh. NO.” You waved that one off quickly, “It was lovely to meet you Jay! Baz, a pleasure as always!” “No worries – I’ll call you later this week, yeah?” “You may.” You gave him a wink, as if he needed your permission, and collected your bag before Andrew walked you to the door. “If you need me to get you a computer-” He made a sound of discontent, “Let’s just- see how it goes. Okay?” “Alright, but I’m here for you, you know that, right?” “Of course I do.” He gave a nod, “I said I’d try. I’m not breaking a promise to you.” Try was a big word, Andrew was always trying for you… You just wanted something to stick now. You prayed it would be this. His hand remained in yours until you got to the outside door, where you swivelled back to him, gathering his other hand. “Thank you, for hearing us out on this.” “Save that for more than day one.” “But there’s a day one!” You beamed, “That already means more to me than you can imagine.” Andrew gave a nonchalant shrug, but he could imagine, quite clearly. You pulled yourself into him, brushing your lips gently to his. As he wasn’t being so generous with his kisses today, you were content to leave it as just that. Instead Andrew let your hands go and locked his arms behind your shoulders; keeping you against his lips, Andrew’s kiss became fierce. Oh, you’ll kiss me like this now your nephew isn’t in sight, huh?! But you wanted it; pushing your body up against his you wound your arms around him, fingers tangling back in his hair as he coaxed a gentle groan from you. Of course that was what Andrew wanted, by the way he smirked into the kiss. He pulled back, leaving you a little wide eyed and whiney, automatically craving more than that – and trying to catch your breath without panting too hard. By the way his eyes were studying your face (and liking what he saw), Andrew was clearly going to leave it there and took a step back as if to prove it. “Will I see you later?” It took a moment for what he’d said to register, “Uh, I… We’re having dinner, but as far as I know he’s driving back. Do you want me back… here?” “Call me when you’re done. I’ll see where I’m at.” “O-Okay…” Your head was still swimming from the kiss, and he shook his head slowly at you, granting you a single chaste one for balance, and as a mercy. You almost verbally thanked him. You took Andrew’s hand back in yours to walk those final two steps out of the house and the door, before turning to say your final goodbyes. Probably not for the day, maybe you’d get to see him later on. Hopefully he’d make good on that kiss – there’s no way Andrew didn’t know you didn’t want to leave him now. As you walked towards your car he couldn’t resist calling after you: “Don’t forget to keep me up to date on what you’re doing before you report to the street!” You couldn’t help but burst out laughing as you slid into your car, “Hell no, Andrew Cody! We aren’t doing that!” As you buckled up and started your engine he strolled over, so you wound your window down, “What?” He leant on your car door, “I did want to thank you for coming up. On account of everything else you do. Take care of yourself.” You rubbed his hands affectionately with a small smile, “You don’t have to thank me verbally.” Evidence, that’s what you really wanted. “I will, make sure you do too. No insider trading! I’m serious!” “No promises. Say hi to David.” You rolled your eyes, “Yeah, he’s exactly the kind of person who’d pick you up on it… Stay safe, at least until I call you again.” Andrew gave a nod, but it wouldn’t surprise you if his fingers were crossed behind his back as he stepped away from your car, hand raised. You waved back, taking a deep breath. One step at a time… You could do this, the three of you could do this if you worked together… It would be worth it; the road might be long but the destination was worth getting to. If Andrew could see that. He will, one day he will… You smiled as you pulled from the curb, you had faith, you believed in him. You had a future. There was nothing else worth believing in.

---

Thank you for reading! 😘😘😘

#Animal Kingdom #Ben Mendelsohn #Andrew Cody #Pope Cody #Andrew Pope Cody #186 #Andrew Cody x Reader #Andrew Pope Cody x Reader #Pope Cody x Reader #double-meaning title!#I think he looses the Ben element just once here #and I also realise how much of this is her initiating affection which goes back on nearly everything said previous... but it works for this #Elaiyna #Probably the more realistic way of how Elaiyna would meet Jay for the first time #Oh yeah David is back!#AU because Baz is alive and obvs in my head Andrew does this for real and we get a nice ending #Because honestly this is not a relationship I want to tear apart. But I don't see how they can work out either #Learning with Linzi: Stock Trading

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artificialqueens · 3 years

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Down with the Recipe, Bake from the Heart, 6/10 (Taywhora) - Juno

Chapter summary: For alternative ingredients week, the bakers are challenged by a vegan signature, a gluten-free technical, and a dairy-free showstopper which will threaten to derail them. Meanwhile, Aurora is confused by Tayce’s seemingly opposing actions. Bimini’s motives are a mystery to everyone in the tent. And Lawrence’s strange avoidance of Ellie may send her to breaking point.

WEEK 6: ALTERNATIVE INGREDIENTS WEEK

All of Aurora’s side had moved up one space following Asttina’s unexpected elimination last week. Now Lawrence was at the front of their row, with Ellie behind her and Aurora behind Ellie. On the other side there was Bimini at the front, followed by Tia, then Veronica, and Tayce at the back, still on her own as Aurora’s side dwindled each week.

It was the halfway point in the series, and Aurora wasn’t nervous any more.

Screw that. I’m Star Baker. None of them had better mess with me.

Five more episodes to go, and only four more eliminations. It almost felt like the home stretch.

Aurora was a little taller this week, letting her gaze drift around the much-emptier tent, wondering who the three finalists would be.

Me and Tayce for definite. But who else?

Bimini and Ellie had a badge each, while Tia, Veronica and Lawrence were yet to win one. But Asttina had won the first week and gone home.

Besides, they all had strengths and weaknesses. Ellie couldn’t get consistent in Technicals, but always made up for it with her Showstoppers, a seemingly boundless imagination in that head. And Bimini had been fair, not bad but not great; but they’d won Bread Week. Anyone who watched more than one season of this show knew that winning bread week was basically a Willy Wonka golden ticket to the finale.

Then again, Veronica was a great baker, and she had yet to have a disastrous round, even though she hadn’t exactly done anything groundbreaking either. And Lawrence was consistently in the top half of the pack, and Aurora thought she could have won Bread Week too - if Bimini hadn’t pipped her to the post.

That just left Tia. Tia, who could bake an amazing, light-as-air cake; whose rainbow-iced biscuits were just the right ginger flavour; and whose bread was delicious - but whose bakes always looked like she’d sat on them before presenting them. Great taste, but appalling presentation.

If she starts nailing the looks of her bakes, she’s gonna win a badge.

Still, badges didn’t guarantee you a place in the final. Asttina had already gone home; someone else with a badge might do the same this week.

What if it’s the Star Baker curse? Coming back to take us badge-winners out one by one? Maybe it will be badge-less finale?

But Aurora pushed that thought away.

There isn’t a Star Baker curse. That was just some previous seasons. You don’t win Star Baker and get eliminated the next week any more.

Bimini was grinning from ear to ear, and Aurora realised why - it was alternative ingredients week, and there was definitely something vegan in the pipeline for Bimini to excel at.

——

Signature: 6 vegan mini quiches.

“Prue and Paul would like you to make six vegan mini-quiches this week. Now, these are not quiches made out of vegans, but quiches made with no animal products at all - no dairy or eggs.”

“And of course the filling must also be vegan - so no meat or cheese for the flavourings.”

Aurora grimaced. Here we go.

This was the week Aurora had been dreading. She’d tried to make vegan cakes and gluten-free treats for her work with the shelter, but they’d almost always failed. She’d sworn off making anything for her best friend Blake, who was celiac, telling him to go find a professional baker.

“But that’s you!” He’d protested, nudging her as she declined to make him a birthday cake last month.

She’d sighed. “I’m not that good, mate. I don’t really want to kill you.”

He’d tilted his head. “Bit rich to think you could get rid of me that easily. If you kill me with a bake, I’ll just come haunt you. Rattle some chains at you like I’m fucking - Marley or whatever his name is.”

Aurora sighed at the memory. Trust Bookworm Blake to bring up a Dickens reference.

Once Matt and Noel had announced that it was time to start baking, Aurora grabbed the ingredients she needed and ran her pencil back down her recipe again. The dough for the pastry cases was straightforward enough - she had to replace the milk, but there were plenty of replacements, and Aurora had opted for oat milk, which she’d read was best for vegan baking.

The real challenge, and she thought everyone was thinking the same thing, came to the filling. She had her pastry cases ready to go in no time, but making the filling eggy but also egg-less would be the biggest issue.

God. What do vegans do about eggs?

“You alright, babes?”

Aurora met Bimini’s hazel eyes as they stood, leaning on their elbows at Aurora’s workbench.

“What - what are you wearing this week?” Aurora said finally. Bimini’s outfit this week was a red and silver jumpsuit under the plain beige apron, causing an absurd clash of colours. “You look like a can of Coke.”

“Oh, this old thing? I found it in the back of my wardrobe earlier this week. Nah,” Bimini waved their hand, “it’s a replica of an outfit Noel wore when he was in The Mighty Boosh. You know, that comedy show he did? You never seen it?”

“And he wore that?” Aurora nodded. “Okay. Well, I guess it looks as if it will repel food if you spill it on yourself.”

“You alright, anyway?” Bimini switched straight back to concern, a concern that Aurora was unsure was real.

We’re at mid-point. Is this some kind of game plan that Bim has?

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“You sure? Because baking something vegan is normally weird enough for people when they don’t have any vegans in their lives, but like, when it has to be egg-less, people tend to lose their minds a bit.”

“Well -“

Aurora faltered for a second too long; and that was enough of a cue for Bimini to round the corner of the workbench and sift through Aurora’s ingredients.

“Hang on. What are you replacing the egg with?”

“Uhm,” Aurora held it up. “Silken tofu. I thought I’d blend it and use that for the filling.”

Bimini gave a low whistle, nodding and evidently impressed. “Good choice! You just have to make sure you blend it so there’s no lumps. Whizz it up really fast. Give it a splash of oat milk too, you don’t want lumpy quiches. Oh, and if you have nutritional yeast, it will give it a really good flavour.”

Before Aurora could say another word, Bimini had skipped away to Veronica on the other side of the room. “You alright, babes?” She heard them say to her.

“What’s Bim doing?” Aurora asked Ellie as they went to the tea tent together.

Ellie shrugged. “Don’t know. They came over to me earlier and gave me some tips on the egg mixture.”

“They did the same thing to me! Did it help you at all? Are they - d’you think they’re playing the game?”

“Weird game to play,” Ellie shook her head. “And my egg mixture seems to be alright. What I’m wondering is when are they gonna make their own quiches? They’ve spent twenty minutes coming and looking at all ours instead.”

