#her recipes are so nice but whenever I make them the end result looks terrible for some reason

[anterieur]

hitting the “surprise me!” button on recipe blogs should count as its own form of therapy

#.txt #this is obviously about the smitten kitchen blog. OBVIOUSLY. #her recipes are so nice but whenever I make them the end result looks terrible for some reason? #also her cooking recipes (as in the non-baking ones) contain a LOT of corn which I am meh about #but still... the smitten kitchen coffee cakes 🥺 #she’s the only american recipe blog I trust with cakes #bc she’s the only one who UNDERSTANDS not every cake needs to be multilayered with buttercream and fondant

[sunflowersseemhappy]

Activities the Main Six always do during the Winter Holidays that just make sense.

Its that time of year folks and however you celebrate the winter holidays (or don’t for that matter) I wish you all the best for the new year and the future beyond that! 

Asra

Lights a candle in the doorway. Before MC died and the plague was just beginning MC placed a candle alight to keep ‘hope burning bright’. Asra continued to light it every Winter Holiday after, hoping for MC’s memories to return and for a brighter future.

Buys gifts through the year to give. Whenever MC or anyone else mentions something they like, or need Asra buys it the very same day if he can and places it in a box stashed away to give to the receiver that Winter Holiday.

Wants MC to sit in his lap as they open presents. Simple really, he just likes being close and being able to give MC neck kisses as they gasp at the gifts he gets them, or in thanks to MC for his own gifts..

Unwrapping presents in bed. Continuing from presents Asra prefers unwarping presents in bed because why not?! The shop flat is cold and the bed is warm and he’s too excited about the gifts to worry about lighting the fireplace yet. Also he just wants to snuggle with MC. 

Morning pumpkin bread. Every Winter Holiday Selasi the baker makes Winter Holiday goodies for the locals and Asra drags MC to go get some warm pumpkin bread to eat as both walk to Muriel’s hut.

Gifts Muriel an orange. When he and Muriel were on the streets the two wanted to celebrate but could never afford much besides an orange for each other, the tradition continued every year without fail even when Muriel was locked away in the Coliseum and when Asra moved into the shop. It's a symbol of their friendship and the times, good and bad, they spent with each other.

After the long day of other Winter Holiday activities Asra takes MC for a walk through the streets, snow lining the streets of the city and colourful lanterns lighting them Asra and MC wander the streets and everytime you hear music coming from a home or bar he leads them into a dance under the falling snow.

Nadia

Winter Holiday palace treasure hunt. Nadia’s favourite family tradition was the treasure hunt for the Winter Holiday tree and presents that her parents hosted every year (where they would find a string and follow it), not only did each of her siblings receive a gift but her parents gave gifts to each servant and guard that worked at the palace too. It's a tradition she proudly works on every year.

Gifts MC a new outfit for the festivities. Every year without fail MC gets a new unique outfit for the festive season (like a christmas jumper but a bit more formal), the outfit is worn during the Winter Holiday activities and is always too gorgeous for words.

Sleigh ride. Going out into the marvelous winter wonderland is magical, and a sleigh ride is even more so. Nadia often has a pair of dappled grey horses pulling a sleigh piled with blankets and hot drinks and drives the sleigh through the city giving out candies.

Food bank donations. With the sleigh ride comes the piles of food Nadia gifts to the homeless shelters of Vesuvia, she wants her people to experience as much joy as they can during the festive season. She wishes she could do better but she is working hard to make the season better for every one of the people.

Winter Holiday festival. Founded before Nadia and even Lucio’s rule over the city, Nadia’s favourite event is the festival the people throw on the frozen canals of the city (although she can’t vouch for how safe it is). But in all honesty she just loves spoiling MC with the gifts off the stalls and seeing how happy it makes others. 

Snowflake making. The return to the palace is filled with food and music but Nadia enjoys the evening most. Picking up yet another of her own family’s traditions, making snowflakes out of paper. It's a nice quiet time to talk about the festivities and share stories and generally the others show up to join in and relax with some yummy desserts.

Above all Nadia loves sharing spiced wine and reclining with MC, just sitting among pillows and drinking the night away. She’s full of giggles and chaste kisses during the evening and tells some truly terrible jokes and pranks that her siblings pulled on the servants during the season.

Julian

Stockings over the fireplace. Of the traditions he can remember Julian’s favourite were the stockings his parents filled for him and Portia, truth be told it's the only one he remembers... To this day he fills stockings for Maz, Portia and MC and somehow manages to hang them on respective fireplaces without any one of them knowing.

Does not get any sleep on Winter Holiday eve. Why? Because not only is he doing the stockings, he’s delivering presents from the ‘Winter Spirit’ to everyone he knows. Julian likes to think everyone believes in the spirit delivering the gifts but everyone knows it’s is him but they go along with it.

Popcorn and cranberry strings. For some unknown reason Julian is obsessed with popcorn and cranberry strings, maybe he likes the monogamy of it all but the real reason is he just likes hearing MC talk and there's nothing else to do but talk during the making of the stings. Also they are tasty, Malak agrees.

Draws loved ones for Winter Holiday. For all the excitement during the Winter Holiday Julian does take some time for peace and serenity, during a party or unwarping presents he’s usually sat in a chair scratching away on paper and drawing MC, or Maz, Portia, Asra, Muriel, Nadia or any one of the pets. Usually he ends up with little drawings of his loved ones to look back on year after year. It’s his favourite little tradition, one of his own. 

Strategically places mistletoe. Julian is all for kisses under the mistletoe (mainly with MC) but he is a devil when it comes to placing the mistletoe in places where it will yield the best results. No one is safe and pretty much everyone has kissed each other. Jokes on him because at one point he walked under some with Muriel. 

Bar hopping. Julian finds it very important to sample the Winter Holiday ales of all the bars in Vesuvia so he takes everyone for a round at every place. He loves seeing everyone happy and enjoying themselves and the drunken snowball fights that ensue are the funnest part of his evening even if he gets a cold afterwards...

Muriel

Making Winter Holiday ornaments. Even before the Winter Holiday season Muriel is making ornaments to hang around the hut or gift to people, he learned that many people were willing to pay for such trinkets and his skills in carving helped pay for many a meal when he and Asra were orphans. Now he does it out of habit, but is glad they make MC happy.

Makes charms that make the hut smell a certain way. A skill learned from Asra, Muriel enjoys making the hut smell like different things with his charms, they were also once popular in the market when the two sold them. Now they serve to make the hut a comforting smell, Muriel really likes the spiced orange smelling ones.

Messing around in the snow. When MC and Muriel are out in the snow the mountain man becomes strangely obsessed with messing around in it, pushing snow off branches and onto MC’s head, throwing handfuls for Inanna to snap at and even just falling into snow drifts with MC in his arms. He’s still plenty warm enough afterwards. 

Gifting to the orphans/feeding orphans. Muriel knows what it's like to have no home or family during the Winter Holiday, so there’s an open invitation to all the street urchins to spend Winter Holiday with him and MC. For all his bluster at not liking people Muriel is very warm and welcoming to the orphans.

Gift to the animals. Muriel spends the months leading up to Winter Holiday making sure each animal with have their own gift, despite the chickens seemingly indifferent take on their new hut. But the wild birds love the berries Muriel puts out and Inanna will refuse to give up her wolf pup teddy for even the juiciest slice of roast. 

Yule log and cuddles. Muriel spends many meticulous hours carving the shapes into the yule log and enchanting it to make the flames different colours so its a full fledged ritual to settle down next to the fire and cuddle with MC as both watch it crackle and sparkle. Muriel dishes out some gentle head kisses as he dozes on MC’s chin. 

Portia

Hot cocoa. Hands down Portia’s hot cocoa is the best in the city and maybe the whole world, since she was young Portia spent years making her hot cocoa recipe perfect. Julian likes to joke that it even rivals their father’s hot cocoa, Portia has tried many times to get it to taste like her father’s for Julian.

Makes MC a scarf, socks, hat, gloves. The mismatched and misshapen winter warmers Portia made in her childhood to hide in Julian’s own stockings have with practice become beautiful hand crafted sets of socks, scarves, hat and gloves that she gifts to her loved ones. 

Decorate the cottage. Since learning magic Portia has become obsessed with decorating the cottage using said magic, rainbow lights lining the path way, dancing lights around the doorway and a door knocker that sings a festive song when used. The list of decorations is exhaustive and the cottage is visible within a few miles everyone in the palace agrees it is the best decorated place in the city.

Sledding. Non-arguably Portia’s favourite thing to do in the snow, sledding is an activity she remembers doing with Julian many a winter when the snow was everywhere. She invites everyone to go sledding and even to this day she demands Julian pull the sled like he did when she was little. Even Pepi has her own little sled. 

Visit Maz who feeds Portia and MC. During Winter Holiday Maz, Portia and MC spend hours making the largest Winter Holiday feast for everyone to enjoy, packed into the small house the feast lasts just as long into the night. It’s not dissimilar to the feasts they had on Maz’s ship with the pirate crew and Portia enjoys the yummy food. 

Snowball ambush of Julian. Without fail if there is snow there is an ambush waiting to happen, it gets Julian very jumpy but without fail Portia and MC manage to get pelt him with snowballs. The resulting snowball fight usually ends in defeat for Julian, but Portia and MC hardly play fair. 

Lucio

Advent calendar. Such events as Winter Holiday were not widely celebrated by Lucio’s tribe but after discovering Vesuvia’s traditions he became infatuated with Winter Holiday. Especially the lead up to it between the two of them, MC and Lucio make advent calendars for each other, twelve days of receiving gifts which they have to hunt for in the city. 

Walk with the dogs. Once presents and morning cuddles are done Lucio and MC step out into the winter wonderland to walk the dogs (who practically disappear into the snow). The walk involves delivering presents to the others (who are warming up to the new Lucio) and chatting about various other plans for the day.

Baking gingerbread house. Ever since seeing the gingerbread houses the baker made Lucio has obsessed over making one, although he could easily buy them, but he couldn’t find anyone who wanted to make one of the palace. He’s getting better at them over the years, but MC’s own creations are much better.

Light show. In true Lucio fashion he plans the spectacular light shows that the city get to enjoy, fireworks and magic for all to watch. The light show is a far cry simpler than his other parties, but he doesn’t throw them to impress everyone, just MC.

Ballet. In the evenings Lucio would usually throw a party but since MC introduced him to the ballet’s he was invited too but never actually thought about going to. Lucio actually really began enjoying them, mostly because he likened the stories to himself and MC’s adventures. He’s actually begun planning one of the two of them for next year’s show. 

Charades. The last event of the evening is charades, usually he’s drunk or tipsy at that point so its quite funny to watch him make a fool of himself in front of the others who actually decided to indulge the former count. All he mimes is wanting a kiss from MC, who can’t help but blush even if its the fifth time he’s done it.

#the arcana #asra #muriel #nadia #julian #lucio #portia #christmas #winter #holiday #snow #sledding #ballet #charades #gingerbread house #advent #mc #haeadcannons #hc #fic #story #merry #happy

[haravath0t]

His Valentine

Pairing: 40s!Bucky x 40s!Reader

Warnings: long word count, angst (if you squint), and fluff!

Word Count: 2.3K 

Summary: Bucky gets stood up while going on a date and the reader goes and rescues him. Not wanting his night to end on a bad note, she takes him on a date, resulting in Bucky realizing by the end of it that it was her all along. 

Hello guys! I hope your weekend is going well! Despite it being quite late to the Valentine’s Day holiday, I truly wanted to get this one out so bad when I got the chance! Who doesn’t want to be swooned by Bucky? I dedicate this work to my wonderful Bucket, @world-of-aus​ as she is the one who did inspire me with writing, so this is a little something for her and you guys! You have to forgive me for getting so carried away with this one! Enjoy!

Ring. Ring. Ring.

“Hello?” You ask into the phone? 

“U-Ummm… Y/N?” you hear a familiar voice question. Your eyes shoot wide open.

“B-Bucky?” You gasp, holding the telephone firmer in your palm. You were not expecting him to call at all. “What is happening, Buck? Need an extra tie? A thicker coat? You should be have dinner with that dame you know-” 

“Y/N…”

“Dolores, right? That redhead that you’ve been into. You have to be ther-”

“Y/N, she’s not coming.” He sighs in disappointment, frustration and sadness evident in his tone, making your eyes widen even more than they originally were. “Oh my goodness, Buck, you’re kiddin’. On Valentine’s Day?! After all you two did? Maybe it took her a while to get ready?” You question in disbelief, trying your hardest to not get your hopes up. 

“Oh no that’s not what it is, doll.”

“What makes you say that?” 

“She came with another man… Richard Jones.” 

“Oh my gosh, that’s terrible. You’re at the Stork Club, right?” 

“Yes-” 

“Alright, wait outside. Be there in about 10 minutes. Give me a second. And don’t you dare go anywhere.” Is the last thing you say before you hang up, immediately telling your mom that you’ll head out and bring your best friend home for the night. You waste no time changing into a decent evening dress and a coat, hat, and gloves before you head to the Stork Club, determined to make your best friend get the Valentine’s Day evening he deserves. 

“God, Y/N… I don’t know what I did wrong. I genuinely tried. Even spent money in Coney Island for her. She said yes to this, only for me to find out she comes in with a richer bachelor in Brooklyn.” He grunts as follows you into your house. You thank him under your breath as he continues. “What does he have that I don’t? I thought I made it clear I wanted this to work.” You stop in the middle of the living room to turn around and cup his cheeks, having enough of his moping. “James Buchanan Barnes, are you listening to yourself?” You start off, eyes looking straight up at his ocean blues. You continue on when he silently stares at you, surprise apparent in his eyes. 

“Listen, I don’t care which dame you decide to take on a date, I don’t care who it is, I don’t like how they bypass someone like you! Listen, to all the girls, you are the most eligible and handsome bachelor in Brooklyn. Aside from that reputation, they are missing out on the Bucky I know. The Bucky I know is witty, kind, giving, selfless, loving, humorous, smart, curious. You are more than a handsome face. You are Bucky. If those dames you wanna date or dance with cannot see that? That’s their loss! They have missed out on a great guy.” 

Bucky’s eyes had widened at your statement, he had soon realized he didn’t expect this talk from you. “Listen, Dolores was wrong for this. Especially on Valentine’s Day. You did nothing wrong. Do not degrade yourself because of someone who has done you wrong, you hear? We are going to make it better, I promise. Why don’t we have a hangout instead? Maybe we can eat some dinner here, and maybe go watch a movie, or something you’d like to do.” You say softly, in a more calming tone than last time. 

Bucky only could nod, a small, yet hopeful smile now forming on his face. “I… I think I’d appreciate that, Y/N.” He responds, making you reciprocate his smile back, giving him a nice and warm hug before heading into the kitchen. “Good… I’ll make some roast beef, salad, and mash. You stay put at the table.” You call out, prepping the food. Bucky did the total opposite, leaning against the doorframe as he watches you cook and prepare the ingredients. He smiled at the fact you turned on the gramophone to hear your favorite record play throughout the home, humming along and bouncing slightly as you concentrated on your work. 

His eyes widened at how he felt. Why was he getting tingly feelings in his stomach? Why was his heart racing? Why did he feel like he was going to faint when he heard you giggle at your own shenanigans? Why did this feeling always come back when he was around you? He shook it off, as he always did. However, within minutes, he wanted to face palm himself. You didn’t have a guy to greet you tonight. You must be uncomfortable hearing all of the Valentine’s Day talk since last week, and now he’s bringing it up again. 

“Oh no. Hey Buck? Do you mind if you do a quick run to the grocery store and get some sour cream? I realized I don’t have anymore.” You call out to him. Perfect, he thinks. He doesn’t hesitate to go on ahead. Maybe he can come back with a surprise for you, his selfless best friend. 

It didn’t take long for him to come back, handing you the sour cream and heading back to wait at the table at his seat. He smiled when he saw the way you arranged it, as it was notably organized, the way you always wanted it. He couldn’t contain the excitement, fidgeting as he waited for you. “Alright! Dinner time!” You giggle, setting down the roast beef before you set down the bowl of mashed potatoes. “Bon appetit! Happy Valentine’s Day!” You squeal, clapping your hands together as you look at the dinner with satisfaction. “It looks so delicious,” Bucky compliments with a beaming smile, looking up at you with a gleam in his eyes. “This is always our favorite whenever you, Steve, and I celebrated somethin’ over here, like our birthdays.” He recalls, making you smile even more at the memories that begin to fill your head. 

“Well, dig in, Buck!” You giggle, serving him with a good amount of salad, beef, and mashed potatoes before helping yourself. “Had to learn the recipe from momma, it’s probably the most delicious dish for a formal setting.” You remark, pouring water in your cup and his. “You’re right! We haven’t had this in a while!” Bucky exclaims before taking a bite. “Oh goodness, Y/N, this is so delicious.” He says, groaning in satisfaction before continuing his dinner. 

Dinner went about just fine. It was freeing for you both, for when you two were around with each other, all reservations would be thrown at the window, resulting in you two behaving as if you were still children teasing and making jokes. All thoughts and heartaches about Dolores were also out the window, for you two were completely fine and happy in each other’s company.

You washed the dishes and finished them promptly, excited to come back to Bucky’s company that awaited you in the living room. Your excitement had only risen when you heard the familiar record that you both loved to hear as well as Bucky calling your name. “Yes?” you ask as you make your way to the living room, eyebrows furrowing when you noticed that the lights were dimmed, the room only lit by the candles that had formerly been placed on the dining. However, your audible confusion turned quickly into a gasp as you saw him stand up with your favorite assortment of sweets in one hand and a bouquet of red roses on the other. There was no way this man was real.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, sweetheart.” He says with that ever charming smile of his. 