But when Ellie and Aurora went back to the tent, Bimini had put their pastry cases in the oven and was doing some sort of rap and dance with Noel, the cameras trained on them both.

This day is just getting strange.

While her own pastry cases were baking, Aurora watched the judges approach Tayce, who was a little behind the rest of them, still moulding her pastries into the cases and preparing the beads at the bottom of them to keep their shape whilst baking.

“Morning Tayce!”

Tayce blinked, for a second in a dream, before putting on her winning smile. “Bore da, judges! Fancy seeing you here!”

“Tell us a bit about your bakes.”

“Well,” Tayce leant over the workbench, surveying them through her eyebrows. “I’m making some mini quiches flavoured with onions, tomato, and broccoli.”

“What’s inspired that then?”

Aurora’s heart stopped beating for a moment as Tayce paused for a couple of seconds, and then chuckled, a strangely sad sound, her head suddenly dropping to hang.

She straightened back up, putting the winning smile back from where it had slipped.

“Makes me think of my Pops. Out in the allotment, digging around for onions and potatoes and all that stuff, he liked to bring me along and gave me a little trowel and let me dig for worms. He’d say, Oh, they’re good, worms, good for the earth.” Tayce paused, tentative, before her next words. “Would have been his birthday today.”

“That - all sounds very nice,” Prue said gently. “Best of luck! Can’t wait to taste them, Tayce.”

And they were gone, going out the tent to grab themselves a cup of tea for their own break. Tayce stared straight ahead for a few seconds, before biting her lip, turning her gaze down to the onions she was about to start cutting.

Aurora realised her own hand was on her chest, at the base of her throat.

——

In spite of the ingredients being a little unorthodox, not what she was used to at all, Bimini’s tip for blending the tofu worked surprisingly well, and when Paul and Prue had both praised her tomato, spinach and olive mini quiches - not Aurora’s idea, one her nan had told her to do to be ‘more posh’ - Aurora realised with a rush that almost everyone had had some good critiques this week, mostly on the quality of their egg replacements.

And they’d all been based on Bimini’s good advice.

Handshakes were being dished out like Oprah’s cars. Lawrence got a handshake, then Veronica got a handshake, then - Aurora gasped - Tayce got a handshake, looking flustered for the first time since Aurora had known her, with a high-pitched giggle that Aurora was unfamiliar with, and a gasp of “Who, me? Like this?”

“Contest seems to be heating up,” Aurora said, as they sat in Carr Hall’s common room during the break. “And we thought you were trying to sabotage us, Bim!” She said as Bimini approached them, grinning from cheek to cheek, a pile of mini quiches on their plate.

“I’m just happy I get to try everyone’s this week,” they replied, picking up one which Aurora recognised as her own, and biting into it. “God. It’s so harsh seeing loads of cakes and stuff each week and only being able to try your own.”

“I’ve tried vegan baking before, it just always goes tits up,” Tayce piped up, coming to sit down. “Like me on a Friday night. It goes flat, or it goes wonky donkey, or it falls over.”

“Is that the cake, or you on a Friday night?” Bimini nudged Tayce with their foot; Tayce responding by slapping their arm.

“Hey! Cheeky bitch. Bet I’m not the only one.”

Tayce was laughing and joking as usual, while Aurora couldn’t help chewing her lip. It was a little uncomfortable, Aurora found, being around Tayce right now.

Last week had been the strangest week yet. She’d found herself floating through it in a mixture of fun at flirting playfully with Tayce, a little bit of pride at being the centre of attention for once, and trying to let herself enjoy the baking in the same way she did when she baked for her friends - filling it with love and good thoughts and positivity.

And it had worked. A bright badge in the shape of a dessert sat on her chest.

But the day of the Showstopper, things felt distorted again.

She’d known this whole flirting thing was meant to be a play for the cameras. That was what Tayce had implied only two weeks ago, that their romance was mainly for on-screen. But last weekend, Tayce in her bed, warm and secure and silent, was heavenly; both of them comfort for each other during this time, and Aurora dared to hope that Tayce might be starting to feel the same way as she did …

… until she’d woken up the next morning to find an empty bed, a cold spot where Tayce should have been.

And then again in the evening, just the two of them. Tayce hadn’t even responded to her kiss, instead opting to leave straight after, as if she didn’t want to be around her at all.

Aurora didn’t understand, all her thoughts about what was going on and what this blur from fake flirting into actual closeness was … tangling into one big worrisome knot that occupied most of her mind.

Does she have any feelings for me at all, or … is this fake-flirting thing a really elaborate scheme to distract me and get me sent home?

——

Technical: 12 Gluten-free pitta breads

“Any tips for the bakers this week, Paul?”

“Yes.” Paul straightened up. “The ingredients are there to be used.”

At the relative silence throughout the tent, Matt shrugged. “Alright then. That’s nice and clear. They have to leave the tent now, so goodbye judges!”

Once the judges had gone, and the Technical had been announced, Aurora shut her eyes, her fingers drumming on the workbench again. Gluten-free pitta bread? This week was going to be even more hell.

She focused on making notes on her instructions, and once she’d got her ingredients into the KitchenAid, she was starting to feel a little calmer, as she did once things were starting to move. She was running her pencil down her notes when her thoughts were interrupted by a voice in front of her.

“You alright, babes?”

She looked up to see Bimini leaning over her workbench, chin in their hands. Aurora tried to hide the frown. Again?

“Hi. No - no. I can never get gluten-free baking right. My best friend is celiac, and I haven’t managed to make anything he can eat that doesn’t look like a mess.”

“More xantham gum than you think,” Bimini muttered with a wink. “That’ll make it less crumbly. Oh, and if you rest it, it will help the bake.”

When Bimini skipped away again, over to Tayce to most likely give her the same tip, Aurora stared dumbstruck after them for a good ten seconds before shaking her head in wonder and adding another teaspoon of xantham gum to the dish.

“Did he say they wanted six pitta breads?” This time it was Ellie’s voice that made Aurora look up.

“No - twelve.”

“Ah - alright.”

Aurora concentrated on kneading the dough, trying to give it as much air as possible, when she was interrupted again, this time by a gentle but familiar hand on her shoulder. She turned to look at Tayce, who held a cup of tea in her other.

“Thanks.”

The cameras were absent, pointed at Bimini and Noel doing some dance at Bimini’s workbench, rapping along to something.

“You looked like you could do with some tea. Giving that dough some welly, aren’t you?”

Tayce’s voice was strangely subdued, her fingers twisting in front of her. She took a deep breath, closing her eyes to savour it. “I love the smell of dough. Makes me think about my nana’s house. She was always baking stuff. Her whole kitchen smelled like a bakery.”

She was stopped in her reminiscing by Ellie knocking her baking tray to the floor with a crash. Pushing her hair behind her ears, Tayce nodded to Aurora.

“Right. Well. Better get back to it.”

And Aurora stared at her retreating back, wondering what had come over Tayce today. She wasn’t really as flirty, more … caring, even bringing over tea for her. This whole arrangement was just getting more confusing. It was supposed to be fake, but now lots of threads of what seemed like care were starting to entwine themselves into the knot her mind was in.

I just can’t think about Tayce right now. It’s too confusing. Focus on pitta bread.

By the time Aurora was laying out her pittas on the baking tray, Ellie spun round to her again, hands clutching at her hair.

“Is it six pitta breads?”

Why am I bloody Wikipedia all of a sudden today? And didn’t she just ask me this a minute ago?

“Eleanor,” Aurora said sternly, while Ellie grimaced, seeming to shrink slightly.

“I know, I know -“

“It’s on the top of the instructions as well - look - twelve pitta breads! I think you need a break or something, Els,” Aurora pointed outside. “Why don’t you take two minutes or something?”

But Ellie’s hands, still in her hair, balled into tight fists as she spoke, sounding a little hysterical. “I can’t - it’ll spoil - I don’t -“

“Ellie, go outside! Go on! You’re panicking!”

As Ellie marched past her outside, Aurora watched Tia, her breads already in the oven, rushing out after her. But Lawrence, in front of Aurora, simply glanced to the clear partition of the tent briefly, before turning back to putting her bread on the baking tray.

“Lozza?” That was Tayce, who had noticed the same thing. But Lawrence didn’t seem to hear her, even though everyone else in the tent did.

“Lawrence -“

“I’ll go get her in a tick, alright?”

Aurora swallowed, watching Lawrence as she arranged her breads, putting them in the oven, and she had no choice but to do the same; time was running out for them all.

It wasn’t long before Tia led Ellie back into the tent, arms linked, as Tia dropped Ellie off at her bench and stopped for a second to talk to her. “It’s just a bake, alright? Sometimes bakes go wrong for whatever reason, and that’s okay! Remember, you can only get better from making mistakes, alright?”

And Ellie nodded, grabbing her dough to shape into the pitta breads. Tia gave her one last squeeze on her forearm before heading back to her own bench to carry on her pittas, which were starting to look a bit flat.

Hopefully that will be the kick Ellie needs to turn this bake out.

When it came to judging, she sat with Tayce, who nudged her in the ribs with an oddly saccharine smile. Ellie still looked subdued on her other side, so she took her hand, rubbing it with her thumb, but to no reaction.

“In seventh place, we have this one, whose is this?” Paul motioned to Ellie’s plate, and Ellie defeatedly raised her hand no higher than her chin.

“Ellie - far too much baking powder in these, it burns the tongue - and a little bit over-baked, we expect them to still be soft in the middle.” Paul nodded to her, but Ellie just blinked in response, pursing her lips.

“And in sixth place -“

“Oh, that’s me,” Tia replied, raising her hand.

“Tia, these are burnt. I know you tried to scrape them a little so it looks a little bit better, but they cracked when we tried to bend them.”

“Okay,” Tia nodded, the earnest smile still on her face. “Next time.”

Aurora still cringed to herself whenever Tia said next time in response to her disasters. When in the name of Dawn French would she ever have to make gluten-free pitta breads again?

Maybe she has a bestie who’s celiac that she really wants to make some bakes for. Like Blake is.

The realisation stung Aurora harder than she thought it would. After all, she’d been wondering if she could make these for Blake one time. She leaned forward and saw Tia, no tears, no self-pity, graciously smiling at Veronica as Veronica tried to comfort her.

She never makes excuses. She’s never sorry for herself. She just … tries again.