“Oh, Buck! This is so lovely! Thank you so much!” You exclaim in disbelief, gently and carefully taking the flowers and sweets from him to set on the coffee table. Your eyes meet his, your smile matching his before you engulf him in a tight and warm embrace. “H-How?” You ask, trying hard to not let those tears that were threatening to fall succeed. Your heart fluttered when you heard him whisper in your ear soothingly as he rubs your back, “I think my most giving and kind best friend deserves some form of kindness and giving back this Valentine’s Day.” You must be dreaming. Never would you think you’d somehow be in the receiving end of Bucky Barnes’ charm. Never did you think that you’d be experiencing gestures like these from him. Although this was just two best friends trying to make each other feel better, you were willing to take it and imagine that he was here to make you swoon like he did with any other dame. 

“Y/N, sweetheart,” He whispers in your ear, causing you both to gaze into each other’s eyes once again, you two experiencing the dizziness, tingling, and racing heart once again tonight. However, you heard his breathing become more shaky than a few minutes ago. “You… you had treated me through a wonderful dinner and your kind words. Can I repay you with my flowers and sweets and a dance?” He asks softly, trying his hardest to hide the nervousness that was dying to become known. He didn’t know what made him offer this to you. You two were never this close and intimate before. However, his desire to be sure of himself overruled any fear he had in his head. 

He only smiled when you nodded, his hand holding yours as the other placed itself on the small of your back, guiding you into a small and slow dance. You sighed happily as you both started to dance cheek to cheek, swaying effortlessly across the room. Smiling as Bucky expertly spun you and brought you back to his form before he once again sweeped you across the floor. This made Bucky calm down. No longer nervous, no longer scared, no longer doubtful. He was now sure. He was now sure that you and him had something much more than what him and Dolores, let alone the other dames had. He never found any comfort, any peace, any transparency with any of them as he does with you. With you, he never needed to hold back. With you, everything seems to be calm. He enjoyed watching you smile, watching you laugh, cook, sing, sleep, exist. 

That’s when he realized. 

He loves you. He always has. 

That explains the tingles, for they were butterflies. That explains the racing heart, the dizziness. He was in love with you. He has denied his feelings for so long. He denied them when he saw you being approached by other boys. Then other teens. Then other men. It was not hard to see how beautiful you were and are. However, no one saw how you would skip when you were happy. No one saw how your eyes lit up at the sight of ice cream. No one saw how your eyes lit up when your tiny feet kicked as you played in the swings. No one took notice of your eyebrows furrowing when you studied arithmetic. No one took notice of how critical you were of yourself so that you may be as perfect as you can. Bucky, however, had fallen in love with all of this. 

He loved you from the moment he watched your five year old self eat your ice cream happily at the drugstore with soda pop alongside you.  He loved you even if you two argued about a broken wagon. He loved you even if it pained him to watch you laugh with another man. He loved you when you came to check up on him the day after his dates. He still loves you, as you sway in front of him, in that beautiful periwinkle evening dress. 

“Y/N,” he whispers once again, causing you to smile. “Mm?” “What kind of night are we going through?” He whispers with a smile, causing you to giggle and shake your head. “Hey… we are dancing in my living room, after a simple dinner, which happened after you were stood up.” You remark, causing you both to giggle. Here it goes. 

“What if I told you I prefer this over any of the dates I’ve gone to with the other dames in town?” You were now looking up at him confused. “What?” “What if I told you, that… this dance of ours… makes me want something more?” You were now breathing heavily, heart racing more than ever as you shook your head in denial. “James… you’re not leading me on, are you?” You ask meekly, hoping that you were not making this up. “I’m not,” he whispers, “I’m saying this because now I know.” 

“You now know what?” 

A smile kisses his lips. 

“A dame worth all the diamonds in the world. A dame that gives me all the happiness that I’ve been wanting for so long. It’s been here. It’s you.”

The tears had come back again, threatening to fall once again. “Oh, Buck… Buck…” You whisper, overjoyed with what you were hearing. Bucky was as overjoyed as you are, cupping your cheeks as his thumbs wiped your tears. “Oh, Y/N, sweetheart. What do you say? This isn’t the type of date I’d give. God, it’s a messy one tonight. But I promise, if you say yes, I’ll try to sweep you off your feet with each date we go on. Would you be my Valentine? Starting tonig- mmm.” He was quickly cut off as your lips gently sealed itself onto his, feeling himself burst with joy over and over again as his lips began to move against yours. They both danced harmoniously with one another, slowly and softly before you both pulled away to gasp for air. 

“I hope that gave you the answer that you needed,” you whisper softly into his lips, beaming as you run your hands softly through his hair. 

“That told me everything that I needed to know, my Valentine.” 

Permanent Taglist: @world-of-aus @world-of-aus-reads​ @whew-oh-em-gee​ @tomholland-96​ @lordyitsjordy​ @letstalkaboutsebbaby​ @thee-soom-soom​ @lookiamtrying​ @vesper852​ @hailhydra920​ @buckybarnesthehotshot​ @heyiamthatbitch​​ @rodrikstark​​ (If you would like to be included in a tag list let me know via ask! ❤️☺️)

#bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes headcanon #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes #bucky #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fluff #james buchanan barnes #buckybarnesxreader #bucky barnes scenario #40s!bucky #fandom basurero fics #40s!bucky x reader

[whocalledhimannux]

@peregrer the What. 👀👀👀 *insert John Mulaney gif of "say more right now"*

ok so when I say "the extent to which I've fleshed out the QT GBBO AU in my head is getting to be embarrassing," I truly and deeply mean it, please enjoy 1,900 words of utter ridiculousness.

first, our competitors:

Legarus - performs so poorly that viewers are a bit confused how he got on the show in the first place, a la Jamie (series 10) or that one guy who made a lime and chocolate cake in the first week.

Chloe - nice flavors and good ideas for decorations, but pretty sloppy. was up for elimination in the first week but came back with a great showstopper.

Melheret - good but not as good as he thinks he is (hence his bread week elimination because of sloppy technique), heavy-handed with the alcohol flavoring

Agape - solid competitor, not flashy but tasty + pretty results. I haven't worked out exact week-by-week themes (that would indeed be Too Much) but I imagine this is something like "Dairy" or "Caramel" or "Vegan," some particular element she just happens to not be strong on. viewers are disappointed by her early elimination

Teleus - Dad contestant. brings in a bunch of weird pans and gadgets he made up himself, does pretty well until it comes to Fiddly Foreign Foods he doesn't know (probably eliminated in French or Patisserie week)

Laela - typically has good flavors and pretty designs but technical knowledge is a bit lacking, so there are usually some flaws in the execution and she's often in the bottom half of technicals

Phresine - Grandma contestant. nails the classics but ultimately isn't creative enough to make it further.

Magus - the "Ian (series 6)" flavor of Dad contestant, often brings in foraged ingredients or eggs from his own chickens or whatnot and revives old recipes/flavor combinations no one else knows about. one week, some of those turn out to just be too weird, leading to his elimination.

Sophos - pretty elaborate decorations and good flavors (on the border of classic and new), but he tends to try a million different embellishments on everything and struggles with timing, occasionally to the detriment of technique.

Kamet - always has really interesting and different flavors and tends to do well in technicals especially, assuming he doesn't get overwhelmed. which is... an assumption (Finalist)

Costis - leans towards classic and indulgent flavors, although sometimes a bit sloppy--the kind of contestant where the judges look at his dishes and say "it's a bit of a mess" and then Paul Hollywood starts laughing because it still tastes delicious (Finalist)

Irene - absolutely stunning visually, queen of the technicals, occasionally gets the "style over substance" warning (Winner)

more details below the cut

I've gone back and forth on whether Eugenides should be in it but ultimately I decided no because I wanted to maintain a pre-show relationship between Laela + Kamet (I thought otherwise at first but then I realized I hadn't left Kamet any longterm friends or family for his finalist video and that's depressing af) and Irene and Sophos which to my knowledge hasn't happened once on the show so far? so having a married couple on top of that seems like it would be a stretch, and also then I think I'd need to make Eugenides the winner on principle and you know what? he can stand to be second fiddle to his wife for a little bit. My alternate backstory for him is that he was actually the winner of MasterChef one year (good with knives), so in the first episode Irene's first little chat to camera is something like "my husband's been bugging me for years to try out and I keep telling him he's got a skewed perspective on cooking competitions, finally I applied just to shut him up... and here we are." Her little video introduction is about how baking is a stress relief from her bigshot job. Her decorations tend to be abstract and gorgeous rather than cutesy.

Kamet, likewise, was nagged into applying by Laela, but she very cleverly framed it as she wanted to apply and wanted him to do it to for moral support. both were confident the other would get in and surprised that they did themselves. This is one of those series where everyone's friendships are immediate and obvious and super adorable (cast of series 10 my beloved...), and in particular these two are holding hands in episode 1. Laela's deep blue robe from TaT sticks in my head for whatever reason so I imagine her making an elaborate blue peacock cake or something one week that wins her star baker. somebody always does a peacock something and it's always impressiev.

Phresine is cool as a cucumber under pressure, always has lovely things to say about everyone else's bakes, and is the go-to last-minute helper because she usually comes in under the time. Irene starts out similar but as the weeks go by she starts to feel the pressure a bit more and cuts it a bit close. Sophos is the worst on timings, and mentions his wife at least once an episode. (I also played with him being single on the show and meeting Helen later through Irene and Eugenides, but this idea is too cute to pass up tbh.) Teleus lives with Relius, a fact that isn't mentioned until a few weeks in when he comments that Relius likes a recipe or gave him an idea for a flavor or something (Relius does not bake himself but will happily sample practice bakes), to the surprised delight of every viewer whose favorite contestant is the oldest gay in any given series (me, me, that person is me).

Costis tends to use a lot of chocolate and, as I said, pretty "classic" flavors--one of those people who makes a full English savory bake at some point. He's usually in the top half of the competition but doesn't get the top until one of the later weeks in the competition, which is a Honey themed week, and he absolutely nails it. The delicate decorations of his honey nut cakes and his use of honeycomb are particularly praised and that's the week he gets star baker. One of those bakers who flirts with elimination the first few weeks but noticeably improves over the course of the show.

My most, like, plot-y ideas are about Kamet (SHOCKER). I imagine he was born in Setra (I usually make Setra a non-autonomous region in my AUs) but arrived in Britain as a child due to [Unspecified Crisis] and ended up with foster dad Jeffa, who was roughly from the same region but not Setra itself; whenever Kamet wanted Setran food as a kid, Jeffa would take him to the library to find recipes and that was what sparked his love of baking. He's well-read on the subject and knows about foods from a lot of different cultures, so he's usually heard of the technical challenges even if he hasn't made or eaten them. He does a lot of fusion flavors, and is ALL ABOUT bread week.

I don't usually make the his-relationship-with-Nahuseresh-is-romantic leap in modern AUs but I think it works for this one because of the nature of the format--Nahuseresh doesn't actually appear on camera but is alluded to once or twice, ends up being Very Displeased that Kamet is doing something for himself, and during the week following Laela's elimination they have the fight that makes Kamet realizes this is actually a terrible relationship and he needs to leave now. He calls Laela to let her know what's up and mentions that, since he'll need to stay in a motel and has presumbly lost his job as a secretary (yeah working for your boyfriend is Bad, he's realized that now), he's going to have to drop out of the show. Laela, despite living in a studio flat without room to host him, immediately thinks "um fuck that" and calls Costis, and within an hour Costis and Aris and a few rugby buddies have moved all of Kamet's things into Costis and Aris's flat, where Costis insists that he'll squeeze into Aris's room (they've shared before, it's fine) and that Kamet gets first dibs on the kitchen for all bake off practices.

None of them actually reveal any of this to the show's producers. Kamet gets a little overwhelmed the following week and nearly walks away from the tent, but Costis jumps in to keep his bake from being ruined, and some soothing words from Irene + the hosts calm him down and he returns to finish. The only mention of the Drama comes in the finale, during the longer video clips they do on each of the contestants. Kamet is deliberately vague about the details of the situation, but Aris shows up in both Costis's and Kamet's videos and references the fact that having TWO flatmates in the bake off is a bit difficult because they only have a standard size kitchen, so he hasn't cooked for himself in a month and has been living off cake and savory breads. one of the hosts talks to Kamet in the tent after that clip is shown and he still won't talk about it in more detail, but says that he wanted to tell people so they could appreciate why Costis hasn't practiced as much the last few weeks (the judges scolded him for winging it a couple of times), and admits that he totally copied some of Costis's techniques for honey week based on watching him at home.

I imagine the finale task is something like an illusion cake--probably with a bunch of additional required elements because the show has been going bonkers with the finale showstoppers in the newer seasons--and Irene wins with a jewelry box containing, among other things, ruby earrings made out of candy. Kamet does a stepwell, and Costis does something architectural (I was thinking castle but something visibly Greek-ish so maybe a temple or a megaron? idk). Irene wins but they're all BFFs and that's obvious, so everyone's delighted for her. The little montage at the end reveals that Irene + Gen are expecting twins, that everybody hangs out all the time, and that Costis + co recently helped Kamet move into his own flat where he's now working on a novel (Immakuk and Ennikar inspired, obvi, leaning heavily on the honey-shared-on-the-road thing and including some recipes that actually work in the narration, albeit still written in an ancient-novel-like-way).

[Obviously not part of the show, but when Kamet mentions that it's time for him to look for his own place, Costis tries to v awkwardly invite him to stay forever and Kamet is like "nope I've got to try this on my own but yes we will go on a date once I've moved out and see how it goes from there."]

[This is so far beyond the scope of the show but also several of them go on to have more baking-related careers and have active social media presences and at one point they're all hanging out and Eugenides pulls out a camera and demands they all produce baking pick-up lines. Teleus refuses and also doesn't believe anyone knows baking pick-up lines off the top of their head or could make them up on the spot. Sophos sort of proves him right by coming up with "you're the apple of my pie," which Eugenides instantly mocks because Sophos's three greatest loves are baking, Helen, and poetry, and that's the best he can do? Helen comes up with "I like my cake the way I like my men--rich, sweet, and bright red," to which Sophos blushes on cue. Irene's is "when I'm with you, I feel like chocolate heated to 50 degrees--I struggle to maintain my temper." Eugenides protests this is more like an anti-pickup line. Irene insists this is the most accurate marriage-related baking pun anyone could ever come up with.

[Laela's is "You and I are like custard--I hope we never split." Kamet's is "You remind me of bread, because I knead you." Costis freezes for a minute and finally comes up with "Fancy a cream horn?" which produces a lot of giggling and makes Kamet slap his arm in such a way that, hen Eugenides posts this video to instagram, fans of the show all go WAIT ARE THEY DATING NOW] [by this point, yes they are] [I didn't even have to google baking pickup lines for this, guys, I legit came up with them on my own, please clap.]

am I obsessed? I might be obsessed

#queen's thief #attolia irene #kamet #costis ormentiedes #sophos #eugenides #teleus #eddis helen #laela #oh dear I bet her tag is virtually unsearchable #sorry laela

[fleckcmscott]

Bewitching Hour

Summary: October has been a blissfully busy month. With Halloween around the corner, Arthur and Y/N have some planning to do.

Warnings: Swearing

Words: 4,665

A/N: Special thanks to @hhandley80​ for this request! You've been so supportive and sweet. I truly appreciate you and hope you enjoy it!

On a side note, my oneshots will be more sporadic. I'm still writing but life has been life. Also, I've finished the first draft of another multi-chapter featuring Arthur and Y/N. It's going to take time to rewrite the subsequent drafts and edit, edit, edit. The chapters will go up once the story is ready. Thanks for your patience and support! 🙂 I heart you all!

If you have any thoughts or questions, please comment, feel free to message me, or send me an ask! 

Arthur's suggestion that they make plans to celebrate Halloween should not have been a surprise. He loved starting traditions with Y/N, and she prized adopting them with him. "It's been awhile," he'd said as they'd walked arm-in-arm to the laundromat. "I think it'd be nice."

Holidays had been a source of merriment most of her life. The beauty of red and green decorations at Christmas. Turkey and mashed potatoes at Thanksgiving. An egg hunt and chocolate rabbit at Easter. The togetherness of family during them all.

Halloween, though, wasn't a favorite.

As a child, she'd had fun trick-or-treating, riding her bike from house to far-flung house. And she hadn't minded escorting her little sister as a teenager. Y/N's homemade witch costume had been passed down. She could still recall the sleekness of the ribbon between her fingers as she'd secured the pointed hat under Mabel's chin.

But the magic had fallen away. When married to Jeff, she'd had to attend his boss's annual party. After receiving an apologetic shrug and kiss, she'd be relegated to hanging out with the other wives. They'd included her in their recipe swaps, in their exchanges of mild gossip. Her natural friendliness made chit-chat easy, far easier than having a good time. Those evenings had been spent nursing a glass of wine and willing the clock to go faster.

During the period she'd cared for her father, she'd tried to hand out candy. She liked being a good neighbor and imparting kindness in the form of bite-sized sweets. As his health had declined, the porch light had gone dark. Random rings of the doorbell would result in shouting and swearing. Repeated attempts to explain the door's lock wasn't broken. Festivity would transform into drudgery. It hadn't been worth the trouble. Instead, she'd watched terrible TV specials while her thoughts wandered to a future far from Boonville. A future she'd doubted would ever be.

"I don't know if it's your thing," Arthur had continued, bringing her back to the present. "But you might enjoy it with me." The response he longed for was evident in the worrying of his pocket, outlines of his knuckles visible through the tan cloth.