Maybe that was it. This competition was about self-improvement, wasn’t it? Aurora pictured how happy Blake would be if she told him when she got back that she’d made something gluten-free and that she could now bake more things the same way.

How much she’d grown as a baker only in these six weeks.

“Whose is this one?”

Tayce was nudging her, and Aurora saw that Paul was behind her photograph. She raised her hand.

“Aurora - really good bake, well done. It just came down to the colour on this one. Which means the winner is … this one!”

Second in Technical! That’s gonna help at this point.

She joined the polite applause given to Veronica for her top placement, Veronica’s mouth agape in apparent shock. But as they all trudged out to the tent for their interviews, she watched Veronica spin in elation, her balled fists in the air to celebrate her placement, as if she’d expected it all along.

How much of any of this is real?

——

“Are they annoyed at us?” Veronica murmured, watching Tia and Ellie on their own on the opposite side of the room. They’d both opted to sit alone together, chatting quietly at first, both pallid and shaky, but now they sat silently, staring at the ceiling fan as it turned.

“I don’t think so -“ Aurora began, but Lawrence was chewing her finger again, and Veronica’s jaw twisted as she watched them. “I mean - you got top and third in Technical, you’re doing good - and they’re happy for you -“

“They don’t look fucking happy,” Lawrence muttered.

“They are, honest to God,” Aurora said, trying to calm Lawrence’s evident nerves, “but like … it’s hard, isn’t it, seeing people do better than you at this stage in the competition? We’re all here to win, at the end of the day.”

“We are all here to win, but …” Veronica trailed off with a sigh. “Me and Tia … we’ve really bonded.”

“You’ll still be friends afterwards! Or - y’know, whatever you two are.”

“What’s that meant to mean?” Veronica snapped.

“It’s pretty obvious to anyone with eyes, Veronica,” Lawrence added, “I don’t think you can really try to downplay that one.”

“Oh, right?” Veronica’s face grew redder with every second. “What about you then, Lawrence, if we’re bringing that up? You’ve been trying to avoid Ellie since Tayce said she saw the two of you canoodling after Asttina’s elimination last week!”

Lawrence’s jaw dropped open, and she frowned. “Canoodling? Did you really just say canoodling in a sentence?”

“I’m gonna go outside if you two are going to just argue,” Aurora muttered, shaking her head, standing to walk away from them both.

Her feet led her outside into the warm evening glow, watching the first of the stars come out into the deepening blue of the sky. The trees around the grounds caught the last orange light, a ring of fire, still a hot pressure cooker of a contest.

Aurora knew where Tayce would be. Through the grounds by the trees was a lake they’d found only last week, that Bimini had told her about, having found it on their morning run. And sure enough, she found Tayce on the bench, leaning on one elbow and kicking dirt with her shoe.

In spite of the confusion in her mind, Tayce still drew her in like a magnet.

When Aurora came to the bench, she startled Tayce momentarily, before Tayce’s easy smile came back, and Aurora sat with her, pulling her close into a one-armed hug.

“Hey.” Tayce gently disentangled herself, still not sounding herself. “Coming to see me?”

“I can’t stand being around those lot any more,” Aurora huffed. “I don’t know what’s going on with any of them, but it feels like you can cut the air in the room with a butter knife, for God’s sake.”

“They’re just annoyed because one of them is getting eliminated tomorrow.”

Aurora blinked at her strangely sharp words. Tayce scuffed the dirt with her shoe, turning to meet Aurora’s stare and to give her a reassuring smile, but it didn’t stretch to her eyes, and she looked as if she almost didn’t seem to believe it herself.

“You got a bit emotional earlier as well, when you were talking about your quiches.”

Tayce shrugged. “Yeah, yeah I did a bit.” She turned back away to scuff her shoe again, a little rougher than before.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

She shrugged. “Not much more to tell, really, just me and my Pops going to get veggies from the allotment. He had tomatoes in his greenhouse. And broccoli. He had loads of veggies.”

“Did he bake with you too?”

“Yeah. Actually, he liked making a quiche or two. Normally with ham, but he used to let me put the beads in the pastry tins to keep the crust from moving. Or he’d make a pie and let me do all the crimping on the edges.”

Tayce’s smile was fading as she spoke, leaning her head back to look at the sky.

“I miss him.”

Three words that hit Aurora right in the middle of her chest.

Her own eyes welling up, she rubbed Tayce’s back, until Tayce shuffled nearer and let herself drop her head to Aurora’s shoulder, let Aurora pull her in tightly, sitting silently to count the stars as they came out of their hibernation.

“It’s weird.”

“What’s weird?” Aurora asked.

“I dunno, just - it’s weird the things that remind you of people.”

“That doesn’t sound weird to me.”

“I mean …” Tayce began, but she stopped, twisting to get comfortable. “Oh, it doesn’t matter.”

Tayce was an elastic band, pulling away before snapping her back with a modicum of tenderness, and letting Aurora back in to see through some of the cracks in her armour. Just enough to keep Aurora hanging on, so it felt.

It was exhausting.

——

Showstopper: A dairy-free, vegetable-based novelty cake.

The Showstopper seemed straightforward enough. Everyone liked carrot cake, right? At least, Aurora enjoyed a slice of the orange stuff, although when she’d mentioned it to Ellie this morning she’d wrinkled her nose in an adorably disgusted manner.

“What’s yours going to be, then?” She’d asked.

“Beetroot.”

“Beetroot?”

“Yeah,” Ellie had nodded earnestly, “like, I know it sounds a bit weird, but trust me, when you mix it with chocolate it tastes like heaven.”

Aurora hadn’t pushed the matter any further, but a bigger part of her than she anticipated was hoping Ellie could pull it off. After all, she and Tia were practically tied for worst at the moment, and as much as Aurora was growing to like Tia, she and Ellie had bonded far more.

On Aurora’s left, she watched Tia chopping sweet potatoes that would form the basis of her own cake, ready to cook and then go into the mixture. Veronica, in front of her, was also making sweet potato cake, but Aurora wasn’t worried about Veronica.

When she and Tayce had spoken about who she thought would excel at this week, they’d both said Bimini above everyone, but Veronica had been the shock frontrunner, the dark horse, as she had been all this contest. Veronica tended to keep to herself, grinding her teeth and locking her jaw, a cool stare keeping everyone away.

How someone as uptight as Veronica had thawed to someone as lackadaisical as Tia was anyone’s guess.

“Yeah, I guess she’s a bit stiff,” Tia had shrugged when asked about Veronica, “and yeah, don’t mention anything about the two of us to her, she’s a bit nervous about it being public yet. But we actually have loads in common. She’s really arty. She painted one of the scenes I photographed and showed it to me this weekend, and that meant a lot.”

“She - she paints?”

Tia had shown them all Veronica’s instagram, where Veronica had painted breathtaking scenes and posted them there. Watercolours mostly, with the odd acrylic, some experimental but mostly true life, leaping from the screen and into their minds.

Veronica might not be quite making the same art as usual now, but her bakes definitely showed some artistic flair when she presented them. They always had to be just so. And her colour palettes were always a theme in the judges’ comments.

“Well,” she’d grinned nervously this morning at breakfast when asked, “I’m left-handed. So I’m a bit arty farty, yeah.”

Aurora stole glances around the room as always, seeing Bimini with Tia a lot more today, leaning over her workbench and giving her guidance. Ellie looked a little less nervous, but she and Lawrence still weren’t really communicating.

Maybe Lawrence really is trying to avoid her. Or maybe they’re avoiding each other.

But Ellie had changed the subject this morning when Aurora had tried to bring it up. Turning the conversation back to her and Tayce.

And that was complicated enough.

This morning was the second weekend in a row she’d found herself falling asleep with Tayce in her bed, and the second weekend in a row she’d woken up in the morning to find an empty space there again.

It was a strange, numbing place, and Aurora wasn’t even sure what they were at the moment. Sure, they’d agreed to put on a bit of a show for the cameras. And Aurora could deal with that, with the playful nicknames, the kisses, the touch that didn’t feel tender enough to be more than method acting.

But Tayce spending the night in her bed had been an odd addition. Aurora had held her hand as she’d drawn her back from the pond, and they’d both ended up back in her room again, Netflix on, curled up into one another under the duvet.

All it had taken last night was half an episode of Glow before their hands and arms had intertwined, drawing them nearer still, into slow breathing in tandem with each other. Tayce purring at Aurora’s fingers as she played with her hair, until her breathing had relaxed even more and Aurora had looked down to see Tayce asleep at her chest, too serene to disturb by shifting her.

Nothing about it felt like an act. In fact, it was practically the opposite - bare bones, honesty, sincerity.

A far cry from the motions in the tent.

“Hey, babe. How’s the carrots?”

Speak of the devil.

Before Aurora had the chance to look up, she felt Tayce’s fingers at her waist, her chin resting on her shoulder.

Tayce seemed to be feeling a little better this morning. Her relaxed smile was back, her eyes glinting with the same mischief, and Aurora’s stomach was turning somersaults at the contact.

“Carrots are good. Just grated far more than I’ll need, just in case. What are you making with yours?”

“I’m making carrot cake too!” Tayce chuckled in her ear, sending a shiver down Aurora’s neck. “What a coincidence. It’s almost like we’re really in tune with each other. I hope you haven’t read my mind on what my flavours will be as well?”

But as Aurora looked, two cameramen were following them over to Tayce’s bench, as Tayce’s hand hovered at her back. “Carrot and cream cheese replacement, and I’m gonna shape it into a cow’s head, because … you know, no dairy?” Tayce chuckled. “I’m a comedy genius!”

“So we’re a bit different then,” Aurora nodded, as Tayce rested her head at her shoulder. “I’m adding diced pecans to mine.”

“So different then,” Tayce interrupted her, smirking, a hideously fake giggle bubbling at her throat. “That’s good. We’re just doing carrots at the same time! Imagine if we’d had the same recipe and the same idea. That would be strange, wouldn’t it!”

She’s trying a bit too hard now.

Tayce’s fingers were looped round her waist, her head on her shoulder; but she didn’t seem to be listening, just talking at the cameras pointed at them both. Aurora disentangled herself from Tayce’s touch and smiling as widely as she could, backed away.

“You going back to your bake?”

“Yeah - lots to do, Tayce,” Aurora muttered through gritted teeth.

“Alright. Cwtch you later.” Tayce cocked an eyebrow as she smirked, but Aurora’s stomach twisted at how sinister her words seemed to sound on her tongue.

——

“Veronica, would you bring your cake up to the front please?”