Everything they'd experienced together had soothed the sting of those wasted years. The hesitancy lurking in her was silly. Unwelcome. Less than either of them deserved. She'd met his keen eyes and half-smile. The sudden mental image of him dressed as a cowboy or pirate, eyepatch and all, prompted a laugh. Convinced her as she dug out her dry-cleaning stub. "It isn't my thing," she'd said. "But you are."

Relief had relaxed his wrinkles, save for his crows feet, which had deepened as he'd returned her happy expression. A slender arm wrapped around her waist, drew her against his solid frame. Once the clerk disappeared through the swinging doors to retrieve their clothes, Arthur grasped her chin and kissed her. The tender explorations were soon sloppy, and she'd giggled, his enthusiasm becoming her own. Their noses had met, his lashes resting on his wide cheekbones. "I think you're the sweetest treat, Mrs. Fleck."

Currently, Donahue's Department Store, Gotham's number one retail emporium (if the ads were to be believed), was bustling with last-minute shoppers. Weary mothers escorted their babbling children through the aisles. Clerks swapped out displays for the changing blue light specials. Lines went for yards. Patricia and Y/N sought refuge at a corner table in the café on the top floor. The warm glow from the pendant lamps provided a relaxed ambience, one that matched the hot cider and pumpkin spice cake they were savoring.

"I've got my grandson on Sunday," Patricia said between bites. "My daughter's going to a party with a medical records tech from Gotham General. Met him when she missed the bus. They split a cab and hit it off." Chuckling, she lifted her mug. "Speaking of, how's married life been so far?"

Memories of the past week quickened Y/N's heart, until she thought it might stop. How Arthur had gripped her replacement Social Security card, just to read her new name. The way he'd grab her for a twirl whenever they were in the kitchen. The reverence in his gaze when they'd lay together after sex, a look that both thrilled and made her blush. "The bills for his medication and appointments will no longer make us cringe," she deadpanned. She lowered her fork. "When we met, I was kind of blindsided - I'm not the type to fall in love quickly." The corners of her lips tugged up. "Being married to Arthur feels like a habit. A habit I should have learned twenty years ago."

"I'm glad you found each other." Patricia reached across the light brown table and covered Y/N's hand, gave it a squeeze. Then she wiped frosting from her mouth and nodded in the direction of the escalator. "Now let's find a costume that'll drive him nuts."

Beyond the colorful cosmetics and pungent perfume counters, they sorted through racks of vinyl smocks and plastic masks. Pop culture icons and princesses. Vampires and spooks. Knockoffs of classic movie monsters. Most were poorly made and decidedly uninteresting. Y/N pawed through accessories in a nearby basket, a cigar here, a patched hat there. "How about a hobo? I could steal Arthur's tie."

"This was his idea. Give him something a little exciting." After a roll of Y/N's eyes, Patricia held out a plastic display bag. "Found it."

The white font on its blue label declared she should "Create a unique look!" A woman in a leopard-print leotard and bow-tie wore black cat ears and a tail, the only two items included in the set. Y/N's nose wrinkled. "I don't think so, Patricia." She rummaged through another bin and examined a hockey mask. "I don't show a lot of skin."

"You show Arthur." Patricia ignored Y/N's glare, continuing to shove it at her. "Every man loves a woman dressed as a cat. Our next lunch is on me if I'm wrong."

Patricia could be relentless, but Y/N had to admit she was usually right. She arched a brow as she eyed the costume. Maybe she could find a solid body suit instead of animal print. The kit was only $2.98. And her friend had made it a challenge. "You're on. But I'm not wearing a bow-tie." She crossed her arms across her chest and tapped her mouth. "Your turn. Would Robert like you as a French maid or a go-go dancer?"

~~~~~

It was a busy season for performers. Arthur remembered HaHa's talent agency being booked solid for October by the end of August. Myriad functions at nursing homes, parties, and children's organizations took place throughout the city. Amusement Mile had a series of special events, allowing Arthur to work extra hours before the slowness of winter dragged in. Once the holiday was over, he'd buy make-up and props on clearance.

He'd always assumed he would like Halloween - if he'd had the chance to celebrate it properly. It was about connection, something he'd never managed. The customs gave him a pretense, a template to meet people, rather than leaving him wondering how to go about it. Provided a hiding place for his seeming inability to act normal.

Recollections of the day were few but vivid. When he'd been around eight, there'd been a party at school. The teacher had made brownies and given the students a half-hour respite from lessons. (A welcome relief, since he wasn't very good at most of them.) But he hadn't had a costume. Hadn't known how to reply when the other kids asked where it was. Not wanting to be left out, he'd pocketed a watercolor pallet and sneaked to the bathroom.

The teacher (he wished he could remember her name) had walked in as he'd smeared green and blue on his face, a pathetic attempt at a turtle. Fear of punishment had caused his laughter. But her kindness as she knelt, wiped away tears and pigment with a scratchy, brown paper towel, had calmed him. "Wait here," she'd instructed. It had taken all his courage not to run home.

After some minutes, she'd returned, an old white sheet in one hand, black marker and pair of scissors in the other. "The nurse won't miss this." She'd traced eyeholes, helped him cut them out. She'd asked questions. About his mother and what it was like at home. Questions he was at a loss for how to answer. Finally, she'd draped the cloth over his head. "There," she'd declared. "Gotham Elementary has its own ghost."

Even as he'd gotten taller and the sheet no longer went beyond his knees, that costume had remained his go-to. He'd venture out to the rest of his building, knocking on paint-chipped doors and pushing broken buzzers. Having learned to stay away from doors that yelling or funny smells emanated from, he hadn't gotten a lot of candy. What he had collected he'd shared with Penny. The wax lips became a free toy. He wasn't sure his memory of startling his mother and being tickled until he couldn't breathe was real or imagined.

At twelve, he was told he was too old to go trick-or-treating. He'd starting scrounging for change to buy hard candies at Helm's Pharmacy. They weren't particularly appetizing, but they'd been what he could afford. Only a few kids rang, a number that dwindled further every year. Most neighbors kept their distance, likely aware he was troubled. Cinnamon discs and butterscotch drops had loitered around the apartment for months. He'd sucked on them in an attempt to cut down on his smoking, just to save money. It hadn't worked.

Y/N hadn't spoken about the holiday, not the way she had other special occasions. At first, he'd thought it had slipped her mind. Work, planning their honeymoon, completing the red tape required to meld all aspects of their lives had taken up much of their time. But, given her reluctance to talk in detail about her past heartache, he'd come to assume her Halloweens had been unpleasant. He was certain he could change that.

Sitting on the dingy, dark green plastic seat of the train car, he giggled to himself, chest puffing up as he straightened. They'd been man and wife for eight whole days. Movies and songs said love was supposed to be somewhere between serendipitous and fated. A happy accident that was meant to be. Lying awake at night, he would find himself wondering where they were on that scale. If the emotions swirling through him - the excitement of belonging, the fear of fucking up - were what every newlywed felt. Then Y/N would snuggle closer in her sleep, murmur nonsense into his skin, and for a few minutes he'd be at peace.

Years had been spent trying to figure out who he was. Trying to find an identity, his role within the world. While he was still searching, it had been far easier to become accustomed to the role of "husband" than he'd dreamed.

Teaching his wife about events across the city had been a delight. Gotham Village's Annual Costume Extravaganza was a parade that went all the way to Gotham Square. He'd participated a couple of times, never formally registering but slipping into the clown section. It had been exhilarating. Had allowed him to pretend, for a little while, that he was being seen. That the crowds lining the sidewalks were cheering for him. Signs for extravagant balls were plastered on billboards and lampposts throughout the streets; he'd have gladly attended and shown her off. A haunted house was being held in a building in his old neighborhood, a fundraiser for the orphanage. He hadn't brought that up.

In the end, once he'd explained trick-or-treaters went from apartment to apartment, they'd decided on a cozy evening at home. The details had been left to her. Whatever she'd plan, he'd love it. He wondered what she'd disguise herself as. Would she be a sexy devil or nurse, like he'd seen on a sit-com? The notion sparked a fire in his cheeks.

Given how busy he'd be, he'd stay dressed as plain, old Carnival. Part of him regretted accepting two gigs, especially on a Sunday. He would have preferred her company. But he wanted to put the money towards the wedding band he'd put on layaway. (Even though they had one account, he wasn't going to let her chip in for it.) He should already be wearing it for all of Gotham to see.

The lurch of the subway prompted him to rise and grasp the pole grip. His stance widened as it came to a halt, knees bending with the instinct of a man who'd ridden public transportation since he was a boy. As soon as the graffiti-covered doors parted, he stepped out onto the platform and ascended the stairs, eager to share his new insurance information with Dr. Ludlow.

~~~~~

Scratchy violins and the hum of a theremin. Shrill shrieks and cracks of thunder. A cackle resounded, then a pipe organ, playing a melody in a minor key.

There was no doubt about it. Halloween spirit had saturated 4A.

NCB's Movie Marathon Mayhem had begun at 10:00 AM. Y/N had had it on since getting out of the shower, hoping to catch a horror classic while she decorated the apartment and prepared Bloody Mary mix. As she hung cotton batting between the television's rabbit ears, creating a long, narrow spider-web, she realized they were only playing cheesy B-movies. Giant insects threatening buildings. Science experiments gone wrong. Alien invasions. Oh well. At least she wouldn't have to pay much attention to get the gist of the plots.

The orange plastic platter, black bats along its edges, had been an impulse buy. She thought its array of sugary skeletons, candy bracelets, and Jolly Jack chocolate bars would be well received. But having seen only one or two kids in the lobby, she had no idea how many children lived in their building. She hoped she'd bought enough.

The cardstock window decorations she'd found were festive and matched Arthur's sweet nature. One portrayed a warted, green witch flying on a broom past a full moon. On the other, a ghost and mouse shared a pillowcase of candy and wished a "Happy Halloween." She held the tape dispenser between her teeth as she stuck them to their white front door.

Just then, the elevator dinged. Glancing to her left, she saw Arthur stroll down the cheerfully lit hallway. Buoyant expression on him, despite his white, blue, and red make-up being streaked from sweat. Striped prop bag on his shoulder and carved pumpkin cradled in his arms. "The store owner was going to throw it out," he explained with a half hug. "But he let me have it as a tip."

Classic, triangular eyes evoked the annual carving contest her parents had taken part of back home. Her father had been well-known in the community, being the town's only doctor. Entering the competition had been expected. They'd never won but enjoyed it all the same. Y/N had picked out the patterns and scooped out the squash's slimy innards. Her mother had baked the seeds. Peals of their laughter echoed in her ears, and a lump formed in her throat.

She swallowed hard against it. Dammit, Y/N. Get it together. This was supposed to be a special night for Arthur and her. She needed to distract herself. One of his curls peeked out from under his bald-cap and green wig. She twirled a strand around her finger. "With that toothy grin, it just might be your twin," she said. He pecked her temple, the kiss sticky from greasepaint. She lit the half-melted candles using his red lighter and put the jack-o-lantern just outside their door.

While he freshened his paint in the bedroom, she slinked into the bathroom to change. Arthur's and her routines were closely aligned; keeping her costume hidden had not been easy. The headband holding the furry cat ears was quite stiff, its teeth a tad sharp on her scalp. Once it was in place, she hid it under her hair. The lint on her form-fitting stretch top and leggings reminded her why she rarely wore all black. She retrieved her brown eyeliner from the nearby shelf and started in on her whiskers.

Arthur's footsteps neared, heavy due to his clown shoes, and Y/N turned to lean back on the sink. His thin lips parted as he scanned her body, forehead furrowed in pleasant surprise. His reaction planted a seed of bliss in her belly, one that bloomed every second they regarded each other. The lunch she'd have to spring for was well worth the pink shells of his ears. Eventually, she held out the fluffy, wired tail and a safety pin. "Would you pin this just below my waistband?"

Fingers grazing hers, he took it and sat on the toilet lid. He cupped her hips and pulled her closer, positioned her until the dampness of his breath hit a bare sliver of her back. "Hold still," he murmured, his voice sending a tingle through her. At his gentle ministrations, the spandex of her leggings felt snugger. "Did you- Did you read my journal?"

A faint click of metal as the pin closed. "No." She colored the tip of her nose, frowned at how lackluster the shade was. "I'd never do that. Even if I'm dying for a preview of your material. Why?"

"No reason." A soft huff, his shy smile clear in his answer. "I have an idea." He handed her a washcloth and hurried out of the room. She was patting her face dry when he returned, a fine tipped brush and pot of black greasepaint in his hand. "This'll look better."

Her brow arched. She'd only had her make-up done once; Patricia had invited her when they'd first met. Such an outing was not her preference, but Y/N had accepted, being new in town and wanting to learn about her colleague. There'd been champagne at the counter, which she'd sipped until she'd spent too much on eyeshadow and apricot scrub. The next morning, she'd put the products and a note on Patricia's desk: "I'll never forgive you. Thanks!"

The heat radiating from Arthur prompted her to close the gap between them. She craned her neck towards him, slid her palms to his yellow vest until she held him just below his ribs. His forefinger curled under her chin, lifted it slightly and angled it to the right. The cool, wet brush met her fevered skin. The dusty smell of the greasepaint blended with a whiff of stale cigarette smoke and traces of his sweat. She licked her lips.

The vibration of his chuckle was felt before heard. "I really like your costume," he said lowly. Two more ticklish caresses of the bristles on the apple of her cheek. "If you're not careful, I might werewolf and go wild."

She stretched closer to him, the fervor in his tone going straight to her center. Though he'd been growing bolder, his cocky side wasn't often revealed. She wanted it, thirsted to see more of the wild horse kicking inside him. Her touch ran over his chest, until she dipped under his black suspenders and pulled. "Are you going to gobble me up?"

Teasing strokes on her nose. "Maybe." Then his thumb whispered along her jaw and guided her face upwards. His kiss was supple, slow, a drag of his mouth as his tongue sought entry. She yielded, the simmer of anticipation bringing her to her toes. He groaned deeply and palmed her thigh, then fondled the curve of her rear-

The ding-dong of the doorbell halted them. He lifted his head and laughed, gaze sparkling. "I got paint on you."

She twisted in his arms and looked in the mirror. The whiskers caught her eye, embellished at the ends with dainty curlicues - his skill never ceased to impress her. Red brightened her lips and streaks of white were on her cheek. "It's all right. They'll just know I've been necking with a clown."

~~~~~

The sound of the bell continued. Over and over and over. More than it ever had in Otisburg. There were mummies, ghosts, a couple of skeletons. A superhero proudly displayed his red cape and blue tights, and a kid in her karate robe went on about her yellow belt. A tiny clown, too young to walk, was brought by her sister. As Arthur made funny faces, the baby cooed and tried to take his red, foam nose. Arthur parted with it gladly.

Only one member of the Wayne family appeared, slicked back hair and pompous pout making the disguise complete. The man accompanying the boy introduced himself as their upstairs neighbor and shook their hands. After one look at Y/N, he nudged Arthur's bicep. "So, she's the one keeping half the building up at night. Good on you, pal." Arthur blinked in confusion as she ushered the guy away, red-faced and muttering about his nerve.

Arthur was overly generous, giving out fistfuls of sweets while taking a few extra seconds to gather his nerves and compliment the costumes he liked best. It felt good to interact with strangers without constantly second guessing himself. Y/N would rub his arm or kiss his shoulder and tell him what a great job he was doing. "Kids are easy," he said, refilling the candy dish. But he reveled in her praises, anyway. And the knowledge that meeting the neighbors was going well.

Clean-up required little effort. The jack-o-lantern sat on their kitchen table, flames flickering as the wicks burned away. The door decor was packed safely for use next year. His plaid blazer was slung over the back of a dining chair and his wig was off. Y/N's decision to leave her whiskers on pleased him - she made a damn sexy cat. He pocketed the last few pieces of candy to snack on during the remainder of the evening.

The Sunday Night Special Presentation she'd picked out, a made-for-TV horror movie, began at 9:00 PM on GBC. Most of its airtime was punctuated by her tipsy snickers and legal wisecracks, which was typical when they watched something stupid. Yet, as the show went on, she grew quieter, barely speaking between sips of her third cocktail. As they sat on the sofa, her posture stiffened. Forearms crossed over her breasts. Her nails dug into her upper arm.

The change started two-thirds of the way into the show, when the plot about a doll running amok twisted into a story about a professional woman trying to assert herself against the demands of her mother. Against the expectations of availability. To fight for the simplicity of having dinner and peace and quiet. It resonated with him, which felt weird. Especially when the film cut to black, the implication being the mother would meet a violent end at the hands of her possessed daughter.

A cheerful jingle came on. Puerto Rico was a direct flight from Gotham Airport, it advertised, a flight that lasted "two hours and fifteen tropical minutes." They should get out while the weather was still good. The juxtaposition of mood broke him out of his ponderings. He flicked off the blaring television with the remote. Then he heard Y/N sniffling.

She set her glass on the coffee table, a slight tremble in her hand. "I need some air," she whispered as she rose, then went out onto the fire escape.

Arthur rubbed his thigh and pressed his lips together. He wasn't used to seeing her cry. Not from sadness. Should he follow her? Give her time? Both had worked previously, depending on the situation. But he wasn't sure what had upset her, what situation they were in now.

Exhaling sharply, he grabbed her glass and dumped the rest of the drink down the kitchen sink. Rinsed their dinner plates and put the slow cooker in the fridge. When he'd finished making decaf coffee ten minutes later, she still hadn't returned. He ambled towards the ajar glass door and stepped out.

Moonlight outlined her shapely figure and reflected off her hair, the silver a contrast to the orange glow of the streetlamps illuminating her face. Her stare seemed fixated on the street below. He followed it to see a group of ghouls and goblins spraying shaving cream on a shop window. A couple, one he'd see occasionally when out for a cigarette, walked down the sidewalk. A woman was half-carrying a drunk man towards a bus stop.

Upon clearing her throat, Y/N spoke. "I may not look like it, but I had a great time with you tonight. The movie just got to me." Relieved, Arthur sidled next to her, wrapped his arm about her back. Her head fell to his shoulder and she smoothed her hand over his stomach. "I don't mean to hide from you. Someday you'll know the details of my earlier life." She scoffed. "When I'm ready to think about them." He entwined their fingers and kissed her hairline, avoiding the wired tips of her cat ears.

Shivering, she took a shaky breath. "There are no skeletons in my closet. Only disappointments." Her voice cracked as she beamed at him, cupped his cheek, and pressed her face to his. "Knowing I'd get to have you would have made those years so much easier."

He held her tightly, massaging between her shoulders. She'd been speaking about herself, but he couldn't help thinking it was about him, too. His years with Penny. His stints in Arkham. The loneliness, the isolation, the endless anger and yearning to be more than a speck of dirt no one cared for. His journal was full of questions about where the hell his one and only was. If he'd known she'd be real, tangible instead of a figment, would existence have hurt less?

Wincing, he tried to push through those thoughts. To focus on her instead of himself. What mattered was that Y/N needed him. Perhaps a joke would cheer her. "I was thinking the other night of how easy it is to smile around you," he said. "You tickle my funny bone." Amusement bubbled in her throat, music to his ears. She released a contented sigh and nuzzled the crook of his neck.

Peaceful stillness ensued as the minutes passed. Though the breeze was chill, goosebumps forming on his pale skin, her affection kept his heart warm. His fingertips rubbed circles into her lower back, and she offered a pleasured hum. Across the way, footsteps pounded. He glanced to see a kid darting up the street, plastic pumpkin pail in tow. The boy's scream was filled with boundless energy: "Happy Halloween, Gotham!"

Snorting, Y/N took Arthur's hand and led him inside. The cheap tail she wore bounced with every exaggerated swivel of her hips. "I've behaved all evening, which your werewolf comment made extraordinarily difficult." She looped her arms around him and flashed a come-hither stare. "May I have a goodie?"

The scrape of her nails on his scalp coiled a knot in his abdomen. "Aren't you supposed to say 'trick-or-treat?'" he asked huskily.

"Your pussycat needs a petting or two." She closed the bedroom door behind them. "Maybe even a mauling."

His brows shot up on a hitched giggle. Then he palmed her hip while she started in on his buttons. Before she got too far, he traced a whisker with the pad of his thumb. Let their foreheads meet and pecked her eyelids. "Only if you give me something good to eat." He pressed into her, his enjoyment relentless, not waiting for her reply before devouring her mouth.