Veronica was last this week - the judging had been in alphabetical order - but Aurora had also barely been concentrating. Tayce’s actions this afternoon had confused her yet again, and she’d tried to avoid speaking much to Tayce for the whole rest of the day, but that hadn’t gone as well as she’d hoped. Tayce had come over regularly, and cameras had followed them both around.

“It’s - it’s a sweet potato cake flavoured with almonds, and the icing is dairy-free buttercream with a vanilla flavour.”

Veronica was giggling nervously, while the rest of the people in the tent smiled at her. But Aurora’s mind span in a whirlwind of thoughts.

What if Tayce really is trying to distract me? To throw me off?

The thought struck her over the head, a sudden bolt of lightning that left her numb with the shocking gravity of it.

No. Tayce is trying to keep attention on us. She’s trying to help us.

… or at least help herself.

But Aurora hastily pushed that notion away. After all, everyone else in the tent was also fighting for that attention, whether they meant to or not.

Take Bimini, and their absurd dancing and rapping with Noel, what they insisted was called a crimp, whatever that meant. Was that genuine, or was that the result of them all being on the show? Maybe Bimini was a bit of an exhibitionist, but maybe they weren’t - maybe it was a front.

Was that really all that different to Tayce wanting to play up their relationship to the cameras?

How do I know that she feels anything for me at all?

“Beautiful. Beautiful flavours, you don’t get anything apart from a rich, sweet cake, and the design is ingenious. Really great week for you, Veronica.” Prue was smiling her sweet smile, and Veronica hunched shyly into her shoulders as she took the cake back.

The fog of dread was descending on them all as they walked back to Carr Hall. The bakes were always put on a table for them to try, before being given to the crew at the end of the day; but no one really felt like eating anything as they went in, the fog following them all.

“We don’t want anyone to go home at this stage,” Veronica said grimly.

They all knew what she really meant, Bimini more than anyone, as they nodded and stretched their legs out. “It’s shit. I feel like a jinx. Get too near to me, and you’re gone. Happened to Ginny, then Asttina.”

Aurora thought back to the judging for Bimini’s Showstopper, which hadn’t gone as well as any of them had thought.

“I thought this week was yours for the taking, Bim,” Aurora said quietly, cautious. “It’s all vegan stuff, and alternative ingredients. No one would have thought you’d be getting those sorts of critiques.”

Everyone murmured in agreement. The judges has been kind as always, but it was clear that Bimini had landed themselves in trouble at the expense of helping out everyone else in the tent, helping them all with their recipes.

“Well, I did.”

They all turned to stare at Bimini’s dark words.

“Bim?”

“It’s my own fault. Well, not even really a fault. But somewhere between Asttina going home and me coming back here this weekend, I decided it’s probably not important.”

“What isn’t?”

“A cake stand.” Bimini laughed bitterly. “That’s what it is! A cake stand. And I can get one of those from M&S. I could get Joe to come with me. No, I knew this was gonna be an okay week for me, so …” they shrugged, “I wanted to help you all out too. So it looks like I didn’t really … try.”

But Bimini was smiling still.

“I mean, it’s not all bad, is it? You can now all bake vegan quiches. You can make stuff for your intolerant mates, or your vegan mates, when you get back. That’s more important to me than winning this week - getting you all to be able to make more stuff vegan for your friends. Anything you can bake, I can bake vegan, and I feel like spreading awareness is gonna be better in the long run than me winning a badge!” They waved a fist in the air.

“Don’t you … want to win?” Aurora asked.

Bimini paused for half a second too long before nodding.

“I do want to win, course I do - but this show is a platform as well, know what I mean?”

——

When the producer came in to call them back to the tent for the elimination, Aurora watched as Ellie jogged to Tia to hug her around the waist, both of them holding back to let the others go, Tia wiping tears from her cheeks as they stood there.

As Aurora left them to it, she walked into Lawrence, at the doorway, watching the entrance intently.

“Lozza?” Tayce called to her from the grounds, but Lawrence waved them on.

“I’m coming - see you inside.”

Lawrence and Ellie were last in the tent, the rest of them on their stools while they waited, no one quite sure what they were doing outside. But when Aurora finally watched Lawrence come in with Ellie, both of them had red eyes and Lawrence’s eyeliner was running as they sat down.

Veronica put a hand to her mouth at being called for Star Baker. Aurora clapped her politely, while Tia smiled widely and rested her head on her shoulder, pulling her into a one-armed hug.

But Tia was biting her lip, waiting for the call for the next person to leave the tent. They all knew it was between her and Ellie, and Aurora could hear Lawrence whispering to Ellie, who was staring straight ahead as usual, but she couldn’t make any words out …

“Tia. I’m so sorry, Tia.”

Veronica’s hand, lingering at her mouth, shook as she gasped.

But Tia, her face deadpan as ever, tilted her head. “Are you sure? Positive? I mean, I don’t have any other plans, so …”

Aurora managed a laugh at Tia’s attempt at humour at the situation, but she appeared to be the only one. Bimini’s eyes were downcast as they got up to hug Tia, and Tayce was rubbing Veronica’s back to comfort her. Lawrence had her arms linked around Ellie’s waist while Ellie dabbed her eyes.

“Come on, Els - it’s fine, I knew it would be me -“ Tia wrapped an arm around them both, unable to disentangle Lawrence from her, drifting over to Aurora next, and then Tayce.

Veronica, both hands in hers, stared up at her with eyes pooling with tears, as Tia bent to whisper something in her ear, causing Veronica to snort with laughter and double over, before tugging Tia towards her, wrapping her arms around her waist, Tia dropping kisses on her forehead before they both left the tent for their winning and exit interviews.

“What did Tia say to you?” Aurora asked Veronica later on, when Veronica came back to Carr Hall, her face red and eyes bloodshot.

“Oh,” Veronica snorted again. “It’s nothing, just silly stuff -“

“It must have been good, if it made you perk up?”

“Alright,” Veronica said, sniffing. “She said - she said If I had a badge, I’d be leaving it to you in my will. That was it. I don’t even know why I found it funny, but it was at the time.”

Tayce threw back her head in a laugh. “Only way you’re getting another badge, Vee!”

Veronica blinked before smiling, more like a grimace; but Aurora’s blood had frozen at Tayce’s comment. The languid smile on her face, the flash in her eyes, just made Aurora question Tayce’s intentions even more than she already was.

Tayce had changed.

The woman who had helped her cut and load her brownies only two weeks ago, now tossing verbal barbs at any opportunity. Yesterday about Tia and Ellie. And now to Veronica. And as much as she was madly attracted to Tayce, there was no denying that doubt crept around the edge of Aurora’s mind at this new development, unsure what Tayce was truly thinking.

What would she be saying about me if I’d gone?

——

SIX BAKERS REMAIN

#rpdr fanfiction #rpdr uk #down with the recipe #juno #uk2 #baking au #gbbo au #taywhora #tayce #a'whora #bimini bon boulash #tia kofi #veronica green #ellie diamond #lawrence chaney #fluff #lesbian au

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silverhart-makes-art · 4 years

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Where do you think Captain lives after his retirement?

I’ve always felt that he’d stay in Corona. That’s where everyone he knows lives. I like to imagine he’d buy a bit of land and work with horses. Probably training up young horses who want to join the Guard. The Captain strikes me as the type of person who needs to have something to do, whether that’s guard work, or tracking down princesses, or raising Cass, so wherever he decides to live is probably gonna be wherever he feels he can be the most productive and do the most good. I’m just assuming that that place will be Corona, but I guess it really could be anywhere.

I’m not even sure where he lives during the series. He seems to have rooms in or near the castle, and Cass also has rooms there, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have another home elsewhere. In which case, he’d probably continue to live wherever that is, at least until he decides what to do next.

Questions like this make we wish we had just a little more information. Like how close is the Captain to Frederic and Arianna? Because they might ask him to stay and do other work for them. But if he doesn’t feel like he can be of particular help to them, Cap might decide to go elsewhere. Maybe Cass will inspire him to travel. Who knows? There’s tons of fun possibilities you could explore.

He could go and help Quaid round up the last of the Baron’s gang. He could give Calliope some tips on better security for the spire (not that she’d listen to them, but she probably should, considering how easily Cass was able to break in there). Maybe he’ll take up singing again and grace the Snuggly Duckling with his lovely voice. Maybe he’ll start up a camp for orphans to teach them how to ride horses and do fun obstacle courses and shoot bows and arrows (his ‘Islands Apart’ outfit kind of makes him look like a scout leader – like a really competitive scout leader who is way too into this whole camping thing, and I kind of love it.)

This is a man who is supremely competent at tying a multitude of knots and pitching tents in all conditions – you cannot tell me otherwise. (Apparently this fact really annoys Eugene.)

I’m actually digging this last idea. Can you just imagine the sheer chaos of a Coronan summer camp run by the Captain? Angry and Catalina are totally running a racket where they tell all the other kids ghost stories about a monster that stalks the camp, and then Catalina goes all werewolf, and chases them out of their tents at night and they make off with all the s’mores supplies. Lance is definitely there as a camp counselor, and definitely in on the s’mores smuggling ring. Of course, Cap is unfazed by all this, because he raised Cassandra, and she turned out way scarier than any werewolf. And Varian’s roped into teaching arts and crafts and ends up blowing up the arts and craft cabin. This would be such a good spin-off series – I would totally read a fanfic of the Captain running a summer camp. Someone should go and write it.

Kind of went off on some tangents there. Tangents aside, the sky’s the limit for Cap to just go wherever and do whatever he wants now. He seemed pretty comfortable on Terapi Island, so I think he would be quite happy settling down pretty much any where he felt he was needed. But I think Corona is gonna need him for a while still, so he’d probably stick around.

#tangled the series #Captain of the Guard #tangled ramblings #this is just a long-winded tangent about Captain training horses and running a summer camp #I have so many screenshots of Cap but one more can't hurt

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kbmercer · 3 years

Text

Ch.2: Baby Steps

[My Heroic Pokemon Squad]

Summary:

After receiving an emergency call to assist in sedating the legendary pokémon of time and space, Top Ranger (Y/n) (L/n) gets caught in the crossfire of their rampage. Sent barreling into a world unknown, (L/n) must now navigate her new surroundings and somehow find a way home. Yet, the aftermath of a momentary rift between dimensions carries drastic repercussions, especially considering that pokémon had never existed in this new place to begin with. Not only that, but it seems humanity here have powers of their own, not unlike that of the creatures she has grown to love.

Word Count: 1.4k

The band of pro-heroes loomed over (Y/n) as she tended to Lugia’s wounds, though she paid them no mind. Lugia is justifiably apprehensive, shifting a hardened glare between the people and pokémon that surround them. The healing process was quiet for the most part as the young Top Ranger made the effort to gradually sooth the creature’s wary attitude by giving tentative strokes along the areas they had applied the medicine. Words of affirmation supplemented this; whispered apologies and thanks for their patience helped tremendously as the creature slowly but surely relaxed. With their body no longer tense, it became easier to get the job done.

“You really gave us a scare…” (Y/n)’s words shift Lugia’s attention and it cranes their neck to closely view the teen. The ranger momentarily pauses, their (e/c) eyes stare into the deep onyx orbs of the pokémon. “I arrive here and am met with an absolute mess; buildings destroyed, glass everywhere.” The pokémon huffs at her reprimanding tone and (Y/n) sighs.

“I understand that you’re lost…that you’re afraid. Otherwise you wouldn’t be here. You’d be in the ocean where you belong…” Breaking their eye contact, she resumes the task at hand. “Though I guess it doesn’t really help when you’re being tugged by strange people, eh?” The subtle jab did not go unnoticed, but the four heroes said nothing.

“But what else were they supposed to do? Seeing a large creature such as yourself flying around their homes is rather unsettling, don’t you think?” Lugia responds with a squeaky screech and everyone jolts at how loud the sound is. To the untrained ear it sounds like an incoherent noise but (Y/n) classifies it as a whine—a rather childish one at that. She ponders on this for a second. From what she can recall of Lugia, were their cries usually this high pitched?

She gasps before looking back at the creature.

“Wow. You’re a big baby…” The young Lugia gives out another squeak. (Y/n) sighs once more. If they had been a full-fledged adult, the damage would be exponentially worse. The Top Ranger couldn’t help but to feel relieved, yet there remained to be an underlying terror in spite of it all. Her skill with Pokémon could only get her so far. Even though she had a reliable team by her side, it wasn’t out of the question to be accompanied by other Rangers who were complete with their own teams, especially in the presence of legendary pokémon. Multiple factors worked in her favor to quickly subdue Lugia, so she could only imagine how it’d be if this were not the case.

Regardless, the job is done. Tentatively reaching out her hand, (Y/n) rubs the large pokémon underneath their jaw, to which the creature graciously allows. Then, she moves to grab some berries to offer of which they eat immediately.

“Alright. You’re all set,” the young Ranger gives a reassuring pat before stepping back to make room. The young Lugia lifts itself to stand.

“I can only guess where you ended up after being taken from your home…so how’s about getting a new one?” The pokémon screeches happily and the wind shifts as Lugia lifts themselves back into the air.

“I happen to know of a beautiful beach that’s some distance away from here. The sea view is so vast, and the water is as blue as can be. It’d be best to enter from there.” (Y/n) points in the direction of Takoba, the legendary pokémon flies further into the air. Their gaze remains on (Y/n) until they reach the skyline, and in a moment they’re gone. The atmosphere seems to settle, and a brief moment of silence encapsulates the area.

“Judging by how well you worked with the Lugia creature, you’ve made it clear about knowing what these quirked animals are.” The teen tenses before looking to the pro-heroes. It was Gang Orca that had spoken. She nods.

“Pokémon.”

“Huh?”

“Where I’m from, these ‘quirked creatures’ are called Pokémon—a shortened term for pocket monsters’.” (Y/n) was given either blank or mildly confused looks. She sighs for the umpteenth time tonight. This was going to take forever to explain.

“Alright, kiddo! It’s time to rise and shine!” (Y/n) was roused by loud words and chilly air. Feeling the blankets being pulled from over her body, she groans and resorts to curling in on herself.

“Five more minutes,” the teen mumbles though Kayama does not tolerate the request.

(Y/n) jolts as she’s abruptly lifted from the bed she rested on.

“Ok, ok! I’m up…”

“You’ve got a long day ahead of you, kiddo. Wash and get ready. We’re leaving in 30.”

Once the girl’s feet touch the floor, they wait for the woman to exit the room before looking to Honchkrow. The pokémon was perched on the headboard, his steely eyes following the woman until she’s out of sight. Unlike Carracosta and Raichu, the black avian refused to be returned to his ball. Despite her plea to be more cooperative, it was clear that his decision was final. Even if she did manage to reel him in, he’d break out anyway.

Honchkrow hops off the headboard and lands on the mattress where he’d previously sat before the R-Rated Hero had stepped in. The bird has been on edge ever since (Y/n) was relegated to this secluded dorm. It was already super late when Lugia was sent away. The threat was dismissed, and the pro-heroes had to prioritize the general public. They split off from Midnight as she resumed the task of dealing with the girl’s predicament. One extensive phone-call and nerve-wracking car ride later, they arrive at a location that appeared reminiscent of a college campus. She was led into one of many brick buildings and is given a room. Nothing much was said apart from being told to get some sleep. (Y/n) could only guess what events would await her once she leaves.

The young ranger gives her companion an affectionate pat on the back and moves to enter the bathroom. The teen takes note of the spare clothes that hang from the towel bar and takes a quick shower before putting them on. With the provided toothbrush and cleanser that lay on the pristine sink, (Y/n) thoroughly brushes her teeth and wipes her face. Exiting with a few minutes to spare, (Y/n) completes her casual white tee and black pant outfit with her red ranger cap—the only clothing item that wasn’t soaked. Striking a boastful pose, she attempts to clear the tension if only a little bit.

“How do I look?”

The bird’s expression is as dry as ever, but he does give the tiniest nod of the head.

“That’s the spirit!” Honchkrow rolls their eyes and (Y/n) responds by giving them a playful side-eye.

Unfortunately, the pokémon’s rigidity returns as Midnight re-enters the room. Turning to face the lady, she notices the look of satisfaction on her face.

“Much better. You were looking a little rough…”

“Gee, thanks.” Honchkrow flies from the bed and lands next to his trainer. Kayama regards the creature briefly before returning her focus on (Y/n).

“How are you feeling?” The teen’s eyebrows furrow. That’s a rather odd question to ask.

“Weird.” Midnight nods.

“That’s understandable. This is all new to you. I’m sure you won’t feel that way once you’ve grown accustomed.”

(Y/n)’s lips press into a line.

“These pokémon you speak of—their newfound lives here are a drastic change that the world is dealing with, and you’re the only known person who is knowledgeable of them. That alone is reason enough to have you here.”

(Y/n) nods not knowing how to respond.

“I’ve spoken to my superiors and keeping you in UA’s close quarters is the best plan of action. So for the time being, please bear with us.”

(Y/n) head tilts showing her mild confusion. UA? Is that where they are? And why were they apologizing? None of what has happened is their fault.

“Uh…Sure,” she answers awkwardly. “I’m just along for the ride at this point. Thanks for giving me a place to live…and I’m sure I’ll come around eventually.”

Giving a smile, Midnight signals for (Y/n) to follow her.

“Where are we going.”

“To the principal’s office.”

#crossover #fanfiction #crossover fanfiction #pokemon #my hero academia #bnha #pokemon ranger

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dreamweaversofficial · 3 years

Text

Year Two, Chapter Two

“What if swans were called ‘dwans’?” Garen asks. Lyric stares at him, which he apparently takes as an invitation to continue. “What if one was called Dwan the rock by his friends. His last name will be Johnson, for no apparent reason.”

“Dwan the rock Johnson,” Lyric repeats.

“Yes.”

She presses her index fingers to her lips. Pulls them away slowly. Sighs. “I feel like you’re not taking my emotional turmoil seriously.”

“I feel like you’re not taking Dwan the rock Johnson seriously,” he replies.

Pouting, Lyric slides towards the opposite end of the couch. “I’m serious! Bad enough you have to leave, but to be stuck with short, dark and edgy?”

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news,” Garen says sympathetically, offering her a single shoulder pat, “but you’re shorter than her by a solid inch and a half.”

“I catalogue that inch and a half once a month,” she hisses through clenched teeth.

“I know,” Garen soothes. “It’s creepy and obsessive.”

“Go away.”

Her friend makes a note on a yellow pad. “I’m just saying that if I indulged you every time you wanted to talk about Reema, we’d discuss her for hours.”

“Ugh,” Lyric says definitively, and turns regretfully back to her textbook.

Dreamweaver training was sparse, with only the most necessary precautions covered, the text reads. Non-magical humans needed more protection than the few available dreamweavers could give. This occasionally led to rifts between the communities, with magical families attempting to strike the balance between keeping themselves and loved ones safe while protecting the world from dreameaters.

However, as more and more magical children began popping up (see A History of Dreamweaving, A. J. Kerint) more funding was provided. One of magical history’s most famous financial backers, the King family, supplied most of the funds to build Mentality when several of their own were revealed to possess magical abilities.

“The Kings?” she says aloud, wrinkling her nose. “Like Cirro?”

Garen snorts. “Exactly like Cirro. His great-grandfather is a big shot around here.”

“He never mentions it,” Lyric mutters. “You’d expect that to be the kind of thing someone flaunts.”

“I think they’re -”

A resounding crash shakes the room. The textbook flies out of Lyric’s hands, crumpling the inside, and Garen whacks his arm against the wall. She dashes over and picks it up, frantically smoothing the wrinkled pages. He rubs his shoulder with a hiss.

“You good?”

“Sore, but I’ll live. You?”

“Alright,” Lyric replies, eyes darting to the door. “Do you think we could be under attack?”

“Impossible,” Garen refutes, though his face goes slightly pale. “Mentality’s warded to high heaven.”

Mentality is warded to high heaven. It’s also the last place a dreameater hoard would swarm - no non-magical dreams to feed off of. Dreamweavers, in the case of the prophetic track, siphon dreams off of normal humans. Otherwise, dreaming is minimal. There’s nothing that would lure the creatures to the school.

Still, the thought chafes at Lyric like an uncomfortable sweater she wishes she could shrug off. Garen hesitantly opens the door. The hallway’s empty but for a few tentative second years glancing through doorways, hazy smokescreen in place. Lyric curses herself for forgetting her magic.

“Let’s check it out,” she suggests. “We’ll be careful.”

“That’s an awful idea,” Garen argues, pulling on his sneakers. He rolls his eyes. “Let’s go.”

Smirking, Lyric follows him out the door, the two of them pulling shrouds of shadow around themselves. Concentrate, she tells herself firmly. Cool, dark, calm. Garen sticks close, glancing back occasionally to see if she’s following. Lyric places a hand on his back, lightly. I’m still here. Keep going.