~~~~~

Tag list (Let me know if you want to be added!): @harmonioussolve​, @howdylilflower​, @sweet-nothings04​, @stephieraptorr​, @rommies​, @fallenstarsabyss​, @gruffle1​, @octopus-plasma​, @tsukiakarinobara​, @arthur-flecks-lovely-smile​, @another-day-in-chuckletown​, @hhandley80​, @jokerownsmysoul​, @mrscarnival​

#arthur fleck #arthur fleck fanfic #arthur fleck x reader #arthur fleck x ofc #arthur fleck x female reader #joker 2019 #watchwhathappens

[coleisunderrated]

Cooking with Cole

Happy Valentine’s Day! I’m actually not one for this holiday but if it’s an excuse to indulge in some glaciershipping, I’d say bring it! I hope you all enjoy it as much as I did writing it!

It’s the morning of Valentine’s Day and Cole was already panicking on this day of love. He was sure Zane already made him a cake because that’s how it’s been every year. A well-known fact to everyone in Ninjago was the buff guy’s love for cake and anything sweet. The even sweeter son of the famed inventor Dr. Julien was all too aware of this and whenever they got together, he would make a cake as gorgeous as it was delicious. Any cakes he make would put even the top patissiers to shame. Zane had done so much for Cole and what did he ever do in return?

A flashback of all the romantic moments he and Zane shared popped up. He loved seeing the way the wintry beauty smiled, how graceful he was when they danced together, and that voice. That velvety smooth voice that could put even the most talented singers to shame when they share a duet together. Zane did nothing but give yet Cole never really gave anything back.

Looking back on all this, Cole felt like a horrible boyfriend.

Maybe Zane deserves better than him...

‘No! I’ll make myself better! Someone he truly deserves!’ Cole couldn’t bear the thought of breaking up with his snow angel. Not only will he never find someone as amazing but Zane has done nothing to deserve the pain of heartbreak.

Then he realized the solution was in front of him the whole time. He looked back on all the cakes and other treats Zane made for him. He now wanted to return the favor and this was the perfect opportunity.

“That’s it! I’m gonna make a cake for Zane!” Cole’s declaration echoed in the otherwise empty house. With his father out of town, he had all the time in the world to brush up his culinary skills.

As if the timing wasn’t impeccable enough, he got a text message from Zane himself.

‘Cole, if it’s alright with you, I’m coming over to your house in the evening. I’m making something special for you and I hope you’ll like it.’

The muscular youth almost couldn’t handle how adorable his lover can get. He really wanted to surprise him and all he could text back was a simple ‘okay’ before prepping himself for the arduous task set before him. This was going to be a Valentine’s Day they’ll never forget...

...

Cole pretty much hit a brick wall the moment he entered the kitchen. He had a terrible track record when it comes to cooking. He can even turn the simple task of making toast into a bloodbath. He immediately worried and fretted over the terrible scenarios that could happen. He can see it now. The cake is a complete fail and Zane staring at it with sheer disgust then at him with pure hatred. And then his pale lips curl into a malicious smirk.

“Is that all you have to give?” The young man’s voice was as cruel as he was beautiful, “I don’t see why I should be stuck with someone as lowly as yourself. Because of that, I’m breaking up with you. I should be with someone who really treats me right and gives me nice things.”

“No! Zane! Don’t leave me!” Cole futilely begged.

But it was too late.

Zane already had his arms wrapped around Morro, who shot a cocky triumphant smirk at Cole. The muscular young man cried out to his traitorous lover but the couple already walked out of earshot.

“NNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!”

Cole found himself back at his house, relieved that Zane leaving him for Morro was nothing more than an elaborate fantasy. There’s no way he’s giving him up to some pretentious edgelord. He’s gonna bake the greatest cake ever and it’s all just for Zane.

...

Cole stared at the directions of a basic chocolate genoise recipe. Some of these phrases were confusing. How do eggs get white and fluffy? The recipe did recommend using a mixer and he luckily had one lying around in the kitchen. First, he had to get the eggs into the bowl. One would think having immense strength such as his would make it easy but maybe it was a little too much. By the time he had three eggs in the bowl, he already destroyed twice as many. He crushed most of the eggs in his hands and bits of shells mingled with the broken egg yolks in the bowl and egg whites ran down the sides from where he cracked them with too much force. It was surprisingly difficult to get the shell fragments out of the bowl with his large hands but in the end, he got them out for the most part. He added the sugar as the recipe said, and maybe a bit more so it can be just as sweet as Zane, and now it’s mixing time.

With the mixer plugged in, Cole looked at the dial, wondering if he should go on low or high. He wanted to get things done fast so might as well put it on high. The loud noise almost startled him but he watched and waited to see the eggs get ‘white and fluffy’. The eggs got paler and have thickened but Cole wasn’t sure if they can be considered as such. After watching the mixer go at it for what felt like forever, he gave up and decided to continue with what he got.

‘Dammit! I forgot to sift the dry ingredients whatever that means!’ Cole noticed he didn’t prepare the flour and cocoa powder beforehand, ‘But it’s not gonna change much. I can just dump them in right now.’ The dark-skinned novice chef added them in and put the mixer on high again. Flour and cocoa powder went everywhere. The flour-covered Cole had to switch the power to low and to his dismay, he could see lumps in the batter. He turned off the mixer and tried to fix it by hand. He stirred and stirred with a whisk but the lumps were still there. ‘Oh well. They’re really tiny. No harm in that.’

After that, he melted the butter and the directions said to mix a little bit of batter into it before adding it. It’s already gonna go into the cake so what’s the point in that? Cole shrugged and dumped it all in and whisked the batter. Now all that’s left is to actually bake the cake. Much to his dismay he also forgot to preheat the oven. The cake itself wasn’t even baked and it already felt like nothing was going right for him.

‘No! I’m not giving up! This is all for Zane!’ Cole already put so much effort into this cake and he won’t let it go to waste. He turned on the oven but while he was waiting, he made a disturbing discovery. The batter had separated for some reason.

‘Shit! Shit! Shit!’ Cole had no idea what he did wrong. He did just as the recipe said. Why is this happening? He tried stirring it and it seemed to do the trick. The oven finally reached the right temperature and after one final stir, Cole quickly poured the batter into the pan and left it in the oven to bake.

The cake was done once the latest episode of Hunted came to an end. Cole took the cake out of the oven and... was disappointed. The cake didn’t rise as much as it should have and was uneven. After it cooled, the strong guy had a hard time getting it out of the pan. In hindsight, he should’ve covered it with some parchment paper or greased it with cooking spray. The cake was stuck and he ran a knife along the sides and tried pulling it out by hand. It finally came out except chunks of the cake was still stuck to the pan. The cake looked really bad. Hopefully the ganache to frost the cake will hide its imperfections. All he had to do was melt the chocolate and cream together. Simple, right?

This is Cole who’s cooking. Of course it’s not gonna be as simple.

Cole wasn’t sure if the amount of cream the recipe called for will be enough. It seemed like so little compared to all the chocolate. ‘Some more wouldn’t hurt.’ Cole doubled the amount of cream and turned on the stove. He watched the cream warm up but it sure was taking its sweet time coming to a simmer, at least that’s what the recipe calls it.

‘Probably won’t hurt to check on my phone for a bit.’ Cole looked at his device to discover a new text from Kai.

The egomaniac bragged about all the things he’s doing with his boyfriend Jay and even posting a plethora of selfies. Cole felt a tinge of jealousy seeing how happy they were. He already had many happy moments with Zane but he felt like he was being left behind and when Kai’s sister Nya joined in with her two girlfriends Pixal and Skylor, it got even worse. He was almost jealous of Lloyd, who spends every Valentine’s Day buying a chocolate bar and eating it by himself. The green-eyed blonde seems to certainly enjoy being single. Cole was tempted to send some sort of reply but he didn’t want them to blab to Zane. The cake is supposed to be a surprise and nothing will stop him, not even the loud sizzling sounds and stench of something burning.

Burning...?

The cream was burning! Cole rushed in and almost got scalded by the bubbling liquid that almost touched his hand when he turned off the stove. After the bubbles died down, the burnt smell remained and the cream had almost evaporated. Luckily, he had more and just poured it in and the cold liquid made a scorching sound when it touched the pot. The intense heat could probably heat it up in an instant and he could save himself the work. He added it into the chocolate and then noticed the layer of burnt cream stuck to the bottom and cream in the bowl still carried a foul stench. Cole dismissed it as just the smell and the flavor won’t be affected.

Just as Cole feared, the hot cream alone wasn’t enough to melt the chocolate, even with twice the amount as the recipe said. No matter how much he stirred, there were still a bunch of lumps. He tried to fix it by heating it up in the microwave but nothing seems to be working out for him. He could hear something almost like an explosion go off in the microwave. With a speed that could match Jay’s, he took out the ganache (and almost burning himself again) and much to his horror, it was just as screwed as the cake. The recipe said the ganache was supposed to be smooth and shiny but the results of his attempt was dull, gritty, and sad. The chocolate kept separating and leaving ugly streaks in the mixture. Cole didn’t have enough ingredients to make another batch so he resigned himself to work with what he got.

Cole struggled to cut the cake in half but it was already so uneven. He couldn’t keep the knife straight and the cake kept crumbling. After getting two very sloppy layers, he finally noticed all the air pockets hidden within the cake. He grabbed some cake chunks that fell off and filled in the holes and tried spreading the ganache on the first layer. Something weird was going on with the chocolate. Thin liquid seeped from the grainy frosting and there was nothing he could do to remedy it. All he can do now is hope it won’t affect the cake too much and placed the next layer on top. Frosting a cake was clearly harder than it looks. He watched videos of cakes being frosted and he wished he had a turntable or an offset spatula. All he had was a plain kitchen knife and he struggled to frost all the sides and top.

Cole hoped frosting the cake will salvage it but somehow, it looked even worse. He looked through the recipe, hoping it could give him some hints to save it. All that was left was the final direction: decorate it however one likes. “Some help that turned out to be.” The buff man scoffed and looked at his sorry excuse for a cake, “I guess some decorations will make it a bit easier to look at...” Because the cake was for Zane, Cole wondered what kind of decorations Zane likes and what would suit him. The image of pure icy blue eyes stuck in his mind and he, more often than not, wore light colors. The first thing on his mind were something pastel-y. He looked through the cabinet for some pastel sprinkles or anything that says ‘Zane’. Unfortunately, the only kind of decorations he had was a pack of Halloween-themed sprinkles from a couple of years ago.

‘Should I even bother?’ Cole stared at the outdated sprinkles with dismay, ‘These stupid sprinkles don’t even match and the cake is too far gone...’ He looked at the disastrous confection again as if the pile of botched cake and ganache could provide any sort of answer to his dilemma. He wanted to quit while he still has some dignity left yet he his heart was telling him not to give up. He thought of the gifts he got in previous Valentine’s Days. He thought about Zane. He still feared his normally kind and patient boyfriend will dump him for Morro. He needed to make this cake look as good as it can possibly get. Without a second thought, he dumped the whole container of sprinkles onto the cake...

“Ah... The perfect cake for my Valentine...” Cole gazed at the beautiful finished cake...

...picture from the cookbook.

“Why doesn’t mine look like that!?” The dark-haired young man put down the book to gape at his hideous disaster of a homemade cake. The ganache was sloppy and separating and the sprinkles melted into the chocolate, creating a gross tie-dye effect and then there’s the messed up cake underneath it all. Cole wanted to do nothing more except cry over his failed efforts. He’ll surely lose Zane forever all because he wanted to return the love he had given him.

It’s too late to start over again. The sun was already starting to set and he could see a certain someone approaching the house from the window.

‘Crap!’ Cole didn’t even have time to wrap the cake or even put it in a box. He left it there and went to get changed. He scoured through his wardrobe to find the right outfit to impress Zane. He picked out yet another sleeveless shirt with a band logo and black pants. It wasn’t really formal but he was never one for those kind of clothes. He just wanted to wear something he really liked to make up for his awful time in the kitchen. The cheesy doorbell rang, notifying him that Zane was here. After a quick brush of his thick black locks, Cole went straight for the door. Taking a deep breath, Cole put on a debonair face and opened the door to welcome his lover.

Zane wore a simple yet elegant white shirt, khaki jeans, light blue vest and was holding something behind his back and Cole was pretty sure what it was. No matter what he wore or the circumstances, he always looked so breathtaking.

“Uh... Oh wow...” Cole was left tongue-tied at the sight of his beautiful boyfriend alone.

“I can tell you’re quite thrilled to see me.” Zane giggled at his lover’s flustered reaction. He couldn’t wait to show him what he made for this occasion.

“And I see you’ve got something for me.”

“Yes. I have made something special as promised to you.”

Zane took out the thing he hid behind his back and Cole was blown away just from the beautiful packaging. The heart-shaped container covered in pink wrapping with pretty heart patterns and a little Valentine card attached to it sat amidst a bed of white crinkle paper with a slight sheen in a clear plastic box that was tied up with a delicate red ribbon.

“Zane... I... Thank you...” Cole said out loud while he felt like he didn’t deserve such a lovely present and felt bad for even holding it. Then again, it’s been like this every year. He can keep his sorry attempt at baking a secret and things will go on as usual.

“I smell something coming from the kitchen...” Zane caught a whiff of a strange scent. His instincts to protect Cole went into overdrive and he sought to investigate.

‘Shit!’ Cole realized he completely forgot about the cake. There’s no way he’ll let Zane be a witness of something so unholy.

“Uh... n-no need to go in there! Hehe...” He blocked the entrance, slightly thankful for his musclebound build.

“Cole, is something wrong? You normally have no issue with me entering your kitchen.” Zane was still curious tried peeking over Cole’s shoulder.

“Nothing to see here! Why don’t we just go into the living room and watch some movies?” Cole still tried to distract him. As sweet as he is, Zane can be extremely persistent and unfortunately, now was one of those times.

“What is that?” Much to the larger man’s horror, his snow angel caught a glimpse of Ninjago’s cruelest mistake sitting on the kitchen table.

Cole saw the shocked and confused expression on his lover’s fair face. At that very second, the dam holding back the ugly truth broke down.

“Okay, fine! You want the truth?! I can’t cook!” Cole finally broke down, “I tried baking you a cake but no matter how hard I tried, it’s a disaster! If you’re gonna dump me right here and now, go ahead! Go out with Morro or whoever the hell you want! You deserve better!”

“What are you talking about...?” Zane didn’t expect his lover to react this way, especially not on this day dedicated to love.

Cole couldn’t bear to even look at Zane and curled up on the floor, hoping it would open up and swallow him whole. He truly wanted Zane to be happy and be with someone who can give treat him the way he should. Too bad that someone isn’t him.

“Cole, what happened? Please tell me.” Zane crouched down to his level. Again, he was being persistent. It would do him no good to argue back.

“You see... you’ve always made cakes and all kinds of good food for me and... I wanted to return the favor...” Cole sighed in defeat, still refusing to look at Zane.

“You made this... for me...?”