It’s easy, the shadows. Too easy, at times, when the most she wants is to pull them around herself like a well-worn quilt. Light is harder - pushing through burning muscles, focusing a burst of energy into a single fingers, hot like the sun. Like she’s skimming her hand along the stove, close enough to warm but not to burn.

Her hand bumps solidly into Garen’s back. They’ve stopped.

“Garen?” she whispers, sidling out from behind him. “What -”

“Never, in all my years -” a woman is yelling, arms flung to the sky and voice high pitched. “A student do this much damage?”

Lyric finds herself thinking that she’s glad they’re covered. Then, when the teacher shifts and she sees the girl receiving the lecture, she finds herself thinking something else.

“A student,” Garen repeats, horror and awe-struck. “Sage skillets.”

“Miss Salten,” the professor continues, “Someone will be hearing about this!”

Lyric exhales. “Probably Cirro’s dad, if his family are coughing up the funds for repairs.”

“I hope not,” a voice says.

“Mercury’s left eye!” Lyric yelps, stifling herself with her palm. “Where did you come from?”

“You aren’t being all that quiet.” Cirro points out, hands jammed in his pockets, and cranes his neck to look at the scene. “What happened, an earthquake?”

Reema stands amidst deep cracks in the ground, scored into marble-like flooring. The divots start at her feet, slim, then widen into jagged, angry lines, stretching outward until they just barely touch Garen’s feet. She eyes the desolation as if admiring the artistry of it. As the professor yells, hands waving wildly, the girl takes a deep breath and smiles.

Lyric feels, suddenly and confusingly, like she’s going to throw up.

She wants away from the yelling, from Reema smiling with her eyes closed like she’d rather dig her nails into the floor and tear, from Cirro’s facade of boredom when he talks about his father. Lyric grabs Garen’s arm, and finds she can’t stomach the contact.

“I’m going back,” she whispers, releasing him.

He eyes her cautiously. “Want me to come with?”

“Nah,” she shakes her head. Brushing him off as politely as she can. “I’ll see you at the room later. Going for a walk.”

Garen rolls his shoulders back. “I’ll probably go out to the field.”

“You guys are so codependent,” Cirro complains, pushing himself off the wall and strolling back in the direction of the second year dorms.

“We’ve all got to have someone to care about,” Lyric mutters back. There’s no flinch, no tightening of his eyes, no clenching of fists. But somehow Lyric knows she’s hurt him - a comment for a comment. An eye for an eye.

The nausea grows worse, and she thinks about the ruined floor.

I’ll stop being a brat when everyone else does, she decides, settling into a nook by the door to the fields. Cirro passes by her, unseeing, his face drawn. He pauses a few steps away, and Lyric pulls the shadows back around her in thicker numbers. His pocket vibrates.

“Hello?” he says into the receiver, frowning. “Oh. Mom.”

There’s a pause. “So he’s heard - no. Of course not. Yeah, some girl in my grade. I don’t - who knows why. I guess she’s pretty good at runes, so that could be it.”

“It’s not -” Cirro presses the phone closer to his ear. He scuffs his shoe across the ground, rolling his shoulders back. “I guess she’d have to be pretty powerful. No. Associate with her? Gabriel’s tooth, you’ve got to be kidding. I’m not going to start - no. Yes, mother.”

His face pulls inwards. Like he’s striking the line between controlled and crushed, lids shuttering, body tensing. “My studies are going well. No, nobody’s beaten his score. My brother has ‘left a lasting mark on this institution’. Is that - that’s all?”

Lyric holds her breath as he exhales silently, relaxing his body.

“Goodbye. Give them my -” Here Cirro halts, pulls the phone away from his ear, and stares down at it. “Love.”

What is it with this year and hearing things I don’t want to? Lyric demands silently, pressing further back against the door. The swishing of fabric rustles down the hallway, and she dares to look, catching a glimpse of Salza.

“C?” Salza greets him, slowing her jog to a stop.

“Hey,” he says back. It’s a very good attempt at sounding okay. As if he was going for condescending and missed the mark.

She glares, but there’s no heat behind it. “Don’t give me that. What did he want now?”

“It was my mother,” Cirro replies, straightening. “An impromptu informal discussion.”

“You always talk like that when you get off the phone with one of them,” Salza muses sadly. “Come on.”

“Go back to your jog, or you might not make the team this year,” he spits.

Salza just links her arm through his, guiding him gently back into the dorms. “You’re my friend whether you want to admit it or not. And I’m yours. So just - follow my lead, okay?”

And as if the enticement to follow was the only thing he needed, Cirro deflates, and lets himself be carried along.

Teen drama is so much more complicated in this school.

“Listen up!” their professor announces, clapping his hands together. “Today, we’re having a special guest.”

Eyebrows raise, a few curious glances are thrown, and there’s an audible snort.

Professor Ozik casts an appraising eye around the room. “And by guest, I mean a dreameater.”

Chaos.

“What?” a girl at the back - Mandy? - screams, bolting out of her seat. A few others look like they share the sentiment, throwing their hands over their heads and ducking away. Reema’s eyes are wide and dark. Beside her, Devon’s shoulders are tense, face closed off. Salza and Cirro steal panicked, yet determined looks at each other, edging in front of their respective roommates.

Garen throws his chair aside, ready to cast a spell. Lyric hefts her notebook like it’ll have any effect. Her gaze flits to their instructor.

He’s grinning, somewhat sheepishly, at the class, and she calms. “It’s a drill.”

“Not exactly,” the professor admits, “but I swear it’s well contained. Nice reflexes, you three.”

Salza, Garen, and Cirro relax. With a flourish, Professor Ozik pulls a cage from under his desk. It’s covered with inscribed runes. Binding, keeping, holding, trapping. From inside it, shrieks ripple outward.

“Keep your wits about you!” Ozik yells, strapping earmuffs onto his head. “This is a siren!”

“What’s a siren?” Cirro’s roommate demands.

“A type of dreameater!” Salza calls back, hands over her ears and eyes snapped shut. “It lures you in with whatever attracts you!”

As if the creature can hear her, the cries turn from outraged to coaxing. The room starts to smell like sea salt. Plugging her nose, Lyric turns away, shaking her head. Idly, she wonders if the creature would feel like worn leather.

Cirro’s nose twitches. “Vanilla.”

“Does anybody else hear singing?” Salza’s roommate asks, eyes going dreamy. Salza attempts to cover their heads with their jackets.

Garen stands stock still at his desk. His hands don’t cover his ears, instead drooping at his sides, and he sniffs the air suspiciously. “I don’t smell anything, and I certainly can’t hear over the awful screeching.”

Oh, Lyric thinks, and a second later, Garen says aloud, “I guess that makes sense.”

Lyric bumps him with her shoulder in an encouraging kind of way. He bumps back, pleased.

“Did you know?” she murmurs, voice low under the siren’s wails.

He shrugs. “In hindsight, I suppose it was garen-ly obvious.”

“You’re so proud of yourself.”

“Get it? Garen, glaring?”

“As much as I appreciate moments of self discovery,” Salza yells over the noise, “can we shut this thing up now?”

“Glady,” Garen yells back, shouldering past the other students. He casts a shadow over the cage, plunging the creature into darkness and calm.

“Bravo,” Professor Ozik declares, clapping again. Not a few glares are leveled at him. “That’ll be an advantage on the field.”

Lyric turns away, snorting, and scribbles a few notes into her book. She looks up at the screeching of chairs, people settling back into their seats, and her gaze trails to Devon. They’re watching their roommate carefully.

Reema’s eyes are glued to the cage.

“Excellent rune work, no?” Ozik points out, following her look. “I hear you’re not too shabby with runes yourself, Miss Salten.”

“I’m too good for them to lose,” Reema corrects absently. Then she scowls.

#dreamweavers #dreamweavers official #original story #originalstory #fantasy #lgbtq+#original work #original writing #original fiction

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all-hail-the-witcher · 4 years

Text

nobody likes a claggy bit of cheese

this idea came to me in mid november while i was watching an episode of the great british bakeoff and crocheting a scarf for my sister while eating a very very healthy college lunch of apple sauce and caramel corn. someone (maybe it was paul) said the word “claggy” and i was like Wow That’s British. and then someone else (probably paul again) said “stodgy” and i was like WoW ThAts BriTisH. and then i was like you know who would appreciate these Very British Words?? my dumb friend who likes to pretend he's british. and thEn i was like Oh Shit what if he hosted great british bakeoff that would be energy oh my god. and i was About to text him that when i was like No Wait! instead of a baking competition it would be a Mac And Cheese competition because that's like,,,his wholes pride and joy. and then i was about to text him that but then i was like wAIT! this has fic written all over it oh my god i can see it now. and now here we are.

also mikey in case you didn't realize, you are my dumb fake british friend and this is your present but i mean its more of your persona slapped on race and i called it a day. its not a mothman shirt but it'll have to do eye guess

anywaymst

enjoy this trash pile

_________

ship: eye guess its platonic ralbert

genre: pure ass crack

warnings: uhmmm, race is an idiot, poorly written british accents, paul hollywood stare, uhhh, albert is Annoyed, jack is an idiot who makes bad mac, spot get Angryyy, idk im writing there before the fic is finished, katherine definitely knows the mafia

editing: lol that's funny

words: enough to fill a few pages but not enough to bore you to death like the metamorphosis

_________

“CHEESE!”

Blankets tornadoed around the room as Race jumped off the bed in a half awake sleepy haze, barely landing on his feet in a fight stance, wielding his phone like a weapon in front of him. He glared into the dark corners (not that he could even tell where the corners were considering that it was pitch dark) of the room before stumbling out into the hallway, muttering madly about cheese.

“Cheese...blue cheese…..string cheese…...mozzarella cheese….” Race barely heard his own half-mad whispers as he opened all the cabinets, rummaging around in the same matter a hurricane floods a basement, in a mad search for pasta. When he came up empty handed he scowled, sat himself up on the counter and yelled for the next best thing:

“ALLLLLLLBBEEEEEERRRRRRRRRRT!”

CRASH! That would be Albert falling out of bed. Race kicked his feet against the cabinet impatiently.

WHOOSH! SLAM! And there was Albert’s door opening and closing at an alarming speed.

THUMP! THUMP! THUMP! THUMP! THUMP! The pictures in the living room began to shake, announcing his arrival.