“I know what you’re thinking. You’re now wondering why you have to be stuck with a moron who can’t even bake a freakin’ cake. I won’t blame you if you break up with me. I’m just... I’m sorry I can’t be the person you deserve.”

“Cole...”

The buff man flinched when he felt a cool hand graze his cheek.

“Cole, look at me.” Zane’s voice was as smooth and calm as ever. Cole kept his earthy green eyes squeezed shut in fear of the disappointed look that is undoubtedly on his lover’s beautiful face. He jerked his head away but Zane caressed his chin. As scared as he was, Cole could never deny his lover whatever he wanted, even if it could put their relationship in jeopardy.

It was a struggle to open quivering eyelids and Cole was reward with not a scowl of disgust but a gentle serene face. Relief still hadn’t come to him and he had doubts it was genuine.

“Zane...?” A slight gasp escaped from Cole’s lips.

“I’m so grateful you wanted to do something special for me.” The slender beauty embraced his muscular boyfriend.

“Really? I mean, I... You don’t -”

“But...”

Cole should’ve known there was a catch. Even someone as kind and forgiving as Zane has his limits...

“Please don’t push yourself for my sake. You alone are the perfect gift.” Zane nuzzled the crook of his neck.

“Do you really mean that?”

“Yes. You are the one person who makes me feel like I can be me and allow me to experience feelings I’ve never felt with anyone else before. Being with you makes me feel... complete.”

“You... took the words right out of my mouth... because I feel the same with you. Even now, with you here, I don’t want to let you go. Zane, I love you.” Cole’s strong arms instinctively wrapped around Zane’s lithe frame despite his earlier fears.

“And I love you too. Nothing will ever change that.”

“Not even the cake?”

“Of course not.”

“So... wanna try it?”

“I think I’d prefer to live many more years with you.”

Cole let out a chuckle at one of the few instances his boyfriend’s sense of humor was on point.

“Would you like to see what I made for you?” Zane offered.

“Definitely. Now let’s go to the living so I can love you.” It was Zane’s turn to giggle at how affectionate the big guy can get and that’s what he loves about him.

No sooner had they sat on the couch did Cole carefully unwrap Zane’s gift. He was pleasantly surprised by a big chocolate heart decorated with cream, icing, and sprinkles with such detail and intricacy he wouldn’t be surprised if Zane took the time placing each little sprinkle onto the chocolate and with the icing, he even wrote ‘For My Love’ in fancy handwriting. Half of him wanted to dig right in while the other half didn’t want to mar such a lovely work of art.

“Go ahead. Please eat up.” Zane encouraged his first half that wanted to try it.

Cole didn’t hesitate to take a big bite out of the chocolate and was pleasantly surprised by what’s inside. The chocolate was filled with a mixture of soft chocolate cake and frosting like one giant cake pop and sandwiched in between was a layer of rich and smooth ganache that melted in his mouth. Even better was all the love and thought Zane put into it just like every other year. He almost gobbled up the whole thing had he not noticed Zane gazing at him the whole time with those mesmerizing crystalline eyes.

“Uh... why don’t you try some?” Cole offered what remained of his latest culinary masterpiece, “You made it yourself and as they say, you reap what you sow.”

“That’s quite alright. I made it just for you to enjoy. I’m simply happy that you like it.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to make something for you in return?”

“After seeing the... results of your efforts... simply buying something will be nice. Like I said, I wouldn’t want you to push yourself. I love you too much to allow you to do that.”

“Oh, so now it’s become a contest on who loves who more?” Cole jested.

“If you think you love me more, prove it.” Zane teased back, motioning with his finger for Cole to come closer.

“With pleasure!” Cole swooped down and pressed his lips against Zane’s, who was just as eager to return the favor and kissed back.

The chocolate was already very sweet but sharing a kiss with Zane will always be a million times sweeter.

#ninjago #glaciershipping #my writing #plasmashipping #polyponytails #kinda blizzardshipping #lloyd is me on v day

[besidemethewholedamntime]

Happy birthday to the wonderfully amazing bean @bobbimorseisbisexual ! I hope you still manage to have an amazing day because you most definitely deserve it for being such an amazing bean! Here’s some FitzHunter to show you my love for you. Thank you for being you!

the (not so) great british bake off 

Summary: 

"There’s a rather unsettling noise, and he turns just in time to see the cake completely cave in the middle, ruining any last chance there might have been of salvaging it. Fitz sighs deeply, a real lung-emptying sigh, and pinches the bridge of his nose tight. This thing has been such a headache, and if he didn’t love Hunter so much then he wouldn’t have even bloody bothered in the first place."

Fitz tries to bake a birthday cake for Hunter. Perhaps it doesn't go according to plan

{Read on Ao3}

or read below!

There’s icing on the floor and a cherry has gotten itself stuck on the ceiling. The cabinet doors are sticky with melted butter and the toaster has miraculously ended up coated in flour. In the middle of it, Fitz stands with his hands on his hips, surveying the attempt of a cake in front of him. The cake is drooping slightly in the centre and the edges are crispy and black. The pathetic attempt at icing drips off the lopsided top, not at all in an appetising way. The cherries, possibly long past their expiration date, seem to have collapsed in on themselves, and as Fitz attempts to tell himself it’s not really that bad, one drops off the side with the running icing and lands with an audible plop on the counter.

“This is ridiculous,” he tells himself. “Bloody ridiculous.”

It’s not Hunter’s birthday until tomorrow, but he’d wanted the cake made today so he could spend tonight organising the decorations, so when Hunter left for work at 7am tomorrow morning, all he had to do was put them up, put out the food, and wait for the guests to arrive. Parties have never been Fitz’s strong suit, and clearly neither is baking, but he just wanted to do something nice and lovely for the man he’d quite gladly spend the rest of his life with.

The ingredients for the cake weren’t the best, that he’ll admit. They were bought rather cheaply from the newsagents at the bottom of the street. London rent and London shopping eats away most of their money each month, and as a result it’s 39p flour and 15p eggs that currently litter the kitchen worktop. In all honesty he hadn’t really thought it mattered, and perhaps it still doesn’t. Perhaps it’s his technique which is sadly lacking in quality.

His mum was never really a baker, and she still isn’t. A nurse in the hospital, his birthday cakes were always made by his gran and then when she died it was always something from Marks & Spencer if there was money, or Tesco if there wasn’t. Unfortunately, the state of Fitz’s finances doesn’t even stretch that far, the last of it having been used on the party decorations and the train fare for Hunter’s parents to come and surprise their son at the weekend.

“Looks like it’s a trip back to the shop,” he mutters, without hope. This is his third attempt at such a cake, and he doubts four, five, or even six will be of much improvement.

He’s never been much of a cook, but he thought even he would be able to manage a cake. He’s an engineer for goodness sake. He can build marvellous things from nothing, can see in his mind exactly what he wants to create and then create it, just like that. His talent clearly only covers inedible things. Add a bit of flour or an egg and the whole thing is a disaster, as evidenced by the buttery handprints that make it a task to even turn on the tap to wash his hands.

There’s a rather unsettling noise, and he turns just in time to see the cake completely cave in the middle, ruining any last chance there might have been of salvaging it. Fitz sighs deeply, a real lung-emptying sigh, and pinches the bridge of his nose tight. This thing has been such a headache, and if he didn’t love Hunter so much then he wouldn’t have even bloody bothered in the first place.

Maybe he can ask someone else to bring a cake to the party tomorrow. Mack’s coming, and he’s probably a pretty good baker. It seems like something he’d be good at, but then Fitz remembers his own skill set and how it’s not always transferable. Or Jemma? Jemma’s good at everything. Then, with a slight wince, he remembers the time in university halls when she’d set fire to a tea-towel trying to get a pan out of the oven and he thinks that this is probably the one thing she doesn’t excel at. Daisy doesn’t even pretend she can cook, and told him as much when he asked her about bringing a little something. There’s Elena, but whenever she makes food, she tends to rush it, as if forgetting that not everything can be as quick as her, and so everything tends to come out slightly raw.

It’s unbelievable, it really is, but Fitz comes out as the best baker except he’s really, truly, completely awful and the cake currently slinking down the kitchen cabinet is a testament to that.

One wallet-emptying trip to the newsagents later and he stands in front of the now slightly cleaner kitchen worktop, the ingredients for attempt number four weighed out into separate bowls in order to try and be absolutely perfect. He has the recipe printed in front of him and takes a deep, cleansing breath and starts methodically following through, hoping that by some divine miracle his luck changes.

It is of absolutely no surprise when, forty-five minutes later, the cake is as flat as a pancake on the cooling rack, the icing is horribly lumpy, and there’s a dismal looking yolk from an unfortunate egg accident sitting in pride of place on the floor.

“Shite,” Fitz says, feeling his bottom lip poke out and a deep sense of failure fill him from the toes up. “Shite shite shite.”

-x-

Hunter walks through the door in a surprisingly jovial mood. Today’s shift wasn’t so bad and it’s a whole thirteen hours before he has to be back, and he gets to finish early tomorrow to celebrate his birthday which he’s sure (if he knows Fitz, which of course he does) involves some sort of surprise.

The smell of burning is what hits his nostrils first, followed by the smoky haze that fills the flat. This is certainly a surprise, but just not of the variety he was expecting.

“What the hell?” He shouts, knowing there’s no fire because the alarm is surprisingly silent, but also not seeing any other explanation. “Fitz? What the hell’s happened?”

Fitz appears out of the haze, looking as though he’s aged ten years. There’s flour in his hair which does nothing to help his aged appearance, and there’s something on his shirt which just looks as though it has a weird consistency. Hunter’s heart skips at the sight of him regardless, the way it always does after a hard shift, knowing the man he loves can take all of his cares away in a second.

“What happened to you?”

Fitz’s sighs so deeply it’s a wonder it ever stops. “It was supposed to be a surprise.”

“And it is, believe me.” Hunter’s eyebrows draw together. “Not the kind you were expecting though, eh?”

“No.” Fitz rubs the back of his neck, staring at the ground as though it will provide him with a way out. “I tried to bake you a cake.”

His jaw almost drops to the floor, and it’s a conscious effort to keep it clamped shut. “No,” he exclaims.

Fitz nods mournfully.

“You can’t cook.”

Another mournful nod

“What in the hell possessed you to bake a cake?”

“It was supposed to be a surprise, you know, for your birthday. Thought it would be a nice thing to do considering it’s not like I can do much for you this year.”

Hunter’s heart feels like the size of a watermelon in his chest but he can’t get over the shock and the utter stupidity of a man who is literally a certified genius.

“You’re insane. Actually insane.” He smiles though, because for how insane it is, it’s hilarious. “Can I see it?”

Fitz winces. “I’m not sure if you’re going to want to do that. It’s pretty bad in there.”

Hunter rolls his eyes. “Go on. Show us the damage.”

In Fitz’s defence, cake number six hasn’t turned out as terribly as all the others. It’s risen slightly and it’s definitely more golden than charcoal, but the shape of it is strange and there’s an odd lump on one of the sides that doesn’t quite go in when pressed. The best attempt though it may be, everything about it still screams please don’t eat me.

Hunter can’t contain his laughter. “Oh my God.”

Fitz crosses his arms a little defensively and huffs, “I tried.”

“You tried something alright. There was an attempt, if it can be called that.”

His churlish attitude only makes Hunter laugh louder. Strangely enough it’s the best birthday present he could ever get. He clocks the ingredients on the side of the counter. “No wonder it didn’t work, with stuff like that.”

“It was all I could get,” Fitz huffs again. “The second time there was less choice.”

“The second time?”

“Uh, yeah.” More rubbing of the back of the neck, avoidance of Hunter’s eyes. “This might not be the first attempt.”

There’s a reason that Hunter does all of the cooking, and it’s a very good one. There’s a reason there’s a ban on Fitz making anything more strenuous than plain pasta, and if they ever needed any more proof then it’s staring them right in the face.

“How many attempts?” Hunter laughs, expecting a reasonable number and not the murmured six that barely comes out of Fitz’s mouth.

“Six!” He all but screeches, eyebrows rising almost off his head. Fitz sheepishly shows him the evidence, which is currently lined up on the kitchen windowsill for no good reason at all.

“Sorry,” Fitz says. “Just wanted to make something nice.”

“I wouldn’t apologise, love. From what I can see, I’ve had a lucky escape.”

Fitz smiles but his eyes are still sad and it’s unbearable to look at so Hunter brings him in for a side-armed hug. For all the laughing and joking he’s actually deeply appreciative, and he knows it’s not something he’d ever be able to put into words.

“You didn’t have to, you know that, yeah? I thought we agreed no big birthday things this year.”

Money’s been tight, no getting away from it, and they had agreed that this would be a low-key affair this year. Not that Hunter can find fault in it, he knows he probably would have tried to do the same thing.

“I just didn’t want you to have nothing for your birthday, is all.”

“How much did all this cost though?” He sighs gently as Fitz rests his head on his shoulder. “I didn’t want you to bankrupt yourself for me.”

“I didn’t-” Fitz starts but cannot finish. “Doesn’t matter. I’d bankrupt myself for you any day.”

“You’re an idiot,” Hunter sighs, looking at the sad remnants of cake and feeling nothing but a rush of love and his watermelon-sized heart beat rapidly in his chest. “A bloody idiot.” He looks at Fitz, pulls him closer. “You’re lucky I wouldn’t have you any other way.”

#aosficnet2 #earth vs space #team earth aos #fitzhunter #happy birthday al!! #ily so much you're truly amazing! #fanfic by moi

[flydotnet]

Impromptu Nursing

VRAINS Rarepair Weeks 2018-2019 - Day 12: Pets/Sickfic

Summary: Kiku and Takeru have planned on seeing each other after weeks and months of not doing so because of the distance. There is, however, kind of a knack with it: he doesn't show up at their meeting point. Instead, she goes to his place and decides that he needs to be taken care of instead of apologizing to her. 

Fandom: Yu-Gi-Oh! VRAINS Ships: Entrustshipping (Takeru/Kiku)

Wordcount: 1.9K words

Notes: Justice for Shoichi, the best wingman ever. YOOOOOO BEST PROMPT IS HERE You gotta have to thank Michevalier for the sudden Entrust inspiration. I'm writing almost the opposite as she does (with my floof and all), so make sure to check her fic too, xoxo, Fly. It's very fluffy for once, considering I slapped a thing from a Cardcaptor Sakura special manga chapter on there for good measure. 

Event hosted by @vrainsrarepairweeks

AO3 version available here.

Winter break’s cold winds blows through Den City as Kiku steps down from her train. Still very little used to the city’s busier atmosphere compared to her countryside hometown, she made sure to plan where she had to meet up with Takeru: a park downtown, in front of a hotdog truck named Café Nagi. He also accompanied the explanation with a picture of some of his friends from the city:  on it, Takeru was smiling, arm wrapped around the shoulder of a blue-haired boy around their age named Yusaku. Right behind them was an older, purple-haired man named Kusanagi who couldn’t be that much older than them.

 Takeru has almost insisted for her to meet them and not just with him. He has told her countless stories about them, how they had all met. His eyes were shimmering whenever he talked about Aoi’s exploits, how they saved Miyu, how Yusaku was a great friend to have, how Kusanagi’s advice was either fantastic or hilariously terrible, and then there was this little guy in his Duel Disk that’d say something witty and she’d giggle. He was so excited for it, how could she not be as excited herself?

And then it turns out he wasn’t at their meeting point.

 She does see Yusaku eating a hotdog and Kusanagi asking what she wants to get for herself, but there is no Takeru to be seen. She has to apologize: she’s sorry, she isn’t here to order anything. At first, the man looks confused, and she wonders if she hasn’t stumbled upon very coincidental identical people. That would be very unfortunate, because she’d have bothered people who have nothing to do with whomever she is searching for. Soon after, however, he remembers what Takeru has told him and greets her with a great smile.

“Oh, you’re Takeru’s childhood friend, ain’t ya? Sorry to tell ya this, but he isn’t here today!”

The astonishment is full on her part.

“Ex… Excuse me?”

“Yeah, he just… didn’t come here, for some reason… He isn’t responding to neither Yusaku or me.”

“Oh, I see…”

 Kusanagi seems down from having to tell her this as her mind starts racing. If Takeru isn’t here, it may be because he’s slipping back into his shut-un lifestyle, and she doesn’t want that to happen again. This is bad…

She’s starting to panic when the hotdog seller’s voice breaks her away from her thoughts and brings her back to reality.

“Hey, I’ve got an idea! Why don’t you go pay him a visit? I’m sure he’d be very happy to see ya!”

“Ah, I’d love to, but I don’t know where Takeru lives here. He hasn’t given me his address…”

“That’s nothing! Gimme two sec’, I’m gonna grab ya a piece of paper and write it there, you can use your phone’s GPS to get there! Don’t forget to give us some news when you’ll be there, okay?”

 Kusanagi doesn’t fail to deliver. Barely minutes later, she’s back on her feet, phone in one and the piece of paper in the other in case her map app bugs on her and she has to input the address again. What a resourceful man… She can perfectly see why Takeru was so happy to introduce him to her. Yusaku didn’t say much, but his little thumb-up to her was very charming to see anyway. They do seem like very nice people, she’s glad Takeru is their friend, that he can count on them when he’d be otherwise isolated in a busy, bustling city. It means he has people to rely on whenever he needs help.

 On the other hand, Kiku feels a great deal of anxiety when she notices Takeru still isn’t responding to her text messages. She has attempted to call him several times since arriving in Den City, sometimes even if just to ask where to go (and have an excuse to hear his voice yet again, goodness she loves hearing his voice so much), but he has never picked up either. At first, she thought he was busy with his friends at the café, and considering how forgetful he was, it was totally plausible. However, knowing he wasn’t there and has never been, she felt shivers going down her spine. It sounds like an ominous recipe for disaster, if you ask her.

She clutches her phone in her hands whenever she isn’t looking at map instructions, hoping it’s just because he’s too busy and is late, but the worried glance Yusaku and Kusanagi exchanged earlier didn’t indicate it was any better than that. Maybe he’ll call her back or respond to her message, so she keeps the vibrator turned on.

Please be alright, Takeru, she often finds herself whispering under her breath as to feel less alone.

 After feels like too much time spent in unknown streets, she finally finds the apartment complex where Takeru lives. Her phone not being able to track his exact position down, she instead relies on instincts and following number logic. His mailbox seems to indicate a floor and a flat number: that hads to be where she’s headed. Even climbing the stairs, as the elevator is broken and out of commission as a result, doesn’t feel like a chore and more like a time loss. She senses that something’s wrong, a feeling that is fogging her mind to the point all she can think about is reaching his flat and know what was wrong. Once facing the door, which she almost misses because her attention has been hindered, her hit isn’t a miss: his name is indeed on the small nameplate next to the door and right over the ringbill.

 There is no immediate response, and she’s very much tempted to ring again, until the door opens and she gets faced by her precious Takeru and his… sickly appearance, to say the least.

She has known him for long enough to know it when his skin is paler, and even then, it’s obvious enough for anyone to see it. A thick red hue covers his otherwise cadaveric face, his glasses are covered in fog (she’s surprised he’s even wearing those…) and there are deep dark rings under his eyes. Sweat is pearling down his temples and his half-opened pyjama top can only mean he’s feeling very hot in early spring.

 “Ah, h-hi, Kiku…” he exhales as he realizes it’s her, a tiny smile appearing on his face.

“Takeru, are you okay?” she immediately asks, not waiting for any answer. “You look terrible!”

He looks on the side, embarrassed, and coughs in his elbow.

“C’mon in… Sorry, I slept through my alarm and…”

“It’s all fine, don’t worry, let’s get you to bed again,” she puts her hands on his shoulders and tries to get him to his room by relying on her instincts alone, but in the end, he still indicates her where to go. The flat itself is small, truly sized for one person, so it doesn’t take her more than a few coughs from him too much to find the bedroom.

 Once she has made sure Takeru was back in bed and propped against pillows, she noticed a little red creature rising from his Duel Disk. It soon disappears back into it, however, and she is left wondering if it was her or it was real. Oh well, it’s not important.

“Have you eaten something yet?” she asks as she mentally makes a list of what she could have to be going out to buy.

“Well, not really, I just got out of bed… And Flame can’t make breakfast…”

Oh, so this was probably the little guy inside his Duel Disk! Takeru has described Flame as before!

“I’ll make you something with what you have then, okay? Your grandparents once told me about what they’d make for you when you were sick!”

 She ran to the kitchen, which seems to be a hybrid with the theorical dining room, and takes a look through the fridge and other places to find a way to make something quickly. She settles for a cup of honey milk, not too big in case he isn’t hungry and warm enough to feel good on the throat, and a moderate bowl of oatmeal. She doesn’t really know why he had this in here, but she’s grateful for it: it’ll be just fine for her sick friend. There is no proper tray to put these on: instead, she just uses something similar found nearby. She isn’t sure what it is, but it can hold a bowl, a mug and the pills she found in his pharmacy.

 Takeru gives her a smile as she puts it on his lap, making sure it isn’t burning to hold.

“Thank you very much, but you really didn’t have to…” he tells her, but she dismisses it quickly.

“Who else was going to take care of you? Your friends had no idea you were missing because you were sick… You should tell them, so they can take care of you when I’ll be back in our hometown…”

He looks at the red mug with blue stripes, holds it in his hands and, after taking a sip, looks back at her and smiles again.

“You remember this mug, Kiku?”

“Of course I do! It’s the one I gave you before you left for Den City!”

Ah, she’s so proud of him too for moving on from the Incident and rebuilding himself!

 This is only for her to get restless again.

“Wait, Takeru, I don’t think you have medicine…”

“I don’t think it’s much more than a cold… Plus, I’m not gonna make you pay for this, seriously, Kiku…”

“I was only able to find fever reducers, but maybe you want cough pills?”

“I’ll be fine, I promise…”

She stares at him with the intensity of a thousand doctors and the legendary force of a hundred grandma’s remedies.

“You’re really sure about that? I saw a convenience store and a pharmacy around the corner, they’re not too far for me to get there…”

 The little laugh she hears from Takeru, slightly soured down by his congested throat but still adorable to hear, almost innocent. She puts a hand on his forehead meanwhile, and sure enough, he has a fever running. It doesn’t seem to bad, however, so she just quickly grabs a washcloth in his bathroom (which is right next to the bedroom, how convenient). Once filled with cold water, she can go back to the bedroom and put it on his forehead.

“Ah, that’s annoying… I’ll have to pay you back again for this too…”

She giggles.

“You don’t owe me anything, silly! I’m glad to make sure you’ll be fine!”

“Can I ask you a last favour, Kiku…?”

His voice sounds more hesitant. Is there something wrong?

“Of course you can.”

“Can you stay with me for the day? Flame is a nice company to have, but you’re even better to have around…”

Her heart skips a beat and her cheeks heat up.

“I’ll stay here as long as I can then!”

 As if synchronized, they take each other’s hand in theirs, fingers sometimes detaching so they can do other stuff on the side, like daling with the tray. They, however, enlace each other almost right afterwards, and she cannot help but feel like a guardian angel at the moment.

Takeru’s grandparents have told her before she was his guardian angel, after all, but never had she pictured that idea so much than now.

#vrains #entrustshipping #vrainsrarepairweeks #my writing

[fanfictionconnectionwordpress]

Mystic Messenger Fanfiction | ArixSaeyoung, ArixSaeran – Batter Battles | Commission

***I was commissioned again by @kittysymphony! This is a continuation of the last one I did for her - Twice as Worn - a poly relationship which is not sandwich. It’s two separate relationships which only inter-lap because they are dating the same girl, OC Ari. I do not write sandwich or twincest. This time she asked me for some adorable fluff birthday fun, and this was the result ~Let’s Connect! FFC***

***Other Works***

Saeyoung squinted at the recipe book. Not that he needed to - he had his glasses on, but he didn't really understand what the difference between 'tsp' and 'tbs' was. He wasn't a terrible cook; he just...never cooked. Baking was something he did even more rarely.

A soft, "Tch," got his attention as Saeran rolled his mint-colored eyes. "Well, if you're so much better, then you give it a try. My sweet, sweet brother baking. It warms my heart!" Saeyoung put his clenched hands up by his face under his chin, his expression much like that of an excitable cat-character in an anime. Saeran had an obvious blush on his face, even though his expression was one of anger. "Stop acting like an idiot. I can make a much better cake than you."

The younger twin reached out for the mixing bowl, but Saeyoung grabbed for the shiny silver object and pulled it away - holding it up above his own head like it was some sort of magic goblet. "Ah, ah, ah. You make your own batter. It's a challenge now." Saeran had to press a hand to his temple, trying not to explode with how ridiculous his brother was being.

"Would you stop that? You're getting batter all over the floor!" There was already batter everywhere. Saeyoung wasn't exactly handy with a mixer. "This is a big deal. Ari gave us a good birthday, and now we need to give her one, too." It always felt like his brother never took anything seriously, and it was a great source of frustration for Saeran - especially when it came to something so important for their shared girlfriend.

There had been a bright gleam of mischief in Saeyoung's eyes, but the redheaded twin was now losing that gleam as he slowly placed the bowl back on the counter. The action made a soft smooshing sound as the bowl squished down some of its lost batter. "I know." His voice had turned serious. Saeran had to pause, completely taken aback by the shift in mood as his brother went on. "She takes really good care of us, really good care of you."

Saeyoung had a lot of walls, they both did, and Saeran couldn't help but find it unsettling every time those walls started to come down. He looked away, his pale bangs falling to cover his eyes as he tried to think of what he was supposed to say to that. His brother was opening up to him, and he was at a complete loss. Just a second ago, he'd been angry, but now he was getting frustrated for a different reason.

Ever since they'd made up, it was hard for them both to know how to be of any comfort to each other. Saeyoung had always been the one to take care of him, too - not the other way around. "Just stop being an idiot and get back to work on her cake." The sentence had barely just been mumbled out, but Saeran already felt like it wasn't any real form of encouragement.

Saeran turned his head to peek from under his bangs with mint-colored eyes, but apparently, he'd said the right thing. Saeyoung fished his wooden spoon from the mixing bowl, flicking it up into the air and causing more batter to splatter onto the kitchen floor. "Of course! The cake!" The pale-haired twin felt like he was starting to get irritated again. How could Saeyoung always get over everything so quickly?

A clean mixing bowl was shoved at him, and Saeran's eyes widened in confusion and mixed annoyance. "What the-" As he looked up at Saeyoung, he realized that his brother wasn't over it. He'd just decided to barrel ahead full speed despite his insecurities. Saeran would never admit how amazing he thought that was - he couldn't do that kind of thing himself.

"You should make your own batter! Then we can see who makes the best cake." Saeyoung had a broad smile on his face - even though, inside he didn't feel nearly as confident. Saeran probably was the better baker. As they each started on their cake, the soft, "Tch," his brother made felt like a bucket of cold water had been dumped on Saeyoung's head.

He just wanted to give Ari the best birthday, but he wasn't any good at this kind of stuff. Still, he couldn't let himself stay down and out about it, because that would force Saeran to have to take care of him. His brother had been through too much for Saeran to be worrying about him. No, he should only be able to see the happy side, so that he wouldn't have to struggle or be sad.

The next thing he knew, Saeran's hand had closed over his own as he went to grab the sugar. "Saeran? What-?" Saeran just took the little container from him before handing Saeyoung another. "You were about to pour in salt. Tch..." The redhead looked down at his batter dejectedly. "Oh...Maybe I should just let you do it, huh?~" His voice was cheery despite the fact that he was feeling like a failure. Maybe there was something else he could do for Ari's big day, but he wasn't doing a good job now.

Saeran eyed his brother before he placed the salt back down on the counter -somehow finding an area without batter. "We should make her one big cake instead of two." That felt so unnatural to him, working together with his brother, but Saeyoung was just going to keep moping otherwise. Saeran couldn't help but think maybe it would be a nice experience, too - though he'd never admit it. The redheaded twin's vibrant yellow eyes widened, a little sparkle appearing in them as his grin became genuine. "Working together with my bro? Sounds like a blast."

***

Ari sighed heavily, placing her purse down next to the bunker door and flicking her dark hair behind her shoulder. Saeyoung had led her on a wild goose chase after some weird part around town. In the end, she'd had the thought to contact Vanderwood, and the agent just happened to have the part on-hand. Though, it was only through her stubborn attitude that she'd managed to get the brunet to hand it over.

A smile played across her face. Wouldn't Saeyoung be proud she'd gotten back so soon with the item he'd requested? Her blue eyes were sparkling at the thought of the appreciative kiss he would give her, the way Saeran would scoff before she would go to give the smaller twin a kiss as well. Then she'd see him blush so sweetly as he tried to hide behind his bangs. Ari loved her life with the boys, but just as she was about to call out to them, she heard their raised voices in the kitchen.

That was the one part that was sometimes stressful about dating them both. Then again, even if she weren't dating them both, they would argue. Ari shook her head, walking towards the kitchen to find out what the argument was about this time. Saeran was complaining as she approached. "Be more careful; you got some on me, Saeyoung!" Deep blue eyes widened as she took in the scene of the messy kitchen - Saeyoung intentionally flicking a wooden spoon full of some goopy material at his brother and earning an angry glob back. Except that, Saeyoung had ducked.

She didn't have time to react, still in a shocked silence as she was trying to figure out what was happening. It was like the world was in slow motion for Saeyoung as he saw the look of shock on Saeran's face. His brother had gone completely quiet, frozen. "Saeran? What is it?" Saeyoung followed Saeran's gaze, further questions freezing in his throat as he saw just what it was. There was their girlfriend - using a single finger to slowly and carefully shove away the batter that had gotten on her eye and then flicking it off her finger to the ground.

"Oh God, Ari! I'm so sorry!" He was about to rush to her side when she shook out her head and started to laugh. It was comical. The looks on their faces were equal parts adorable and ridiculous. Ari just couldn't help the giggles that escaped. "What are you doing?" Saeyoung immediately replied to her question, "Nothing," while Saeran looked away - holding a hand over his face as he blushed. How were they supposed to explain they were trying to make her a cake for tomorrow's festivities?

Ari only laughed louder now, approaching them and wrapping her arms around Saeran to give him a quick hug. He stiffened nervously before relaxing into her warmth. She leaned over to place a kiss to Saeyoung's stunned and sweets-covered cheek. "Whatever you're doing...I want in." That was when she made her move, scooping up some of the goop and pressing it into Saeyoung's neck before running away.

Suddenly, the kitchen was filled with commotion as the sticky concoction got tossed back and forth. Saeyoung was doing the best - on the offensive as he tossed glob after glob. Saeran appeared to be trying to avoid it for the most part - though every time he got the opportunity, he would attempt to get Saeyoung in the back of the head. Ari kept up with dodging the sugary mess, trying to get in a hit whenever she could on either of them. They were all starting to get exhausted, and the room was filled with laughter by the time Air felt her foot slipping out from under her as her shoe met with a particularly large glob.

A combined, "Watch out!" was the only thing she heard before she landed on a surprisingly soft surface - which turned out to be Saeyoung's back. The redhead had dived for her, sliding across the slippery floor to land under her upper body as Saeran had grabbed her hand - keeping her from falling any further backwards to potentially harm her head. The white-haired twin was panting hard, terror in his eyes. Ari gave him a smile, moving her other hand to stroke the back of his lightly before she gave it a little tug. "Join us on the floor, Saeran." Her voice was soft, though Saeyoung ended up teasing. "Yes, brother dear. The weather is delightful down here."

Ari didn't bother to suppress her giggle as Saeran gave a soft, "Tch," per the usual. The smaller twin laid his own head in her lap as she moved to lay her head more on Saeyoung's back, running her fingers through Saeran's hair where there were little specks of batter. Batter...she now properly realized what it was. "Were you trying to make a cake?"

When neither of them responded, she just closed her eyes and smiled up at the ceiling. That was why Saeyoung had sent her out for that part, then. It had to be meant for her birthday. "Thank you...I really liked my cake. It was fun." Saeyoung shifted a little underneath her head reaching for her other hand. The position was a little awkward, but she didn't mind. "It probably tasted awful, anyway." His little joke made Saeran stiffen up. "Speak for your part of it. I can probably still bake some of mine."

Ari felt like her heart was swelling as the two started to bicker again. They'd gone through quite a bit of trouble to try to make her birthday special, then. That mattered a lot more than whether there was actually cake to eat or not.

Like this? Want more? Contact me for Commission Questions/Pricing or Become a Patron ~Let’s Connect! FFC

#mystic messenger #mystic messenger fanficiton #saeran choi #saeyoung choi #choi twins #commission

[loveiscosmicsin]

Home Cooking

To @dancingfox on Tumblr, as part of the IgNoct White Day Gift Exchange @ignoctgiftexchange, I offer you a fic (it was a struggle because I was debating with five ideas at once and suffering from writer’s block and then life got really crazy that I didn’t post until way past the dates). I’m not sure what you like since you gave me “Anything, truly :)”, but I can safely assure you that there’s nothing about non-cons or excessive violent themes in this, just lots of fluff and I hope that’s okay! Though this fic can be read on its own, it’s branched off an Fateswap AU where Noctis is the Oracle and Lunafreya is the King of Light and Ignis is her advisor titled “Radiance”. Happy White Day and Happy Gift Exchange, I hope you like this. Sorry for being super late to you and the mod behind the event. I feel massively guilty but I wasn’t going to abandon this. - Title: Home Cooking Rating: G Warnings: None Summary: Courtship is such an antiquated tradition to Noctis, but he’s willing to push the aversion aside and show how he cares with a thoughtful gesture while Ignis is staying in the Crown City. - “Well,” Luna began, crossing her ankles and folding her hands in her lap. Unbridled excitement coursed through her, almost similar to the feeling she relished harvesting raw elemental energy from touch alone, as the King of Light and her trustworthy retainer passed the first landmark. “Our second time in Insomnia swiftly approaches.” “Indeed.” Ignis replied, eyes closed in contentment as he sipped from a can of Ebony, flipping through the magazine, his steady gaze was fixated across the pages. “You must be absolutely delighted that we are to see dear Noctis once more. These last months must have been torturous for you.” “Of course, my lady.”