“Race?! What’s going on? Are you okay??” And there was Albert, sliding into the kitchen in nothing but a pair of socks and boxers (despite the fact that it was probably 3 degrees out), weilding a single black converse high top. Race wasn’t quite sure how the shoe was supposed to help him, but he decided to ignore it. He couldn’t afford to get distracted by Albert’s weird antics when there was a legitimate crisis at hand.

“Race…?” Albert asked again, slowly lowering his shoe. “Is everything-” “We’re out of pasta.”

“We’re- what?” The shoe Albert had been holding banged to the floor. “You’re telling me that you woke me up at” he peered at the oven clock over Race’s shoulder, “three fifteen am to tell me that we’re out of pasta?”

“It’s horrible isn’t it?” Race slammed his head into the cabinet behind him. “Now I can’t make mac and cheese!” “W h y do you want to make mac and fucking cheese at three fifteen in the goddamn morning?!”

“BECAUSE ALBERT-” Race jumped down off the counter, “-I had a dream. A dream where I was competing on The Great British Bakeoff and I made my Famous mac and cheese. And Paul Hollywood, the man, the legend h i m s e l f, tasted my humble mac and said ‘Race. That is amazing.’ And gave me a handshake! And I was so honored that I awoke hungry for the wonderful, delicious, creamy taste of mac and cheese. So I wander into the kitchen and what do I find? A fridge full of cheese, but no pasta to be found!” He stepped closer to Albert, planting his hand firmly on his shoulder. “This is an emergency!”

Albert swatted away Race’s hand and rubbed his eyes, already turning back toward his room. “If Paul Hollywood deemed your mac and cheese so amazing then just hold a competition of your own and make other people make mac and cheese for you. That way I don’t have to go to Walgreens at three thirty.” He glanced back over his shoulder. “I’m going back to bed. Don’t make us lose our security deposit.”

Race stood in stunned silence as Albert disappeared down the hall and his door closed.

“That sleep deprived idiot might actually be onto something,” he muttered, launching himself onto one of the bar stools and opening his laptop. He had work to do.

•••

“You know, when I told you to host your own mac and cheese competition I thought I dreamt that entire encounter, and, now that I realize that I definitely didn’t, I especially didn't expect you to make me host it, and I certainly didn’t expect you to make me wear this dumb costume.” He tugged uncomfortably at the dark blazer and black wig.

“Oi mate, if you’re gonna be Sue yew gotta start actin like ‘er!” Race glared.

“But Race-”

“Thas Paul Hollywood to you. I don want none uh this ‘Race’ business,” he crossed his arms and gave Al his best Steely Eyed, Paul Hollywood Glare.

Albert just rolled his eyes and stomped off.

Race sighed happily as he turned to survey the tent in front of him. He had called Katherine last night after his missing pasta crisis and asked if he could use her Dad’s Hampton’s estate to host a mock version of the Great British Bakeoff but for mac and cheese. Katherine, like any good rebellious daughter, had loved the idea and called several of her “contacts” that apparently “owed her favors.” (Race didn’t understand the life of rich people, it seemed very extravagant and two-faced) And that was how Race had come to be standing in a tent with what could very well be the set up of the Great British Bakeoff laid out in front of him with he himself dressed in his very best blue button down and jeans, a spitting image of Paul Hollywood. Well, maybe Paul Hollywood 30 years ago.

His friends that he had invited on to be the contestants of the show were setting up at their stations. There was Jack, Davey, Romeo, Mush, Blink, Finch, Buttons, Specs, JoJo, Spot, Crutchie, and Smalls. Katherine had opted not to participate and instead film everyone to make it seem more like the actual show.

Someone (probably Katherine) had forced Albert to stand next to him to announce the signature challenge that they had prepared.

“Alright bakers-”

Race shot him a side glance.

“-er, mac and cheese cookers?” he tried to amend. “Today Ra-uh, Paul would like you to make a nice, hefty batch of mac and cheese. You may use whatever ingredients you would like, but he would like it to be cheesy, delicious, and contain pasta. You have 45 minutes.” Race could practically hear the sigh in his voice. “On your marks, get set, ba-cOOK!”

Finally, Race thought as his friends scrambled around their respective stations, I’m going to get some good mac.

•••

It was becoming very clear very quickly that Race may not actually be getting any good mac.

He wandered from station to station, Albert following begrudgingly behind him, progressively becoming more and more disappointed in each and every one of his friends. Didn’t any of them know how to cook?

“Roight Jack.” He leaned on the one empty scrap of counter in front of him. “What are yew makin?”

“It’s a surprise.” Jack - well he assumed it was Jack, he couldn’t really be sure with all the flour flying everywhere - ran around his workspace, which was crowded with every ingredient imaginable, from shredded cheese to, was that maple syrup?

“Jack for the sake of the show yew gotta tell us what yew’re makin.” Jack must not have the braincell today.

From somewhere in the flour cloud a timer went off. Jack yelped and dropped what sounded like several pots with an amazingly loud clatter.

“If you really must know - ouch!! - I’m making - god fUCK! - baked mac and cheese with a - SHIT! - crispy top.”

“Alright well,” Albert dodged a flying blob of flaming cheese, “we’ll leave you to it. Hopefully we get to actually eat something edible.”

“Good luck,” Race turned away from Jack’s workstation and leaned towards Albert as they made their way to Mush’s station. “Do we ave a foire extinguishah here?”

“I think so?”

“Good cause we moight need it.” Albert looked at him knowingly for a long minute before the two of them snapped out of it and approached Mush.

“So Mush,” Race said, taking in the polar opposite of the mess of a station that had been Jack’s, “what ave yew got for us?”

Mush smiled, looking up from the block of cheese that he had been grating. “Today I’m going to be making my signature mac and cheese with three kinds of cheese.”

Race let out an audible sigh of relief. Finally something that sounded edible!

“Is that pleasing enough for you, Your Highness?” Mush winked mischievously and Albert giggled.

Race straightened up, checking his mouth for drool (there was none). “Yes, oim looking forward tew it.” He watched as the cheese mush was grating flaked satisfyingly into the bowl, his mouth watering at the very sight and thought of cheese. Oh cheese. Beautiful, rich, delicious cheese. “Oi would like tew sample some cheese if yew don't mind.”

Mush straightened up, putting his hands around his cheese protectively. “And I want someone to slap me so hard my eyes fall out. We can’t all get what we want, Susan B. Anthony.”

“Hollywood, moi name is Paul Hollywood.” Race glared at Mush, horrified that he would decline him the judge a cheese sample! Paul Hollywood always got ingredient samples when he asked for them! Maybe he should have put more effort into his hair today…

“I know very well who you are,” Mush went back to grating his cheese. It was as if he were mocking Race with every bit of shredded goodness that fell onto the glorious cheese mountain.

“I do believe you’ve upset Mr. Hollywood.” Albert smirked. Of course he had to join in on the make-Race-feel-like-hes-being-mocked party.

“I don’t particularly care about Mr. Hollywood’s feelings,” Mush put down the grater and reached under his counter for a pan. “What I do care about is the fate of my mac and cheese so,” he stared at the two of them, deadpan , “be gone Thots.”

“But-”

“I SAID BE GONE THOTS!” Mush pointed a wooden spoon at the two of them menacingly and Race half expected sparks to shoot out of the end like some kind of sorcery bullshit, but all he got was a cloud of flour to the face and twelve sets of confused eyes looking at him.

“Uhh,” he mustered every ounce of Paul Hollywood that he could, “thank yew Mush.” Quickly he turned away, brushing the flour out of his sharpied on beard and mustache while Albert stifled laughter next to him. “Shut up,” he muttered.

“But that was-”

“Oi said shut- oh hoi Smalls!” He tried desperately to regain his composure as they approached the final station.

“Gucci Prada my fuckin clown wig I- oh, uh, hi!” Smalls quickly put the spatula that she had been holding behind her back.

“What are yew makin for uh today?” Race took in Smalls’s station. There was a wide array of cheese on the counter, we well as spices and breadcrumbs and pasta. But something seemed...different.

Smalls looked down at her feet, suddenly very interested in the carpet.. “I’m making gluten free baked mac and cheese.”

“Why gluten free?”

“Because,” Smalls glanced behind her briefly before hissing, “because that was the only kind of pasta I could find in my cabinet that's why you feet fucker.”

Race’s toes tingled with happiness. He do it! He could say the trademark Paul Hollywood meme thing!

“Now, when yew make mac and cheese gluten free it tends to get stickey and lose some of its taiste. Ave yew tested this to make sure that wont appen?”

“Y e s,” Smalls rolled her eyes. “I put extra oil in it so the pasta wont get sticky a n d there’s lots of spices for added flavor.” She brought her spatula out from behind her back in a soldiers salute. “I won’t disappoint you, your Highness Mr. Paul Hollywwod Sir.”

“Yew bettah not,” Race laughed as he walked back to his very official looking director’s chair (he didn’t want to know how many people Katherine had had to kill to get this).

“Sue, how much toime is left?”

“TEN MINUTES COOKERS, TEN MINUTES!”

There were varying screams of frustration from around the room as his friends scrambled to get done. The smell of cooking cheese wafted from several ovens and stoves and Race smiled contentedly. Twas almost Mac Time.

•••

Ten minutes later, as promised, Race was standing behind a Very Official looking wooden table with a fork and a glass of water, ready to taste (or spit out, depending on whose it was), his friends’ mac and cheese.

“Oilright, Davey, why don’t yew bring up yewr mac.”

Davey strode up to the table confidently, somehow without a spec of food on his apron, and placed down a plate of gooey looking pasta. Man oh man he was excited! But no, today he was Paul Hollywood. No excitement. Only glares.

He picked up his fork and took a scoop of pasta, glaring at Davey for good measure as he tasted.

He chewed for far longer than actually necessary to give Davey just enough time to get nervous before giving his verdict. “Whot yew’ve actually done is quite noice, Oi rather loike the blend of the cheddar and the goat cheese, but what yew’ve done is create something that’s so soft that its lacking textah. It’s loike Oi need somethin crunchy to offset it.”

Davey nodded. “Okay.”

“But overall noice job.” He nodded, the silent cue for Davey to take his dish and return to his station.

Race surveyed the contestants and grimaced. “Jack bring yew’re flamin bomb up here.”

He thought he heard Jack mutter some half-decent curses under his breath, but not decent enough for him to repeat.

A few seconds later a lump of orange stuff with green (???) blobs on top on a plate was placed in front of him. “Roight,” he sighed. “What ave yew got there?”

“Well this is my baked mac and cheese with green goldfish topping!” Jack said proudly.