Luna let the next couple minutes of silence sink in, save for the sounds of the train in motion, before narrowing her eyes and a slight twitch at the corner of her frown took form. “So... pray tell what is so intriguing in this issue’s quarterly that you deign to provide me a proper answer?” “I’m rather absorbed in this soufflé recipe,” Ignis answered without looking up and nothing more. He raised the Ebony again as to solidify the answer he had chosen and end the discussion there. Dissatisfied with the poorly made apology and in one swift motion, Luna pressed her palm firmly on the can and snatched the magazine out of Ignis’ hands. “Why,” Luna’s blue eyes widened before she grinned knowingly as her suspicions were indeed correct. Her advisor had artfully concealed a magazine behind a cooking one. “Ignis, consider yourself caught in the act. You’re reading a fishing magazine!” The woman turned to the can in her hand and shook it. “And not once have you requested a replacement for your beverage. It is empty.” Ignis sighed, color high on his cheeks as he plucked magazine back and set it on the table between them. "I suppose saying merely looking at a recently discovered fish had my mind swimming with recipe ideas wouldn't suffice as an answer?" The advisor tried, Luna sent him a look and he grimaced before admitting,  “Noctis informed me that he enjoys fishing..." Luna smiled. "It's his favorite past time, I'm told. You may find this hard to believe considering my brother’s animosity towards him, but Ravus taught him how.” "It seems very... time-consuming." He tried for a delicate term but the way Luna hid her mouth behind her hand told him he had failed. “He wished to take me fishing at one of his favorite places.” "He will be thrilled to know you've suddenly taken an interest in it." She laughed, earning her a tired stare. "Do not worry, Ignis, for when he sees you, fishing will be the furthest thing on his mind." To see Ignis and Noctis have gained such familiarity and fondness in such little time warmed the heiress’s heart in full. It was unexpected, certainly for her advisor who was quick to assume that the Oracle of Futurity was no more than a voracious beast. Fortunately, his opinion changed overnight when Noctis restored his vision and the two became well acquainted. Luna couldn’t help but feel wholly obligated to cheer and tease Ignis whenever she pleased, much to her advisor’s chagrin. Ignis nodded in appreciation for the reassurance, but the conversation wasn’t over. He gingerly caressed the worn and curling corners of the magazines, conflicted. “Actually, there’s something that I must address with you, Luna. It’s urgent, but we can discuss it later if you prefer.” Luna blinked, her mouth slightly agape. Ignis can be stern and alarmingly taciturn at times, even as a young child, he groomed himself this way so to prove himself worthy of Luna’s retainer despite the disability. He was looking at her now with the same intensity he did then, the scars from the burns could never smother the radiance from the soft sky blue and puffs of white. There was a storm cloud hovering above him. “Do not say that when I have not heard what it could be about first.” Luna regained her composure albeit she stammered when she said this, taking his hand in hers. “Let us discuss this now or I fear we could not enjoy the rest of our journey comfortably.” Ignis was inclined to agree. The lump in his throat bobbed slightly as he avoided looking directly at Luna’s worried expression. “If I could now, I would bend the knee for you, Lady Lunafreya. At your word, my counsel and my blades are yours, always. You will always be my princess and Tenebrae’s True Queen.“ “Ignis,” Luna pulled her hand away, feeling the blades of Ignis’ carefully placed words piercing her heart. “Are you... leaving me?” Her eyes stung, hurt, reminding herself that she was royalty and mustn’t cause a scene in public. If it was her closest friend’s requests, she must grant him leave in a dignified fashion. At that, the advisor’s eyebrows were raised as if offended, no, appalled by the inquiry. That reaction was unwarranted for the princess wanted to berate him for thinking that she would handle this delicately when he knew her much better than that. “No, I believe you’re mistaken by what I’m trying to get across,” Ignis reached out to loosen his collar and cleared his throat, embarrassed but the princess didn’t know by which, the misunderstanding or the topic on the tip of his tongue. “I merely wish... to ask for your permission to initiate a formal courtship with Noctis.” “Oh.” Luna’s cheeks glowed hot not long after the request was spoken. “Oh,” she repeated, pressing her mouth against her palm. “Then why must you waffle on when you could speak plainly? I... I thought you asking for a dismissal.” “My apologies,” Ignis amended, offering the woman a handkerchief. “I underestimated how quick you are in jumping to conclusions, Highness.” Luna sent him an icy glare to which Ignis added, “But I cannot fathom how you would be without your Hand.” Luna dabbed at her eyes. She cannot imagine herself without Ignis either and can undoubtedly forgive him here. “Now, does Noctis know of this? Is that why you’ve come to me?” “I have not consulted him on this, no.” The advisor paused, knowing that he had to explain himself. “It is customary for subjects to the Crown to ask his liege before pursuing a romantic partner.” “From an antiquated tradition that has not been in practice for years? On Eos?” Despite being two years his senior, it still came as a shock to Luna that Ignis was terribly old-fashioned and a secret romantic, Noctis was fortunate indeed. In all the time they had together and cherished, Luna never thought she would see the day when Ignis would consider dating. Her advisor was quite popular among the young ladies at balls and such though he didn’t seem to notice or care of their affections. Luna decided that she will continue to support the two in any way she can. - Noctis took a step back, wiping at his brow as he did so to admire his work. He consulted the cookbook propped on a stand before glancing at the final results. “Not bad after a couple tries,” Noctis commended himself, putting his hands at his hips. “Chef Noct’s got a nice ring to it. If I wanna have a career change.” He may have gone overboard with the quantity of the ingredients and he’s surrounded by an abundance of tofu cartons and potatoes than he ever had in his life, but a pat on the back was in order. The Oracle of Futurity and Crown Prince of Lucis may have been renowned for performing miracles before the age of twenty and now, he can cross off making his boyfriend lunch on the list. Though debatable of how high of an accomplishment this was, it was major. He wouldn’t cook for just anyone. He wouldn’t have asked Gentiana to gather texts of cookbooks or dragged Prompto along to the grocery store for the ingredients for just anyone. Baked tofu skewers and potato salad on a bed of sprouts, a common comfort dish in Tenebrae though the sprouts there served for bedding and to secure the food together in the plastic lunch box. A-not-so novel pairing, but the Prince Oracle thought a meal would ease whatever homesickness the Tenebraean Crown Advisor may experience and it was simple to make. He had let the thoughts ruminate constantly through extravagant recipes far beyond his skill level and wanted to present a meal in good faith while not wanting to show that he didn’t spend more time than necessary to prepare. And from what he glossed over, he found that he was really good at slicing and dicing. The Oracle turned his attention rectangular tin box emblazoned with Lucis’ allied province’s emblem featured by the male King of Light and female Oracle from the Cosmology watercolor illustrations he read as a child. The current bearer of the title and childhood friend, the King of Light, gave it to him. ‘Not yet,” Luna chided with a airy giggle when she stopped Noctis from opening it. ‘When you see Ignis, share these with him.’ Though it was a gentle smile, there was an underlying threat that if she did find out that Noctis didn’t abide with the instruction, he wouldn’t keep his hand. His phone alarm erupted with the iconic King’s Knight victory fanfare. Time to see Ignis. “Unescorted?” Ignis inquired, raising an eyebrow in amusement when Noctis waiting in the reception room alone. “My apologies. Were we to meet today?” One of the guidelines of courtship dictated that the two people involved must always be escorted by designated officers on dates. At times, even Luna joined them and others, Prompto and Gladiolus or Gentiana. For all his life, Noctis had the world’s eyes on him and for once, he would just like just Ignis’ when it was just the two of them. Noctis didn’t have knowledge of Ignis’ intentions to court him until the advisor was granted a private audience with King Regis. Apparently, everyone knew but Noctis. And something in him sang for his own validation, emboldening him. ‘Ask me,’ the Oracle challenged breathlessly when he pulled the advisor to the side, away from prying eyes. Despite wanting the whole world to recognize their relationship, something must be made clear now. ‘Not Luna. Not Dad. Me.’ Ignis won’t be dating the Crown or the Prince Oracle, not even the playboy persona he built up in their first meeting, but Noctis, as he is, no gimmicks. Noctis only wanted Ignis. To his defense, at the time, Noctis thought he and Ignis were dating already, sharing an interest in each other’s hobbies, exchanging letters when they were apart, all but without putting a label on it. He wanted to make it official then and still do. Ignis did ask and Noctis accepted without a moment’s hesitation. “Nope, but you got me anyway. No objections allowed.” Noctis braced himself for Ignis to protest, had a counter in mind that he can’t send him back because an attendant wasn’t in their company. Thankfully, there was none. “Your spontaneity never ceases to amaze me. I find that very refreshing about you.” Surprising him was a good call after all. “But I got something for you,” Noctis announced, holding out the stacked lunch boxes wrapped in a plaid cloth. “Hope you brought your appetite.” The two retired to the courtyard with the lovely view of the garden and greenhouse across from them. “Baked tofu and potato salad,” Ignis studied the dish, approving the vibrant colors. “You made this for me?” “With a dash of sagefire,” Noctis took an imaginary pitch of spice and with a flick of his wrist whisked it into an imaginary dish. “Bam.” As he said it, he felt a case of embarrassment overwhelm him. “How thoughtful,” Ignis reached over to give Noctis’ hand a reassuring squeeze. “I’ll savor every bite.” Ignis eagerly bit into one of the skewers and thoughtfully chewed. Enthusiasm and curiosity then turned to a furrowed brow and a slight grimace. It was gone as instantly as it appeared, but Noctis was attentive enough to not let it pass. “Does it taste bad?” Ignis shook his head, taking another bite. “It’s delicious. The... condiment has a distinctive taste.” Noctis frowned. It was just barbecue sauce. Couldn’t he tell? He snatched a free skewer and dug in before spitting the tofu block right back out. Salt. He mistook for what he thought was sugar for salt and Ignis was still eating it. “Uh, Ignis, you really don’t...” “I’m a man of my word, Noct.” After some time of verbal gymnastics and Noctis trying to retrieve the lunch box only to be thwarted at every turn, Ignis closed the box and sighed happily, “That was delicious.” Noctis completely doubted that, but the potato salad was the only thing that wasn’t ruined. He handed a can of Ebony to him. “Yeah, sure.” “I meant what I said,” Ignis sipped the can. “Because you made it for me. I look forward to the next lunch you’ll bring me.” Well, at least that wasn’t a complete failure. “Hey, Luna gave me this,” Noctis presented the decorated tin box. “Wouldn’t let me open it until I see you. Pretty serious about it, too. Dunno what that’s about.” “Oh?” Ignis tilted his head, quizzically. “Lunafreya’s hardly grave about—“ Cookies, shaped like the rare minted Oracle Ascension Coins commemorating every anointed savior in office, greeted the two men. Instead of edible replicas of the currency, they were edible versions of Noctis and Ignis’ faces with... a distinguished choice of design. No doubt that Luna was going for cute and it took her a great amount of time to design. “Ah, this is certainly her doing. No question about it.” Ignis sighed, picking up a cookie with his face on it. “She knows that I don’t fancy sweets.” He said, putting it close to his parted lips. “Wait!” Ignis looked at him. “Isn’t it...” Noctis averted his gaze. “Isn’t it weird that you going to eat your face?” Ignis smirked. “Would you prefer that I eat yours?” “I...” How was the Oracle supposed to answer that seeing the mischievous gleam in the advisor’s eyes? - Lunch passed by quickly, and Ignis offered to take Noctis back to the Citadel to which the latter accepted wholeheartedly. “May I, Your Highness?” Ignis held out his hand, and Noctis knew what it meant. “You may...” Ignis lowered his head, intending to brush the knuckles with a chaste kiss, the only permitted contact in formal courtship, but Noctis dove in first and met his lips with his own, sealing a first kiss. If there were any doubts that this Prince Oracle wasn’t proactive, those doubts should be dispelled at this point. The advisor was beside himself, his cheeks tinted red and stuttering as he adjusted his glasses. “N-Noct...” “So...” Noctis was grinning until his cheeks hurt, so over the moon that his tongue boldly ran wild with revelation and a growing desire to kiss Ignis again. “Was that your first or...?” “It certainly was not!” It was.

#ignoctgiftexchange #ignoct gift exchange #ignoct #White Day #IgNoct White Day #IgNoct White Day Gift Exchange 2018 #ignis scientia #lunafreya nox fleuret #noctis lucis caelum #ffxv #ff #ff15 #final fantasy xv #final fantasy 15 #final fantasy #Fateswap AU #Dancingfox

[thestoryweneededtowrite]

felix felicis and javid??? just thought it might be an interesting concept!!

Okay I know they cancelled the Triwizard Tournament after Cedric died so either pretend they didn’t or pretend this is the same Ball as that one, idk….

“It’s intwo days, Davey, you gotta ask someone,” Sarah reasoned.

Daveychildishly put his hands over his ears. He really, really didn’t want to hear about how he didn’t have a date to theYule Ball yet. It was the talk of Hogwarts and he wasn’t allowed to forget it.

Sarah knewthere was someone in particular he wanted to ask and she was determined for herlittle brother to have a great evening, which he definitely wouldn’t be doing ifhe was sat moping around for the duration of the ball. She wasn’t about to lethim stare at Jack all evening without so much as asking him for a dance, and askinghim would be far easier if they went together in the first place.

“Who areyou going with then?” he asked, trying to make a point. As far as he was awareshe didn’t have a date either.

Sarah justlaughed. “Katherine Plumber.”“You’re taking the head girl?!” Daveyasked, surprised.

Shruggingit off like it wasn’t a big deal, Sarah forced the conversation back to herbrother.

“Ask him,Davey. You know he hasn’t got anyone to go with yet – maybe he’s waiting forthe right person…”

Daveyflinched, hating that it was so obvious who he’d had a crush on since hissecond year. He couldn’t deny it but he didn’t really want to confirm it eitherso he just looked away to hide his blush and pretended he didn’t know that shewas clearly talking about the 6th year Slytherin with artist’s handsand eyes that made Davey’s knees weak every time they were trained on him. Hedidn’t let himself think about Jack unless it was absolutely necessary, or he’djust distract himself and never get anything done.

“I… I have to go. Late for potions,” Daveycoughed awkwardly. He fled from the Hufflepuff table without a proper goodbye,just missing Sarah’s eye roll.

Potions wasone of Davey’s favourite subjects. It was methodical and exact, and the onlyway to get what you wanted was by getting every stage of the recipe perfect. Itmade Davey’s perfectionist heart sing whenever a potion came out exactly right,bubbling and steaming away. He let himself get lost in the process everylesson, following the steps to the letter in order to make something that couldbe of some real, tangible use.

When ProfessorSlughorn announced that they were going to making a Draught of Living Death,Davey couldn’t help the macabre shine in his eyes. He’d spent days readingabout the potion in the past, and whilst it wouldn’t actually kill someone (itwouldn’t be allowed in a Hogwarts classroom if it could), it still had awonderfully thrilling name. He was less than interested in the prize Slughornoffered - one vial of Felix Felicis to any student who could concoct a sufficientpotion – and far more concerned with trying the Draught’s recipe for the firsttime.

When Daveyopened his potions book to the correct page he was less than pleased to findthat the recipe didn’t quite match what he’d read about the potion in a bookfrom the Restricted Section. It was only a few tiny things, one fewer Sopophorous beanand stirring once in a different direction, and who was Davey to argue with histextbook? But he couldn’t help himself from following the instructions from thelibrary book instead. The author had been a proficient potions expert he’d readextensively on and he’d never been failed by any of her writings. So, one extrabean it was.

Slowly, one by one, each of Davey’s classmates fell athurdles. Their potions would curdle or puff up a cloud of noxious fumes,resulting in sighs and groans across the room. Eventually Davey was the onlyone standing, stirring the cauldron just perfectly until it turned a gentlelavender colour before skimming over with a white foam that melted into a nowtransparent liquid. He blinked at it, a little surprised. It looked, as far ashe could tell, perfect – despite his addendums as described by MarionMarblewind.

“Intriguing,” Slughorn said quietly, taking a leaf and droppingit into the centre of the cauldron.

Just as it should, the leaf instantlyfossilized. Davey felt a tingle of achievement go down his spine and blushedwhen the class begrudgingly offered him a round of applause at Slughorn’s insistence.He took the tiny vial of Liquid Luck with an air of nonchalance, pocketing itin his robes. It couldn’t be used on tests and he didn’t play Quidditch, so hewasn’t sure what good it would do him. Still, it was nice to have – just incase.

When they reached a 24 hour countdown to the Ball, Sarah wasstill trying to persuade him into finding a date. If Davey had it his way, hewouldn’t even be going to the dance at all but there was no way his sister wasgoing to let him get away with that. So he was going to have to don his father’sold dress robes, worn and a little dated but still passable and comfortableenough, and spend an evening trying not to dissolve into a puddle of jealously witheach new person Jack was going to end up dancing with. That was the only reasonDavey could see for Jack to want to go alone. If he wasn’t tied down to anyonefor the evening he probably thought he could play the field a little more.

Davey didn’t want to play the field. Davey didn’t want toplay any kind of game involving dating and partners and the Ball, he justwanted to get through the damn thing in one piece with all his emotions incheck. So, with 23 hours and 17 minutes until the Ball started, he took theFelix Felicis out of his trunk and stared at it. It shimmered like gold,looking like it would taste like honey, all sweet and treacly. And maybe itwould make him lucky enough to find a way out of the Ball.

The sensible thing to do would be to tell someone what hewas doing. Liquid Luck had a terrible habit of leading people astray, andmaking them act a little drunk. Whilst he wouldn’t get into trouble for usingthe potion on school grounds, a professor who thought he’d snuck in some firewhiskeywouldn’t have any reservations about serving him with a detention. But he didn’twant anyone talking him out of this so he downed the distinctivelynot-honey-tasting liquid and pulled a face as it settled in his stomach. For amoment, nothing felt different. Maybe the luckiest thing to do was just to stayput in the Ravenclaw tower? But then he had a sudden urge to go to the Owlery.There was no reason for him to be there, the family owl was back home with hisparents as usual, but before he could logic his way out of the desire, his feetwere already taking him out of the room.

It was only when he was halfway up the winding stonestaircase to the Owlery that he realised what he was heading towards. Jackloved it up there. Davey had heard, on the one occasion he had caved and madeuse of his Slytherin connections to make Specs tell him everything he knewabout the prefect, that he loved to paint the sunset over the lake from the bigopen window but he only got a little done each night because he got distractedby the owls and ended up petting them all. Davey really shouldn’t have asked –it just made his crush on the boy all the worse.