Race looked at the plate as if it were a flesh eating disease that could kill him at any second. And, knowing Jack’s track record with food, it just might. “Any reason why you chose green goldfish?”

“Adds a pop of color!” Jack bounced on his toes.

Good gosh. Race took the tiniest bite possible on his fork and lifted it to his mouth-

“Make sure you get a goldfish!” Jack insisted. “Really adds a burst of flavor!”

“Oh sure, sure.” Race picked one up before shoving the whole abomination into his mouth. He chewed for a few seconds before swallowing down as best as he could.

“Wow that is pitiful,” Race coughed. “The pasta is overcooked, and the cheese, yew’ve cooked it too much so that it’s become gummy, and all the moistah has gone into the goldfish and made them soggy.”

“Oh,” Jack sounded deflated.

“Overall the textah is a bit claggy, and no one loikes a claggy bit of cheese.”

“Right, right.” Jack stroked his invisible beard.

“Overall its dreadful and Oi’d loike it if you removed it from my sights, preferably to the bin. Next!”

•••

Almost a half hour later Race was practically done testing all of the mac and cheese, save for Mush’s and Smalls’s. Along with Jack’s trashpile, Spot’s had also been notably horrible, it was somehow burnt and undercooked at the same time? Race didn’t even want to know. Crutchie’s and JoJo’s though had been surprisingly decent, and both were in the running to win.

“Oilroight Smalls, bring up yewr mac why don’t yew.”

A few moments later a plate of mac and cheese was dumped in front of Race with no class whatsoever. “Here you go Mr. Paul Sir.”

Race stabbed his fork into the pile of noodles. “This was the gluten free baked mac and cheese, roight?” “Yes your highness.”

Race rolled the noodles around on his tongue for a few long moments while his taste buds analyzed the flavor combinations.

“Roight so, I warned yew about this bein tasteless roight?” Smalls quirked up her eyebrow. “It’s tasteless isn’t it.”

“Yes. Get it away from me at once.”

“Of course, your lordship.” Smalls snatched the plate from the table, even curtsying to Race before making her way back to her station, picking up a fork, and digging into her own mac and cheese.

“I don't know what you’re talking about Mister Colonel Hollywood Sir, this tastes great!”

Race bushed imaginary crumbs off of his table. “And Oi’m goin tew pretend Oi didn’t hear that.” He pointed to Mush. “Mush, bring up yewr creation, if yew pleathe.”

“But of course!” Mush placed down his plate of mac and cheese in front of Race, who dug in immediately. “What you have there is parmesan, cheddar, and american cheese with elbow pasta. Enjoy.”

Race let the glorious noodles glide over his tongue as his palate was enveloped in a wonderful cheese flavor. He was amazed. He was astounded. Hell he was even speechless! What did Paul Hollywood do when he was speechless? Oh right!

“Well done Mush,” he stuck out his hand for the famous Paul Hollywood Handshake. “That’s a really great plate you’ve made.”

“Oh, thank you sir!” Mush smiled joyfully as Albert tried to sneak a bite of the mac and cheese. Race swatted his hand away with his other hand.

“In fact, it’s the best that Oi’ve had today, and Oi announce yew as Star Cooker!”

The room erupted into cheers and everyone ran to hug Mush while Race quickly finished his mac and cheese. His plan had worked perfectly. The next time he was out of pasta at three am he knew exactly who to call.

•••

“Hello? Do you need help burying the body?” A tired voice answered the phone.

“Mush, it’s Race. I’m craving mac and cheese and I don't have any pasta. Can you-”

“NO!”

_________

so how bout that huh

anyway sappy boi hours heh i love mikey and im real happy that were friends cause he's the absolute best and i cant wait to meet him next week eeee

feedback is always appreciated hmu to be on the tag list

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#saphie scribbles #newsies #newsies fic #ralbert #racetrack higgins #albert dasilva #this is not a christmas fit its just a christmas present #*fic #heh #luv you my milky tot #;)#grandpapi #papi #suburban papi #oatmeal aesthetic dad #daddy #cricket feet #u make my feet tingle with happiness #SIX DAYS MAN

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smoloof · 5 years

Text

Welp I did it

My first contribution to this amazing fandom is a story! I honestly just wrote this out of the blue and after a few days thought, “Screw it might as well post the first chapter!” Me at 3am is a brave soul. Brave, stupid and tired. I also posted this by the same title on ao3 so heck, if you wanna drop by there too or not that is perfectly a-okay~

Alright enough of me rambling about my life and I’ll ramble a bit about the story:

Basically it’s Hosuh being dared to go into an abandoned house on Halloween night by his friends and he accepts the dare (why you ask? Don’t we all make some weird decisions every now and then? This is the same). Of course it’s going to involve ghosts and the supernatural and Hosuh’s going to have a bad time at first but it gets better! I think...I hope. It should.

This story isn’t going to contain any ships whatsoever (because why write romance when I can write friendship oh hoh) but if you want to scream about ships I’m all ears. And any other types of feedback or screaming is welcome! I’m not going to stop you. Thank you for joining me in this wreck if you choose to do so! Chapter 1 is under the cut which I hope works!

Next Chapter: Chapter 2

Halloween Night

Chapter 1

Perhaps he really shouldn’t have taken the dare. It would have been a much better – much safer – choice to say he didn’t want to do it. After all, his friends aren’t monsters. They wouldn’t pressure him into doing anything he doesn’t want to do like any good decent friend. As to why he still agreed to visit the old, slightly dilapidated house at the end of the street is a question that probably has no sane logical explanation.

Hosuh looks up at the house in question. With the night settling in with dark clouds looming in the sky, it only adds to the unsettling feeling building in his gut. The house itself is made entirely of wood with a few missing planks here and there like the iconic haunted houses seen in movies and children’s stories.

Despite the sorry state the house is in, no one has ever thought to tear it down. Perhaps whoever owns the property doesn’t want to bring it down…whoever that is. Hosuh bites his lip as he takes his phone out to check the time. 8:04. His friends say if he doesn’t message the group chat that he's out of the house by 9:30 they’ll come check on him. He has great friends.

Not wanting to drag this on longer than he has to, the silver-haired man pockets his phone and walks up to the doorway. The old doormat with faded letters spelling out “WELCOME” does not make him feel welcomed in the slightest. Hosuh grasps the doorknob and after softly counting down from three he turns the knob. It doesn’t budge. He opens his eyes which he doesn’t remember closing and notices a small circular button for what he presumes to be the doorbell off to the side on the wall. It looks pretty out of place now that he thinks about it. Maybe he should press it? Would the ghosts even care?

A part of him feels like this is ridiculous as he continues to stare at the doorbell. But after a moment of hesitation, he presses the button. The silence continues on. Of course it wouldn’t work! The power’s been off in this house for years! It probably doesn’t have electricity running to it anymore. This is quite an old house after all…

For a brief second a feeling of relief washes over him. The door is locked so there’s no way he can get in! Yes there might be windows, but he isn’t interested in breaking and entering any time soon in his career. Even if it is into an abandoned house no one lives in anymore. With that thought in mind he turns around, fully intent on leaving and never coming back for the rest of his life.

He doesn’t finish taking the first step away when he hears a deafening ‘click’ sound coming from the door behind him. His body tenses and he stops breathing as a single resounding thought screaming, “No!” blares in his mind like an alarm. Hosuh closes his eyes and takes a deep breath in and out before slowly turning around to face the door again. His eyes narrow as he gazes at the doorknob with an accusatory stare.

“This really has to be some kind of joke.” Hosuh mutters to himself. Maybe his friends are pranking him and are actually in the house coming up with other ways to scare him. He takes a few steps towards the window and tries to peer into the house. Even with the moon providing some light for him to see, he can’t make anything out through the glass. There’s only a screen of pitch black. It wouldn’t be too surprising if the house uses black curtains to prevent anyone from seeing inside he guesses. Although robberies aren’t too common in the neighbourhood, the owner wouldn’t want to take any chances.

Hosuh goes back to the front door and grasps the doorknob. His fingers must be ice cold for the metal to feel slightly warm in his grasp. A few seconds go by before he decides that it’s now or never and he turns the knob. It twists and he pushes the door open slowly. Surprisingly it doesn’t let out a high pitched creak he was expecting it to.

The inside of the house looks just as old and broken as the outside. Hosuh looks left and right, up and down. Nothing really seems out of the ordinary he supposes. The room on the left has a short and small circular coffee table being illuminated by the moonlight coming in from the window. What looks like a half-finished board game is set up on top of it along with three cups resting off to the side. He takes a tentative step into the house, hand still gripping the doorknob in case he needs to make a quick getaway.

He knows it’s probably a stupid idea but at this point the whole trip is a stupid idea and when – if – he comes back from this he’ll make sure his friends will never hear the end of it.

“H-hello?” He calls out. “Is anyone here?”

When no one responds Hosuh takes that as a good sign. He’s sure if someone replied he would have booked it then and there. He knows better than to stick around when a disembodied voice starts talking. Then, a particularly strong gust of wind blows through the doorway, sending shivers down his spine and nearly topples him over. Along with the wind an uncomfortable sensation of static running up his hand makes him let go of the doorknob.

"Whoa!" He cries out as he stumbles farther into the house to prevent himself from face planting onto the ground. And like any other classic horror story, the door slams shut which is then followed by another ‘click’ sound for the lock turning. Everything happened so fast that Hosuh doesn’t register what had happened at first. The only thing that is registering is the sound of his heartbeat in his ears. After a few seconds of him just staring at the door he quickly goes over and tries to turn the lock. It doesn’t budge in the slightest.

“Of course it’s stuck.” Hosuh hisses as he tries again and again to no avail. He bets when he checks his phone it’ll have no signal so contacting anyone would be impossible as well – just like in every other horror story. He reaches into his pocket to get his phone only to find that it’s not there.

Another wave of adrenaline rushes through his body as he frantically pats himself down. No phone. He checks the ground around him. No phone. What if it somehow fell out from that gust of wind earlier? While it sounds highly unlikely it might not be impossible. But now his phone is just lying on the ground outside for anyone to pick up. Does anyone walk down this street on Halloween anyway? What if someone steals his phone? It’s going to be a mess if he loses it now of all times!

Something moves from the corner of his eye, bringing him out of his panicked thoughts. Startled, Hosuh looks over in the direction of the coffee table. His blood turns to ice and it feels like his heart has stopped beating altogether. It shouldn’t be possible. Why is it all the way on the table?

It’s his phone.

#danplan #danplan fanfic #yes I'm posting this before Halloween because it's multichap now to my own horror

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