Logically Davey knew he should be terrified of facing Jackwhilst under the influence of Liquid Luck, but all he felt was certainty as he climbedthe last few stairs and walked into the large open room to the sounds of owlshooting contentedly and rustling their feathers. It was strangely calming; hecould definitely see the appeal it held as a place for Jack to paint even if itweren’t for the view. Sure enough, as Specs had said, Jack was sat on thewindowsill with his art supplies abandoned by his side as he rubbed the chin ofa tiny black owl.

“Hi,” Davey said, unable to stop a grin.“Davey? Hey, what’s up?” Jack asked, a little surprised to see him but quick toreturn the smile.

Davey stalled for a moment, the shock that Jack even knewhis name surfacing above the giddiness of the potion. After a few seconds, itdisappeared completely and all the confidence of 10 regular men, or 20 regularDaveys, came back.“I… Tomorrow is the Yule Ball,” he began.“Yeah, it is,” Jack agreed, confused. There wasn’t a student in the school whodidn’t know what would be happening the following evening. Before he could askwhy exactly Davey had thought it necessary to climb almost a hundred stairsjust to tell him that, the conversation was already moving on.“You don’t have a date,” Davey added.“Also true,” Jack shrugged. It was by choice so he didn’t really mind it beingpointed out. “Dave, are you drunk?” he asked, a little thrown by the entiresituation. There was this wide-eyed earnestness that made him think Davey wasn’tcompletely himself and he was a little worried.“Go with me?” Davey asked, completely disregarding the question.“What?” Jack said, puzzled.“To the Ball,” Davey clarified. “Please. I’ve liked you for so long. I justwant to dance with you.”

He’d never be as honest if he hadn’t taken the potion, evenif he had scrapped together the courage to ask the question. But his cheeksdidn’t even go red as he stood waiting for an answer, imagining how nice itwould feel to spend the night in Jack’s arms. He didn’t even worry about howexactly they were meant to dance to a male/female choreographed waltz. “Oh, wow,” Jack blinked, before letting his lips curl into a cheeky smile. “Youtook your time,” he teased, climbing slowly to his feet and putting his handsin his pockets.“What?”

Davey had expected a no or a yes, not this.“You’re the fifteenth person to ask me, y’know?” Jack continued, trying to beas nonchalant as possible.“Oh. Sorry. You can go with one of them if you want,” Davey mumbled, hisanxiety overriding his luck again. A blush finally coloured his cheeks,spreading down his neck.“No,” Jack protested. Davey didn’tseem to be understanding him. “I’ve been waiting for you to ask,” he admitted.

That definitelywasn’t what Davey had been expecting. He wouldn’t even have been certain Jackhad ever noticed him and now he was finding out that he could have savedhimself weeks of torture if he’d just asked one simple question.“Why didn’t you ask me?” he said, a little put out. It shouldn’t all have beenon him – Jack was perfectly capable of asking someone to the Ball himself.“Wasn’t sure you liked me. Wasn’t sure you liked guys,” Jack explained, alittle bashful. Davey had to give him that – there was no ignoring the factthat Jack dated regardless of gender but his own attractions weren’t suchpublic knowledge. “Kath said that you had this thing for me, and I was reallyhoping it was true but I didn’t want to look like an ass if she was wrong. Shewasn’t wrong, was she?” Jack asked, a little tentatively. When Davey shook hishead, he took a step forward and brushed his fingertips down Davey’s cheek,lingering at the corner of his lips with his thumb. “Good.”“That’s a yes?” Davey needed to be certain.“It’s definitely a yes,” Jack grinned, before lowering his voice and teasing alittle. “I would bet my broom that you look incredible all dressed up.”

It was a high wager – Jack had the latest Nimbus and was thestar chaser on the Slytherin team. “I guess you’ll find out tomorrow night,” Davey teased back, raising an eyebrowand taking a step back in the direction of that door.

“Hey, wait,” Jack said quickly, catching Davey’s wrist andtugging him back. “You… Did you… Firewhiskey?”

Davey didn’t necessarily seem drunk, but something wasn’tquite right. His pupils weren’t dilated and he wasn’t swaying on his feet. Andbesides, he was Davey so it was unlikely he’d smuggled in contraband. If itwasn’t alcohol, there was a possibility for it to be something bad and Jack wasa little concerned.“Hmmm?” Davey questioned, still a little too thrown by how close Jack’s fingershad been to his mouth to think clearly.“You’re a little… out of it?”“I’m not drunk,” Davey laughed a little. “It’s… I got a vial of Liquid Luck formaking a perfect Draught of Living Death.”

Jack gawped. That stuff was rare as gold dust at Hogwartsand winning a vial in Slughorn’s Living Death lesson was pretty much the onlyway to get any, black market channels included.“And you used it on me?”

It seemed like such a waste.“I used it on not having to go to the Ball alone and miserable,” Davey shrugged,still smiling.

Jack frowned. He didn’t ever want Davey to be either ofthose things.“Well you definitely won’t be alone and I’ll make sure you aren’t miserable,”he promised, tugging Davey’s hand to his lips and pressing a gentle kiss to theback of it. It was the most he was willing to do whilst Davey wasn’t completelyhimself – he wasn’t sure how consent worked when it came to Felix Felicis andhe’d rather be safe than sorry – but he loved how pink it made Davey’s cheeks.

“I look forward to it,” Davey stammered, almost stumbling ashe stepped back. He didn’t trust himself to stay around Jack whilst the potionwore off. If it got him the date to the Yule Ball he’d been dreaming about thenit might also get him some of the other things he’d been dreaming of and he’dmuch rather that didn’t happen when he didn’t feel completely in control.

“I’ll meet you in the Entrance Hall tomorrow night at eight,”Jack called after a hastily retreating Davey. He grinned freely to himself whenhe knew he was alone with just the owls again and wasn’t going to be judged.

“I think I really like that boy,” he mumbled to Nox,returning to tickling him under the chin. The owl just nipped at his fingers,clearly not impressed by Jack’s divided attention. But Jack couldn’t even bringhimself to care, still watching the now empty doorway with a dopey smile. Hewas going to the Yule Ball with the most gorgeous boy at Hogwarts and he couldn’tfocus on anything else.

#newsies #newsies fanfiction #javid #Jack Kelly #david jacobs #Jack/David #prompt #anonymous #whoops another hp AU

[yohanes-magic-circle]

Digital Disguise: Chapter 4

(Impatient? Don’t like reading fics on Tumblr? The whole thing is up on AO3 now. I hope you enjoy it!)

[Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3]

By all measures, Yoshiko Tsushima should have been miserable as she walked through the front door of her family's apartment. She'd got her English test results back that day, and they were only just a step above failure. It's not that she hadn't tried to improve. Inspired by Mari's random outbursts, she'd asked for help, but even when she could be torn away from her duties as the school's director, she didn't end up being much use. It turned out that mixing Yoshiko's tendency to slack off with Mari's lighthearted nature and love of joking around was a recipe for very little actual studying to take place. What's more, she was struggling to nail the timing for Aquors' new dance routine – she was always half a step ahead or behind, and attempts to correct the problem always resulted in overcompensation. Nobody was holding it against her, but she knew she’d need to get it together before the preliminaries.

Despite all of this, the first-year student was wearing the kind of smile that suggested that she didn't have any troubles at all. “Welcome home,” came the habitual greeting from Yoshiko's mother. She wasn't expecting her greeting to be welcomed with a cheery “Hi!” from her daughter, and didn't have time to react before Yoshiko's customary retreat to her bedroom. It wasn't much, but it was nice. Having worried about Yoshiko's social skills throughout middle school, her mother credited Yoshiko's good mood to her school idol activities – making some less eccentric friends was the best thing that could have happened.

Thankfully for Yoshiko, her mother didn't know the truth – Yoshiko was in fact grinning from ear to ear entirely because of her weirder interests. School wasn't the only place she made friends, after all. Yohane Time mostly earned Yoshiko fans rather than friends, but some of her more regular viewers had earned their way into what she liked to call the “inner circle,” a small group that she considered to be friends. She'd ask about what was going on in their lives, entirely in character of course, and always made sure to prioritise them for fortunes and rituals. They didn’t know much about the real Yoshiko, but they seemed to like Yohane, and every time she considered just not streaming, it was the mental vision of their disappointment that caused her to think twice.

Quitting hadn’t been something that Yoshiko had seriously considered for a couple of weeks, though. Lately, it seemed like she might be gaining a new friend by the name of Musashino, and when you cut to the core of it that was what was behind Yoshiko's good mood – she was streaming again tonight, and that meant another chance to interact. This newcomer had shown up about four weeks ago, and hadn’t missed a show since. They’d quickly found their feet amongst the regulars in the chat, and while their messages were a little slow, they were always interesting. (Was that down to a laggy connection or slow typing speed? Yoshiko couldn't tell.)

When viewers had been asked what Yohane needs, Musashino had responded with “a demonic familiar,” and Yoshiko most definitely wanted a pet. When another viewer had asked what kind of film a Yohane movie would be, they had already suggested it’d be a tragedy before Yoshiko had even been able to address the question – that’s certainly how she preferred to characterise her rotten luck, even though in reality it tended to lean more towards slapstick comedy. One time, when someone began to question Yohane’s fortune telling as being far too giving for a being from the netherworld, Musashino had leapt to her defence by noting that Yohane hadn’t become a fallen angel by choice – clearly  somebody  was paying attention to the backstory – and that she still had kindness in her heart. As Yohane had talked of the celestial conflict that would herald the end of days, Musashino had been fascinated (and even taught Yoshiko a new word – eschatology). It seemed as if this person was really on Yohane's wavelength.

Yoshiko already considered Musashino as part of that special inner circle, one of the little demons she held dearest. In fact, she was quickly coming to consider Musashino as her favourite, and she was incredibly pleased that they seemed to be just as committed to viewing her stream as she was to hosting it – it wouldn’t be the same without them any more. Whenever she found herself zoning out in class, it was inevitably Musashino that she ended up thinking about, largely because she was curious as to what this person was like outside of their interest in Yohane. Their messages didn't give much away as to their real life, though. Even the name was impenetrable, though Yoshiko assumed that it was a rare detail pertaining to their offline persona – most people chose something meaningful, even if only to themselves. She’d seen a train line with that name when she visited Tokyo once. Maybe this person lived in that area? Maybe, if she could get her mother to tag along for safety, they could even meet? Yoshiko ran over the scenario in her head. “Hey, can you take me to meet my friend from the internet? They’re a fan of my streams and I don’t know anything about them.” Yeah, that’d go down a treat. Without anyone to ensure her safety, Yoshiko reluctantly reasoned that meeting up was probably not such a great idea.

Glancing over at the clock, Yoshiko could see that it was getting close to stream time. She began to prepare the scene, shutting her curtains, lighting candles and changing into her fallen angel clothes. Tonight, her plan was more interactive than usual – the idea being to learn more about her viewers, or at least how viewers saw Yohane. The last thing she did, as always, was uncover her webcam. She was still trying to separate Yoshiko and Yohane, and she’d decided that the best way to do that was to ensure that the two worlds never met – Yoshiko’s schoolmates should never meet Yohane outside of Aqours shows, and Yohane’s online fans should never see Yoshiko. One stupid error with the cam would be all it would take to ruin that, by revealing what was in truth a pretty ordinary bedroom.

With a deep breath and a click of the mouse, Yoshiko became Yohane.

“Gathered in the dying light, a congregation of the wicked, awaiting the angel whose beauty so angered God that she was cast out of heaven. I will grace you all with my presence, but you must know that summoning Yohane is a dark bargain indeed. In exchange for my protection, I require evidence of your devotion. Little demons! You entered into a contract with me, and now an offering must be made. So tonight, my sinful servants, I ask of you – what will you bring to appease me?”

Yoshiko watched as the responses came flooding in.

any1 got sum crosses? Ill hang em upside down   I can sacrifice another goat.   1000 BLACK FEATHERS!   we can mail you a letter   Tabasco sauce and something with cayenne peppers

Truth be told, she had hoped her viewers would be as imaginative as she was. That first one was too stereotypical, the second she hoped was a joke… dull, bland, tasty. Wait, tasty? What the heck? And there they were again – Musashino had sent that suggestion. It was an odd one. Yoshiko definitely had an appetite for spicy food, and she’d genuinely like those things as gifts, but that wasn’t something she’d ever brought up during Yohane Time before.

“Musashino, you make an intriguing suggestion,” she said, trying to figure out her mysterious fan’s motivation. “Why do you believe these items to be a worthy gift?” Yoshiko was struggling not to break character, and the anticipation of the inevitably delayed reply was not helping one bit.

Because the heat would remind you of Hell, and I think you’d like hot food

Well, that was certainly a plausible in-character explanation, and it was the best of the answers – or at least, the thing Yoshiko most wanted at that point in time. It was still an odd one, though. “Congratulations, little demon! You have stumbled upon one of the ways to Yohane’s blackened heart,” she conceded. After verbally assessing some of the other suggestions, she decided to change the subject. “And what sort of place would you all pick to make your offerings to me? Choose wisely!”

a ruined church!   How about a sauna? They’re hot like Hell too.   letz go 2 onsen heh heh   HOW ABOUT AN ARCADE?   Why not Tokyo?

These suggestions were definitely better than the last ones, minus the onsen one which earned the idiot a swift banishment from the chat. The ruined church would definitely look amazing and have the right ambience. The sauna one, they were at least trying – although they might not have been so blatant about duplicating Musashino’s reasoning. An arcade would be nice, but was more of a Yoshiko answer than a Yohane answer. And, last as usual, Musashino’s answer.

“Allowing me to demonstrate my demonic powers on your mortal games would be terribly foolish,” she declared. “What would the glory seekers do when faced with the insurmountable obstacle of Yohane’s high scores? And Tokyo… another strange suggestion that has earned my interest. Musashino, are you perhaps a fellow user of magic?”

Again, Yoshiko couldn’t deny that she’d like to visit Tokyo. She was always drawn to the city more than the country, and besides, you could get everything there and there were some amazing stores selling occult goods. If she could go for her birthday, which was coming up soon, she’d be pretty happy. Again though, that’s a Yoshiko thing, more than a Yohane thing. Musashino’s reply had come through.

I’ve heard it’s a city stained with sin, a place of true terror. That sounds like a place where demons would gather.

Yoshiko couldn’t fault the reasoning, but this time it was even more suspicious. She was sure she’d heard someone say something like that before. It was a silly notion, of course – Tokyo was amazing – but she couldn’t dwell on it long as some of the other users quickly began to mock Musashino.

Did you know Osaka is the gateway to heaven?   musashino are you from the past?   LOL I BET YOU BELIEVE IN HANAKO-SAN IN THE TOILET

“Enough! With so many people in Tokyo, it is easier for demons to blend into the crowd. If Musashino is fearful of the grand metropolis, they are fearful with good cause! And that is all the more reason to offer this lost lamb protection.” The fallen angel had surprised even herself with this stern rebuke, as she didn’t often have to deal with a rowdy crowd. Some of the apologetic comments that followed suggested that certain viewers quite liked Yohane’s unusual disciplinarian outburst, though mercifully they stayed on the right side of the creepy line.

“Now that you’ve calmed down, my little demons, I shall express my desires – with this information, you will be able to make the ultimate offering to Yohane,” Yoshiko began again. “Though the material temptations of this lowly world are truly enticing, my true wish goes beyond such trivial objects. When one of my little demons is in danger, I would even display my true powers to see that they come to no harm – and as my little demons, I expect you all to get along. If you are to descend with me, you should be loyal to me and everyone who descends with me,” she continued. It was a sentiment delivered as Yohane, but it came from Yoshiko’s heart. Her efforts to be more normal at school, her joining Aqours, all of that effort was made because the thing Yoshiko wanted the most was to have good friends. “So even in times of great danger, when the divine and the damned finally clash, will your loyalties waver or will you stand behind Yohane?”

I’ll be standing shoulder to shoulder with you!   ill stand behind yohane   I WOULD DIE FOR YOU   Your wish is my command

Yoshiko was pleased to have everyone back on the same page. “Very well, you have pleased me. Now, I will open my magic eye and reveal the secrets of your futures,” she said, bringing things back to a place where she firmly controlled the dialogue.

After a good half hour of fortune telling, it was coming time to wrap up. “It is almost time for this tragic beauty to retire to the shadows, but I leave you with a warning,” Yoshiko said with all the gravitas she could muster. “Those of you that have made this contract tonight must abide by it. Failure to perform your duties as a little demon will see you banished to the abyss!” The stream ended and for the first time in a while, Yoshiko was pleased to finish up. That one had ended up getting pretty weird between the onsen creep and the goat sacrifice.

Still thinking of weird things, Yoshiko was drawn back to Musashino – were they an esper or something? She couldn’t quite believe how well judged those offerings had been as she scrolled back through the chat. Then she got annoyed all over again as she got to the section where people turned on them. These people were wrapped up in a fallen angel’s stream and they made fun of someone for having some slightly odd thoughts on Tokyo? Yoshiko thought it somewhat ridiculous. She couldn’t help but defend Musashino, as they had become one of her favourite little demons. Still, she’d managed to sort things out by insisting on solidarity amongst her little demons. It brought a smile to her face as she read the declarations of loyalty again, but… where was Musashino? She scrolled back up.

I’ll be standing shoulder to shoulder with you!

For the first time she could recall, Musashino had been quicker to respond than anyone else. Not only that, they’d gone further to affirm their loyalty than anyone else. Who was this person?

Yoshiko was too tired to consider the matter any further. As she switched her light off and went to bed, she decided that she’d have a better chance of figuring it all out in the morning.

#Love Live Sunshine #YohaMaru #YoshiMaru #Yoshiko Tsushima #Hanamaru Kunikida #Yohane